On the ride to the base, I did my best to pretend to be interested while simultaneously preventing his affectionate displays. The most effective way to accomplish this was to get him talking on political issues. It kept his mouth occupied and his body away from me, and I still looked as though I really cared. It was a nice arrangement, and I learned a lot more about the organization as an additional bonus.
"Anarchy is the only answer. Governments have been supprssing the individual for generations, and it's time we ended it. No government wants to listen to what we have to say, simply because we're inexperienced. So we're trapped in an age bracket with no hope of escape except through years and patience or acting out. We're victums of our society, unable to function or change the world in which we live. But now we've found a way. The only way to destroy the corrupted systems and rid ourselves of hypocritical adults is through violence. Every other means has been exhausted from the hippie peace movement on. This is our only choice, the only way we can take charge of our lives..."
It was interesting to talk to him. I saw more to him than I saw in the greasy punk I first encountered in the bar. Here was someone who was genuinely passionate about changing the world for the better, even though his tactics were somewhat demented. I felt a tinge of guilt; I was the hypocritical adult representing a corrupt government system with the goal of silencing his voice. Minus the megalomanic tendencies and the violent capabilities, Drill might actually be a decent guy.
Before long we arrived at a secluded building in the middle of the Australian desert, surrounded by a small forest. The only signs of human life throughout the entire perimeter came from the base. It was guaranteed that I was truly out of reach of the feds to be helped if I needed it. Now I only had myself to rely on to finish my assignment.
Drill took great pride in giving me a tour of the base. He showed me the weapons facility first, which had taken years to acquire the necessary amount of force to overthrow governments. It was massive. I doubted that even the United States had buildings with as much destructive capabilities as this one had. The entire warehouse was nearly three stories high and was stocked with crudely made shelves containing every dangerous weapon known to man. The sight gave me goosebumps--I hope I never see anything like it for as long as I live.
Then he took me to the main hall where the meeting was going to be held. It was an extension of the warehouse, and wasn't exactly ballroom quality. The walls and floor looked as though it were made from an unstable metal. I remembered walking up a flight of stairs to reach this part of the building, so the floor must have been at least twelve feet above the Australian desert. It was large enough to hold up to a thousand people, but only about 400 planned on attending the meeting from organizations world-wide. I walked behind Drill the entire time, giving him an ego-boost as I clung to him. It wasn't a pleasant task, but it was necessary to earn the "special guest" privilege.
The entire time I kept my eyes open for any of the three. Of course, they probably wouldn't be easy to spot. Especially with Tex and Chance on their hit list.
Then Drill introduced me to several other high-ranking members, probably more for his status than for my benefit. Along the line of introductions, I finally reached one I ws interested in.
"Sugar, I'd like you to meet Mr. Dalton, who has been essential in providing us with as many firearms as we now possess."
I smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
He nodded. "Excuse me, sir. I have a favor to ask. Tonight is important, and I only thought it appropriate to invite the one man who has helped me seek out as many firearms as I have. He isn't a member officially, but he is in spirit."
It looked as though Drill was going to disapprove, but then he looked down at me and changed his mind. "Normally, I wouldn't. But tonight is a special night, so I'll allow it. Where is he?"
"Right here, sir." Standing behind Dalton was the tall figure of a man wearing an executioner's mask. I knew who it was immediately, although I doubted if he recognized me.
"Isn't the mask a little extreme, Mr. Dalton?"
"It's part of his image, sir. He's never seen without it in public."
"Very well. It's a pleasure to have you with us," Drill told him. He led me away to be shown off to others.
Well, now I had two identified. I kept my eyes on Tex every moment I could spare. He was easy to spot in the crowd. Most people were dressed up for this occasion, well, as dressed up as punks get, and he was marching around as an executioner. But then again, who was I to talk, wearing my "typical punk attire." What stories we would share when we got out of this mess.
"The meeting's almost ready, Sugar. I have a seat saved for you on stage, where you'll have the best view of tonight's events." He escorted me to the promised seat. From the stage, I saw Tex and Dalton together in the back of the room, discussing something. By now they must have planted the explosives and were probably looking for an opportunity to press the trigger.
I looked around the room. Against the far wall, I spotted Chance. He wasn't in disguise. Maybe he wasn't as recognizable as Tex to need one. And he had his own membership, so it was probably easier to get him inside. He was fiddling with a panel on the wall--planting the last explosive.
Suddenly, I realized that I might be in trouble if I didn't plan an escape route. Tex and Chance didn't know I was here, so they weren't going to wait for me to safely escape. If they pull the trigger and escape in time, I was going to need to find my own way out.
I looked around and saw my answer. Behind me was a large button that read "Disposal" with a 10' by 10' movable floor beneath it. If I needed to, I could run and press the button, fall the twelve feet to the ground, and make a run for it.
Satisfied, I kept an eye on my three allies, while occasionally making flirtatious gestures in Drill's direction.
(Go on to 24.)