Simon was closest to the door when the soft scuffle of footsteps preceded the sudden shouting of a man who appeared in the tunnel entrance behind them.
“Les intrus! Arrêtez-les. Rapide! Nous avons les intrust!” was yelled over and over until Pie’s heavy fist silenced him.
Chaos ensued. The door behind Simon burst open, and a man appeared with his gun drawn. Shots burst throughout the room. In the light of the room behind the gunman, Simon could see three people hastily shoving papers into bags, their movements quick and panicked. One man disappeared, pushing Simon into action.
“Watch out!” Archie yelled, at the same time that Simon felt strong hands grab him around the stomach and drag him down to the floor. He rolled over a couple of times, only then realising that it was Archie who had taken him down. The knife that had been aimed at Simon’s heart was now safely embedded in the wall above their heads.
He didn’t have the time to thank his colleague. Pie was in a brutal fight with one of the men who had surged out of the office. Simon spied three more guards run past the window, and knew they didn’t have much time. They had to get their hands on the papers before they vanished.
Bursting through the office door, he used his gun to take out one of the Frenchmen who didn’t run fast enough to get out of the way. “Over there!” he yelled to Archie, pointing to the darkest corner of the room he had seen another of the men disappear to. He wasn’t sure where the third had gone, but was fairly certain he had gone into the shaft that lay open in the room beyond.
Determined not to lose his quarry, Simon headed in that direction, aware that Pie had moved to join him. His progress was thwarted with the arrival of the three guards he had seen outside, and for several long moments he was drawn into the battle of his life. Men seemed to be everywhere. The three guards, three people working at the tables. It was impossible to tell if there had been anyone else in the tunnel behind them.
“Shit!” Archie swore, spitting blood out of his mouth before joining Pie’s fight with one determined guard. A swift slice of his blade was enough to draw an end to that particular battle, leaving them free to search for the man who was missing and the fourth outside guard who usually toured the perimeter. Aware that the man had heard the gunfire, the Star Elite fanned out to go hunting.
Together they worked their way around the site of the disused tin mine, completing a thorough sweep of both the inside and the grounds. They found the Frenchman carrying the satchel stuffed full of papers; a small fat gentleman who sweated as much as he babbled. At first he had tried to threaten them, until Archie had told him quite pointedly where he could shove his threats, in his own language, and then the French intruder took to pleading, offering them untold fortunes if they let him go.
Fed up of the constant babble that blocked the sound of anyone moving around them, Simon lifted his gun, pointing it straight at the Frenchman’s head.
“Fermer,” he growled in perfect French. “Un autre mot et vous mourrez.”
The Frenchman lapsed into silence and stood when Simon waved his gun upwards. Archie completed a thorough body search, relieving the man of a small knife, a pistol and his shoes which Simon dropped into the gaping mineshaft behind them. It took several long moments before they heard the dull thud of them hitting the bottom of the shaft.
Fairly certain that the entire operation wasn’t being run entirely by Frenchmen, Simon briefly contemplated questioning the man there and then. Hugo, however, had men waiting in Launceston to find out what they wanted to know. It was down to Simon, Pie and Archie to get the Frenchman there alive. Anyone else they needed to round up would then become evident and would be traced. But first, they needed to find out if the man in the tunnel was accompanied by anyone else who was now lying in wait.
“Qui est-ce que vous attendez?" he demanded, grabbing the Frenchman by his shirtfront.
The Frenchman shook his head frantically. “Nobody,” he replied in flawless English. Simon should have known he would be adept in the language of the country he planned to invade.
“You aren’t the kind of man who likes unexpected deliveries,” Simon growled, lifting the man a bit higher. The Frenchman swallowed, but remained stubbornly quiet.
“Who else is in that shaft?” he demanded, his patience wearing dangerously thin. Lifting the Frenchman higher until his toes touched the floor, Simon watched his face turn purple as he struggled for breath.
“Who?” His voice whiplashed around the room.
“I don’t know what you want,” the Frenchman argued, clawing at Simon’s arm in a desperate attempt to be allowed to breathe.
“Then you die,” Simon snarled, lifting his gun and placing it at the Frenchman’s head.
“Monsieur Lindsay,” the Frenchman cried, his eyes turning bloodshot.
Simon dropped him and watched the Frenchman slumped to the floor, rubbing his throat and glaring balefully at Simon.
“Monsieur Lindsay?”
“Oui,” the Frenchman nodded slowly.
“He brings the Frenchmen here where your comrades make the forged papers. Then you smuggle them out with their new identities in the black carriage,” Simon snapped, watching the Frenchman’s eyes grow round in surprise. “Oh, we know,” he murmured all too softly. “We know more than you realise, Monsieur Archambault.”
The man at his feet froze, his small round eyes flickering from Simon to Archie to Pie and back again, as he realised that he hadn’t been quite as clever as he thought he had.
“Never mind,” Simon sighed. “We will round up the rest later. Just tell me one thing and I will ask my boss to be lenient with you.” He bent down until he was staring directly into the Frenchman’s eyes. “What does Monsieur Lindsay want with Thistledown Manor?” At the Frenchman’s puzzled look, he explained. “The big house across the valley.”
