Citadel of Death (A Captain Gringo Western Book 11)

by Lou Cameron

  “Dick,” Birdie added, “I think I’d feel safer and certainly more comfortable in my stateroom aboard this ship. We’ve plenty of room for you two and ...”

  “Don’t you ever pay attention?” he cut in, adding, “Carry on, skipper. Gaston, get on the other side of her and let’s mosey down the gangplank like innocent tourists.”

  Birdie was still bitching as they took her ashore and headed for her rented room. They passed soldiers and some trustees with arm bands and rifles, but nobody challenged them. There were bonfires at intersections and the people of the town who weren’t milling about in the streets seemed to be leaning out their windows shouting questions back and forth. He cocked his head and couldn’t tell if the Ashanti drums were still throbbing in the hills. He grinned over at Gaston and said, “Well, we sure have a good excuse if we ever see Van Horn again. Nobody’s going to be moving on the roads tonight except the military. They’ll probably call on Cayenne for help and dig in until troops from the main colonial garrison can get here.”

  He’d no sooner spoken when the air above them was ripped like a big canvas sheet and Gaston gasped, “Mon Dieu That’s a 155 if ever I hear done passing over!”

  The big shell crumpled down somewhere to the west and Captain Gringo said, “Yeah, there’s at least one gun boat out there lobbing harassing fire. I told you they’d go by the book.”

  Birdie asked what he meant and he explained, “They don’t know where or who they’re shooting at, but an occasional shell coming down in the vicinity makes people duck and slow down. The idea is to keep the enemy off base ‘til you can get your own people into position.”

  They came to a cross street and Gaston said, “I know a rather disreputable back-alley bistro down that way, Dick. I think I’ll join the crowd at the bar and, as you say, blend in, hein?”

  “Right. We’ll meet in front of the usual hotel in the morning, if the coast seems clear. If you run into Van Horn or any of his men, we were caught by surprise here, too. Tell him the last time you saw me I was with a lady. You don’t know who she is and we don’t know anybody else in town.”

  “Merde, don’t coach me, coach M’selle Birdie,” snorted Gaston, peeling off to fade into invisibility.

  Captain Gringo led Birdie up on the walk that passed Liza’s hotel and to her corner room, hoping to attract less attention in the shade of the arcade. But as they reached the entrance of the hotel a tall bullet-headed man wearing a white civilian suit and a Prussian monocle almost bumped into them. He stopped, clicked his heels to let them pass, then gasped, “Herr Walker! What are you doing in French Guiana?”

  Captain Gringo sighed and answered, “Hi, Von Linderhoff. Heard you were in town.”

  “Zo? You have then the advantage on me. But I might have known you were here. It’s rather noisy tonight, nicht wahr? Are not you going to introduce me to your charming companion?”

  Birdie started to say something, but Captain Gringo nudged her and said, “Get your own girl, Von Linderhoff. I don’t know what all the excitement’s about. I thought you might.”

  The German smiled crookedly and replied, “I am here on an open diplomatic mission. I trust your papers are in order, Herr Walker?”

  Captain Gringo didn’t know if that was a veiled threat or not. You could never tell with guys like Von Linderhoff. He answered, “Look, we once made a deal when it was to both our advantages, remember?”

  “I do indeed. Civilized gentlemen must play ‘the great game’ by some rules and those Colombian rebels were behaving like maniacs.”

  “Okay, I have a hot tip for you and you don’t know who I am or what I might be doing here, right?”

  Von Linderhoff hesitated, then nodded. “My word as an officer and gentleman, since I see no way anything you could be up to would work against the cause of my Kaiser.”

  “Yeah, I know he wants the French to enjoy a lot of peace and happiness. I know you’re another professional and I found you trustworthy the last time we fenced. So here’s the tip: British Intelligence knows you’re here and they’re out to terminate your date with destiny, ol’ Buddy.”

