A Fatal Journey

by Blythe Baker

  I had already suspected General Hughes’ death to be a murder at the hands of the assassin, but hearing Mr. Barlow talk about him so casually still rattled me. Perhaps, I did underestimate him in some regards. Despite everything I knew about him, I still expected something human in him to shine through. So far, I had only been disappointed.

  “If you seek to surprise me with this admission, you are too late,” I said. “I have long suspected General Hughes was murdered by the same person who murdered the Beckinghams.”

  “But you did not suspect me?” Mr. Barlow asked, brows pulled together. There seemed to be delight written in his features, giving him a coloring that more closely resembled a living, breathing human. It was almost as if being a normal member of society was not enough for him. He only came fully to life when he was able to kill.

  There was no sense in lying. “Not at all. Not yet, anyway. I believe I may have come to suspect you eventually.”

  “That is a surprise. Once you spoke with the worker at the White Tiger Club, I believed I may have been discovered. I planted a clue pointing to Major McKinley that no one aside from yourself was clever enough to find, but the description the girl gave did not match that of the red-haired Scot, so I knew you would no longer suspect him.”

  “How do you know any of this?” I asked. I had been alone in the room with Rashi, and she had not shared her story with the police.

  He smiled. “Though I have been described as one, I am no phantom, Miss Rose. You should simply learn to keep your voice down when talking with the help. I was standing near an open kitchen window while you talked with the Hutchins’ native servant. It is how I also knew you would find my hut in the woods.”

  A cold chill moved through my body. “You followed me into the woods?”

  “Does that frighten you?” he asked. “That I could follow you without you noticing?”

  I didn’t want to say yes, but my throat was closed tight in fear, not allowing me to deny it.

  He continued. “I also know you have my weapon hidden beneath your jacket.”

  I glanced down at my arm pinched tightly to my side before I could stop myself.

  “It is a favorite weapon of mine, so I hope you will not be bothered when I take it back from you. Well, I suppose you won’t be bothered by much of anything when I reclaim it,” he said with a smile. “You may be thinking me smug, assuming I can beat you in a fight, but it is only because I am positive I will beat you. It is not smugness as much as a fact. I have trained with the world’s greatest fighters. I have slit more throats with that knife than you could ever imagine. And more than that, I have killed men with my bare hands. Men much larger than myself. I am sorry to say that you will not be much of a challenge.”

  “So, you think I should give up and turn myself over for death?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “It would make things simpler, but I do not expect you to go down easily. And what do I know? As you tell it, you killed an assassin in Tangier. How the daughter of a high-ranking official found the skills to accomplish that I do not know, but it may mean I should temper my confidence until the deed is done.”

  As Mr. Barlow was discussing his own confidence, mine was slowly dwindling away. He knew about the kukri and had followed me on several occasions without my knowledge. Mr. Barlow was more skilled than I was. However, he did not seem to know I also had a gun in my pocket. That would be a surprise I’d save for the final moments of our fight.

  Mr. Barlow took a step towards me, and I moved further around the side of the statue, maintaining our distance. I wasn’t yet ready to begin the altercation. “Why are you working as a secretary?”

  He sighed. I could tell he was tiring of talking. Soon, I would not be able to distract him with conversation, but for the moment, I was holding his attention. “Though ‘The American’ apparently does not believe me to be very discrete, working as a secretary for the insufferable Mr. Hutchins has allowed me unfettered access to some of the highest-ranking British officials. I sit in the room with them, learning their schedules and their habits while they do not even pay me a second glance. I am like a bug crawling along the edge of the room, they do not even notice my presence.”

  “Tell me about this American,” I said. “Who is he?”

  Mr. Barlow didn’t answer, and I knew I’d caught him in an accidental slip. He’d told me more than he ought.

  “You’ve already said he’s the man who tells you who to murder.”

  Again, he didn’t respond, letting me know I had guessed correctly.

  “If you are so confident I will be dead soon, there is no reason to keep quiet,” I said, tilting my head to the side, taunting him. “Or, are you beginning to think me more capable?”

  Mr. Barlow smiled. “Your intentions are as obvious as your lies. We both know you did not kill the assassin in Tangier. He may be dead, but not by your hands.”

  So much for Mr. Barlow being frightened of me. “Then you have even more reason to tell me the truth.”

  He stared at me for a moment and sighed. “I was hired a year ago by a man who I know only as ‘The American.’ He paid me a healthy sum and told me to plant myself in India. There were no instructions for how to proceed, only a list of names of men I was supposed to kill.”

  “You do not know why you were selected or why you are killing these men?”

  “I know I receive my payments on time and in full,” he said. “That is enough for me.”

  I felt sick. That someone could be so callous in regard to human life. That any payment could excuse slaying the innocent. “Are you in contact with any other assassins?”

  “Occasionally,” he said simply.

  “Did you know the man in Tangier?”

  “Only from a distance.”

  “And you’ve never met ‘The American’?” I asked.

  “This is a waste of time,” Mr. Barlow said. “Why should I explain myself to someone who will be dead in a matter of minutes?”

