Earlier, from the prison, Flick had called Chalber and out of the night here came three air-coaches and an airbus to ferry back the Zippety-Zip drivers. They flashed down out of the night and into the glare of the wall spotlight. They were shiny new vehicles, sparkling and sleek.
A driver popped out of the Zippety-Zip ferry airbus, spotted Madison and came over with papers to be stamped. While he waited, the driver stared at the prisoner group.
Flick had begun to sort them out and move them to stand beside different vehicles. The convict drivers were getting genned in by the ferry people.
"Ouch," the man beside Madison said. "What a Hellish lot! You're actually putting them in clean, new air-coaches!" He looked closer. "What a bunch of killers!" Then he shrugged and took the papers back. "Well, they're your vehicles now. Carry whom you please. Wow!"
Madison went over to the groups as the ferry airbus took off hastily.
Looking into the faces, he began to check his list. It was composed of:
1Director, ex-Homeview, who had been making porno movies on the side.
2 Cameramen who had been caught selling government supplies.
3 Set men whose sets, because they had sold the fasteners, had fallen down and killed actors.
1 Horror-story writer who had frightened an audience of children into convulsions resulting in deaths.
5 Reporters who had been caught accepting bribes to omit names, and other similar crimes.
1 Studio production secretary who had been accepting bribes to ruin the careers of actors.
2 Actors who had been doing long stretches for impersonating officers of various kinds to shake people down.
5 Circus girls, educated and statuesque, who, variously, had been doing time on long sentences yet to be served for rolling drunks, extorting money, setting up people for hits.
6 Roustabouts who had been doing lots of time for mayhem and assault, amongst other things.
2 Drivers skilled in heavy vehicles who had been doing twenty and thirty years respectively for pillaging their trucks.
2 Cooks, experienced in crew logistics, who had been doing time for selling stolen food.
Madison finished his body check and despite the stench, a pulse of exultation began to course through him.
One thing they had in common. It was chief amongst the several quick tests he had used. If they tried hard, they could lay aside the killer stamp and appear totally honest and sincere. If they concentrated, they could even talk in persuasive voices. Oh, they would require some work and practice, that he understood. But he always expected that. A master at it like himself could drill it in.
A glow of eagerness built up to a fiery excitement within him. What luck!
HE HAD HIS CREW!
The exact people he needed to get on with his job!
He felt he could rise to heights now never before achieved!
Oh, how lucky Heller was, to have him for his PR!
He must not let anything stop him now!
There was a holdup on departure.
The convicts were all loaded. The felon drivers were at the controls of the air-coaches. No Flick.
Madison looked around the black and gritty courtyard, noting there was a turret gun still trained on them from the wall. He wanted to get out of there before something untoward happened. He didn't want to shout and raise a commotion.
Then he saw a glow was coming from the Model 99. He raced over to it.
Flick was bent over one of the panel screens: three-dimensional colored maps were stopping, shifting, blurring on it. They were all of mountains.
"You're keeping us waiting," said Madison impatiently. "Let's get out of here. What on Earth are you doing NOW?"
"I'm looking for a place to take this gang," said Flick. "There's a lot of mountains but it's not like on Calabar. On Voltar, I can't find any caves."
"And what do you want caves for?"
"To train! You got to train a gang. You can't just let them blunder into a job. It all has to go off like clockwork-clip, clip, clip! Now, there's some old ruins on the other side of the Blike Mountains-some town that got knocked out in a revolt ten thousand years ago, it says. And it would do, except only this airbus can cross the Blike Mountains. Those air-coaches can't fly at fifty thousand feet. I got PROBLEMS!"
"Well, Flick, I don't see why we don't go to the town-house in Joy City."
"Oh, no! That would be cheating!"
"Well," said Madison, "you can do what you please, but I'm going to take MY gang there."
"YOUR gang-MY gang! What's this? Are we splitting up? Hells, that could cause a gang war!"
"Oh, we should do anything to avoid that," said Madison. "Look, I've got a compromise. The 76th floor is said to be just ordinary. It's the rest of the upper floors that all the loot is in. I promise faithfully not to let anybody go up to the upper four floors."
Flick frowned. He thought it over. Then he said, "All right. Nobody goes into the upper four floors until we're ready to rob them. So that's settled. We go to the 76th floor of the townhouse."
Madison started to withdraw to signal the air-coaches. "Wait a minute," said Flick. "It will look awful suspicious going into the townhouse in that swank neighborhood with a bunch of prisoners in rags. The cops would be all over us like a blanket. We'll go rob a clothing warehouse first."
"NO!" said Madison.
"Yes!" said Flick. "I compromised on the 76th floor of the townhouse. Now you can compromise on something. I know of the swankiest men and women's clothing outlet you ever heard of. HUGE. Even noblemen's stores get their stock from that place. Besides, I need to put my footwoman in a uniform: she's got awful big breasts and is going to need a big selection to choose a uniform from, or we won't get a fit. So, as long as I've got to get her one, we'll just outfit the whole gang in one go."
Madison looked at him aghast.
"Classy Togs Warehouse is the name. It's in the outskirts of Commercial City, whole area deserted at this time of night. I cased the joint. It's only got one watchman and he's old."
Seeing the determination, Madison felt helpless. "I'm afraid that I'll wait outside."
"Oh, good. You be the whistle man!" And Flick leaped out and raced to the air-coaches, ordering the drivers to follow him, whispering to each they were off to do their first job and get some clothes.
Shortly they soared into the air out of the courtyard and strung out, streaking down the coast. A moon had risen and was bathing the night with a soft green glow. The Domestic Confederacy Prison's bulk disappeared behind. Then even the mountains were gone.
Flick was chortling happily. "Man, we're off on our first job!"
Madison looked down. They were speeding along moon-bathed beach, the surf long ribbons as it purled against the sand.
Madison looked back.
NO COACHES!
"HALT!" he screamed at Flick. "You were going too fast!"
"WHAT?" said Flick. "No air-coaches? I only been doing three hundred. Those coaches can do four hundred easy! They've escaped!"
He flipped the Model 99 around in the air and sent its scanners flashing all around the sky.
NO BLIPS!
No sign of air-coaches on the screen.
"Well, (bleep) them!" raged Flick. "That's gratitude! The lousy (bleepards) have taken off to do their own job!"
"Let's go back the way we came," said Madison. "Maybe they crashed. Can you do a ground search with something?"
Flick punched around and got a metal-detector beam working and registering.
They sped back up the moonlit sand. The tips of the mountains to the north rose once more as they headed back.
Then, A BLIP. TWO BLIPS. THREE BLIPS!
Three air-coaches down there on the sand!