The Signal

by John Sneeden

  “I don’t know—”

  “I said get it now!” Carmen shouted. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of one of the teens inching toward the door of the building, and she realized that if she didn’t force the man’s hand, things would descend into chaos. She grabbed the old man by the collar and drew him close, then lifted her Beretta and placed it against his temple. “Les clés pour un bateau! Maintenant!”

  Visibly shaken, the man fished in his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. He pulled one of them off and handed it to the Italian.

  Carmen asked the man which boat the keys went with.

  The man hesitated again.

  “Lequel?” Carmen asked again, pressing the gun harder into the man’s head.

  “That one,” he said, pointing to one of the boats moored close by. It was an eighteen-foot inboard powerboat, and Carmen couldn’t have been more pleased.

  “Let’s go!” she shouted at Amanda.

  As they climbed aboard, Carmen saw the men retreating into the building. “Stop,” she said, firing into the roof of the boathouse to get their attention. The old man and one of the teenagers stopped and held their hands up. The third teenager took his chances and darted inside. Carmen wanted to make sure the man had given her the right key before she let them get away. With baldy and his partner closing in, there wouldn’t be time to go inside and pull them out. She handed the gun to Amanda and said, “Shoot them if they move.”

  Amanda’s eyes grew large, but she played along, pointing the gun awkwardly toward the men. Carmen climbed into the driver’s seat, checked the throttle, and turned the key. The engine groaned to life, churning the water behind it.

  “Merci,” Carmen said, nodding toward the old man. She took the gun from Amanda and motioned toward the other seat. “Sit down and stay low. This may get fun.”

  Carmen backed the craft out more quickly than she normally would have, bumping the boat next to them. Once they were clear of the dock, she moved the clutch forward and opened the throttle. The engine roared and the bow lifted in response. Not bad, old man. Thanks, Carmen thought.

  The craft threw off a spray of water as the Italian turned out into the river. She didn’t yet know exactly what she was going to do, only that they needed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the marina.

  “Where are we going?” Amanda shouted her question.

  “We’re pretty far out.” Carmen looked at the forest that closed in on both sides of the river. “It would be foolish to go ashore here. If we do, it will become a footrace to nowhere.”

  “Then what are our options?”

  “Common sense tells me we head back to—”

  "Oh, no!" Amanda shouted.

  Carmen glanced back over her shoulder. A boat had just left the marina and was headed in their direction. Apparently, the Renaissance goons had been able to quickly commandeer a boat of their own. Judging by its size, she doubted it was faster than theirs, but it might be equally fast and would certainly allow them to remain in sight.

  A plan formed in the Italian’s mind. She looked down at the fuel gauge and saw that they had about a half a tank. The hint of a smile crossed her face. It might be just enough to accomplish what she had in mind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “GET UP.”

  At the sound of Carmen’s voice, Amanda, who had been shivering in the fetal position on the bottom of the boat, opened her eyes and got up on her knees. She had no idea where they were, only that they had traveled up the Rhone River past Geneva and out into the lake. The only thing Carmen had told her about their destination was that it was a place she remembered visiting in her childhood.

  As she settled into her seat, Amanda was startled at what she saw in front of them. They were headed toward a line of boulders along the lakeshore. Just to the right of those boulders was a medieval castle sitting in the water.

  “Where are we?” Amanda asked. Hearing a distant buzz, she glanced behind her. The other boat with the Renaissance goons was still in pursuit. It appeared to be about a quarter mile back.

  “Le Château de Chillon.” Carmen glanced down at the fuel gauge and shook her head. The needle was touching empty, meaning they could run out of gas at any moment. “Now, listen to me. When I land the boat, you’re going to need to get out quickly. Whatever you do, don’t look back. Just keep going until you get into the trees. Understand?”

  Amanda nodded, her eyes already focused on the target.

  As they neared the boulders, Amanda could see that they actually formed a cove, which Carmen deftly directed the boat into. Once inside the cove, she kept the craft moving straight toward the sandy beach.

  “Hold on,” Carmen said, finally reducing speed and running the bow up onto the sand. “Now go!”

  Amanda almost fell as she crawled over the console. She crossed the bow and jumped off onto the beach. As soon as her feet touched the sand, she heard gunfire. Following her instructions to the letter, she ran straight up the hill and entered the trees. Once there, she hid behind a trunk and looked back. The other boat was nearing the cove. Carmen fired a couple of rounds, but the driver kept moving the craft toward the shore, not in the least slowed down by the bullets.

  Carmen turned and sprinted toward Amanda. When she arrived, she pointed toward an asphalt service road that ran toward the castle. “Go up to that road, turn right, and just keep running. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Where are we—”

  “Just follow the road!”

  *

  Resisting the urge to look back, Amanda kept running. Despite being in good shape, the fear of the chase caused her heart to beat faster than it had in years. She was running on adrenaline and prayed that it would continue as long as she needed it.

  Directly ahead, she could just make out the front of the medieval castle she had seen from the boat. There were throngs of tourists piling on and off buses in the parking lot.

  Perfect, Amanda thought to herself. What a way to get lost.

