by John Bowers
“Where is Trevor now?”
“I dunno. Maybe in the engine cab. He’s never far away.”
Nick crawled back to the trapdoor and helped Mijo pull it open. A dark shaft lay directly beneath it. Nick pulled a Klieg torch off his belt, wiped the moisture off it, and turned it on. He saw a metal ladder leading down about twelve feet; the air inside the shaft was musty and stale.
“Okay, Mijo. This is as far as you go.”
“What?”
“You’ve done your job. I can take it from here.”
“You gonna leave me here in the rain?”
Nick looked at him, startled. The kid was right—the rain was getting colder, and showed no signs of letting up. If he stayed where he was, without even a jacket, he would likely catch pneumonia. Sending him back to the taxi was also inadvisable—even if he didn’t get shot, they had left a dead body under the bridge.
Well, shit.
“Okay, you can follow me into the tunnel. But you have to stay here, okay? Pull the lid down to keep the rain out and wait for me.”
“In the dark?”
Shit!
Nick heaved a sigh.
“Okay, follow me to the castle, but you have to stay in the tunnel. I’ll leave you my torch.”
Mijo grinned, his teeth flashing white.
“Okay.”
Nick descended the ladder; at the bottom he turned his torch down the horizontal tunnel, which stretched off out of sight. The torch only penetrated about forty yards. The tunnel was tight, perhaps three feet wide and four feet high, clearly not designed for heavy traffic. He looked around as Mijo hit the ground behind him.
“You ready?”
“Listo.”
“Here we go.”
They began to crawl.
***
Trevor Müller huddled inside the cab of his locomotive and tinkered with the steam pressure—it was rising a little too fast. If the pressure built too much, the boiler could explode, so he opened a valve to bleed off excess steam and keep it under control. As he closed the valve, his thoughts were elsewhere, as they had been ever since yesterday.
Vicky Jones.
Okay, that wasn’t her real name—she had admitted her name was Victoria Cross, so she had lied to him. But why? What was her mission, her real purpose for coming here? Attorney at law, she’d said. Why would an attorney at law stalk Mr. Tinker-Smith…or was that just Brandy’s justification for pulling a gun on her? Brandy had lied to him before, usually when he asked a question she didn’t want to answer, but those occasions had been of little consequence. This might be something bigger. He had never seen anyone pull a gun before, and Brandy had been pretty rough about it, actually hitting Vicky—Victoria—in the head with it.
Brandy said she was going to call the sheriff, but the driveway from the main road was visible from the rail spur and, except for the stone workers who had gone home early, no one had arrived at or departed from the castle.
That seemed odd. What was really going on? Victoria had told the stoneworkers that Brandy was going to shoot her. He hadn’t heard any shots, but if it happened inside the castle he probably wouldn’t hear anything. Was she still alive? Had Brandy actually killed her?
The whole thing was disturbing. He hadn’t slept well the night before, had been in a daze all day today. He somehow felt he ought to do something, but what? Should he call the sheriff? If he did, and it turned out that Brandy had also called, he would look like an idiot…and just might lose his job. It was a good job, with great pay. Tinker-Smith paid him a hundred taus a day to maintain the engine and keep it ready for an instant departure. His dad had worked for the railroad for twenty years and only made about seventy taus a day.
He heaved a sigh and leaned against the back of the cab. If Victoria was in trouble, he wanted to do the right thing, but he couldn’t ignore the risk; it might all be perfectly innocent, just as Brandy had said it was. He blew on his hands. It was going to be a miserable night. The rain was near freezing, and when the sun set it would become a blizzard. He could hardly wait until dark, when he could shut down the boiler and retreat to his room inside the wall.
With rain and wind blasting at the loco, Trevor barely felt a vibration behind him, as if someone had stepped on the bottom rung, but chalked it up to imagination. An instant later, an arm snaked around his throat and jerked him backward; then he felt the barrel of a gun jammed against his right cheek. He heard the hammer ratchet back and was seized with cold fear—had Brandy come to kill him?
“Don’t move, asshole!”
Trevor’s lungs froze in his chest; he closed his eyes in terror—the voice was guttural and threatening, and it definitely was not Brandy.
Chapter 32
The Road to Lago – Tau Ceti 4
Two police cars sped down the highway from Hardwood toward Lago. One was an older car with two oscillating, bubble-shaped red lights on the roof, driven by Sheriff Thomas. The other, newer car sported a light bar that rippled red and blue. Neither car used a siren.
Traffic was light. During the seventy-odd miles to Lago they only met a handful of vehicles—four passenger cars, a bus, and two logging trucks. Sheriff Thomas led the way in his older car with the bubble lights; Chief Blankenship drove the second car, hanging fifty feet back as they sped around curves in spite of the rain. Hugo Barnes was riding shotgun in Blankenship’s car, with Connie Ventura in the backseat. Officers Williams and Dickens of the Orosi police force rode with Thomas.
Barnes sat silent, a scowl on his face. Ventura and Blankenship were also silent. The only sound was the rushing wind and singing tires on the rain-soaked highway. Finally Barnes broke the silence.