“The tunnels,” Archambault stammered. “They go to the house.”
Simon had to work hard to keep his face impassive. Although he had searched the cellars, he had never found anything to prove that such a thing existed. What did the French know that he didn’t? It seemed implausible that the mines ran so far, beneath such rugged and unpredictable moorland. It was at least half a mile, if not further.
Dragging the Frenchman roughly to his feet, Simon threw him through the door, where Archie tied the man’s hands up and Pie took delight in adding a gag. “There were at least two more in the tunnel,” Pie reported, nodding toward the gaping black void behind them. “Do you want me to go first?”
“No, I think we stay above ground for now,” Simon replied, patting the satchel of papers Archie was holding. “It is harder to pick us off if we are out in the open. In the shaft we are sitting targets.”
“Amen to that,” Archie sighed, relieved that they wouldn’t have to go back into the closest thing to hell he had ever experienced.
As the well-trained fighting unit they were, together they left the building and began their return to the village. The village was as silent and empty-looking as it had been when the evening had first began but, despite the cold night air, Simon felt an added chill snake down his spine. He had been outside, searching the moors at all hours of the night, spending many hours in bracken while he had been living in the one house the smugglers most wanted. He should have just waited for them to come and pay another ‘threatening’ visit. More importantly, he should have sent Francesca away to Hugo’s the very first day he arrived in Much Hampton.
They arrived at the back of the long row of houses, securing the Frenchman out of sight, closely guarded by Pie, while Simon and Archie returned to the terraced house to await the return of the escapees. At first appearances the house was as cold and empty as it had been earlier, but this time there was something different. Simon could feel the small hairs on the back of his neck rise and he knew that danger was close by.
Motioning to Archie, Simon ducked into the yard and was met with a heavy fist. At first he saw stars and struggled to focus, giving his opponent the
time to make many more hits. One to his stomach, two more to his face, three to his chest until Simon felt his stomach churn. He could taste blood in the back of his mouth and was fairly certain that the attacker had cut him somewhere.
Within seconds Simon began to throw punches back. As a well-trained fighter, his blows landed with more unerring accuracy than enthusiasm. He was aware of the sounds of flesh meeting flesh accompanied by low grunts as Archie fought two attackers. They were hopelessly outnumbered. Simon could see at least three more men piling out of the house. Simon wondered how many had headed over to Thistledown, and prayed that Francesca hadn’t had second thoughts and returned without him knowing.
The next hour passed in a blur of exhaustive pain for both Simon and Archie. Somewhere off in the distance he hear the single retort of a gun and knew that Pie was under attack as well. While being on the receiving end of several painful blows, Simon’s thoughts wandered to the woman who held his heart. If he was to die here, now, tonight, he could only be grateful he had had the opportunity to know her. She was beautiful. Everything that was good and right with the world, and he loved her more than life itself. He had never known what it was to love someone so selflessly, and now understood what the term ‘devotion’ meant.
The thought of Lindsay escaping, and being free to pay her another visit when she returned to Thistledown, made him go cold and gave him renewed determination to survive the night. With renewed vigour, he kicked out at one man who was pounding Archie, who was being held still by two of the larger men. The man grabbed his crotch and fell to the ground at just the right angle to receive a well-placed kick to the head. He didn’t get up again.
With a snarl at the man behind him, he swung around dragging his arm in a wide arch, throwing the man behind him off balance. He took the opportunity the man gave him to use his hands, his feet and the knife in his boot to bring him down. Helping Archie to his feet, together they continued to fight, their backs to the wall, until the very last attacker was brought down.
The small yard was littered with bodies and the stench of blood. Chest heaving with exertion, Simon struggled to stand upright and shook his head to clear his double vision. He had no idea if Pie and the Frenchman had made it through, but it looked as if Archie felt the same way he did. There wasn’t a part of his colleague’s face that wasn’t covered in brushes and welts and, if the hunched-over pose of the usually agile Archie was anything to go by, he was in just as much pain as Simon himself.
“Let’s get out of here,” Simon growled when several minutes passed and nobody else entered the yard.
“Let’s do one last search of the house, just to make sure nobody else picks us off. Are you able to climb the stairs?” Archie asked, hobbling toward the back door. There was a particularly painful knife wound to his upper thigh that was bleeding profusely. It left him in no doubt that he couldn’t get up even the first step.
“I’ll do upstairs, you do down here. Shout if you meet anyone,” Simon ordered, sliding the bolt home on the front door in case they were due any more visitors. Within minutes both men stumbled into the yard of bodies just as dawn was breaking over the horizon. On alert, Simon was immediately aware of several people peering cautiously out of their back gates further down the line.
“It’s alright, the threat is now over,” Simon growled. “Is there anyone here who owns a gun and is prepared to keep watch over this lot until they can be taken to jail?”
Silence met his answer. A couple of people disappeared back into their yards, clearly not willing to get involved. But, after some initial reluctance, several men did come forward and offer their help.