  Von Linderhoff smiled sardonically and said, “Is that all? I have my own agents watching the attractive lady that Greystoke of Whitehall sent to kill me in my bed. Naturally, she won’t get me in bed or anywhere else. But I thank you for your concern, and I believe you are dealing from the top of the deck. Tell me one thing, Walker. Are you here in connection with the Dreyfus Affair?”

  Birdie flinched but kept quiet and fortunately Von Linderhoff was watching Captain Gringo with his one good eye. “I give you my word,” Captain Gringo answered “that I have no intention of doing a thing to hurt or harm Captain Dreyfus. I’m mulling over an option to do some shooting for local interests who couldn’t care one way or the other about the Dreyfus Affair.”

  The tall German officer stared hard for a long unwinking minute. Then he nodded and seemed satisfied. “In that case we part friends, or, in case anyone should ask, as strangers, nicht wahr?”

  “Right. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I’d tell you to watch out for stray rounds when the real fun and games start, but, knowing you, it would be as silly as telling my granny how to pluck a chicken.”

  Von Linderhoff laughed, clicked his heels again, and marched off. As Captain Gringo hurried Birdie on she asked, “Who was that man and what happened to his poor eye?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s a long story and I just told him I didn’t know who he was or what he’s doing here.”

  “But you do know, don’t you, Dick?”

  “Yeah, it’s getting more obvious by the minute. Here’s your stairway. Let’s get inside fast.”

  They took the stairs two at a time and as he followed her inside, Birdie flicked on the lights. He flicked them off and said, “You’re not thinking. This is a corner house and we’re on the second floor with a clear field of fire from those vacant lots to the north.”

  “But it’s so dark in here, Dick!”

  He stepped to the jalousied window and adjusted the blinds, letting in a zebra pattern of streetlight as he said, “This’ll be enough to get around and it’s a dumb time to curl up with a good book.”

  Then he grabbed her, spun her around, and threw her head first across the bed.

  She screamed, “Have you gone crazy?” as he pinned her face down and began to run his free hand over her body, feeling for weapons and only finding some interesting bumps and depressions in her well, put together torso. He said, “Well, you’re not packing a derringer in your garters and I’d have noticed one higher, I think.” He rolled her over and ran his hands over the front of her bodice as she sobbed, “Please, I’m not that kind of a girl!” while he frisked and found nothing but a pair of very sweet little tits. She wasn’t even wearing a corset. The waistline was all Birdie. He sat beside her on the mattress and removed his hands from her, but said, “Just stay put. I’ll smack you if I have to.”

  “Don’t hurt me,” she whispered. “If you want me that much I’ll let you, but please don’t hurt me.”

  “Cut the old-fashioned girl bullshit, Birdie,” he said, “I bought it for a while, but a guy in my business learns to think on his feet and your story just won’t hold water.”

  She tried to rise but he shoved her down as she sobbed, “Let me take off my dress. Don’t tear it.”

  “Later, maybe. It’s questions and answers time. You hired a whole tramp steamer. You have a stateroom aboard her.”

  “Of course, but—”

  “But, shit, Birdie. Tell me how come a lady with a private stateroom on her own boat saw fit to rent this dingy little room over a tobacco shop. A tobacco shop that sells forbidden political literature in addition to cigars.”

  “Dick, I don’t know anything about the shop downstairs. Do I look like a girl who smokes cigars?”

  “You look like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. There’s a lot of that going around down here. You want me to tell y
ou why you rented this room with such an interesting view? You didn’t need a place to sleep. You had a place to sleep. You weren’t up here when I had that fight with the two convicts. You never saw it.”

  “Dick, that’s crazy. How could I have described you to the police if I hadn’t been here at the time?”

  “Easy. You made it up. You knew I was in town. You’d seen me on the street and were trying to figure out a way to meet me and get me to help you. When you heard there’d been a fight and that the police were looking for witnesses, you rented this room with a view and back dated! You described me so the police would pick me up and you could be a swell kid. It worked pretty good and you must have had a turn when you found out I really was the guy who’d fought and killed those two thugs, right?”

