by Tom Hunter
“Uh, then why are we considering going through the front door?” asked Pediah. “I may be newer to this world…not as new as Mochni, of course…but I know what happens to the bull who attacks the red cape.”
“Then try this expression, Pediah. ‘You gotta grab a bull by the horns,’ or in this case, the front door,” Robbie remarked. He shrugged. “Ultimately, we have no choice but to go through the front door.”
“We can’t let Ecknom’s Folly remain in Noah’s hands,” Thomas explained. “But maybe we don’t have to walk into the bull’s arena quite so cocky. It would be a fool’s errand, and to do so would leave us utterly exposed to anything and anyone on the other side of that door. We can’t go in and we can’t not go in. This is what it means to be between a rock and hard place,” Thomas finished with a sigh.
“Oh, Tommyboy!” exclaimed Robbie, throwing an arm around Thomas Knight’s shoulders. With a Cheshire Cat grin, he drew everyone to him in a huddle. “I have a plan.”
Six
Of all the rooms in Noah’s villa, it was the main foyer which set the scene for the rest of the house. Several steps from the door was yet another fountain set in the center of the room. It wasn’t large, this tabletop display of a precious resource, but it did have a unique effect. Shimmering behind the glass and water was a sweeping staircase more at home in Gone with the Wind than in the desert. And like spindles on a banister stood black-clad sentries, their weapons ready and aimed in a single direction. At the top, where the staircase was the widest, paced Ramon, his weapon held at attention.
He raised his arm to call their fire when he saw door handle turn. First twice to the right, once to the left, and once more to the right. “Wait!” he boomed. Ramon knew that signal and as his men lowered their weapons, his best lieutenant entered the room.
“Captain, sir!” the soldier bellowed, breathless. All eyes turned toward him and Ramon began to walk a down a few steps. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the man on level ground. It was a power play tactic and everyone knew it. But it made his point of who was the boss of this outfit. “Reporting in, sir,” his lieutenant finished in a lowered voice.
“Yes, what is it?” Ramon asked with interest. “Did you find it? I mean, him?”
The lieutenant snapped to attention and the click of his heels echoed in the antechamber. “I found a door, sir,” the man began. “It’s smaller than most of the others, leading me to assume the room is small as well. A studio, perhaps?”
“Well, was there a light?” asked Ramon impatiently.
His lieutenant’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the scene. “There may have been, sir. But that’s not important just now – ” Ramon’s eyes narrowed dangerously and his face darkened into a scowl. The soldier realized his misstep and held up a hand. “What I mean, Captain, is that I didn’t see a light, but I did hear a voice…” he paused to gauge Ramon’s reaction.
Ramon stopped his pacing and went still. After a long minute, he spoke two words. “Go on.”
The lieutenant nodded brusquely. “I tried the door. It was locked. And it must be quite thick as I could hear someone speaking, though it was quite dim. But I did get an interesting earful.” The soldier stopped, waiting for Ramon to say something – yell, shout, guffaw. Nothing.
“I think it was part of a speech,” the soldier went on. “And sir,” he added in a low voice. “There were two voices; a man and a woman.”
Ramon’s head jerked sharply. “What the hell are those two up to?” he muttered, raising his eyes to the heavens above. When he looked down again, his lieutenant met an intense dark gaze. The veins in Ramon’s neck and temple were stretched taut against his skin. “Have Noah and Ms. Welker been alerted to our…‘guests’?” he asked, his fingers gripping the butt of his gun more tightly. He was itching to end this thing, get his money, and be gone. Be damned whoever got in his way.
“I don’t believe so, Captain.”
Before he could answer, a sound just outside the doors caught his attention. “Do you hear that?” asked Ramon, twisting sharply at the low thrum of an engine. The sound got louder as if a vehicle was having trouble climbing the steep embankment to the main house. An engine revved and all the soldiers turned their attention toward the sound. “You have got to be kidding me!” he roared as a truck smashed through the front door, splintering the wood and slinging the wrought iron hinges loose.