  A few seconds later, Carmen drew even with her. She wasn’t even breathing heavily. “Keep your pace,” the Italian said. “We’re almost there.”

  When they entered the parking, lot they slowed to a jog and wound through the mass of people, cars, and buses.

  “Please don’t tell me we’re going in there,” Amanda said, nodding toward the castle.

  “Okay, I won’t tell you that.”

  About two minutes later, they reached the other end of the parking lot, and Amanda followed Carmen across a covered bridge that led into the castle. Amanda couldn’t help but glance back. When she did, she shuddered. Two of their pursuers, including the bald man, were pushing through the crowd in their direction. She couldn’t see the third; either he had remained with the boat or was lagging behind. The fact that she couldn’t see him made her even more afraid.

  “Let’s go.” Carmen took Amanda’s arm and guided her into the building. “Don’t worry about them.”

  Once inside, Carmen proceeded directly to the ticket window. Unfortunately, there was an elderly couple in front who were having trouble sorting their money out. The husband was fussing at the wife, who stopped counting the bills and began to fuss back. Carmen let out an audible sigh and glared at them with impatience.

  “Okay, this is nuts,” Amanda whispered.

  “About as nuts as me leading us to the river to commandeer a boat?”

  “Yes, but this is completely insane. They’re right on our heels and you’re buying tickets for a castle tour?”

  “Aren’t you an archaeologist? You’re going to have fun.” Carmen glanced back toward the entrance and then said in a whisper, “It’s all a part of the plan. We’ll be fine. They may come in or they may just decide to wait us out.”

  The elderly couple finally paid the cashier and ambled off, still arguing.

  Carmen stepped up to the window. “Deux billets, s’il vous plaît.”

  “Vingt-quatre francs.” The emotio
nless cashier extended her plump hand without even looking up.

  Carmen pulled a clip of bills out of her pocket and paid for the tickets. After handing one to Amanda, she grabbed a brochure and led her past the gift shop and out into the courtyard. It was a mass of humanity from one end to the other.

  Amanda, still nervous about their pursuers, stole a quick look back into the interior as they continued to walk. The two men had arrived inside. The bald one was at the ticket window, and the other one was letting his narrow eyes drift over the crowd. Amanda thought she saw him look in her direction when she felt a tug on her arm.

  “I told you not to worry about them,” Carmen said as they crossed the courtyard. “They won’t dare shoot us in here. They’re simply trying to keep us in sight. My guess is, they’ll play the waiting game and hope we try to leave.”

  “You said before they wouldn’t even come inside.”

  “No, I didn’t. I said they might or they might not.”

  Arriving at the other end of the courtyard, they entered one of the castle’s ornate halls.

  “Well, what now?” Amanda asked, looking around as they continued slowly toward the other end.

  “I’m not sure yet,” said Carmen, studying the brochure as though she were a tourist.

  “I thought you had a plan?”

  “I did. Sometimes you just have to follow your gut. Unfortunately my gut doesn’t always fill in all the details right away.”

  Amanda let out a sigh. “Well, I hope your gut figures it out, because look who’s coming.”

  She saw Carmen peek past the brochure, and knew by the look in her eyes that she too saw the telltale bald head on the other end.

  “See, they’re taking their time,” Carmen said. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Easy for you to say—you have a gun.”

  Carmen suddenly began to poke at the brochure with her index finger. “I’ve got it! Why didn’t I think of that before? I knew my instincts were right.”

  “Think of what?”

  “Something I just remembered from my trip here as a kid. Quick, follow me.” Carmen headed for a nearby door.

  “Is there another exit?” Amanda asked.

  “Sort of.”

  As they were about to pass out of the hall, Amanda looked back. The two men were moving in their direction. Had they been spotted? She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that they’d be there in a minute or two.

  When they passed through the doorway, they found themselves inside a stone stairwell. Tourists were moving up and down the steps in single file. Carmen nudged Amanda and whispered, “Listen, when we get to the first landing, we stop. Then I’m going to do something that may freak you out.”

  “What?”

  “As soon as I do, just start moving down the steps, no matter what happens.”

  “What exactly are you going to do? I don’t like all these plans of yours. I always seem to be kept in the dark until the last minute.”

  “You’ll know when it happens," Carmen said. "Remember, wait for the signal, and then start moving down the steps.”

  Amanda was not happy at the vagueness of Carmen’s plan, but nodded that she understood. When they reached the first landing, Carmen stepped into a corner and pulled Amanda in front of her. She then slipped her the brochure and whispered, “Make it look like you’re reading this.”

  “Got it.” Amanda took the brochure and held it in front of her face as though trying to decide which room to go to next. People continued to file by in both directions, many of them glaring at Amanda for clogging up the landing.

  A few seconds later, Amanda felt Carmen move behind her. Amanda realized that the Italian was reaching into her coat. Seconds later, a loud blast reverberated off of the walls.

  As screams broke out, Carmen shouted in French at the top of her lungs, “He has a gun!”

  What happened next could only be described as sheer pandemonium. People threw aside any semblance of courtesy or decorum, pushing and clawing at those around them in order to push back up the steps. The mob was so panicked that the upper portion of the stairs became clogged, and progress slowed to a standstill.

