by Ed Gorman
We dismounted. Our animals would go no farther than that. Too easy to spot them.
“There’s probably a gun in at least one of those windows,” I said. “And one on the other side, too.”
“How many men you figure he has?” Terhurne said.
I shrugged. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and hide out in there alone. At least a couple, probably three or four.”
I took the field glasses and stood on the highest point I could while staying hidden in the trees. The hotel had been designed to give the impression that it was a Scottish castle right out of Sir Walter Scott. And right out of Molly’s dreams.
The hotel was a thing of turrets and battlements and towers and gables all seeming to seek heaven in their elegant sweep. Once you traversed the bridge across the moat encircling the castle you reached massive doors that were flanked by huge beasts of Scottish myth. And of course there were windows, large and small, everywhere. In the many wars that had bloodied Scottish soil, the windows had enabled archers to repel enemies down the centuries. A sizable portion of the ground level showed the twisted wood and charred innards where the fire had swept. The fire had taken out nearly half the ground floor but the castle had been built with such care that it remained impervious, it seemed, to structural collapse.
I could picture Molly in one of those windows on a fine spring day waiting sight of her knight on his storied white stallion. Lute music would calm her and dreams of his embrace would soothe her. The king might appear and tell his daughter that she was being foolish. That she was so beautiful and so sought after that of course the knight would come and he would beg for her hand in marriage. And then she would take daughterly solace in the arms of the old king and he would let her sigh and weep however long she wished.
I was looking for any hint of humanity inside. But there was nothing. I wondered if the Turners were still alive. Grieves might have dispatched them quickly once he got their money.
Or maybe it was Grieves who was dead. Maybe for once the Turners were making love to each other instead of strangers before fleeing.
I couldn’t see the rear of the hotel from where I stood. It was likely barricaded in some fashion. Grieves wouldn’t have enough men to keep both entrances guarded.
And then I saw it. The middle floor. Burning brilliantly for just a moment. Most likely an oil lamp. And then it passed out of the frame of the window.
The safest way to approach the hotel would be from the back. Two men would be better than one and three better than two. But neither Liz nor Terhurne would be much help. Liz lacked the experience and Terhurne I didn’t trust. He might decide to do something on his own that would get both of us killed.
I went back to them. I had a good lie ready and told it well. “I’m just going to get a look at the back of the place. Just to figure out the best way in. If I see a chance I’ll take it. And that’s when I’ll call you both to sweep around back.”
“How’ll we know?” Terhurne said.
“You ever in the military?”
“Never got a chance.”
I figured he had a pretty good lie ready, too. And he told it with fair conviction, the implication being that he’d sure wanted to join but circumstances just wouldn’t allow it, those circumstances being, I imagined, that he didn’t want to get killed.
I gave them both the whippoorwill whistle we’d used back then. Three distinctive cries repeated three times. I was damned loud.
“I don’t think you should go alone. Couldn’t we at least go with you to look it over?”
“Liz, three people’re a whole lot easier to spot than one.”
“I’m pretty good at this sort of thing.”
“You may be, Terhurne. But we both agree that one man’s got a lot better chance of slipping past them.” Then I made it the way they’d want to hear it: “I sure wouldn’t go in there alone. That’s why I told you about the whistle. I need you standing by.”
Terhurne looked at Liz and frowned. Being left behind with a ninety-pound young woman probably wasn’t what he had in mind. He’d leave this part out when he was telling the voters about all the risks he’d taken bringing Grieves in. If he didn’t get in my way, I’d probably go along with him. He’d be a dime novel legend in no time.
There was also the chance that he knew I was lying to him. But he wouldn’t want to call me on it in front of Liz. I’d embarrassed him enough in front of her.
“You just listen for the whistle.”
“I still think you should take us along, Noah.”
“I may be whistling before you know it, Liz. I’m sorry but that’s the way it has to be for now.”
“He’s a bullheaded SOB, Liz.”
“Look who’s talking, Terhurne.”
I was back in the war again, behind enemy lines. Night and forests were the best friends I had. The only friends I could trust.
Then as now the idea was to become a shadow indistinguishable from all other shadows so that no matter how wily-eyed the sentry or lookout man, he’d never spot me. Moonsilver had become my favorite color and night birds my favorite music. I’d been forced to learn what was and what was not edible among the plants and undergrowth and thorny bushes. There were several obvious ones that could make you sick or even kill you. Everybody knew those. The ones you had to watch out for were the ones nobody ever talked about.
The closer I got to the resort, the more impressive it looked. I thought of all the murders, the cholera, and the fire that had finally shut it down. There were many myths about the castles of Scotland, including cursed ones. Given the history of the resort, the curse idea would seem to apply. To believers, anyway. I counted myself somewhere in the middle.
There was no bridge over the moat in back. And the massive wooden door had been barricaded with at least twenty two-by-fours. The spacing of the boards was uneven. I imagine it had been boarded up in haste after the fire to keep out looters. Much of the hotel had remained intact and would have been an inviting target to thieves.
