Hodak shot a quick glance at Brad, rose and shambled between the tables until he was behind the sledgehammer. Tapping Scarf on the shoulder, he said quietly, "Hey, c'mon, let the old geezer alone. He was just minding his..." Scarf reacted with incredible speed for his size. Shoving Drummer away, he whirled, arm extended. Powered by the force of his pivot, the edge of his rigid hand aimed directly at Hodak's throat. Hodak stepped back and to the side, gripped Scarf's thick wrist in his muscle-corded hands. Using his attacker's momentum, Hodak twisted and bent. The Major's huge body catapulted through the air and crashed on to a table and its several chairs, sending the occupants spinning. A hand appeared from nowhere and pulled Scarf's pistol from its holster. In seconds, Brad was back at his table. The bar-room went deathly silent. Scarf bounded up, spitting saliva, floor dust and curses. He reached for his weapon and gaped when he felt emptiness. Recovering, hunched forward, he charged Hodak, murder in his eyes. Freed, Drummer stepped back to the wall, shaken, not understanding what was happening. He searched for a safe place. Focusing on the struggle he recognized Hodak as one of the escaped prisoners he had been speculating about. Taking a chance, he moved toward the table from where Brad watched the action and the crowd. Hodak, waiting for Scarf's charge, stood balanced until the last fraction of a second, then stepped aside. Scarf passed like a juggernaut and smashed into the bar. Leaning heavily over the bar, breathing in convulsive gasps, Scarf turned his head to glare at Hodak. Running his hand down his thigh he felt again for his weapon. Eyes narrowed to slits, he searched along the filth-strewn floor. Scanning, his eyes passed the table where Brad sat, stopped, and snapped back. The weapon, distinctive by its red and black grip, lay there. He saw Brad watching, and Drummer nearby, back to the wall. Scarf lunged at Hodak, arms grappling. Hodak danced back and away. As Scarf passed, Hodak grasped his wrist and elbow, twisted, and curved Scarf's arm back and up between his shoulder blades. Hodak was gentle. With his free hand he probed and manipulated nerve centers in Scarf's neck and shoulders. Scarf dropped to his knees, then slipped back on to his rump, legs spread, arms slack, face perplexed. It was enough. He sat there, shaking his head to clear it. Looking up, he saw Hodak standing a short distance away, and beyond, a ring of faces, several grinning, others frightened and wary. Shifting his eyes to where his weapon lay, Scarf glared at Brad and Drummer. The silence was broken by the shuffle of Scarf groping upright, using a nearby table for support. He lurched to the bar and leaned over it for several seconds. Straightening, he grasped his helmet with one hand, wrapped the other around the flagon of Firehouse Red, and stalked out of the Charnel Pit. Chapter ELEVEN