The Brotherhood of the Rose by David Morrell Page B

to Atlanta, he'd checked on several hotels in case he ever needed them. His wound required attention. He wanted a bath. A change of clothes. He couldn't risk a place where they cared about the quality of the guests, as long as the bill was paid in advance. It had to be far from the luxury of Peachtree Street. He knew exactly where to go.
    A train wailed in the distance. Old buildings flanked him. He hunched, easing the pressure in his wound, sensing them converge. Four, if his fever hadn't weakened his hearing.
    Just after he crossed a river bridge, The current whispered below him. Past a burnt-out building, at a vacant lot, he braced himself. With blood on his clothes, hunched the way he was, he must have looked like an easy mark.
    They came from the dark, surrounding him. For a moment, they reminded him of a gang who'd beaten Chris and himself outside the orphanage years ago. "I'm not in the mood," he said.
    The tallest kid grinned. "I'm telling you," Saul said. "Hey, all we want is your money. We won't hurt you. That's a promise."
    The others giggled. "Really," Saul said. "Back off." They crowded him and snickered. "But we need," the tall kid said. "Try someone else."
    "But who? There's nobody else. You see someone else around?" The tall kid flicked open a switchblade. "You need lessons. You're holding it wrong."
    The tall kid frowned. For a moment, he seemed to suspect. Then.he glanced at the others. Pride made him lunge with the knife.
    Saul broke their extremities. "Like I said, a mistake." He almost walked away. On impulse, he searched them. Seventy dollars.
    ,,That seat's reserved," the square-jawed man growled, pointing at the glass of beer on the counter before the bar stool.
    Chris shrugged and sat, tapping his fingers to The Gambler by Kenny Rogers. "Your friend won't need it while he's in the men's room."
    On a stage in back, a stripper did a slow grind to the rhythm of the country-western tune. "She'll hurt herself," Chris said.
    The burly man scowled. "She's not the only one. You a masochist? That your problem?"
    "Not me. I discriminate. I have sex only with women."
    "I get it." The man wore a flowered shirt hanging loose over his faded jeans. He stubbed out his cigarette, stood, and glared down at Chris. "You want that stool so bad you want me to shove it up---2' "You tried to do that in Saigon once. It didn't work."
    "But this is Honolulu. I could take you now."
    "I don't have time for you to try." Chris turned to the barman. "Another beer for my friend. I'll have a Coke."
    "Not drinking?" the man in the flowered shirt asked. "Not today."
    "Bad action?"
    "It's not good. You look ridiculous in that shirt."
    "A change from the uniform. On R and R, I go nuts for color. You'd be surprised. It attracts the women."
    "Tell them you're a major. That'll impress them more than the shirt."
    "Uncool."
    Chris paid for the drinks. The husky man sipped his beer. "You've been making the rounds of Special Forces bars?"
    Chris nodded. "Checking for friends?" Chris nodded. "Who owe you favors?"
    Shrugging, Chris glanced at the doorway. "You've got a suspicious nature."
    "And you've got the knee ripped out of your pants."
    "I had to leave a place in a hurry. I haven't had time to buy another pair."
    "You're safe in here. Nobody's going to bother you with several A-teams to back you up."
    "But when I step outside... In fact, I'd like to take a trip. Off the islands."
    "Any special place?"
    "I hoped you'd be my travel agent. As long as it's not the mainland."
    The thick-necked man glanced toward the naked stripper. "We fly out of here tomorrow."
    "Military transport?"
    "The Canal Zone." The man glanced back at Chris. "Okay?"
    "You can get me aboard?"
    "No problem. A couple guys owe me favors."
    "I owe you one now."
    "Hey, who keeps score?"
    Chris laughed. "I got another problem, though," the major said. "What is it?"
    "The guy I'm with who was sitting there. He should've been back by now. He's so damned drunk he must've fallen in