The native stone of the castle walls gave the enormous hotel a pleasingly medieval look. Again I had a picture of archers leaning out the windows and killing the attackers below. But then I’d read an awful lot of Sir Walter Scott.
Deep woods provided a semicircle around the hotel. I walked the entire length of them, trying to figure out which would be the best way in. I could swim the moat but I’d leave myself open to anybody who saw me. And even if I tried it, how did I get inside? The double doors leading inside would be closed.
The only possibility I could see was on the west side of the castle where a canoe sat tied to the bank. There was a window on that side of the castle that seemed to be within grabbing distance—if I got very lucky, anyway. There could be a guard inside ready to put a bullet in my forehead as soon as he saw me trying to grapple my way inside. But I didn’t see any other way in.
That was when the guard stepped into view in that window. He had field glasses of his own. He scanned the woods.
I stepped back into deeper shadow even though I didn’t need to. There was no way he could see me from where he was.
But then he was joined by a second man. They spent a long minute discussing something. The second man took the field glasses and started scanning the woods. He didn’t spend much time on the location where I was hiding. Instead he searched for awhile in a place far to my west.
Then the first man took the glasses back and had another look for himself. He, too, spent serious time watching the same area.
They stayed another three or four minutes and then quickly vanished. I wondered what the hell was going on.
What I had to decide was whether that was the time to use the canoe to get to the castle wall and try and hoist myself up with the low window ledge. In the Scotland of a few centuries back, there wouldn’t have been windows that far down the wall. Too easy for the attackers to get in. But this was a hotel for rich people and they wouldn’t be willing to pay much for a hotel with no windows.
The gunfire started soon after.
I’d been about ready to make my break and run for the canoe but the sound of gunshots caused me to recede even farther into the dark woods.
Shouts. The sound of shots fired back and forth. The great thunderous sound of the front gates parting. Pounding footsteps as the gunfire continued back and forth, back and forth. Somebody would have to reload soon.
Two horses with riders slamming across the bridge over the moat in front. More shouts. In the starshine the horses had the look of paintings, enormous dark animals all bearing around the side of the castle on which I hid. There was no doubt where they were headed. The woods from where the guards’ gunfire had been returned.
Meaning that Terhurne and Liz hadn’t cared a damn about anything I’d said and had decided to do some skulking on their own. Or that Nan and Glen Turner had been hiding in the woods. But why?
I had to make a decision. With the gates open in front, I could get inside easily. The problem was who might be waiting for me in there. I could easily get killed.
But scrambling up the side of the castle and hoping to hurl myself inside over a window ledge—
Running in through the front gates sounded more promising. I tightened the grip on my Winchester and prepared for a dead run from the woods to the front side of the castle. No sense in moving slowly, checking every few yards to see if anybody spotted me from the castle or the grounds. If I was going to die, I might as well be running.
PART THREE
Chapter 23
I didn’t get far before stumbling against a tree and barking my right knee pretty good. But all I could do was keep running.
I had my Winchester. I could fire from some distance and fire accurately. As I worked my way across the open stretch of grass, I heard more gunfire and more shouts from the back side of the castle. I still couldn’t decide who it was likelier to be—had Grieves’s men found Liz and Terhurne or the Turners? But why would the Turners be fleeing? Presumably, they’d paid Grieves off by then. But then there was the possibility that he wanted both the explosive device, whatever it was, and the money as well.
I thought of the “boom boom boom” sounds Grieves had made, saying they’d make him rich. And what McGivern, the miners’ top man, had said about all the noise Grieves had made in the countryside one day. Not to mention what I’d seen at the quarry.
The ground sloped down. I stayed to the long shadows of the few trees that ran east to west ending right at the creek line. I hadn’t planned on stopping but then I saw a figure emerge from the front gate and look around.
A sentry, judging from the way he started walking the length of the castle’s front, scanning the grounds and the forest beyond as he walked.
Shooting him would be easy. The trouble being that shooting him would also give my position away.
Then more shouting from the rear. The sentry was alert to everything now. He dropped his Winchester into position. He could fire with no problem.
Shouts had now given way to yelling and curses. A male voice. At first I couldn’t be sure whose it was but after a brief time Terhurne’s boisterous racket came clear.
“You have any idea what you’re doing? You’re pushing a sworn lawman around. You’ve already shot at me and that alone could get you ten years in prison.”
When they came into view in the moonlight, I saw the two thugs on horses and Liz and Terhurne walking slightly ahead. Both men had their guns trained on them.
Terhurne kept talking. He spoke with lofty authority, reminding the thugs that they had—at least according to Terhurne—just committed one of the most heinous acts in the history of the world.
One of the thugs finally said: “Shut up, old timer, or I’ll kill you right here and right now.”
“Leave him alone,” Liz said. “You’re only tough because you’ve got a gun.”
The thug laughed. “You sound like you’re pretty tough yourself, young lady.”
“Kiss my ass. And stop laughing at me!”
Liz was starting to warm up to the task of insulting these boys into louder and louder laughter. She didn’t seem to realize that her words were almost forcing them to laugh.
