41

 

Kinsker had called the Hangers to a halt in the road. His lieutenants, Ruck and Faust, idled beside him, astride their hawgs, attentive to his plan.

“These flat-bikers are tough, but they don’t know the area. We’ll catch them before the Floating City. But I want an alternative.” Kinsker’s voice was rough, and he realized it had been a long time since he had needed to use it. The Hangers lived in a small town in the alps during summer, and they rode their massive Harley Davidson hawgs, with their ‘Ape Hanger’ style handlebars, around the mountains. There was a small oil refinery south of the mountains, which had supplied them with fuel to keep the bikes running. They rode the mountain passes, collecting whatever items the Gasmen asked for.

And they rode for the sheer joy of it.

The very few times when strangers veered into their sphere of influence, the Hangers took what they wanted. Food, fuel, water, bone and skin—and if there were women, they took them, too. Hell, Ruck had gotten a wife that way. Kinsker would have had her for himself, but he hadn’t been the Keystone then, and Ruck had found her first.

“A secondary plan?” Faust asked, holding a thick thong of human leather in his hand. He’d slid it out of the intricate holes in his face like a shoelace out of a boot, just seconds before. “Smooth. What are you thinking?”

“They’re heading for the Floating City. There’s nothing in the wastes from the last footie hill to the First Canal.” Kinsker ran a finger through his long beard, thinking.

“No chance they want to go to the Other Sea? Or the City Crumbles, Down South?” Ruck asked. He was younger than the other two men, and he always seemed to want to consider the unlikely possibilities. Instead of completely removing the lacing from his face, he had simply loosened his, and when he spoke, the leather over his mouth stretched the lacing holes.

Kinsker was sure, though. “If they wanted the Other Sea, they would have gone around the Alps—not through them.”

“And the Crumbles?” Faust prodded.

“Doubt it. You’ve been Down South. There’s nothing left to raid,” Kinsker stroked his chin, wondering what exactly the invading flat-bikers wanted. He’d never seen a hawg like theirs, low and squat, with four wheels instead of two. But as soon as he had spotted them near the lake, he had known he wanted the flat bikes, and he’d been glad of the mission for the German warlord Borss. But what he wanted most was the woman. She was stunning, with flowing blonde locks, a thin trim body and an attitude Kinsker had not seen before in a woman. She even seemed to be leading the flat-bikers. The Hangers had circled around and sped ahead, laying in wait for the woman and her group, but she and her men had been tougher than expected. Much tougher.

But he knew.

He knew where they were going. He just didn’t know why. “Ruck is gonna tail them.”

“I am?” Ruck asked. The younger man seemed surprised at the sudden grant of responsibility. Kinsker didn’t doubt it. It was a rare honor bestowed by the Keystone, one which he had never received before.

“Take forty hawgs. Follow them. Chase them tight. Hound them down. Pick them off at the edges, if you can. But don’t damage their flat-bikes.”

“Smooth. I can do that, Kinsker. I can do that.”

Kinsker rounded on the younger man. “And do not...under any situation...do not hurt the smooth woman. Pursuit is your primary goal. Drive them on toward the Floaters.”

“And what are we doing then, Kinsker?” Faust didn’t sound as if he liked the plan so far. He’s probably thinking about the woman, Kinsker thought. Faust was probably thinking what Kinsker knew—Ruck would try to take the woman if he could get her. A second wife would suit the younger man, and he would brag all the more.

“I will take the rest of the Hangers down the Lake Road at speedy-fast, and we’ll cut across toward the Floaters. We’ll hide and wait for these flat-bikers, intercept them before they reach the City, and then their hawgs will be ours.”

Faust looked like he was about to ask about himself, when Kinsker spoke again. “Faust, ride ahead of the ambush, toward the Floating City. I have no idea why these flat-bikers braved the mountains, but if they are heading to the Floaters, then they either need something the Floaters have, or they’re bringing the Floaters something they need. Verstehen?”

Faust got it and nodded. “Yeah, Keystone. I hear and perceive. Something important. Either the flat-bikers have it or the Floaters have it. Either way, we get it, and we can trade it to the Gasmen. Juice for the Hangers—maybe for years. So you want me to sneak into the Floating City and try to find what they have?”

“Almost, Faust,” Kinsker said with a grin. “You verstehen only half. Ruck will have forty. I’ll keep nine with me for the ambush. You’ll take the rest of the Hangers with you.”

Faust’s blue eyes widened under the fringe of long dark blonde hair on his brow. His face said it all. He’d thought Ruck lucky to receive the responsibility Kinsker had given him to hunt down the flat-bikers. But a Keystone giving half of the Hangers over to a lieutenant was unheard of. Everyone knew the last time that had happened. A lieutenant named Kroll had nearly split the Hangers asunder, with internal fighting and killing. Only the strength of a man named Schlüssel—the Key—had been able to stop Kroll’s rebellion. And he had become the first Keystone. Kinsker was the fourth Keystone, and no one since had ever given lieutenants as much responsibility as Kinsker was handing out today.

“I’m feeling smooth and sparkly with all the responsibility, Kinsker. I won’t let you down.” Faust paused a moment, as if a problem had only just begun creeping into his mind. “But how am I supposed to sneak fifty Hangers past the Floater guards?”

Kinsker erupted in laughter. He knew he had nothing to fear in allowing Ruck and Faust the chance to shine as field generals, leading their own teams of Hangers. Neither man had the brains to plan a revolt. “Don’t worry, Faust. I don’t want you to sneak them in.”

Ruck and Faust both looked confused now.

He stopped chuckling and turned back to Faust. “I don’t want you to sneak in with the Hangers, Faust. I want you to set their floating shithole ablaze. Burn it until it’s nothing more than charred timbers bobbing up and down on the waves. It’s time for flames.”

Kinsker had his own plan for the prize the Blonde Woman was seeking. The hell with Borss and what he wanted. Kinsker would have it all.