  “Because you are a proud man who enjoys bragging about your accomplishments,” I said.

  He thought about my answer for a second and then shrugged. “That is true. I have been quite adept at integrating myself into the society here. Even with no prior experience as a secretary, I gained a job with Mr. Hutchins, which made all of my more covert activities possible. With him, I have travelled the country and become close to people in positions of power without ever once bringing suspicion upon myself.”

  “Until I came along,” I said.

  He nodded in agreement. “Yes, until you. I tried to frighten you away the other night with that warning note I left on your bed. But I quickly realized that would not work, that you would keep digging until I silenced you in a more permanent way.”

  I did not comment on his admission that he had been the one to leave the threatening note. “Who is your next target?” I asked instead.

  He drummed his fingers together in the air and shook his head, taking two large steps towards me. I stumbled backwards, surprised by the suddenness of his move forward, and reached out to steady myself on the side of the statue. The stone crumbled beneath my fingers, and I wondered the statue was still standing at all. With my arm extended to keep myself upright, the kukri slipped from beneath my cardigan and fell onto the ground. I moved to reach for it, but there was no time. Mr. Barlow was too close now. I took several more steps away from him, my heart fluttering in my chest.

  Mr. Barlow smiled when he saw the blade, as if he was greeting an old friend. “I think the time for conversation has passed, Miss Rose. It is late, and I have a busy day of work tomorrow with Mr. Hutchins. Especially now that his mother has been attacked.” Mr. Barlow’s smile slipped away, and the mask of apathy I’d come to expect from him settled over his face. “Absolutely dreadful the way a woman these days can be attacked on her own property. It is shameful. I hope the monster is captured quickly.”

  He couldn’t help but brag. He wanted me to see the seamless way he could switch between t
he two sides of himself. So few people were able to see him this way, and even when they did, most of them were not long for this world after they discovered his split personality. If I was not careful, I would be another name on Mr. Barlow’s undoubtedly long list of victims.

  He bent down to retrieve the blade, and I knew I didn’t have much more time. So, I slipped my hand into my pocket, grabbed Lieutenant Collins’ gun, and leveled it at Mr. Barlow. With the blade firmly in his grasp, he stood up ready to brandish it, but pulled back at the sight of the pistol.

  “You are full of tricks, aren’t you?” he said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

  “I will shoot you,” I said, my voice shaky with fear and adrenaline. “I do not want to, but if you come near me, I will pull the trigger.”

  “You don’t have it in you,” he said, taking another step towards me.

  I tightened my grip on the gun. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  He moved towards me again, and my finger hovered over the trigger. “We already discussed your lies. There is no need for it. I know you did not kill the man in Tangier.”

  “I was not thinking of him,” I said. “There have been others you know nothing about.”

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise, a smirk pulling one side of his mouth up. “What an interesting life you lead, Miss Beckingham. It is a shame I have to kill you.”

  “This is your final warning,” I said. “Allow me to escort you to the authorities where the law will decide your fate or die here by my hand. It is your choice.”

  He pulled his lips to the side in thought. Then, he held up a finger as if an idea had just popped into his head. “I choose the third option.”

  Mr. Barlow lifted the kukri above his head and leaned forward into a run, charging at me. I had only seconds to respond, but I didn’t hesitate. I pointed the gun at his chest and pulled the trigger.

  I braced myself for the recoil, for the loud crack that would reverberate through the air, for the heat that would rush through my hand. But there was nothing.

  Just an empty click. The gun was not loaded.

  Mr. Barlow paused mid-run, a sickening smile spreading across his face. He was evil incarnate, a monster in human skin. Everything about him told me to run in the opposite direction, to flee. “Perhaps, you should load a weapon before attempting to use it. Unfortunately, that is a lesson you will not have the opportunity to learn from.”

  With that, he lunged towards me again, and I ducked and rolled to the left, away from the statue. By the time I was on my feet again, Mr. Barlow was slashing the knife in my direction again, and it was only by the thinnest margin that he did not take a chunk of my scalp with it. I yelped in surprise and propelled myself forward, flat into the grass.

  Mr. Barlow had obviously been confident his previous swing would meet me, because when he missed, he staggered in the direction of the knife, and it took him a few precious seconds to regain his balance. Seconds that allowed me to rise to my feet and sprint across the grass.

  The ground was slippery with moisture, which made sense considering the sun would be up in less than two hours, and that made it difficult to find traction. The grassy lawn of the ruins was vast, and I knew I would not beat Mr. Barlow in a foot race. He was considerably older than me, but he had proven himself quite agile. I could try for the trees in hope of some sort of cover, but even that was a risk. So, I determined in a matter of seconds that I was safest using the statue as a home base. I could keep it as a barrier between us, giving me time and space to anticipate his moves and respond. I ran around to the other side and then jostled back and forth from one foot to the other, ready for whatever Mr. Barlow would do next.

  “You do not even have a weapon,” he snarled from the other side of the statue. “I am not going to chase you around this statue until morning. I will sit here and wait for you to exhaust yourself if it comes to that. But at some point, you will have to leave, and when you do, there will be nowhere to hide.”