“Do we know for sure where Walker was going?”
Blankenship glanced at him in surprise.
“You tell me. You and Sheriff Thomas were the last people to talk to him.”
Barnes shrugged. “He said he was going to Lago. That’s all he told us.”
“To find Tinker-Smith, right?”
“Yeah. Only he calls him by another name.”
“Saracen,” Connie said. “That’s his real name—Kenneth Saracen.”
Barnes stared out the window.
“Whatever.”
“I get the feeling you don’t care much for Walker,” Connie said.
“I just don’t like his attitude. Nothing personal.”
“What’s wrong with his attitude?”
Barnes twisted around to look at her.
“Do we even know for sure that he’s a Federation officer? I mean, have you seen any datawork?”
“Yes. He’s legit.”
“Hmph.”
Barnes stared out the window again. He twisted back around.
“And what about Tinker-Smith? Does anyone know for sure that he’s really this Saracen character that Walker keeps on raving about?”
“Yes.”
“You’re positive? How do you know?”
“I ran a background check against a Federation database. He is the same person, and he’s everything Walker says he is.”
Barnes stared at her a long moment, his scowl still in place. Finally he turned forward again.
“I hope to hell you’re right. We’re gonna look like assholes if we arrest the richest man on the planet and he turns out to be innocent.”
A little over an hour after leaving Hardwood, the two police cars arrived at the castle by the lake. The storm hadn’t abated; if anything, it was even stronger in Lago District than it had been in Hardwood. Thomas slowed as they approached the turnoff to the castle; sitting across the side road was another police car, this one brand new. It bore the logo of the Lago District sheriff. Thomas and Blankenship pulled to a stop behind it. The door of the Lago car opened and Sheriff Buono stepped out. Holding his hat down with one hand, he trotted back to the lead car and bent over as Thomas lowered the window.
“All quiet here,” Buono told him. “I got into position right after you called and nothing has moved since
.”
Thomas peered at his car. “Are you alone?”
“Yeah. I didn’t want to involve any of my deputies. Tinker-Smith is pretty popular in this district, and if this turns out to be a false alarm, I don’t want any repercussions.”
Thomas looked skeptical, but nodded.
“Well, we brought six people, and you make seven, so that should be enough.”
“How do you want to play it? Do we know for sure that Walker is even here?”
“No, we don’t, but I’m betting he is. I think the best bet is to just drive right up to the gate and announce ourselves. If nothing is going on, we can say we had a false report and drive away. If Walker is in there, maybe we can help him out.”
Buono looked skeptical.
“I have to tell you, Sheriff, I have my doubts about this whole thing.”
“I know what you mean, but I had four murders in my town over the past couple of days, and Walker’s theory is the only one that comes close to explaining it. Based on nothing but that, I’m prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Okay. I’ll let you carry the ball. I’m just here to rubber-stamp the operation. And if we need more manpower, I can get it in a hurry.”
“Fair enough. I’ll take the lead.”
Thomas raised his window and Buono ran back to his car. Thomas pulled around him and drove down the narrow lane toward the main gate. The castle, which blotted out half the sky, looked dark and sinister. A single light burned over the front entrance. Thomas drove through the stone gate into a small parking area and killed his engine. Just at that moment, before he could even open his door, he saw a flash from one of the towers and his windshield shattered into fragments.
Saracen’s Castle – Lago District – Tau Ceti 4
With his leather hat jammed down over his head, Nick Walker pulled the young engineer backwards out of the locomotive cab, half dragging him to keep him off balance as he backed up past the oil car. At the passenger coach he stopped, jerked open the forward door, and shoved his prisoner up the steps. He had already checked the coach and found it empty, so saw no reason to conduct his interrogation in the driving rain.
He gave the prisoner enough slack so he could breathe, but held onto him until they were both inside the coach. The interior of the rail car was swank and luxurious, a throwback to an earlier century; the half-dozen seats were upholstered in expensive leather and colorful carpeting covered the floor. In the center of the car sat a desk and work table; at the rear was a bedroom.
Nick and his prisoner dripped rainwater all over the leather and carpet; Nick couldn’t have cared less. He shoved Trevor into one of the seats and stood in front of him, a .44 Magnum a foot from his face. Trevor stared up at him in shock, his bloodless face a mask of horror.
“Who— What…”
Nick glared at him as if he were a murder suspect.
“Nick Walker, United Federation Marshal.”
He fingered his badge—Trevor’s eyes followed. The young man swallowed.
“Federation! What does that mean? This isn’t—”
“I know, but don’t let that stop you from following my orders. Not if you want to go home after we’re done.”
Trevor blinked, trembling with fear. He nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Trevor Müller.”
“How long have you worked for Saracen?”
“Who?”
“Ken Saracen.”
“I d-don’t—”
“Tinker-Smith.”
“Oh. I—about a year. Maybe eleven months.”
“Are you carrying a weapon?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need one?” He phrased it as a question, in case Nick didn’t like the answer.
“What’s Tinker-Smith up to?”
