"It's Johnny Steel!" The fighter's battered face sagged in astonishment. "It's the cops!"
The Bear's neon eyes blazed down at Steel, its huge chest rising and falling slowly, breath hissing in its black nostrils. It was a sight that few people lived long enough to see close up. An ice-bear could take a man's head off with one claw. If this one was a fake, Steel thought, it was a whopping good one. Its dark lips curled back from a jagged row of yellowed six-inch fangs. From each hairy paw, a rake of white claws slowly unsheathed. Then something happened that almost made Steel drop his gun.
"Yes, I know Mr. Steel," The Bear said.
It was a terrifying sound, guttural, deep in the great animal's throat—but it proved something to Steel after its first shock. He'd heard sound-blending devices before. That was a human voice set in the growl of a bear. The disguise was perfect but it was a disguise.
This however did nothing to answer the two big questions. How did The Bear know him? And who was in that disguise? Well, he wasn't going to be long finding out. "Whoever you are," Steel said, "I'm giving you five seconds to get out of there." He raised the pistol a fraction of an inch, years of police training, perfect aim from the hip.
Then suddenly—insanely—the powerful Mike Doyle was diving toward him.
Two thoughts flashed in Steel's head as he saw him coming—Mike had picked up a mighty strange loyalty lately to risk his life for his boss—and, Steel knew he couldn't shoot. It would bring the whole gang here instantly.
He jumped aside. He smashed Mike across the head with his pistol. Mike sprawled and slid across the stage, to lay still.
Steel whirled back to The Bear. "Are you getting out of there or not?"
There was no answer for a moment. Then The Bear's voice was a deep whisper. "When I do, Mr. Steel, you're going to be in for a mighty big surprise...."