Coyote

by Rhonda Roberts

  ‘No — you’re wrong. That can’t be true.’ She knew where I was headed. ‘Gideon wouldn’t —’

  ‘He did, Gilda,’ I snapped. ‘To push Seymour Kershaw into paying up, Webb set fire to Portsmouth Square. Do you understand me, Gilda? Webb reenacted Hector’s crime … He slaughtered innocent people just to get his blackmail money!’

  ‘No! That’s not true! It can’t be.’ But from the horror in her eyes, Gilda understood that what I was saying was at least possible. In her buckskin costume she looked like the real Prairie Rose must’ve when she saw the blue coats of the US cavalry coming for her village.

  It was too much for her.

  ‘Gilda, wait!’

  She leapt away from the hole, her footsteps racing over our heads.

  I stared up, willing her to stop … Damn! But at least she’d left the lantern. I eyed it. Just how long would that light last? The thought of being in this dank little hold in the pitch dark made me want to …

  ‘Well, this has been delightful,’ drawled Honeycutt, cutting my panic short. ‘But let’s get out of here and after the real culprit — Gideon Webb.’

  We both went to work on the cuffs. They may’ve been centuries old but unfortunately they still worked. It was pointless to try to unhinge them, so we had to either separate the chains from the cuffs or the chains from the wooden wall.

  Honeycutt stuck both his feet on either side of his chain and pulled.

  I looked around for a lever.

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ Gideon Webb’s face appeared above us. ‘You’ve been busy stirring up my Prairie Rose.’ He looked like a smug cobra about to dislocate its jaw for dinner. He wore Western gear, once again dressed as Hector Kershaw.

  And he had the same killer eyes.

  Now I realised why he could play Hector so convincingly. They really were the same — mass murderers.

  ‘So, Kannon, you couldn’t resist me after all,’ purred Webb. He gave Honeycutt a contemptuous glance. ‘And who’s your big friend?’

  Honeycutt gave him stone-cold eyes. Webb’s smirk faltered; he kept his gaze carefully away.

  ‘People know we’re here, Webb,’ I growled. ‘You won’t get away with it. They’ll rip this place apart.’

  ‘Sure they will, Dupree,’ he mocked me. ‘No one even knows this basement still exists … let alone what’s in it. I was very careful to keep the excavation secret.’ Webb slapped the floor above our heads. ‘No one knows my beauty has resurfaced.’

  ‘You won’t get away with it. I left a message with —’

  ‘Who? Your partner, Desmond Carmichael?’

  I stiffened.

  ‘Now Carmichael was a waste of my precious time.’ Webb frowned. ‘I thought he had the final clue to the location of the diary and all I found was some rubbish on a Mexican bandito.’ He shook his head. ‘But still, I don’t think he can help you now, girl,’ he purred in dulcet tones. ‘Not from his hospital bed anyway.’

  ‘You slimy bastard … I’m going to rip you limb from —’

  ‘I’ll make a deal with you: tell me where the diary is and I’ll let you go.’ He read my face. ‘So you don’t have it yet?’

  ‘But I know where it is!’

  ‘Don’t tell me.’ He pretended to read my thoughts. ‘It’s in Little Boston.’

  I ground my teeth. ‘You’re the one who broke into the de Vivar Library and stole the plans.’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted, unconcerned. ‘However, it didn’t help me find Hector’s secret room.’

  I sucked in a breath. There was a secret room?

  ‘You didn’t know about it … did you?’ He gave me a patronising grin. ‘I became suspicious when I discovered the architect of Little Boston died the week it was completed.’ Webb rolled his eyes. ‘So very Egyptian of Hector … The architect was stabbed on his way home from there. He’d written to a friend that he’d built a secret room for Hector — but fortunately for Hector the letter was never posted.’ He smirked. ‘And fortunately for me I found that same letter.’

  ‘But you haven’t found the diary, have you?’ I growled up at him.

  ‘No. The secret room wasn’t shown on the library plans. But I’ll find it … eventually.’

  ‘Let us out and we’ll help you,’ I promised.

  Webb ignored me to gloat. ‘Do you like my Hue & Cry? You’ve got to hand it to the Corsairs …’ He fondled the ship like it was a new girlfriend. ‘They had style. They never stopped being what they really were upfront … pirates. They even brought their ship with them into their new fiefdom.’

