Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

low. And besides, if they missed, the odds were they'd end up slaughtering innocents in some nearby tower, and the claims for damages from the wounded Families would be enormous. Even so, the Wolfes wouldn't hold off much longer for fear of losing him, and there was no way they'd leave him alone till he reached Tower Shreck. Finlay grimaced unhappily. He had to deal with them now, while he still had the advantage of surprise. And he had to make it quick, for Adrienne's sake.
    He'd already decided what he was going to do while he was talking to Robert. It was risky and dangerous and depended far too much on luck and bluff, but it was all he had. He bent over the controls before he could talk himself out of it, and turned the gravity sled around in a tight arc and sent it hammering toward the steel-and-glass face of the nearest tower. He braced himself as the wall loomed up before him like a great gleaming flyswatter. Beyond the illuminated windows, he could see people jumping to their feet and pointing. Some turned to run. Finlay drew his gun and fired at the growing expanse of window.
    The heavy steelglass shattered as the energy beam tore through it, blasting lethal fragments through the office space beyond. People fell, spurting blood, and did not rise again. Finlay didn't have time to care. They were innocents, but they weren't Family. He steered the sled through the great jagged opening in the tower face, then hit the brakes for all he was worth. The sled shuddered to
    a halt halfway across the long office floor, almost throwing Finlay off. He hung on desperately. Adrienne's unconscious form rolled forward to press against the backs of his legs.
    He leaned on the controls for a moment to get his breath back. His arms and legs were shaking from shock and reaction, and he ran through the calming chants the previous Masked Gladiator had taught him. In the Arena, control was everything.
    People were crying and screaming all around him, but as yet there was no sign of any security guards. He turned the sled around so that it was facing toward the gaping hole in the window. The Wolfe sleds had slowed to a halt well back from the shattered window and were hovering outside the tower, watching cautiously to see what he'd do next. They didn't seem too worried. After all, there was nowhere he could go now. He'd trapped himself. Finlay's death's-head grin stretched across his face again as he reached down into the top of his boot and drew out the small slab of explosive he carried there. Ever since he became the Masked Gladiator and acquired so many enemies, he'd always known that someday his true identity might be revealed, and he'd have to fight his way out of an impossible situation. Hence the explosive, for a last resort. Finlay had always believed in being prepared, in and out of the Arena.
    He slipped the explosive into his belt, where he could get at it easily, and grinned out at the Wolfe sleds, daring them to come in after him. After all, he was only Finlay Campbell, the notorious fop. What could he know about tactics and traps? The Wolfes held a brief conference, and then one sled nosed slowly forward. They knew it had to be a trap, but they couldn't see how. Finlay grinned till his cheeks ached. Keep coming, you bastards. Just a little closer…
    The sled drifted in through the break in the window, giving the jagged shards plenty of room, and then moved on into the office. Finlay hit the controls, and
    his sled jumped forward. The Wolfes fired their sled's disrupters, but Finlay's sled was already upon them. The two hulls slammed together, sending the Wolfes staggering. Finlay had braced himself, and his hand was perfectly steady as he raised his gun and shot the Wolfe pilot. The energy beam tore right through the Wolfe's chest and threw the burning body over the side of the sled. The remaining Wolfes grabbed for their guns, but Finlay had already jumped onto their sled and was among them, sword in hand. He cut and hacked with his blade, trading skill for speed, and blood flew on the air. The Wolfes couldn't fire for fear of hitting each other, and there wasn't room or time to draw their swords.
    They fought back desperately anyway, but they had been caught unprepared, and he was the Masked Gladiator. They never stood a chance.
    Finlay cut down the last man with cold efficiency, kicked the body over the side, and then sheathed his sword. The Wolfes on the other sleds were rushing forward, shouting their anger and