The Vengeance of the Tau by Jon Land Read Free Book Online

front of the hole the second Rollerblader had plunged through. Around him, McCracken could see evidence of the workers who had been here until just minutes ago. Their abandoned equipment included thick hoses coiled like snakes about the superstructure.
    Blast hoses. Used for stripping old paint and rust from the steel components of the bridge, the hoses pushed coarse black sand made from iron-mill slag called Black Beauty out at incredible pressure. McCracken figured this black sand would be the number forty-five size. With the air pressure set at 175 pounds and pushing 365 cubic feet of sand per minute, the hose could slice through granite blocks, never mind flesh and bone.
    “Get him! Get him! ”shouted the high-pitched nasal voice of the dandy.
    Two 9mm pistols poked through the opening, followed by a pair of balding heads Blaine recognized from back in Ghirardelli Square. McCracken grabbed one of the blast hoses and aimed it their way. He squeezed the deadman switch, and a dark blanket roared out in direct line with the faces of the balding members of the assault team.
    McCracken could not recall ever hearing screams worse than the ones that followed. He abandoned the hose and swung to the left at the sound of a thump. One of the big men in overalls he had glimpsed standing at the van’s rear back on Beach Street had dropped down onto the scaffolding platform from the rail above.
    “Kill him!” the dandy screamed.
    Before the big man could carry out the order, the cable with the missing cotter pin let go, dropping the platform and sending the man tumbling. He managed to grasp a rail at the last and hung there with legs dangling desperately four hundred feet above San Francisco Bay.
    “Fuck!” the high, nasal voice wailed.
    McCracken had already rushed off toward the labyrinth of catwalks and beams that formed the superstructure. If the roadway above was the Golden Gate’s heart, then this was its soul: ten million square feet of steel layered in all directions, spanning the entire scope of the bridge.
    Blaine eased himself from the yard-wide catwalk onto a narrow steel rail to quicken his escape. He walked down the rail gingerly, holding fast to thick support beams whenever possible. In the near distance, he heard sirens screaming.
    A pitter-pattery sound behind him made Blaine swing round.
    “Aye-yahhhhh!”
    The martial arts kiai preceded the dandy’s kick by an instant, long enough for Blaine to move his head out of its direct path, but not enough to avoid the strike entirely. The kick smacked his temple and drove him backward against a support beam. The dandy stalked forward with light, graceful steps, never even looking down. He moved from one rail to the next with a hop step and came straight at McCracken.
    “What’s the matter, sweetie, don’t want to take your medicine?”
    Blaine lunged forward with a kick of his own. But the dandy blocked it effortlessly. At the same instant, he slammed his other hand into the inside of McCracken’s thigh, narrowly missing his scrotum. Again Blaine reeled backward, just managing to catch his balance before the edge came up.
    “Yeah, you’re strong all right, sweetie, but it’s not gonna help you. Not against me. Come on, show me what you’ve got!”
    McCracken jumped up and grabbed hold of a steel crossbeam. He swung forward and dropped down on an adjacent catwalk to buy space and time. Four feet separated him from his toying adversary now, the dandy not looking too concerned.
    “You can do better than that, sweetie.”
    Blaine again leapt for hold on a neighboring crossbeam. Only this time he threw his whole body forward with legs lashing outward. The move seemed to fail when the dandy grabbed his outstretched ankles and held them in place.
    “I had expected so much more from a man who calls himself McCrackenballs,” the dandy taunted, in total control.
    “Really?”
    His position solidified, Blaine snaked his legs up across the too-soft face before him and