A Fistful of Trouble (Outlaws of the Galaxy Book 2) by Paul Tomlinson (books on motivation TXT) 📗

were standing in an alley across from their former home and place of employment. I saw one of them wave to Madam Fifi to let her know that they were all safe. These people and the others around the square were wearing expressions like those you see on photographs of the victims of war. Uncomprehending. Emotions overwhelmed so that only numbness remained.

The building was a mass of flame now. Colonel Damian Hodge chose this moment to make his entrance. He had a flair for the dramatic. He kept the fire behind him as he walked across the marketplace towards the huddle of council members. The big blue robot followed him, keeping away to the Colonel’s right so as not to obscure our view of the flames. The Colonel’s appearance in town was such a rarity that it would have drawn people’s attention even without the blazing backdrop.

Colonel Hodge looked from the councillors up to the face of the huge clock on the building behind them. It was a little before ten-thirty. The history of Cicada City had been changed in the space of an hour. He looked back down at us and smiled.

“Fellow council members,” he said. “Patricia.”

I looked around, hoping to see the sheriff. If he returned with the remote control, I could regain control of the big blue robot and then we’d stand a chance of dealing with the Colonel before things escalated. But there was no sign of Galton. He was probably concentrating his efforts on tackling the fire. I could see that water was being sprayed on the buildings next to Madam Fifi’s. They must have pulled the fire truck up behind them. I wished I had explained to the sheriff why I needed the remote control from Danny, but there had been very little time to scribble the message.

“You didn’t need to do this, Damian,” Mayor Brennan said.

“I didn’t do it for your benefit,” the Colonel said. “I needed to test my new weapons.”

I noted his use of the plural. He was referring to the other two robots. His demonstration wasn’t over yet. I felt a cold lump in my stomach. He hadn’t told me about this part of his ‘demonstration’. People were going to die. The only thing I could do was try and stall him until the sheriff returned.

“The council needs time to discuss your demands,” I said.

Colonel Hodge didn’t look at me. “They have until noon,” he said.

“Then we should leave them to their deliberations,” I said.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face and he turned to look at me. “I’m beginning to wish I’d left that thing on your head,” he said.

“You don’t need that if you want to make an example of me,” I said. “You can just shoot me yourself.”

I was on thin ice and I knew it. How hard could I push before he would snap and take action? I needed to spin this confrontation out for as long as I could. And if that didn’t work out, I wanted to make sure my death was enough to satisfy the Colonel’s desire to demonstrate his ruthlessness. Ideally, of course, I wanted to survive the encounter. Dying was Plan B.

Challenging a man to shoot you when you are unarmed is a calculated risk. Cold-blooded murder is, for most people at least, very different to killing someone in self-defence or in the heat of the moment. If you are facing a psychopath, on the other hand, they will shoot you without blinking. Another ploy is to pull open the front of your shirt, exposing your chest. The theory there is that a person is less likely to want to cause damage to naked, vulnerable flesh because it makes the effect of the wound more obvious, more real. I wasn’t ready to start stripping – but I hadn’t ruled it out.

Colonel Hodge smiled at me, perhaps aware of my thinking. “One doesn’t have a dog and bark oneself,” he said.

“You don’t send a robot to do a man’s work,” I countered. This was more of a challenge. Was he man enough to kill me himself? In my head I could hear the thin ice beginning to crack.

“You have outlived your usefulness,” the Colonel said. He drew his pistol and pointed it at me.

I raised my hands, emphasising that I was unarmed and defenceless. I stepped away from the others, in case the Colonel was a poor shot or one of his bullets passed through me.

I heard the sound of a shotgun being racked.

“Put down your weapon!” Deputy Jed Cole was pointing his shotgun at the Colonel. People stepped aside to afford him a clearer shot.

“Oh, squit!” I muttered. I hadn’t allowed for amateur heroics. Other than my own. Before I could move to step in front of the Deputy, a single shot echoed in the market square. A smoking hole the size of a Saphira dollar coin appeared in the exact centre of the Deputy’s forehead. Someone on the other side of the marketplace screamed.

“No!” the Mayor cried.

The Deputy’s body crumpled to the ground.

The shiny grey robot that had fired the shot returned to a waiting stance. The Colonel was looking at it with something like a father’s pride. He turned back to me and raised his pistol again.

“Stop!” Patricia Brennan said, putting herself between me and the Colonel. “No more killing.”

“Patricia!” the Mayor was alarmed.

“Please step aside, Patricia,” Colonel Hodge said.

“Mrs. Brennan, please don’t do this,” I said.

“He won’t shoot me,” she said. “Will you, Damian?”

Two small spots of colour appeared on the Colonel’s pale cheeks.

“If you promise me that no one else will be hurt,” Patricia said, “I will go with you.”

“Patricia, no!” Mayor Brennan protested.

A hint of a smile appeared on the Colonel’s thin lips.

“Will you promise me?” she asked.

“Providing my other demands are met – yes,” Colonel Hodge said. He lowered his gun and placed it in its holster.

Patricia Brennan shook off her husband’s hand and went to stand beside the Colonel. Looking at her face, it