  He sneered down at us. ‘But it just goes to show that a good lie will always beat the truth. Even the Corsairs weren’t in the same badass class as Hector Kershaw.’ He chortled. ‘That Hector — what a terror he was. Just one man … and he pulled the strings of an entire city with just a delicate tissue of lies.’

  ‘Not quite,’ I spat out. ‘The mass murder helped.’

  ‘Yeah, and they stampeded before him like sheep being rounded up for the abattoir.’ Webb smiled. ‘Hector arrived in San Francisco the hero of Dry Gulch massacre and parleyed it into becoming the mayor.’ He tapped his chin meditatively. ‘My, my, what an inspiring role model he’s been indeed.’

  Honeycutt and I exchanged worried glances. Reason wasn’t going to work on this copycat psycho.

  ‘You’ve really got to admire Hector’s adaptability — he never let anything get in his way,’ said Webb. ‘First, he married the daughter of the richest man in town, then set about turning everyone against the Corsairs … even their paid political lackeys. Then Hector set fire to Portsmouth Square to outrage the public, but they were too afraid of the Corsairs to do anything. So he defied the Corsairs in their own fiefdom by taking their pride and joy — Prairie Rose — and showing they could be beaten.’

  ‘You’re mad, Webb,’ I spat. ‘Someone will put two and two together and come to the same conclusion we did. They’ll find out what you’ve been doing.’

  Webb ignored that too. ‘Oh but you haven’t heard the very best part. You’re going to love it … When rescuing Prairie Rose didn’t rouse the masses, Hector’s final stroke was genius.’ He chuckled. ‘He framed the Corsairs one last time … and blew up the town hall. It was sheer, balls-out genius — in one stroke he eliminated the Corsairs’ protectors and his only political rivals.’

  I gave Honeycutt an anxious glance. This story was leading nowhere good.

  ‘The enraged crowd turned from the burning Montgomery Building to rush into the Barbary Coast and rip apart every last one of the Corsairs before the blaze had even died down.’ He stood above us, hands on hips. ‘By the next dawn Hector was mayor and held the richest underworld on all six continents in the palm of his eagerly grasping hand —’

  ‘Cut the crap!’ barked Honeycutt. ‘We know what you have done and we’ll make sure —’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m too busy to listen to you whine.’ Webb checked his watch. ‘Now, I must leave you, I have an appointment. I can’t resist re-enacting one final tribute to my favourite hero.’ He preened himself at the thought. ‘And, of course, the demolition of the Montgomery Building should also persuade Seymour Kershaw that I really mean business. I’ll milk him drier than a dead rattlesnake.’

  He was going to blow up a building?

  ‘You can’t do this, Webb!’ I shouted.

  ‘Oh, you needn’t worry about it, Kannon. You can’t do anything about it.’ He chuckled. ‘You’ll be dead.’

  Webb ducked out of view.

  ‘Kannon, we have to get out of here,’ growled Honeycutt.

  We both went to work on the chains again. Then stopped to stare at the ceiling.

  Someone was dragging something heavy across the deck above our heads.

  We both lunged to our feet.

  A heavy fire hose slipped through the hole to dangle above our heads.

  ‘No!’ I yelled.

  Moments later water exploded out of it with such force that it threw
Honeycutt backwards and headfirst into the wall.

  I struggled against my chain to reach him. He stood up, but in a daze.

  ‘Come on, Daniel, we’ve got to get out of here!’ I shouted above the roaring water. It was almost deafening in this little cabin.

  We both began kicking at the heavy wooden beams the chains were inserted into but they were as hard as the iron cuffs that encircled our wrists. They were made of wood, handpicked to last centuries in the water.

  The water was filling the little cabin so fast it’d risen over the base of the chains. Now it was impossible to get enough momentum to even try to break the wood.

  We went to work on our cuffs …

  The water was up to my waist.

  I looked over at Daniel. I was our only hope. My hand and wrist were much smaller.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I forced my thumb out of its socket, dislocating it. I sobbed as I scraped my hand out and free of the cuff … With a deep groan I attempted to snap my thumb back in place but only partially succeeded.