Terhurne wasn’t done yet. “You could let us go right now and I’d make sure there wouldn’t be any charges. I’d be happy to say that you confused us with somebody else and that in the dark it was just a natural mistake, nobody could see what was going on.”
The thug responded by shooting Terhurne’s hat off his head. Liz scrambled in front of him and picked it up. She presented it almost formally to him, as if she was giving him some important award.
But this time the thug nearest her wasn’t so amused. Apparently sick of her holding him up, he kicked her hard in the side. “Now get movin’.”
He must have done more damage than it appeared. She grabbed the left side of her ribs and dropped to one knee. She didn’t cry but I could hear her whimper even from where I was.
“You touch her again, you’ll be sorry.”
“Yeah, old man, I’ll be sorry, won’t I?”
Terhurne wasn’t intimidated. He walked over to Liz and helped her up on her feet and took her in his arms. They might have been grandfather and granddaughter. The whimper again. Harder now. I wondered if the bastard had broken a rib.
The thugs slacked off some. They let Terhurne talk to Liz and then let him keep his arm around her as they walked toward the front gate of the castle.
The sentry was still there. He didn’t talk to any of them, just nodded. He put his rifle in their general direction.
Their horses sounded heavy and dangerous as they crossed the wooden bridge. Liz and Terhurne vanished from sight beneath the arch of the gate.
The sentry didn’t leave his post. He’d most likely stay there for some time, see if he could spot anybody in the forest himself. Grieves was probably nervous. He was in this isolated hotel and within a couple hours of each other the Turners and then Liz and Terhurne show up. He had to be wondering how his hiding place had been discovered all of a sudden.
I needed to get closer. I couldn’t count on jumping him from where I was. But as I started to move, the sentry turned and looked in my direction. His rifle barrel came up a bit. Had he spotted me? Cold sweat made me shiver. Now it wasn’t just a matter of me getting in there to grab Grieves. It was also a matter of saving Liz and Terhurne.
Never taking his eyes off the area of the tree I was now lurking behind, the sentry started walking my way. Fast. His Winchester was pointed just about where my chest would be.
Chapter 24
He was maybe ten feet from me when he turned abruptly and started stalking toward a large boulder that rested about fifteen yards away. I’d considered that as a hiding place but decided that the tree offered a better position to shoot from if it came to that.
I froze in place. He circled the boulder, his weapon ready. The large rock gleamed like mica in the moonlight. But he wasn’t taken with the beauty of it. He just wanted to make sure that nobody was hiding behind it.
He walked around it twice. Maybe he thought that somebody was playing a game of hide-and-seek with him.
When he finished, he walked to the front of the boulder, pushed his hat up with his thumb, and then leaned back against the rock, his Winchester leaning right back with him, and fixed himself a smoke.
He kept scanning the area. He was far enough away that I had managed to become one with the shadows. He spent a long time staring at the tree but then swung his head away, convinced, I guess, that there was nothing worth seeing there.
I could hear voices in the resort, echoing off the scarred emptiness of the west side of it. Liz screamed and then cursed and then Terhurne cursed and cursed and cursed. There was a single gunshot. My stomach knotted. Had Grieves or one of his thugs killed Liz or Terhurne? They were certainly expendable. They didn’t have any money and except perhaps for sex with Liz, they had nothing to trade. And even that, for all her fetching qualities, wasn’t m
uch in the way of a trade. If they wanted her they’d simply rape her.
I knew then that I had only one chance to get inside and I had to be ready to take it.
The sentry would pass within ten feet of me—if he took the same way back to the gate. I’d have to jump him there. Ten feet was a problem. I wasn’t exactly an athlete. And in midair I’d be vulnerable as hell. All he’d have to do is sense me. And then turn around and start blasting away. That’s what I’d do.
I reached down and found a few rocks the size of acorns. They’d have to do.
He stood up, dropped his smoke, killed it with his boot heel. Then he stretched. He was taking his time. He hadn’t shown much curiosity about the scream and the lone shot inside the castle. He didn’t show a whole lot of curiosity at that point, either. He’d given up looking around. He was either bored or tired or both.
He lifted his Winchester, grabbed it tight, and set off walking slowly back to the castle.
If he didn’t respond to my trick in the right way, he’d kill me easy. The thing was to bounce the rocks off the boulder so that he’d turn away from me to see what was making the noise behind him.
That meant I had to move out of the protection of the deepest shadows and stand where he could see me any time he angled his head in the direction of the tree.
I had no choice. I moved slowly. Coyotes and an owl went to work on the night air. Doing me a great favor. I’d accidentally stepped on a few twigs. The sentry might have picked up the sound otherwise.
I pitched the rocks so that they would land on the top of the boulder, just where it began sloping down to the far side. I just had to hope he would turn left rather than right.
The rocks made more noise than I’d anticipated.
Boredom and fatigue didn’t affect him then. He swiveled like a gunny in a dark alley, confronting an enemy he couldn’t see.
And the swivel took him in the direction away from me.
My assault wasn’t perfect. He saw me just as I’d covered about half the distance between us. He started to raise his rifle. I started to dive through the air for him. I had to land on him before he could get a shot off and alert everybody in the hotel.