  As the mob continued to push upwards, Carmen yanked Amanda down the stairs against the flow. Amanda stayed close behind the Italian, who was violently shoving people out of the way.

  When they reached the bottom, Carmen turned right and entered a cave. The main room was hewn out of rock, and the ceiling was braced with stone archways through which there were several other rooms. “Where in the heck are we?” asked Amanda.

  The screaming continued in the stairwell. Carmen waited until the final person had left the room before responding. “A medieval prison. Quick, over here.”

  Amanda followed her to an opening that had likely served as a window in the Middle Ages. It was rectangular, two feet wide, and ran through the ten-foot stone wall to the exterior of the castle.

  She shook her head. “You’re not seriously—”

  “I am. Get up there before those guys get here.”

  Just the mention of the men set Amanda into motion. Using a boost from Carmen, she climbed into the opening. There was barely enough room for her to wiggle forward through the slot. “What’s on the other side?”

  “Rocks. Keep moving.”

  When she was about halfway through, Carmen scrambled up and followed her.

  “Stop it! What are you doing?” shouted a lady from the stairwell. Her question was followed by a gunshot and more screaming.

  Soon thereafter, Amanda heard two voices speaking in Russian. Looking back, she saw that Carmen kept her gun pointed back toward the room.

  When Amanda finally reached the other end, she found herself looking out over the lake. At first she thought they might have to jump in and swim, but she remembered what Carmen had said about the rocks. The rocks below formed the foundation of the castle. There was an area of about two feet on which to land, which gave very little room for error.

  Realizing that the more she thought about it, the worse it would get, Amanda said a quick prayer and hopped out, trying to keep her feet flat for landing. When she hit the rock ledge, she teetered before regaining her balance. Thank you, dear Lord.

  A few moments later, Amanda looked up and saw Carmen gesturing for her to move over.

  With agility that would put a Siamese cat to shame, the Italian landed softly on both feet without the slightest bit of teetering. “Go. That way,” she said, pointing to the left.

  Amanda turned and began to walk gingerly across the rock foundation, which curved around the side of the castle.

  *

  Carmen didn’t like being so exposed. If the pursuers discovered their escape route, they’d be sitting ducks. But in the end it was their only choice. She could’ve waited and tried to shoot it out with the Russians, but there was no telling who else might get killed in the process.

  “How far are we from the front?” Amanda asked.

  “You’re doing great. Just keep moving.”

  After a final turn, the rock foundation came to an end. To their left was the front entrance of the castle, where chaos had broken out. People flooded the covered bridge, yelling and screaming. With the proliferation of mobile phones, Carmen knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the police showed up. That could be good or bad, but she didn’t want to stick around to find out what the bad might entail.

  “Are we walking on that?” Amanda asked, pointing toward a low concrete wall that ran across the water to the parking area. The top of the wall was narrow, almost like a balance beam used by gymnasts.

  “We are.” Carmen hopped onto it and directed Amanda to do likewise. Despite the difficultly in staying balanced, they made it to the other end and jumped off onto solid ground. “This way.” They ran across a landscaped garden toward the eastern end of the parking lot. When they arrived, the Italian stopped at a motor scooter rack. Amanda saw a key in the ignition of the closest one, but like all of the other scooters, it
was affixed to the iron rail with a lock.

  “I think our luck just ran out,” Amanda said.

  “Fortunately, we’re not relying on luck.”

  Carmen lifted her gun, pointed it at the lock, and fired, blasting the cheap metal into pieces. “Get on.” She ripped the chain off the bike and tossed it aside.

  As the two mounted the bike, shouting could be heard from the front of the castle. The gunshot had drawn the attention of the goons, who had broken from the crowd and were sprinting in their direction.

  Carmen turned the key to the right and made sure the kill switch was in the Run position before pressing the Start button. The motor coughed and sputtered in response but then died.

  Lovely, she muttered.

  Two more shots rang out, and one of them glanced off the nearby rail. Amanda screamed and ducked her head.

  Carmen could hear the steps of the men running across the pavement. She pressed the Start button a second time. The motor coughed and sputtered longer, only to die once again. “Really? Davvero?”

  Yet another shot rang out and ricocheted off the plastic fender on the front. The question was not if they’d be hit, but when they’d be hit. Even a running man could hit a stationary target if he got close enough. Letting loose a string of expletives in Italian, Carmen pressed the Start button a third time. If it failed, she’d have no choice but to turn and fight. There was more coughing and, after a moment of silence, a loud popping from the muffler as the engine hummed to life.

  “Ti amo!” she exclaimed as she patted the plastic casing below the handlebars.

  Two more shots rang out, but Carmen refused to look back. Not feeling any hits to her body and hearing no reaction from Amanda, she twisted the throttle, and the scooter jumped in response. As they sped off, Carmen knew that it would be more than fast enough to elude pursuers on foot.

  At the exit, the Italian leaned into the turn, her long hair flapping in the air. She twisted the throttle once again, guiding the scooter out of the parking lot and onto the highway. As they sped away, she heard sirens in the distance. For the first time that day, the hint of a smile crossed her face.