Pierce silently descended the stairs to the hotel basement, careful to not appear too suspicious if suddenly discovered by someone from the staff. But apart from a well stocked wine cellar, the basement was largely unused. The kitchens, laundry rooms, and servant spaces were above him, between the basement and the main floor of the hotel.
He passed the wine cellar and delved into the darkness, his eyes adjusting just enough to avoid running into the walls. After walking a few yards in the semi-dark he began to hear the faint sound of metal on stone. Following the noise he made his way to a large chamber filled with solid stone pillars.
A small lamp provided just enough light to see a large man clearing stone away from a hole in the wall. He was hunched over with a shovel in his hands, working slow and deliberately. It was Ivan, again working on the tunnel as before. Pierce figured his trip to the prison had delayed the completion of his work, forcing him to continue until the last minute in order to finish.
Taking a few steps back from the door, Pierce took a deep breath before stumbling into the chamber, deliberately knocking into the closest pillar as he did so. His sudden appearance made Ivan jump, but his drunken rambling made the large man quickly relax.
“Out,” Ivan pointed at the door sternly, upset at his work being interrupted.
Pierce merely mumbled in reply as he shuffled closer, his rubbery limbs belying the tension he felt.
“Out, now!” Ivan ordered more sternly as Pierce passed him, having a quick look at the hole. It was bigger than when he and Liam had last been there.
“Listen you…” Ivan growled testily as he grabbed the collar of Pierces fancy jacket, twirling him back around from the tunnel. Unlike his companion upstairs, the flash of recognition crossed Ivan’s face when got a proper look at Pierce.
However he had no time to react, as the handle of Pierce’s walking stick struck him squarely in the groin, dropping him to his knees in an instant. This was soon followed by a knee to the temple, hurling him on to his back.
“No Ivan, you listen,” Pierce ordered standing over him, no longer the drunken fool but a member of the Hunt. “The game is up and you’re trapped. We’ve captured everyone but Bufford. If you tell me his plans now, I’ll make sure they go easy on you back at the Manor.”
Writhing in pain and unable to get up, Ivan merely spat on the floor in response to Pierce’s demand. Undeterred Pierce clicked open his swordstick and slowly removed the glinting blade from its dark scabbard.
“You’re going to tell me what I want to know, one way or another,” Pierce threatened as he lowered the tip of the blade to Ivan’s chest. Despite Pierce’s past threats to the arms dealer in Merida and Drummond at the Manor, Pierce knew inside he was bluffing. Both those times he’d been pumped full of adrenaline and felt time was running out. However this time he didn’t really need the info Ivan had, it would be useful but not really necessary.
“Okay, give me a second,” grunted Ivan between breaths as he tried to sit up. The small lantern displayed a small cut on his forehead as he shifted his body over to one of the columns, collapsing back against it after the small amount of exertion.
“Where is Bufford going?” Pierce questioned after Ivan became settled. “How’s he getting out of Marseille?”
“A boat, but I don’t know which one,” he lied easily, feeling the cut on his forehead.
“Destination?” A sneering shrug was all the reply Pierce got.
Pierce wasn’t terribly interested in the answers, so he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to Ivan’s body language. He didn’t notice the small twitches of Ivan’s shoulders as he felt behind him for a weapon. Similarly he didn’t notice Ivan relaxing after grasping the handle of a small pickaxe.
“You’ve got five chances to answer my questions,” Pierce ordered as his foot came down on Ivan’s wrist, pinning it to the floor. He then moved his sword so it was almost touching the thumb. “Where is Bufford going?”
“I don’t know!” Ivan yelled as he swung the pickaxe from behind him in a wide arc towards Pierce’s legs.
His training helped Pierce sidestep the first attack and then parry the second as the pickaxe came back towards him. Without thinking Pierce immediately counterattacked after the parry, the movement automatic from years of fencing. As Ivan tried to get up, Pierce’s blade swiftly travelled the distance from the handle of the pickaxe into the Russians chest.
Ivan had barely enough time to show his shock as the steel instantly pierced his heart. The body fell back to the cold dirt floor, quietly sliding off the thin blade.
“What did you do that for?!” Pierce yelled at the body in front of him, shocked by what had happened. “I wasn’t going to torture you, you fucking idiot!”
The shakes came next, triggered from the shock of the sudden violent action that had just occurred. He had to take a few deep breaths in order to steady his hands long enough to replace the sword in its scabbard. The sharp sound from it clicking back into place woke Pierce from a momentary stupor and forced him to face his current predicament.
The fact that Ivan was continuing to clear the tunnel from the hotel to the building next door meant that Bufford still intended to use it to escape. But Pierce couldn’t leave the body where it was, it would alarm Bufford prematurely. Similarly, Pierce also wanted to remove their method of escape without tipping his hand to their plan. The answer came a few seconds later, after looking from the body to the tunnel and realized that one solution could solve both problems.
With renewed energy, Pierce grabbed the discarded pickaxe and threw it into the tunnel. He then grabbed Ivan’s body from under the arms and dragged him across the floor, careful to watch for any blood that might get on his fancy clothes. It took two heaving shoves to get the body into the tunnel and on top of the pickaxe. Wiping the sweat from his brow Pierce then went in search of the shovel.
The tunnel had been reinforced since the last time Pierce and Liam had been through it. Two medium sized beams ran the distance of the tunnel ceiling, with smaller pieces holding them in place. From the rocky rubble and dirt that surrounded the entrance, Pierce assumed that these additions were made after a small cave-in. With this in mind he hefted the shovel with both hands and started attacking the top beams in an attempt to knock them off the supports.
It only took a few solid whacks for them to fall, landing on the body with a thump. Within seconds the roof of the tunnel started to crumble, until enough debris had fallen to cover most of the body and completely block the tunnel.
Pierce smiled briefly at his small accomplishment, until he saw Ivan’s legs protruding from beneath a pile of rock, dust, and dirt. He was instantly filled with guilt, despite the fact it was an accident. He didn’t know anything about Ivan, but he felt that the man probably didn’t deserve to die like he did. However he wasn’t able to linger any longer, as he realized that Bufford and the rest of his men would be heading for their escape route shortly.
Placing the shovel on the floor beside the small lantern, Pierce took one last look at the body before heading for the stairs, fearing that the body count was only going to continue rising.
A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1) Page 98
