Mysterious Cairo by Edited By Ed Stark, Dell Harris Page B

faded, but the little red lights were spinning like roulette wheels and their owners were staggering. I took aim at one of the lights and squeezed the trigger of my automatic. The slug tore through metal and buried itself in flesh and the priest flew backward into some furniture. There were a few more shouts in French, and I hit the floor and rolled.
    There was a muffled blast off to my left and piece of floor I'd been standing on a second before exploded into splinters. I'd been around Cairo long enough to know these clowns probably only had a few more minutes before their gizmos would stop working, but that might be longer than I'd have to breathe if I didn't move.
    I dove in the direction of the muzzle flash and crashed into one of the priests, bringing him to the floor. I raised my gun to smack him, but he caught my wrist in a grip that felt like it would grind my bones into powder. I let out a yell and brought my knee up into a spot I figured (correctly) would still be flesh, and he let go. I brought the butt of the gun down and rattled a few of his teeth loose. He lost interest in a lot of things right then, including staying awake.
    That left one more tin man. I whirled around just as the red light went out — his junk had stopped working. I expected him to make a break for it, but he didn't. He was padding around the room, hardly breathing, trying to move in for the kill. His right eye was useless now, so I moved to my left, trying to stay in his blind spot.
    We circled each other in the small room for what seemed like an hour. Once I stumbled on something soft and wet and realized it was probably Montaigne. I tried not to think about it. Nobody would be calling the cops about the shots — this was Cairo, after all.
    I stopped moving and strained to hear anything, but there was nothing. My gun arm still ached from that guy's grip, so I switched the Colt to my left hand. I started crawling toward what I guessed was the doorway — maybe I would be able to see him against the backdrop of the windows.
    Suddenly, I heard a low hum from behind me, and something that felt like an I-beam crashed against the back of my head. I didn't have the chance to roll with the blow, but I concentrated and managed to reduce the glare of the stars I was seeing. The padre had turned the juice back on, and worse, his sucker punch made me drop the gun.
    He didn't plan to give me the chance to find it, either. A metal hand grabbed my throat and lifted me into the air. He was having a good time slamming me into the wall and I was starting to get nostalgic for oxygen. Then it hit me — if he hadn't found me earlier, his ears were normal. I clapped the sides of his head with both hands and stunned him enough to let me go.
    He started peppering the floor with shots, finishing off one of his buddies in the process. I edged my way along the wall until I hit a mounted lamp. I had one last idea, but to pull it off, I needed to get him angry.
    "C'mon, you metal freak!" I bellowed. "Finish it off!"
    I ducked as he blasted a hole in the wall. "That the best you can do? Maybe Malraux should trade you in for a newer model!"
    He fired again. His aim was off, though — I hardly had to try to dodge this one. "What's the matter, tin man? Rust in your buckets?"
    That did it. He charged like a mad bull and swung for my head with his solid-steel arm. I moved at the last second, and his fist went through the plaster wall and severed the electric lines. He lit up like a neon sign for a few seconds before he wrenched himself free.
    He was breathing heavy, but he was still standing. I lashed out with my foot and caught him in the stomach, sending him into a dresser, then landed an uppercut that snapped his head back. He took a half-hearted swing at me, and I put everything I had into a right to his jaw.
    He rocked for a minute and then the damage finally took its toll. He went down in a heap at my feet. It took me a minute to find a part of him that had a pulse,