“Fire!” he roared in command. And as his men opened fire, Ramon ran followed his lieutenant to the door of the studio. His men could handle Thomas Knight and his ilk. He had bigger fish to fry. He’d take care of Noah Ashbridge and that bitch Ms. Welker.
Seven
“And fade to black,” Ms. Welker quipped after switching off the feed. Her long red-tipped fingers hovered over the keyboard as she ensured both the audio and the visual feeds had been cut. “Don’t want anyone to hear our own conversations, do we?” she asked at Noah’s questioning look when he removed his mask.
Noah grunted a guttural response and laid the mask back on its shelf, then removed his robe as Ms. Welker continued. “That was an impressive speech,” she offered in congratulations. “I’m sure they’ll bend to your request.”
“Mmm…” Noah responded as he moved to return all the equipment they’d used back to its rightful place. He looked everywhere in the room but at her. A child’s ploy, Ms. Welker thought.
She frowned. What was going on here? He’d gotten his 15-minutes of infamous. She’d have thought he’d be full of comments, comebacks, questions, and who knew what else? He’d been surprising her since the day they met, though she had a few surprises of her own. “Noah,” she said softly, her voice low. “What is it?” He wasn’t acting like himself and he needed to snap out of it. They had things to do and time was of the essence.
He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve got this…nagging feeling that I’ve crossed a line somewhere – ” Ms. Welker snorted, interrupting his reverie. “A line I won’t be able to cross back over. Bad things will only get worse. Good things will wither and go in opposite directions….”
“Noah,” Ms. Welker commented as he paused. “You’ve just threatened two state governments with creatures no one has ever seen or heard of with fatal destruction if they don’t meet your demands. What kind of line did you not want to cross?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
He continued as though he hadn’t heard her. As if she wasn’t even in the room. “Surely, they won’t force me to do it. They’ll wire me my money and all will be well. But if they don’t…they must know I will act as I have told them…” his voice trailed off, anything else he was thinking of locked in his mind.
As he spoke, Ms. Welker had moved from behind the computer controls to manipulate the video for the feed to Noah’s side. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Hey,” she whispered. “Let’s get your mind off this business for a while. You need to refocus.”
He put his hand over hers and shook his head. “Not now. I need time to think.”
Put off and ignored for the third time, Ms. Welker huffed and turned toward the door to leave. POW! POW! PING! POW! Gunshots reverberated and sang through the walls. Her hand reared back from the door handle as though it were on fire.
“What the hell is going on?!” bellowed Noah over the sound, his eyes wide.
“How should I know? I’ve been in here with you!” She emphasized the last word, her anger and frustration mounting. She shook her head. This was no time act the coquette, she admonished herself. Soon, she was all business; any slights all but forgotten. “Whatever is going on,” she advised. “We need to get that drum and get out of here. Now.”
She watched as Noah threw a large muslin tarp over the drum, went around to the other side, and drew two strings together. Against the wall, he picked up something that looked like an oversized messenger bag and put the wrapped artifact inside. She nodded. “Good,” she encouraged. “Let’s go – ”
“Knight! That
damn fool.” Noah was shaking with anger. Ms. Welker shook her head.
“No…I think this is Ramon’s doing. He’s behind this somehow. I’m sure of it,” Ms. Welker confessed. Striding to the wall where the green screen had been, Ms. Welker pressed her hand to an area of the door not quite flush to the wall and a hidden hallway appeared before them. Just as they made their way through and closed the door, they heard a loud crash at the studio door. Someone had kicked it open. She assumed Ramon because he was the one shouting, but then, she thought, it could have been any of his men, really.
“Come out, come out wherever you are!” bellowed Ramon in a strangled sing-song voice.
Ms. Welker lowered her head, raised one perfectly coiffed eyebrow, and nodded once; a self-satisfied smile played at her lips. She’d expected Noah to look cowed or wowed by her quick action. She wasn’t quite sure what reaction she was after, but one of confidence as if all was going according to plan was unexpected. And disconcerting. Oh, that man! She thought, vibrating with frustration.