“I need you to tie this lot together, and make sure they remain confined in the yard. Don’t allow anyone in or out until a jailer’s cart arrives to collect them. You will need to remove their weapons. Some of them have knives. Keep the weapons in a bucket, or keep them, I don’t care which,” Simon ordered. He knew he looked a fright, well aware of the horrified gasps from a few of the women who caught sight of him and Archie.
“Who are you?” one woman whispered hesitantly, sidling up to him.
“We are from the government,” Archie replied cautiously. “We have been sent to rid the village of the problems you have been having.”
Simon sensed their surprised and sought to ease their fears. “The black carriage won’t be visiting here again.”
“Is someone available to take a message to the Justice of the Peace in Launceston?”
“Aye, I’ll go,” a large man offered, stepping forward.
Drawing him to one side, Simon gave the man a careful message to pass on to the Justice. “Don’t, under any circumstances, stop until you get there and don’t leave the message with anyone else. Tell the Justice one of Hugo’s men sent you.”
“You think the Justice will speak to me?”
Simon’s gaze met and held the large man’s in silent command. “I assure you, mention Hugo’s name and you will meet no resistance. Make sure you come back with the jailer’s cart.”
Everything within him ached and he wanted nothing more than to lie down in Francesca’s luxuriously soft bed. But he knew that was a long way off yet, if it was ever possible.
The last few hours had taught him that he was getting too old for this kind of life. He didn’t want to meet his final moments in some sordid back alley, or abandoned mine. The more he stayed in the Star Elite, the more that was looking probable. He felt lucky to have escaped alive. Battered and bruised, undoubtedly, but at least he was alive.
Assured that the villagers were carrying out their allotted tasks, Simon and Archie went in search of Pie and the Frenchman. He wasn’t surprised to find that they weren’t where he had left them, and had no idea where he should be looking.
“I don’t feel up to a long search,” Archie sighed, running a bloodied hand through his hair wearily. “I need to rest up for a minute.”
A long low whistle drew their attention, and they both imperceptibly relaxed at the sight of Pie dragging the Frenchman behind him as he crested the brow of a small incline at the far end of the village. Clearly Pie had decided to get out of the area while Archie and Simon were busy in the yard. Simon spied the satchel Pie held in one beefy hand and felt a surge of satisfaction sweep through him. Finally, they had answers.
Before they decided what they had to do next, Simon needed to study the papers the satchel contained. If they didn’t provide information on Lindsay, they could contain information on Lindsay’s contacts and that was invaluable in helping them in their quest to quash the spy smugglers altogether.
“I want a look at that tunnel,” Archie growled, nodding toward Thistledown.
“I am not sure there is one,” Simon replied with a sigh. “I searched those cellars several times over and found nothing. Bertie has been there for years and knew nothing about them. It seems a bit unusual that something like that would go unnoticed.”
“Well, let us go and check then,” Pie announced, eyeing both Simon and Archie warily. “Assuming you two manage to get that far.”
“What are we going to do with him?” Archie asked, nodding toward the miserable looking Frenchman Pie was dragging behind him.
“He’s coming with us. We will blindfold him when we get to Thistledown and keep him with us when we go to Launceston. We can hand him over to the Justice’s men.”
Now that the worst of the mission was over, they would all head to Launceston before heading off to base camp to debrief. Once there, they would update Hugo, study the papers they had found and decide what they were going to do next. It was then that Simon would go after Lindsay and put an end to his reign of terror once and for all.
Simon winced at the sharp stabbing pains in his stomach and wondered if he would be able to manage to mount Billie. He was still struggling to clear his blurred vision, and was aware that with each step he took the pounding in his head grew louder and the vision in one eye grew weaker. He could feel the large swelling appearing just ab
ove his eyebrow, and the steady trickle of blood that dripped from the large cut there.
He felt the ground beneath him shift and had to stop to give it time to settle down. The world spun and swirled around him and he fought the urge to throw up.
“You alright?” Archie asked him with a frown.
Simon simply stared at him, unable to absorb the words. He may not be able to think clearly enough to put words in the right order to answer him, but he knew what home looked like. Keeping his gaze firmly locked on Thistledown, Simon began to head home. The place reminded him so much of Francesca that he couldn’t wait to get there. His fingers tingled with the need to stroke her glorious hair, and his body yearned to savour hers once more. But she wasn’t there, so he would have to make do with taking comfort from resting in her home. At least he could rest knowing that she was safely ensconced in Harriett and Hugo’s home, miles away from danger.
Trying to ignore the growing pains in his side, he stumbled onward, aware of Pie’s growing concern but unable to answer him either. Memories of that last night in Francesca’s bed swam before him and he wondered if they had made a child. He hoped to God they had. The idea of watching their children run around the large halls of a gleaming, properly maintained and resplendent Thistledown made his heart sing. That shining beacon of hope for the future gave him the strength to continue to put one foot in front of the other until he reached the kitchen door of the huge mansion.
He had no sooner crossed the threshold than he had to head back outside again to lose the contents of his stomach in the bushes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With his stomach burning in protest, it was a struggle for Simon to even stand upright but he managed it, and was about to turn toward the kitchen door when the sight of something hanging in the burned out library drew his attention.
He grew cold and edged forward.
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