  I stayed quiet. Mr. Barlow had been right before. The time for conversation was over. Now, all of my energy had to go towards surviving. Towards outsmarting a man who seemed to have every advantage.

  I moved closer to the statue. It seemed dangerous to stick so close to the stone deity, but it allowed me to use it more as a shield. If he swung at me, I could dive behind the statue to protect me. And if he tried to run towards me, I would have less distance to run if I stayed close to Hanuman.

  “You are being childish,” he said, clearly annoyed now. This had gone on longer than he’d expected.

  I did feel a bit like a child, running around the trunk of a tree to escape my brother’s hands seeking to make me “it” in a game of tag. Except, in this case, the hands were a knife, and if I became “it,” I would bleed out on the grounds of an ancient stone temple.

  My recollection was interrupted by a grunt as Mr. Barlow raised the blade and lunged around the side of the statue. I clung to the stone leg as I ran around the base. Chunks of rock shrapnel blew into the air from the force of the knife cutting into the stone, and I could feel the entire structure rocking. It was not stable, and I worried if Mr. Barlow did not kill me, Hanuman would fall and crush me.

  Mr. Barlow changed directions, pivoting to the other side of the statue and swiping out at me again. This time the blade was headed directly towards my face, and I had to duck down and begin pedaling backwards, my feet slipping momentarily in the grass. Again, the pedestal Hanuman stood upon quaked from the raucous going on at his feet.

  “You will not win,” Mr. Barlow growled. “You are alone and unarmed. End this charade and keep your dignity.”

  I was about to tell him I would never surrender, but before I could find the words, a shout echoed through the air. I thought it was Mr. Barlow, but then I caught a glimpse of his face between Hanuman’s feet, and his brow was creased in confusion, and he turned towards the direction of the trees. I followed his eyes and saw a shadow emerging from the forest.

  For a moment, I worried it was an accomplice of Mr. Barlow’s coming to assist him. He hadn’t wanted to tell me if he had any accomplices or how many of the other assassins he knew, and perhaps that was why. Because if things went wrong, he had someone ready to jump in and reveal themselves.

  But then, I saw blonde hair reflected in the moonlight, and the broad shoulders of Lieutenant Collins. He was jogging across the grass.

  “Stay away from her,” he thundered, pointing at Mr. Barlow.

  Mr. Barlow looked between me and the Lieutenant, and I could tell he was beginning to worry. He had not been counting on taking two people on at once.

  The problem now was that he could not run away. If he did, his cover would be blown. He would be forced into hiding, and his time as an assassin operating under the guidance of ‘The American’ would be over. If he wanted to maintain the life he had built for himself, he had to defeat us. It was his only choice.

  Before the Lieutenant could reach us, Mr. Barlow raised the kukri and swung again. I felt the wind from the blade slicing through the air against my fingers, and pulled back, circling around the statue again. This time, I noticed one of Hanuman’s feet begin to lift from the pedestal. One more good whack with the blade, and the entire deity was going to come down on top of me.

  “Rose, run!” Lieutenant Collins shouted.

  He was still a long distance away, far enough away that if I ran from the safety of Hanuman, Mr. Barlow could catch up to me and slice my throat the way he’d intended when he’d attacked Mrs. Hutchins. No, sticking close to the statue was my only option, but even that was not a very good one any longer. The stone deity had protected me as long as he could, and soon, he would come down.

  That was when the idea struck.

  Before I could second guess myself—because there was no time for it, anyway—I backed up and then ran at the statue with all of my strength, pushing on Hanuman’s ankle. For a brief second, nothing happened. Mr. Barlow looked at me like I was a mad woman, and t
hen lifted the knife to launch another attack. However, before he could bring the weapon down, there was a loud grating sound and then the earth began to tremble.

  He froze, looking for the source of the noise, and even I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but then, the statue began to tip.

  The pedestal was crumbling beneath its weight. The ancient stones could not take any more stress. They cracked and fractured until Hanuman was tipping forward, heading directly for Mr. Barlow.

  The assassin let out a yelp, and tried to run to the right, but it was too late. With a sickening crash, the stone deity landed on top of the murderer and then settled into the ground. Aside from the echoes of the collapse moving through the trees, everything was quiet.

  17

  I stumbled backwards, still anticipating Mr. Barlow to push the statue aside and come after me again, but of course he couldn’t. The deity was four times the size of a normal man, and even if the stones were weathered, it made them no less heavy. The assassin was dead.

  “Rose!” Lieutenant Collins ran to me, hooking his hand around my elbow and pulling me away from the scene. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t exactly all right, but I seemed to be miraculously uninjured.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  I answered in as few words as possible. “He killed my family. He tried to kill me.”

  Either Lieutenant Collins required no further explanation or he thought I was too shocked to make sense, because he didn’t ask any more of me. “I heard you leave the house and stayed awake waiting for your return, but after several minutes, I could not wait anymore. It was too dangerous to be out alone, so I got up to follow you, and that is when I noticed my gun was missing.”

  “How did you know I’d come here?” I asked, eyes still trained on the image of Hanuman lying face first in the grass.