As they ran through the labyrinthine hallway beneath the villa, Noah twisted his head toward Ms. Welker. In the light below, triggered by their motion, he looked like an evil jack-o’-lantern as the shadows danced across his face. But his voice was his own. “My dear Ms. Welker,” he began, sounding older than his years. “I have a plan! But it will be risky.”
Ms. Welker had seen plenty of death and destruction mixed in with a bit of crazy. Hell, she’d caused a good bit of it, but his look and sardonic smile along with his pronouncement chilled her to the bone. This was not the Noah Ashbridge she’d first met all those years ago. This was someone else entirely.
Eight
Holes and spiderweb-cracks peppered the jeep as Robbie bent low over the wheel. He’d smashed through the door in what he imagined was cowboy-style. The door and the fountain in the foyer were the first casualties of his plan. PING! POW! PEW! Bullets sprayed and splayed the aluminum body of the jeep. He was thankful one of the soldiers had left the keys in the ignition. Idiot! He’d thought as he slid into the seat before any of the others could stop him.
Shouts of “what the are you doing?” and “wait, Robbie!” and “are you crazy? This will never work!” and “are you trying to get yourself killed?” filled the silence between the shots.
“Relax, guys!” he called over his shoulder. “It’ll be fine! Trust me.”
Before anyone knew what was happening, the rest of Thomas Knight’s team spilled from the jeep in hot pursuit of Ramon. “Where’s he going?” asked Thomas, not expecting an answer. Pediah shrugged.
As Robbie pushed the truck up the stairs, a battering ram against the onslaught of soldiers, he glanced in the rearview mirror. What was Mochni up to? He wondered. The Woidnuk hadn’t followed Thomas and the others, but had remained behind. Robbie motioned for him to follow the team. “Get a move on, Mochni!” he called.
“I can’t!” volleyed Mochni. “There’s too many of them. We don’t want them to chase after us, yes?” he asked as he elbowed one soldier with a mighty shove, tossed another over his shoulder and through the open hole behind him, and twisted his head as a bullet whizzed by his ear.
Robbie shook his head and eyed the path in front of him. Most of the soldiers had flanked and flowed past the trunk and were divided. Some had trailed after Ramon, some after Thomas and most of the team, and the rest were concentrating on bringing Mochni down. At a quick glance once more in the rearview mirror, the turn of his head confirming what he’d seen, Robbie noticed a small contingent giving the Woidnuk what appeared to be a wide berth. But it was a vision that didn’t sit right with the young YouTube star. Their actions seemed out of character until he realized it was a military maneuver and they weren’t afraid of Mochni, they were flanking him. They leveled their weapons at him and began a slow dance of what looked to Robbie like ‘eenie-meenie-miney-mo’, who would be the first to go?
On instinct, Robbie dropped the clutch and backed the jeep back out the front door. Having sent it on its way, Robbie rolled out of the driver’s seat, twisting and dodging a few hangers-on who hadn’t yet chosen a direction. Then, to Mochni’s surprise, he leapt at one of the men who’d maneuvered his way to the Woidnuk’s blind spot; just behind him and to his right. “Move, Mochni! Now!” cried Robbie in desperation as the soldier’s gun fired wildly into the air.
Mochni remained where he stood and shook his head. “Can’t,” he replied. The jeep teetered at the threshold and another wave of black-clad soldiers swarmed toward them. He was torn. He had to distract the replacements and they had to get away to follow Thomas and the others. He had made a promise. A split second of indecision and a small red splotch just below his shoulder bubbled and spread. He’d been shot. Then another splotch of red near his liver. And still another red splotch appeared near the center of his chest.
“Mochni!” cried a horrified Robbie.
The Woidnuk looked down at this wound, barely registering the sting, and his decision was made. He looked toward Robbie who was attached to the back of one of the soldiers and gaining a stranglehold.
And with a look and nod, Mochni turned toward the jeep, which swayed at the outdoor steps. He gritted his teeth against the pain of his wounds and strained at the weight of the jeep; the shots felt as if they had been premeditated. Every step, breath, and raising of his arm was painful. He heard Robbie saying something to him, but he couldn’t pay attention. He had to buy them some time to get away, to follow Thomas and the others. He gave the vehicle a mighty shove and sent it rolling into the troops heading up the steep hill toward the villa.
