The guard admired the famous green bow like a kid at Christmas. ‘Wow, that’s the real one, isn’t it?’ he said admiringly. Then he touched one of the razor-sharp arrows in the red quiver on my back. He cursed and pulled his finger away. A drop of blood ran down the back of his hand. ‘Wouldn’t like to be on the wrong end of one of those.’
The other guard, bored rather than diligent, said Gilda’s full name to me for confirmation. I nodded. And he ticked it off his list.
‘Hey!’ The admiring guard leant into my face. ‘What’s with the yellow eyes?’
I grinned at him. ‘Good contact lenses, aren’t they? It’s part of the show.’
He gave a weak smile. He wasn’t convinced but what other explanation could there be?
‘Where’s Gideon Webb?’ I asked.
‘Still setting up on the top floor, that’s the 48th, ma’am. If he’s not there, he may’ve gone down to the floor below. That’s where the mayor’s reception is.’
‘Thanks. I’d better not keep the boss waiting.’ I swiped the bow back, slung it over one shoulder so I had my hands free and raced for the elevator.
That bastard, Webb, wasn’t getting away from me again.
I burst out of the elevator … Being so close to the top of the pyramid, the 48th floor was just one big room, but Webb was nowhere to be seen. Whoever these foreign investors were, Mayor Ruttle had pulled out all the stops on his old San Francisco extravaganza. The whole top floor had been turned into a replica of the main hall in The Hue & Cry. The huge green target that was used in the Circle of Death act stood in one corner. I prowled around. I was betting Webb, drama queen that he was, had hidden the bomb up here.
I searched everywhere but found nothing.
Then I eyed the green target. And went round to the back of it.
Yep, there it was — attached to the very bottom of the rear of the big green target. A detonator connected to a clump of wires was inserted into a nasty chunk of what looked like C4.
I knew very little about bombs and nowhere near enough to safely disarm this one. But there was no timer — which meant Webb was activating it in another way. Of course … I nodded to myself. Webb was using a remote detonator. That lousy bastard wouldn’t put himself at risk with anything he couldn’t control down to the last second. And the deranged maniac would love the thrill of personally setting off the bomb and watching the Pyramid explode into nothing.
From a safe distance, of course … Was he even still in the building?
I threw myself down the stairs to the next floor.
The room, slightly bigger than the top floor, was jam-packed with society types nibbling on fancy snacks delivered by better-dressed waiters, and noisily complaining about the stock market.
I’d pass as Gilda at a distance, but had no chance close up. That meant I had to get right next to Webb before he saw me. Angling for a clear view, I edged around to one corner and found a space.
Mayor Ruttle stood next to the far window tending to his investors, Europeans from their tailoring, with the aid of half a dozen flunkies. Two photographers stood by recording the moment for the media. Finding new investors for the city only looked good for the mayor if people knew about it.
Then I recognised one of the flunkies gathered around the mayor. It was Cornelius Klaasen, one of the other NTA-trained investigators. Of course, his office was in this building. Damn! I’d have to stay clear of him too.
I kept searching the crowd. Still no sight of Webb.
If he was gone then our only chance was to evacuate … now!
I shoved my way through.
Complaints turned into curiosity as they recognised my costume. The whisper, ‘It’s Prairie Rose …’ followed me through the crowd.
The mayor’s flunkies parted to let me in.
The mayor smiled. ‘Ah, and here is our guest performer … Let me introduce Princess Prairie Rose herself.’
Klaasen, standing to the mayor’s right, smiled as instructed … then scowled. He’d recognised me.
‘Mr Mayor,’ I said, as calmly as I could possibly manage. ‘I have a serious matter I need to speak with you about …’
The mayor, dissatisfied with my urgent tone, checked his visitors’ bored expressions. He attempted to cajole me into acting my part. ‘Well, Princess, I can speak on behalf of the City of San Francisco —’
I shook my head. We may only have minutes. ‘Sir, you have to evacuate this building immediately. There’s a —’
Klaasen had been watching me with slitted eyes, as though this was all an attempt to upstage him. ‘Sir, don’t listen to her,’ he spat. ‘This woman is not the real performer. I don’t know what her game is but this is Kannon Dupree!’