  She started to cry when he said, “Knock it off. I’m not sore about the way we met. I just want some answers about why.”

  “You know why, damn it! I wanted to get out to Devil’s Island and I knew you could do it. We just came back from there, Dick! What on earth can you suspect me of?”

  “I’m trying to think of something. You claim to be a reporter, and you’ve been reading up on the Dreyfus Affair more than I have. So how come I knew more about it than you? I could see Captain Dreyfus is sure to be freed the easy way. I suspected he’d know that even before he told me. You know what I think all you do-gooders are trying to do? I think you’re trying to get him killed!”

  “Dick, that’s crazy. I was only trying to help the poor man.”

  “Bullshit. He’s got Zola and Anatole France helping him already. He’s got the leader of the opposition party. Clemenceau, demanding a new trial, and if Clemenceau wins the next election there will surely be one. There will also be a stink-to-high heaven when an impartial board of new officers starts sifting the evidence. They’ll find all the wet rocks German agents and French traitors have been hiding under. Der Kaiser will be as embarrassed as hell. He’s not ready for his next big war with France, yet, and a lot of plans will have to suffer some hasty changes once the French High Command knows where all the bodies are buried!”

  She sniffled and said, “Well, maybe you’re right. You just met a German spy master on the street and—”

  “I never said he was a German spy master, Birdie. You asked me who he was, remember?”

  “Damn it, Dick, you’re trying to trick me.”

  “Trying, hell, I’m succeeding. Who are you really working for, Birdie?”

  “I told you, James Gordon Bennet. Do you want to see my press pass?”

  “I already have one of my own and I wouldn’t know James Gordon Bennet if he walked in the door right now. Are you with that Claudette and her Jewish whatever?”

  “For God’s sake, do I look Jewish?”

  “Not particularly. Neither did Claudette, and I don’t think either of you are working to free Dreyfus for any Jewish organization. Dreyfus isn’t interested in the new Zionist movement and few orthodox Jews would give a damn about an apostate who considers himself a Frenchman. On the other hand, a Central European is a Central European. Hebrew isn’t anything like High German, but Yiddish is really a form of Old High German, spoken in the-ghetto neighborhoods as a lingua Franca. A German agent would have little trouble speaking Yiddish, It would be like an Englishman putting on a thick brogue, and most of us wouldn’t know the difference.”

  “Oh, then you think those Jews who tried to hire you were really German spies?”

  “Think it? Hell, I’m sure of it. I turned them down because I could see it was a dumb move for any real friends of Captain Dreyfus. But it wouldn’t be a dumb move for Germany. If I’d gone in slam-bang, Dreyfus would have been killed in the escape attempt. If not by the guards, by some other convict on the German payroll. But you were smoother and got me to actually go out there and—”

  “And Dreyfus wasn’t hurt!” she cut in, grabbing his hand and pressing it to her breast as she added, desperately, “You forget I went with you, Dick! Does that strike you as a smart move for a German agent who wanted a bloody riot out there?”

  He moved his palm over her erect nipple, thoughtfully, as v he frowned and said, “Okay, score one point for Birdie. But it was still pretty dumb and I’m feeling used and abused.”

  She sighed, “I may have been used, too. I admit playing a teeny-weeny trick on you to meet you, but—”

  “You mean you blackmailed me into take one hell of a chance on getting all of us including Dreyfus killed!”

  “I’m sorry. But it turned out all right in the end, didn’t it? I really am a reporter and I really have a swell scoop and I really mean to try and get you a fair shake when I get back to the States, Dick. Can’t we still be friends?”

  She had his hand by the wrist and was helping him massage her breast now, so he leaned down to kiss her and when he started unbuttoning her bodice she kissed back enthusiastically. He decided he’d asked enough questions for now and noticed her chest felt a lot nicer bare. But as he started hauling up her skirt, she rolled her mouth away from his and gasped, “Oh, whatever are you doing? I don’t want to go all the way. I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings.”