“I don’t know what you mean. He isn’t up to anything, as far as I know.”
“What’s your function here?”
“I’m an engineer. I drive the train.”
“Where do you go?”
“Anywhere Mr. Tinker-Smith wants.”
“How often does he travel?”
“It varies. Two or three times a month.”
“When was the last time he went out?”
“Maybe ten days ago.”
“Where did he go?”
“Orosi.”
Nick’s head tilted. “He keeps you on staff and you only go out three times a month?”
“Yeah. I mean…yes, sir.”
“What else do you do for him?”
“Nothing. I maintain the engine, and…”
“And what?”
“Well, sometimes I take other people out.”
“What other people?”
“Anyone Mr. Tinker-Smith wants.”
“Like who?”
“Well, the last trip I took three men to Orosi.”
“What three men?”
“Sam and Joker and another guy. I don’t know their last names.”
“When was that?”
Trevor frowned in concentration.
“Two days ago, I think.”
“What time was that?”
“Early. Before daylight.”
Nick frowned. Harry Jones had told him the terrible trio had arrived in Hardwood by train for the union meeting, but hadn’t departed by train. Yet Nick had run into them at Orosi. Perhaps they had come to the castle after the meeting and left the next morning, on Trevor’s train?
Not that it mattered.
Nick took a step back and lowered his gun.
“Have you seen any unusual activity around here lately?”
Trevor blinked and swallowed again. Without the gun in his face, his breathing became more regular.
“Actually, yeah.”
“What did you see?”
“There was a woman, a blonde.”
“Did she identify herself?”
“Said her name was Vicky Jones.”
Nick felt his pulse speed up.
“Keep talking.”
“Well, she sort of came out of nowhere. I didn’t see a car or anything, but she was asking me all kinds of questions about Mr. Tinker-Smith.”
“And?”
“Well, I thought that was kind of odd, but she seemed nice enough. She was getting ready to leave when Brandy showed up.”
“Brandy?”
“One of the girls who works inside.”
“What did Brandy do?”
“She pulled a gun on the lady and took her inside the castle.”
“Did she say why?”
“Yeah, she said Vicky—I mean, Victoria—she told me that was her real name—she said Victoria had been stalking Mr. Tinker-Smith for months and she was going to call the sheriff.”
“Did she?”
“What, call the sheriff? I don’t think so. Nobody ever came to pick her up.”
“So Victoria is still inside the castle?”
“I guess so. I never saw her leave.”
“That was when? Yesterday?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve been here all the time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You didn’t go home?”
“When I’m on duty, I sleep in a small room inside the gate.”
“You don’t sleep inside the castle?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been inside.”
“So you don’t know where Brandy is holding Victoria?”
“No. No, sir.”
Nick holstered his weapon. Rain hammered the metal roof of the passenger coach, it rocked in the wind.
“Do you know a girl named Ginny?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you know about her?”
“Not too much. She lives in Lago. I don’t like her very much.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a real bitch. Angry all the time.”
“What about Danube?”
“I’ve met her, but
we never talked. She’s a little scary.”
“Scary how?”
“When she looks at you, it’s like she would just as soon kill you as say hello. She isn’t from around here. She already worked for Mr. Tinker-Smith when he came here.”
“How many people are inside the castle?”
“I’m not sure how many are there right now. But altogether, there are nine or ten.”
Nick did a quick mental calculation. Charlie was dead, Sam and Joker were locked up in Orosi. Ginny was dead. Danube was dead. If Trevor’s count was correct, that left five.
“What about other staff?”
“Other staff? What do you mean?”
“Housekeepers, janitors, kitchen help, stuff like that.”
“I’ve never seen anyone like that.”
“Do you have a car, Trevor?”
“Yes, sir. It’s parked inside the front gate.”
“What would happen if you drove away right now?”
“I would probably get fired.”
Nick’s cheek creased in irony.
“I hate to tell you this, but your tenure as Mr. Tinker-Smith’s train engineer has come to an end.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man you work for is a murderer and a terrorist. He’s wanted on three Federation worlds, and I’m here to take him back.”
Trevor gaped in surprise.
“All by yourself?”
“Yeah, assuming he doesn’t resist.”
“What if he does resist?”
“If that happens, then sometime between right now and tomorrow morning, either he will be dead or I will. Either way, you won’t have a job anymore.”
***
Victoria Cross found the bathroom and stepped inside. She fumbled for the light switch and activated it, then closed the door. She hurried to the toilet and relieved her aching bladder, then turned to the sink to wash off some of the blood. In the mirror above the sink she got a look at herself for the first time and was horrified at her appearance. Her entire upper body was soaked in gore; some had congealed but the rest was still fresh. There was simply no way she could clean up with the sink alone.
Behind her was a marble shower stall. If the water was working, that would do the job, but she saw neither soap nor towels, and the air inside the high room was chilly. She stared at the shower a moment, debating. She could strip down and bathe herself, but had only her blood-soaked clothing to wear; she could shower fully clothed and probably get rid of most of the gore, but would leave a water trail wherever she went, making her easy to track.