  ‘I’m free, Daniel. I’m free!’ I yelled. I swam over to Honeycutt; by now the water was up to his shoulders.

  Honeycutt’s wrists were too big. He couldn’t get his hand out. ‘Get outta here, Kannon!’ he barked. ‘Go! You can’t help me!’

  ‘I’m not leaving without you!’ I yelled back.

  I swam to the ladder and climbed it. I tried to fight the fire hose away from the hole, gasping in agony from my swelling thumb. But the force of water pumping through the big hose was too powerful — it fish-tailed away from my grasp. I had to find the tap to turn it off.

  I looked down at Daniel.

  He looked up at me in desperation. ‘There’s nothing you can do here, Kannon!’ he shouted. ‘Go stop Webb!’

  The water was up to his chin.

  ‘Hold your breath, Daniel!’ I screamed. ‘I’m not leaving without you, so if you die — I will too!’

  ‘No, Kannon! You’ve gotta save yourself!’ His eyes said goodbye. ‘Darlin’, I love you.’

  ‘Hold your breath!’ I screamed again.

  I lurched through the ship, ramming wooden columns in my haste. I raced up the stairs and out into the basement. I whirled around and found the circular handle of the fire hose. It was stiff and my left hand had swollen … but I somehow managed to wrench it off. I rifled through the tools next to the basement stairs — there was a crowbar.

  I dived back down into the brigantine.

  I reached the hole, expecting to see Daniel’s head …

  But the lantern on the deck next to me showed only flat black water.

  ‘Daniel!’ I screamed.

  The crowbar in one hand, I jumped in.

  The lantern light penetrated the water just far enough for me to see … a shape.

  Oh God!

  Daniel floated motionless, his face white, his eyes open but unseeing.

  He was gone.

  I screamed and sucked in a mouthful of water. I shot up, gasped and dived down again.

  I followed his chain down to the wall and stuck the crowbar in the tiny crack between the metal base and the wooden wall.

  I pushed the lever down with all my might, my thumb pulsing in agony.

  No good.

  I came up for air, then dived again.

  Wedging the crowbar closer into the crack, I gave one last shove …

  And the wood released the chain, base and all.

  Climbing the partially submerged ladder I hauled Daniel, including his chain, up with me to the surface. I sucked in a great lungful of air.

  ‘Daniel!’ I sobbed as I held him against the ladder. ‘Don’t go … keep fighting.’

  He was a big man, so very heavy wet … and laden with an iron chain.

  I hauled him over my shoulder and sank suddenly under the weight. I struggled, gulping in water, as I used my strong legs to fight our way up the ladder. Every step was a battle.

  I thrust him up and through the hole. I scrambled up to drag him further away from the hole.

  ‘Daniel!’ He was icy cold, his lips blue.

  I worked automatically, my lifesaver training kicking in. I cleared his mouth and began resuscitation, breathing my air into his lungs. His face felt like ice.

  ‘Come on, Daniel, you can do this! I know you can! Come home to me. Please, Daniel … please!’

  Tears ran down my wet face and onto his.

  It was no good. Breath alone was not enough.

  I hit the middle of his chest. ‘Come on!’ I yelled. Then slammed it again. ‘Come on!’

  Daniel coughed once, water spurted out. I turned him on his side. He vomited; a flood of water jetted out of his mouth.

  He lay back gasping, heaving for air.

  57

  THE TRANSAMERICA

  PYRAMID

  With Honeycutt’s heavy arm draped across my hunched shoulders, we staggered up to the deck of The Hue & Cry. That was as far as he could make it before his legs betrayed him.

  Daniel slid down to lie curled on his side, coughing weakly.

  I knelt, holding my blackened thumb protectively to my chest. It’d swollen to twice its normal size.

  Above us, the basement door flung open. Gilda hurled herself down the stairs. She zeroed in on Honeycutt. ‘Oh my God, oh my God …’ she wailed.

  I looked around for a weapon, but she rushed over and flung herself down next to him. ‘What’s wrong with him? Is he okay?’

  Then she saw the red fire hose snaking down through the trap door in the middle of the deck. ‘What’s that doing —’

  ‘Webb tried to drown us.’

