connector from the port.
As the connector slipped out she slumped forward and her body relaxed. She groaned loudly, then with blind movements managed to get herself upright. With Pikul’s assistance she regained her feet and stood close to him, swaying slightly.
Two of her fans approached, trying to push Pikul aside to get to her. He forced them back with a vicious swing of the wand.
“Stay away from her!” he shouted. “Allegra’s coming with me! I’m taking charge of her!”
The fans backed off, and next to him Allegra stirred. Amazingly, she laughed weakly.
“I’m coming with you?” she said incredulously.
“Yeah, lady,” Pikul said. “You’re with me from now on. Until I get further orders from Antenna.”
Although she was clutching the bloodied wound in her shoulder and looked extremely dazed, Allegra Geller appeared to be rational and capable of movement. Pikul put his hand under the elbow of her good arm and helped to swing her around. The moment she regained her balance, she unexpectedly turned away from him and scrambled back up on the platform.
“I can’t lose my pod!” she shouted, above the racket of the panicking voices still swelling around them.
Her pod had fallen under one of the overturned chairs. She hurried across and grabbed it, pausing for a couple of seconds to examine it. Her gestures, her body language, reminded Pikul of a mother with a small baby. Apparently satisfied that the pod was undamaged, she looked around for her pod case and managed to retrieve it from the edge of the platform. She slid the game-pod and its UmbyCord inside and snapped the lid closed.
Pikul dashed across to her, took her hand and hauled her through the crowd.
In spite of everything that had just happened, people recognized her as the star and turned to her, trying to reach out and touch her.
Pikul barged his way through, holding the electronic wand menacingly before him.
The main door was locked. Pikul groaned inwardly. He now remembered locking it himself, to keep out more people like Dichter, but the key was somewhere deep in his pocket, with a gun made out of a dead animals body pushed in tightly on top of it. He had neither time nor inclination to go hunting around for the key. They had to move immediately. He silently congratulated himself bitterly on his own lousy planning.
“Over there!” Allegra shouted to him. “At the side.”
It looked like a door that wouldn’t take them outside, but when Pikul kicked it open, they found themselves in a short corridor leading to a kitchen. On the far side of the room was another door. It sprang open with the help of Pikul’s boot, and moments later they were outside in the calm, scented air. Cicadas rasped in the placid nighttime heat. Stars shone with reassuring normality overhead.
“Does that happen everywhere you go?” he said to Allegra, panting with sudden exhaustion.
She simply shook her head, clutching her injured shoulder. Pikul glanced back through a window at the illuminated interior of the hall. He could see part of the platform. Five or six of the fans had found Dichter’s body and were kicking it in a frenzy of hatred and revenge. Wittold Levi’s two assistants were carrying away Levi’s body with great care and tenderness.
“Come on, lady,” Pikul said. “Time to be out of here.”
[ 4 ]
They emerged from the church hall at the side. Pikul rushed her along the path to the front. The parking lot he’d been in earlier was here, reaching as far as the edge of the highway and around to the other side of the building. He dragged her along, heading past the main door.
“Where are we going?” she shouted.
“To my car. I parked it on the other side.”
“No . . . forget that. We’ll take my limo.” She pointed to the Land Rover Defender.
“No way!” Pikul said.
“Why not? What’s the problem?”
“I don’t trust the driver.”
“Who? Frances? You can drive, you idiot!”
They hurried across to the Defender
As the connector slipped out she slumped forward and her body relaxed. She groaned loudly, then with blind movements managed to get herself upright. With Pikul’s assistance she regained her feet and stood close to him, swaying slightly.
Two of her fans approached, trying to push Pikul aside to get to her. He forced them back with a vicious swing of the wand.
“Stay away from her!” he shouted. “Allegra’s coming with me! I’m taking charge of her!”
The fans backed off, and next to him Allegra stirred. Amazingly, she laughed weakly.
“I’m coming with you?” she said incredulously.
“Yeah, lady,” Pikul said. “You’re with me from now on. Until I get further orders from Antenna.”
Although she was clutching the bloodied wound in her shoulder and looked extremely dazed, Allegra Geller appeared to be rational and capable of movement. Pikul put his hand under the elbow of her good arm and helped to swing her around. The moment she regained her balance, she unexpectedly turned away from him and scrambled back up on the platform.
“I can’t lose my pod!” she shouted, above the racket of the panicking voices still swelling around them.
Her pod had fallen under one of the overturned chairs. She hurried across and grabbed it, pausing for a couple of seconds to examine it. Her gestures, her body language, reminded Pikul of a mother with a small baby. Apparently satisfied that the pod was undamaged, she looked around for her pod case and managed to retrieve it from the edge of the platform. She slid the game-pod and its UmbyCord inside and snapped the lid closed.
Pikul dashed across to her, took her hand and hauled her through the crowd.
In spite of everything that had just happened, people recognized her as the star and turned to her, trying to reach out and touch her.
Pikul barged his way through, holding the electronic wand menacingly before him.
The main door was locked. Pikul groaned inwardly. He now remembered locking it himself, to keep out more people like Dichter, but the key was somewhere deep in his pocket, with a gun made out of a dead animals body pushed in tightly on top of it. He had neither time nor inclination to go hunting around for the key. They had to move immediately. He silently congratulated himself bitterly on his own lousy planning.
“Over there!” Allegra shouted to him. “At the side.”
It looked like a door that wouldn’t take them outside, but when Pikul kicked it open, they found themselves in a short corridor leading to a kitchen. On the far side of the room was another door. It sprang open with the help of Pikul’s boot, and moments later they were outside in the calm, scented air. Cicadas rasped in the placid nighttime heat. Stars shone with reassuring normality overhead.
“Does that happen everywhere you go?” he said to Allegra, panting with sudden exhaustion.
She simply shook her head, clutching her injured shoulder. Pikul glanced back through a window at the illuminated interior of the hall. He could see part of the platform. Five or six of the fans had found Dichter’s body and were kicking it in a frenzy of hatred and revenge. Wittold Levi’s two assistants were carrying away Levi’s body with great care and tenderness.
“Come on, lady,” Pikul said. “Time to be out of here.”
[ 4 ]
They emerged from the church hall at the side. Pikul rushed her along the path to the front. The parking lot he’d been in earlier was here, reaching as far as the edge of the highway and around to the other side of the building. He dragged her along, heading past the main door.
“Where are we going?” she shouted.
“To my car. I parked it on the other side.”
“No . . . forget that. We’ll take my limo.” She pointed to the Land Rover Defender.
“No way!” Pikul said.
“Why not? What’s the problem?”
“I don’t trust the driver.”
“Who? Frances? You can drive, you idiot!”
They hurried across to the Defender
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