  “Baby,” he said, “you’d be surprised at the hard feelings I have for you right now, but relax a bit and let me show you.” He rolled atop her as she got the skirt up around her waist and though she didn’t resist, he parted her thighs with his hips and ran his free hand down to unbutton his fly. She protested, “Please, Dick, I’m not that kind of a girl!”

  And then her eyes widened as he entered her and she gasped, “Oh, I mean I wasn’t that kind of a girl!” and proceeded to move her hips to meet his thrusts with a skill that belied her maidenly modesty. He’d figured she had to have laid somebody to get the job, if she was really a girl reporter. He was willing to concede that newspaper women like Nelly Bligh held their positions on ability. Birdie may not have been a very clever secret agent and she was one God awful reporter but she was a terrific lay.

  She climaxed fast, or said she had, and asked if they couldn’t take their clothes off and do it right. That was the most sensible thing she’d said since he’d met her. So he stopped to peel her to the buff as she undressed him, kissing his flesh as she unbuttoned, and protesting all the while that she never did this sort of thing as a rule.

  But apparently rules were made to be broken as they went at each other stark naked across the covers, she forgetting her Victorian upbringing and getting on top to tease her nipples across his lips as she moved up and down with a rotary wiggle to her rollicking little rump. She felt marvelous as he explored her with his hands. It aroused him to think of her and big Wilma at the same time, for the little redhead was another delightful contrast. The cynic who’d said all cats were gray in the dark hadn’t gotten around much. No two women were alike, Allah be praised, and Birdie was a cut above average. He came as she contracted in a sobbing orgasm and fell limp with her firm little torso glued to his chest and a well turned knee in each of his arm pits while he ran his hand up and down her back, letting her milk him with her post orgasmic spasms. He decided he really wouldn’t mind a hell of a lot if God pulled the plug on the universe right now. It was funny how detached and sane a man felt at a time like this. Someone had once said that nobody should make an important decision until he’d had a good meal and a good lay to settle his mind. Someone had been right.

  Birdie kissed his collar bone and asked, “Are we friends, now, Dick?”

  “Better than friends. I think we’re lovers and I’m looking back to a long ocean voyage with you, Kid.”

  “Oh, we’ll have to be careful aboard the steamer. I have my reputation to consider.”

  He didn’t answer as she moved experimentally and added, “Of course, if we do it discreetly, nobody has to know.”

  “That’s what I just said. We’ll let the excitement die down and leave quietly in a day or so. Meanwhile, let’s keep this room ashore so we don’t have to be discreet.”

  “Yo
u don’t want to leave in the morning, darling?”

  “Want to? Can’t! Until they think they have the situation under control the authorities here will be touchy as hell about people coming and going.”

  “Oh, speaking of coming, could we roll over? My legs are getting cramped.”

  He laughed, rolled atop without withdrawing, and cupped a firm buttock in each of his own palms as he began to move in and out with long slow strokes. Birdie moaned in pleasure and started pounding on his rear with her little bare heels as she pleaded, “Faster, don’t tease me, darling!”

  So he did as she asked and, for a girl who didn’t ordinarily do this sort of thing, she sure came fast and often. They’d wound up near the edge of the bed, so as he got one foot on the floor he doubled the other leg and got her in a sideways position with one leg around his waist and the other up like a can-can dancer so that he could kiss her toes while he rammed her at the new angle and caught up with her, feeling it from his insteps up as he exploded in her petite pelvis. She said, “Don’t stop!” but his one leg was cramping, so he got that off the mattress, too, and pounded her to glory with his feet on the floor and her tail bone on the edge as she flattened the bare soles of her feet against his chest and wriggled madly, gasping, “Oh, my God, I feel like a chicken on a spit and I love it!”

  He did, too, but all good things must come, so after they did he withdrew to sit up, fumbled for a smoke and looked for his wits again.

  He thumbed a match to light up, admiring the way the match flame played on the curves and dimples of his little bedmate. He lit up and offered a drag, but she said nice girls didn’t smoke and added, “If we have to stay here a while I might be able to get a story on ... what is going on, Dick?”