  Gilda paled. ‘But, but …’

  ‘I told you the truth about Webb,’ I spat. ‘But you left us chained in that black hole and then told him where we were … didn’t you?’ I accused.

  She was mute with anguish.

  I nodded at the hose. ‘That’s proof that I told you the truth. He couldn’t afford to keep us alive.’

  Gilda looked like a lost child.

  ‘Where is he?’ I demanded. ‘Where is Webb now?’

  ‘He’s gone,’ she whispered in a daze. ‘We’re booked for a performance tonight in the Transamerica Pyramid. I’m doing the Circle of Death for Mayor Ruttle and some foreign investors he wants to impress. Gideon’s over there now setting it up …’

  Her gaze wandered back to the hose. She stared at it in horror, as though imagining us as corpses floating in that black water.

  ‘Gilda.’ I grabbed her arm with my good hand and shook her back to the present. ‘Webb told us he’s going to re-enact the destruction of the Montgomery Building. He said he’s going to blow it up.’

  Gilda gasped. ‘But the Transamerica Pyramid stands on top of the old Montgomery Building …’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Gilda wailed. ‘I love Gideon … but we’ve got to stop him.’

  The Transamerica Pyramid was two short blocks south of here. ‘I’m going straight to the Pyramid.’ I searched her face. ‘Will you ring the police?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she promised.

  ‘And look after Honeycutt for me.’

  Gilda looked down at him, remorseful tears in her eyes. ‘Of course!’

  I stood. Then grimaced. I was naked to the bare flesh in a dripping wet, see-through nightgown.

  ‘Kannon,’ warned Gilda. ‘You won’t get in —’

  ‘I know! I know.’ I bit my lip.

  I had to get into the Transamerica Pyramid quickly and quietly — before Webb knew about it — and nail him to the wall. As psycho as he was, there was no way such an egotist would endanger his own life. He’d make sure as long as he was in the building, he’d be safe. That meant as long as Gideon Webb was in the Transamerica Pyramid, everyone was safe.

  So I couldn’t charge in, my gun out with my TI credentials waved high. That would cause a stampede. I had to stalk Webb, sneak up on him …

  I studied Gilda; she was still dressed as Prairie Rose. ‘You said you’re perform
ing the Circle of Death for the mayor tonight …’ We were roughly the same size and shape.

  She followed my gaze and understood. She nodded.

  We ran for the stairs, taking them three at a time. With Gilda’s help I dried off, dressed in Prairie Rose’s buckskin tunic and boots and then pulled on my long black hooker’s wig. She braided it as I checked in the mirror.

  Gideon Webb had tried to kill me and mine, twice now … and River was dead.

  In the mirror, my eyes gleamed coyote yellow in the half-light. I looked like a wild animal.

  I grinned wide, my canines showing white against my red lips.

  I looked like a predator …

  I hung Prairie Rose’s red quiver full of arrows across my back and gripped her green bow with intent.

  I was going hunting.

  The fog was now a solid wall of white …

  The cars on Pacific Avenue were in gridlock and, around me, people anxiously groped their way along the pavement.

  My eyes adjusted and the fog became a light mist. I sprinted down the avenue, dodging stranded pedestrians, and then right into Montgomery Street. I should’ve known where the Montgomery Building was as soon as Webb mentioned it.

  Immediately the Transamerica Pyramid — a tall, slim, four-sided pyramid with a winged summit — rose up out of the fog. It was the highest peak in the San Francisco skyline and tonight it was lit up like a Christmas tree. How many people were still in that building? If I wasn’t fast enough, they’d all be the latest casualties in Hector Kershaw’s long, rippling wave of violence.

  Bloody Hector had started this karmic cycle; I hoped he paid for it somewhere, somehow.

  I raced up the stairs to the front entryway. There were guests in evening wear still stumbling up the fog-shrouded stairs, but I beat them to the door. Keeping my damaged thumb carefully hidden behind my back, I shoved Prairie Rose’s distinctive green bow at the tall security guard stationed in front of the metal detector. I didn’t intend to give him the time to debate who I was.

  ‘I need this for the performance tonight,’ I stated. ‘For the Circle of Death.’ I knew I couldn’t get my gun past them without any explanation, so I hadn’t tried.