“Feel better?” quipped Robbie as they watched the soldiers fly into the air and land with a thud on the unforgiving grounds. He wrestled his prey to the ground, strangling the man with an armbar, and then pried the gun from his fingers.
Mochni shrugged with a shy smile then looked down to assess his wounds. “You need to get out of here, Mochni. Abby or Pediah need to take care of your wounds. You’re hurt. Badly.” Robbie advised, a worried expression on his normally jovial face. Then, “Look out!” One savvy soldier had gotten the jump on the wounded Woidnuk but hadn’t counted on his warrior training. At Robbie’s warning, a single fist the size a large stone met the man’s face, which crumpled against Mochni’s single weapon. Robbie cringed at the crunching of bone, then he took a closer look at Mochni’s wounds. “I’m not panicking, man. But, seriously, you need to get some help. Right…now.”
The young Woidnuk touched gingerly at one of the holes with a long thin finger. He held it to his nose and sniffed it. “Yes,” he said, his only acknowledgement and greeting before following the others’ path and running down the hallway in search of help. Robbie loped behind, slamming the door for good measure, and exclaimed. “Blood brothers is an expression. You don’t have to actually bleed, ya know!” he chastised, worried for his friend.
Nine
CLOP. THUD. CLOP. THUD. The once steady staccato of Ramon’s boots was loud and uneven in the chambers below the villa. He was half running, half striding to catch up with Noah and Ms. Welker. He had to get that drum. It was his ticket out of here. Out of this life and out of anything to do with the likes of Noah Ashbridge.
But time was running out and the pressure was on. Above he could hear his men shouting and shots being fired. Is that one of his jeeps I hear? He wondered as he loped through the dimly lit hallway. He could hear faint footsteps behind him, too. Was that damn Knight gaining ground? Mon Dio!
It seemed that all doors led to these chambers. He’d followed Noah and Ms. Welker through theirs, but it seemed the others had followed through another door – the one near the base of the stairs. He could hear footsteps in front of him. Good, he was catching up to the devilish duo. “Wait!” he called into the shadowy depths. “I’m here to help. My men have things covered inside,” he added assuredly.
Following the sound, he turned a sharp corner and stopped. Relics and artifacts graced pedestals and glass cases. Every inch of
the small room was covered in history and reminders of times long past, ancient cultures, and other treasures from around the globe. He was inside a miniature museum of Noah Ashbridge’s ill-gotten gains. He’d blink at the gold, silver, and pewter set against the intricate pottery, scrollwork, and paintings. Then, something caught his eye. A movement. Someone was in there with him and they were running, too. Ramon squinted in the shadow’s direction and raised his rifle.
But in the dimly lit room, he’d misjudged all that was in it and the long nose of his rifle caught in some rope, looped like netting in the crosshairs of a wooden coatrack. Off his guard, he struggled to pry it free only to lose his grip, and that’s when Ms. Welker pounced.
She sprang at him from out of nowhere and encircled his thick neck with well-toned arms. Catching him in an armbar, she tried to use his own arm against him, but as she adjusted to get a better grip, he found his opening and twisted from her grasp. Their hips had swayed and dodged the glass cases and they’d sidestepped the heavy pewter pedestals in this dance of death. The only thing which swayed with them was a large, tapered pot they had misjudged and swung too close to.
Though Ramon had gotten the upper hand, Ms. Welker had a few other surprises up her sleeve. But she knew it was more important to choose her battle wisely. He’d long since given up on trying to extricate his rifle, and instead was quite happy to turn his attentions on Ms. Welker as he pivoted to face her, his hands suddenly at her throat.
Ms. Welker’s eyes widened as she took a step back and reached up slim hands to cover his large meaty ones. “Ramon,” she purred, finding it difficult to breathe. His eyes darkened as he leaned in to her, his thumbs pressing into the sides of her neck.