‘Aren’t you one of the NTA’s private investigators?’ asked the mayor, perplexed.
‘Sir!’ I urged. ‘Get everyone out of here — now! Gideon Webb has planted a bomb upstairs. And he’s probably about to detonate it. We may only have a few moments to —’
Klaasen burst out laughing. ‘Don’t listen to her, sir.’ He nodded at the two photographers, lining up their cameras for a shot of me. ‘This must be another one of her crazy publicity stunts.’
‘If you don’t believe me, sir, have a look!’ I pleaded. ‘The bomb’s attached to —’
‘Mayor Ruttle.’ Klaasen shoved in front of me. ‘Kannon Dupree would do anything to get her picture in the paper.’ He urged the mayor, ‘Get security up here and throw her out!’
I pushed past Klaasen. ‘You have to listen to me, sir!’
But the mayor, one eye on his alarmed investors, nodded to a flunky. The man whispered instructions into a microphone hidden in his sleeve.
‘And just why would Mr Webb want to blow up this building?’ demanded the mayor, now thoroughly incensed.
‘Why don’t we ask him ourselves?’ drawled Klaasen, looking over my shoulder.
Gideon Webb, in full cowboy regalia, had just emerged from the elevator and was glad-handing his way through the admiring crowd.
My eyes went onto high beam. ‘Slow down, girl,’ I whispered to myself. ‘He doesn’t know it’s you.’
Webb came up, still smiling, to shake the hand of the mayor.
I felt, rather than saw, two big men stand on either side of me, ready for a fight … Security had arrived. I could use this.
I pointed at Webb. ‘Search him. Webb has the remote control for the bomb.’ I nodded at him. ‘Search him!’
Webb turned in horror … saw I was not Gilda, then realised what must have happened.
Klaasen, his temper now fully aroused, shoved me away from the mayor. ‘Take her away!’ he ordered. The two men ignored him, their eyes fixed on the mayor’s.
The mayor gave the signal. The bodyguards caught my wrists, hurting me. The newspaper men let off their flashes right in my face, blinding me.
When I could see, Webb was gone.
58
QUIVER
I slammed my foot down on the arch of one guard’s foot. While he was bent over, I rammed my elbow backwards into the other one’s face.
Klaasen, seeing his opportunity, punched me in the stomach.
I dry-heaved once, then forced myself upright. Panting, I snapped a front kick straight into Klaasen’s soft belly. His horrified face told me he could dish it out but he couldn’t take it. He crumpled in the middle then staggered sideways into the blustering mayor. They both went down in a heap.
I spun and raced for the elevator where I watched 48 turn red. Webb had gone up to check that I hadn’t disabled the bomb.
I ripped open the fire door and bounded up the stairs. Every drop of adrenaline in my body was pumping through my veins. If I didn’t prevent Webb from leaving the building we were all dead.
The guards chasing at my heels bellowed curses up the stairwell.
I slammed the fire door open to find Webb crouching behind the big green target. I grabbed a chair and wedged it under the fire door handle … it wouldn’t hold them long �
� but hopefully it would be long enough.
Webb was poised over the bomb like a spider. He was checking to see if I’d somehow managed to disarm it.
‘Get away from that, Webb!’ I barked.
‘You’re too late, Dupree.’ Webb smiled in satisfaction, holding up the detonator so he could gloat. ‘Don’t come any closer. You know what this is!’
‘Give up, Webb. You can’t go through with this now … not without killing yourself as well.’
His beady blue eyes shifted. Webb certainly wasn’t prepared to die for the pleasure of reliving his hero’s sickest moment.
I stuck out my uninjured hand. ‘Just give me the detonator and I’ll move out of your way. You can get in the elevator — I swear I’ll let you past me. You can make a run for it. But otherwise,’ I shook my head, ‘I promise you — I will never let you out of this building alive.’
I pulled the bow off my shoulder and slid a razor-sharp arrow out of my quiver, setting it in the bow. I had to clench my teeth to stop my black and swollen hand from trembling. But the threat was clear.
