"I dislike calling you a liar, colonel, but that is exactly what you are," West answered. "We would all be taken care of, as long as all of us did exactly what the high command wanted. The instant I tried to do anything else, my actions would be called treason and I would be considered a traitor. My equipment would be confiscated, 'for the convenience of the government,' and I would be lucky if I did not face a firing squad. Tell me honestly, colonel, would not this happen?" For the first time, West's words had a tinge of anger in them. Or was it sorrow?
"Sam—" Nedra said. "Something—" Her voice was a whisper from some far-off land.
"What is it, Nedra?" West asked. In an instant, he had forgotten all about Kurt Zen.
The nurse sat up straight and stiff. All color fled from her face. "Something—" Her voice was the faintest whisper of sound in this quiet room.
"Nedra, what is it?" West's tones had alarm in them.
Instead of answering, the nurse slid from her chair to the floor, in a faint.
Dim and distant in the silence that followed came a popping sound.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—
Zen had heard this death-dealing rattle too often to mistake its identity.
"A sub-machine gun!"