hoods spread out, encircling George, Frankie, and Harry.
"I'm gonna cut you," the punk said, brandishing the knife.
"Do it," urged one of the gang.
Surprisingly, the hood didn't hesitate. He lunged the point at George's midsection, but George nimbly dodged the thrust and caught the hood's arm as it extended. Without waiting any longer, Harry sprang to action, delivering a kick to the chest of one hood and pushing another aside. The remaining two grabbed Frankie and began to beat him.
George had the punk's arm locked up. The young tattooed man bent over at the waist and tried unsuccessfully to twist out of George's grip. Harry pulled one guy off Frankie and punched the other. Frankie scrambled to his feet. A gun went off and everybody ducked.
Harry glanced to his right and saw that the hood he'd pushed aside had pulled the gun. George still held his punk in an arm lock.
At that moment, a limo floated down and landed on the street. One of the back doors opened and a hand waved to Harry.
"Quick!" A male voice said from the interior.
Frankie was the first to enter the limo, quickly followed by Harry. George, still holding the punk by the arm, edged himself to the curb. He placed a foot in the small of the man's back and shoved him away. Then, George jumped into the hovering limousine. Immediately, the limo sprang into the air and left the gang behind.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry turned from the window and looked at Edward Fagen.
"That was a close one," Fagen said.
"We had 'em going until that guy pulled a gun."
"You handled yourselves well."
"Well," Frankie said matter-of-factly, "I'm just glad we got away before I got mad." Frankie tenderly touched his swollen lip and looked at George. "Am I bleeding?"
Harry thought he saw a touch of a smile at the corners of Fagen's mouth.
There was something about Edward Fagen. He showed little emotion. His words and his actions were delivered with a minimum of effort, hitting their mark concisely. He was a powerful man, Harry could see at a glance; not by the outward furnishings, the expensive limo, the clothes, but by the strength he seemed to emanate. This is a man, Harry thought, who has been to the stars.
Fagen spoke to Harry. "I'm almost glad this incident occurred. It gives me the opportunity to speak with you."
Harry couldn't imagine why. He was an alternate. He wasn't going to the stars. "I got alternate." Harry blurted.
"I know. But we need to speak privately." Fagen turned away and spoke briefly into a phone. After a moment, he replaced the receiver and the limo dropped smoothly to the street below.
"What's going on?" asked Frankie.
"I need to speak with Harry. I've called for another limo to have you two delivered to Foundation headquarters. Harry will join you there."
There was no argument from Frankie or George.
When the limo rested on the pavement, Fagen held open the door. "Good evening, boys. Stay out of trouble."
The two stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Thanks, Ed. See you at the party, Harry."
Fagen shut his door and the limo lifted up again. Fagen spoke to the driver through an intercom. "Ten minutes, James?"
"Yes sir, very good, sir," came the prompt reply.
Fagen faced Harry. "Now, I wanted to tell you that I did everything I could to get you aboard. We were watching you through the tests."
Harry looked at Fagen and said nothing. Where was he going with this?
The older man continued. "You were my first choice. I pressured the election committee but when the final tally came down, you were passed over for one of the board member's nephews."
Harry knew it was against the election rules to discuss the procedures. Why was Fagen telling him these things?
"You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. Right?"
"It crossed my mind."
"Yes, well, as you're probably aware, I'm not supposed to talk about candidate selections. Inner workings of the company and all that. They like to give the impression that the selection process is entirely
"I'm gonna cut you," the punk said, brandishing the knife.
"Do it," urged one of the gang.
Surprisingly, the hood didn't hesitate. He lunged the point at George's midsection, but George nimbly dodged the thrust and caught the hood's arm as it extended. Without waiting any longer, Harry sprang to action, delivering a kick to the chest of one hood and pushing another aside. The remaining two grabbed Frankie and began to beat him.
George had the punk's arm locked up. The young tattooed man bent over at the waist and tried unsuccessfully to twist out of George's grip. Harry pulled one guy off Frankie and punched the other. Frankie scrambled to his feet. A gun went off and everybody ducked.
Harry glanced to his right and saw that the hood he'd pushed aside had pulled the gun. George still held his punk in an arm lock.
At that moment, a limo floated down and landed on the street. One of the back doors opened and a hand waved to Harry.
"Quick!" A male voice said from the interior.
Frankie was the first to enter the limo, quickly followed by Harry. George, still holding the punk by the arm, edged himself to the curb. He placed a foot in the small of the man's back and shoved him away. Then, George jumped into the hovering limousine. Immediately, the limo sprang into the air and left the gang behind.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry turned from the window and looked at Edward Fagen.
"That was a close one," Fagen said.
"We had 'em going until that guy pulled a gun."
"You handled yourselves well."
"Well," Frankie said matter-of-factly, "I'm just glad we got away before I got mad." Frankie tenderly touched his swollen lip and looked at George. "Am I bleeding?"
Harry thought he saw a touch of a smile at the corners of Fagen's mouth.
There was something about Edward Fagen. He showed little emotion. His words and his actions were delivered with a minimum of effort, hitting their mark concisely. He was a powerful man, Harry could see at a glance; not by the outward furnishings, the expensive limo, the clothes, but by the strength he seemed to emanate. This is a man, Harry thought, who has been to the stars.
Fagen spoke to Harry. "I'm almost glad this incident occurred. It gives me the opportunity to speak with you."
Harry couldn't imagine why. He was an alternate. He wasn't going to the stars. "I got alternate." Harry blurted.
"I know. But we need to speak privately." Fagen turned away and spoke briefly into a phone. After a moment, he replaced the receiver and the limo dropped smoothly to the street below.
"What's going on?" asked Frankie.
"I need to speak with Harry. I've called for another limo to have you two delivered to Foundation headquarters. Harry will join you there."
There was no argument from Frankie or George.
When the limo rested on the pavement, Fagen held open the door. "Good evening, boys. Stay out of trouble."
The two stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Thanks, Ed. See you at the party, Harry."
Fagen shut his door and the limo lifted up again. Fagen spoke to the driver through an intercom. "Ten minutes, James?"
"Yes sir, very good, sir," came the prompt reply.
Fagen faced Harry. "Now, I wanted to tell you that I did everything I could to get you aboard. We were watching you through the tests."
Harry looked at Fagen and said nothing. Where was he going with this?
The older man continued. "You were my first choice. I pressured the election committee but when the final tally came down, you were passed over for one of the board member's nephews."
Harry knew it was against the election rules to discuss the procedures. Why was Fagen telling him these things?
"You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. Right?"
"It crossed my mind."
"Yes, well, as you're probably aware, I'm not supposed to talk about candidate selections. Inner workings of the company and all that. They like to give the impression that the selection process is entirely
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