‘Oh, I’ll get out of here, all right.’ Webb laughed. ‘Right over your dead body!’
He switched the detonator to his left hand and grabbed for the pistol on his right.
I drew the bow string back and took aim …
The door behind me burst open and the two security guards rushed through to tackle me. The bow and arrow crashed to the floor and I fell, face down, under them. Their combined weight dug the quiver full of arrows into my back and forced my thumb once more right out of its socket. I screamed.
Webb came out from where he’d been hiding behind the big green target. His pistol was back in its holster, but his left hand — and the detonator — were hidden behind him.
The guards rose and dragged me with them, one man now holding each wrist.
‘Sorry, Mr Webb,’ said one of the guards. ‘We got up here as soon as we could!’
‘The woman’s mad,’ spluttered Webb. As he spoke, he inched his way around to the elevator. ‘Who is she anyway?’
From the way his free hand hovered over his pistol, as soon as Webb got in the elevator, he’d shoot the three of us and escape.
I got ready to move …
Webb was at the elevator doors.
The elevator pinged once.
Webb twirled at the noise like it was a gunshot. The elevator doors parted and Cornelius Klaasen stomped out, his face twisted in fury, his gun ready. He stalked right past Webb, aiming for me like a dive bomber ready to strike.
Webb was about to step into that open elevator.
I sank down, ramming my bent elbow straight into the groin of the guard holding my left wrist. Whirling, I used his grip as a fulcrum and threw his now bent-over body headfirst into the floor. He lay there.
The guard on my right sent a meaty punch straight into my face.
I swerved away, blocked the punch, and kicked directly into his diaphragm. He flew backwards and slid down the wall.
Behind Klaasen, Gideon Webb slipped into the elevator. He waved me goodbye, grinning like a maniac.
Klaasen, now on a mission to stop me at all costs, raised his gun to shoot.
I dived to the floor as a bullet exploded past my head.
Webb was hammering the elevator buttons like a madman, the detonator remote still clasped in his left hand.
There was no time to waste.
I rolled down and under Klaasen’s outstretched gun, making sure not to land on the quiver full of razor-sharp arrows on my back. Most of the arrows fell out as I lunged upright at the entrance to the elevator.
Webb abandoned banging the elevator buttons with his right hand to pull out his pistol, the detonator still in his left.
I swept his gun hand away with a block, just as the pistol fired. The bullet shattered the huge window opposite. I grabbed the hand holding the gun and twisted it up. Another bullet discharged into the ceiling.
Whirling, I used my weight and Webb’s wrist as a fulcrum to wrench him clean out of the elevator. I felt a bone in his wrist crack under the strain. His pistol dropped to the floor as he gave one sharp, short ascending scream. He stumbled towards the big green target, still clutching the detonator in his other hand.
I followed …
Something heavy hit me from behind. I yowled and grabbed the back of my head. Klaasen had slugged me with his gun.
Klaasen got between me and Webb. He waved the gun in my face. ‘Make one move, Dupree … and I’ll shoot you where you stand.’
Over Klaasen’s shoulder, I saw Webb carefully place the detonator on a chair to the side of the big green target. He slid his second pistol from its holster.
‘Don’t worry, Mr Webb.’ Klaasen used his best commanding voice. ‘I have her firmly under control now. The police should arrive any second.’
Webb shot him in the back.
Klaasen fell to his knees, his mouth gasping in surprise.
I dived down and away, snatching Prairie Rose’s green bow as I went. I staggered back up to my feet, grabbing one of the two remaining arrows from her red quiver.
I notched, aimed and fired … the arrow streaked from the bow like lightning.
Gideon Webb whirled to shoot me.
But the arrow skewered Webb straight through the right shoulder … pinning him to the big green target.
My last arrow pinned his left.
59
THE SECRET ROOM
I sat with Des in the hospital sunroom. We sipped cups of tea while I briefed him. The fog had finally lifted and I’d had only a couple of hours’ sleep, so I kept my dark glasses on. My sore thumb was strapped up but the painkillers were working nicely.
