Frank stood paralyzed, puffing hard, realizing he was ill-suited for this sort of activity but unwilling to flee. “You heard him, hon! Get the kids and our stuff into the Winnebago!”
“But you—?”
“Go on, now!”
With a last helpless glance in Burnfingers’s direction she whirled and raced for the elevators.
The thing without the whip weighed at least three hundred pounds. It threw itself on Begay’s back. Burnfingers executed a deft little move and threw the monster into the far wall. As its companion raised the thin steel, Frank hopped forward and kicked it in the groin. That part of its anatomy was apparently analogous enough, because it promptly collapsed to the floor.
Burnfingers put an arm around Frank’s shoulder and launched him down the short hallway. “Come on, my friend!”
“Call—hotel security!” Frank managed to gasp.
“Cannot. We can’t stay here any longer, not even to answer helpful questions. Still got that credit with you?”
“The stuff the manager gave us?” He pulled out a spool of quarter-inch gold tape. “Yeah, right here, but—”
Burnfingers yanked it away. Glancing back, Frank saw two of the massive abductors pounding hard after them. Abruptly he realized how out of shape he was, wheezing and struggling to maintain the pace.
They charged into the casino, their pursuers closing the distance with every stride. Drawing startled looks and oaths in a dozen languages, Burnfingers leaped atop a gaming table. Before anyone could pull him down he unwound the secure end of the spool and threw it as far into the crowd as he was able. The gold tape trailed its spool like a berserk kite string, glinting in the lights.
Shouts and squeals of excitement filled the air as the gamblers and tourists scrambled for pieces of the tape. The crowd packed in tightly, rendering the aisles between gaming tables impassable, a living wave that smashed up against the pair of thugs and carried them backward.
Burnfingers was grinning as he jumped down from the table. “That ought to slow them down for a while. Let us leave now, before security does indeed put in an appearance. They would want to question us, and I don’t want to be questioned.” Grabbing Frank, he half led, half dragged him through the mob.
“Where are we going?”
“To the motor home, which your fine woman will hopefully have warmed up and awaiting us outside.”
“What if she’s late?”
“I think your woman is more resourceful than that. I don’t think we will have to wait for her.”
Whistles and sirens filled the room as the hotel’s security forces finally put in an appearance. The effort required to try to control a crowd battling for possession of pieces of a ten-thousand-credit tape left them no time for chasing fleeing tourists like Frank and Burnfingers Begay.
“What’s the deal, anyway? What’d those guys want with you?” Frank found it hard to run and talk simultaneously. Fortunately, whenever he slowed down, his companion all but carried him along.
“They wanted my gold, of course.”
Frank’s gaze rose to the backpack that bounced on the bigger man’s back. “They didn’t get it?”
“Of course not. Do you think I would wander around a place like this with a load of gold in my backpack? I may be crazy, but I am not stupid.”
“Then where is it? The gold, I mean?”
“I thought your luggage would be the safest place. I switched it when you were showing the children how to work the dimensional projector. I knew you would not mind.”
“Me, mind? Why should I mind? So the gold’s with Alicia and the kids?”
Begay nodded. Frank wanted to tell the Indian what he thought of him for placing Alicia in such danger, but he couldn’t spare the wind and right now he was more interested in leaving Begay’s assailants far behind. He didn’t ease off until they’d left the auditorium-casino section.
“Wait a minute. How could anybody here know about your gold?”
“They sensed it, because it is special. It has the odor of history upon it. Other things besides wine can improve with age. There is a mystique to old gold that has been much handled. An aura, a sense of power; call it what you will.” He nodded back the way they’d come. “They sensed it.”
Frank didn’t understand. “You mean they wanted your stash because it has antique value?”
Burnfingers shook his head. “No. They wanted to prevent me from making something of it.”
Something still didn’t make sense. “Why should they or anyone else care if you want to make some bracelets or watchbands out of the stuff?”
Burnfingers smiled at a private thought. “Perhaps they are afraid I may make something out of it besides a bracelet or watchband.” He gestured. “We made it. There is an exit.”
As they plunged through the emergency door, Frank forgot to ask Burnfingers who they might be.
He seemed to know exactly where they were going. As they ran around the side of the hotel and entered the main parking area, Frank bent over and rested his palms on his knees.
“Gonna have to slow down. Fast walking’s about all the exercise I get anymore. Spent the last ten years behind a desk. Remember, I don’t use jogging shoes. I just sell ’em.”
“It’s all right, my friend. We are nearly there. See?” Burnfingers pointed. The motor home stood out like an iceberg among the sea of leaner, sleeker vehicles in the parking lot. Lights blazed within and a slim figure stood silhouetted in the door.
“Hello, Mousewoman,” Burnfingers said in greeting as he helped Frank stagger the rest of the way.
“Hello, Burnfingers Begay.” She was eyeing him strangely. “Alicia told me you ran into some trouble.”
“All over now. Everyone here?”
“Yes.” Alicia pushed Mouse aside. “What happened? Why were those thugs beating up on you?”