‘So let me get this straight,’ said Des, eager to make sure he was back on top of things again. ‘Hector Kershaw came to Santa Fe on the trail of Isabella’s Cross … where he worked out that it was hidden on Spruce Tree Mesa. But Coyote Jack was camped there, so Hector committed the Dry Gulch massacre to use the US cavalry to chase him off the mesa.’
‘That’s right,’ I replied. ‘Then Hector headed to boom-town San Francisco, possibly in part attracted by Prairie Rose, and set about taking over the city. First, he married the daughter of the richest man in town, then he framed the Corsairs for acts he himself committed to mobilise the city against them.’
‘So it was Spruce Tree Mesa all over again … Hector framed someone to get a third party to do his dirty work.’
‘Yep — that’s it, Des. Then when Hector disappeared, his wife, Edwina, found out what he’d done. And the Kershaws have kept the shameful secret hidden ever since …’
I took another sip, but the tea was too weak to keep my red eyes from wanting to close. I abandoned the milky muck onto the table next to me. ‘Gideon Webb pieced together the Kershaw family secret when he was researching Hector. He tried blackmailing Seymour Kershaw, but didn’t have concrete proof. So, to gain leverage, he re-enacted the Portsmouth Square disaster, framed Seymour Kershaw for it then made Seymour pay him to dispose of the false evidence.’
‘Sounds like Webb copycatted Hector’s own methods.’ Des was quietly fuming that he’d missed out on all the action.
‘Yep. And it was Webb who broke into our office that first week and then attacked you. He thought we might have information from Seymour that could help him find the diary.’
‘But I don’t understand why Gideon Webb tried to re-enact the destruction of the Montgomery Building last night.’ Des was furious that he hadn’t been there to back me up. ‘Surely he understood there was no way he could get away with it?’
‘I know.’ I shrugged. ‘I think he’d started to believe he was Hector Kershaw.’
We both pondered that horrible thought and what it’d cost this city. The warm sun was making me drowsy. ‘Bloody Hector,’ I murmured. ‘He’s still causing trouble now, centuries later.’
‘Well, at least it ended well,’ said Des. He gently patted me on the arm, making sure he didn�
�t come close to the strapping.
‘Yeah.’ He was right … mostly. At least we were all still alive. I put my head back and shut my eyes … just for a minute.
‘Hey,’ said Des, prodding my side. ‘So what happened to Gilda?’ He wasn’t letting me snooze until he’d caught up completely.
‘The SFPD are after her, but no one knows where she’s fled.’ I kind of hoped that they wouldn’t catch her. But knowing Gilda, if she didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be.
‘Okay … and what about our first ex-client, Seymour Kershaw?’
‘He turned himself in … accompanied by half of the top criminal lawyers on the West Coast. As long as he cooperates when Gideon Webb stands trial, I’m guessing he’s not going to have any major headaches.’ I shrugged. ‘He was one of Gideon Webb’s victims after all.’
Another long pause. I may have snored.
‘Well,’ said Des loudly. I jerked awake. ‘Maybe our first case has turned out to be a big success after all?’
‘Yeah, I’m not so sure just how big it’s going to be, publicity-wise. The mayor says he wants to keep as much quiet as possible — doesn’t want to scare everyone, especially not the foreign investors. But he did say he owed us big time.’
Des frowned but kept searching for the silver lining regardless. ‘What about the NTA? What do they say? Surely they agree we can make this case fully public? It’s good publicity for them too.’
‘Nope.’ I pushed the dark glasses further up my nose. ‘The NTA just want to keep Mayor Ruttle happy. The time portal does sit in the middle of his city.’
Des scowled. ‘Bloody NTA! If it suited them they’d tell the mayor where to shove it.’
‘Yep, but they’re not going to rattle the mayor’s cage to help our little enterprise. You know how well connected he is in Washington.’ Balthazar Ruttle’s nickname was The Almighty. Hector would’ve envied his influence in this town and beyond.
We both sat there glumly, trying to work out how to use the Kershaw case to generate some new clients. Nothing jumped out at us. I started to nod off.
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