"Well, Yolanda? Has he talked yet?" a burly fellow asked, lounging against the wall of the corridor while cleaning his fingernails. He was dressed entirely in white laboratory clothes. There was a small medical bag on the floor.
"No, Adolph, he has not," the woman replied testily, buttoning her blouse closed. "And in my opinion, he will not. The little British fool has resorted to humming 'God Save the Queen.'"
"Damn," Adolph muttered, tucking away the knife he had been using to clean his nails. "The one thing we feared! Our employers will be most vexed."
"And they paid us a fortune to get what they need," Yolanda muttered, straightening her starched collar. "A fortune!"
Glancing at the closed door, Adolph looked hopeful. "Then, I suppose this means we must…" He let the sentence trail off expectantly.
Running fingers through her wild hair, Yolanda tossed her head from side to side to get the desired effect, and then gazed steadily at her brother with burning eyes of hatred.
"Do it," she growled. "All of it. Everything!"
"Excellent," Adolph purred, grabbing the medical bag. "Do you wish to watch?"
Taking a chair, Yolanda sat down heavily and massaged her ankle. "I am in no mood for entertainment," she said wearily. "He was my first failure, and I am truly depressed. But you have a good time."
"Thanks, I shall!" Whistling a happy tune, Adolph swung open the door and entered the bedroom.
His eyes shut tightly, Professor Einstein continued humming in patriotic fervor as the whistling Adolph locked the door and dragged the washstand over to the prisoner. The musical counterpoint disrupting his concentration, Einstein dared to sneak a peek. The woman was gone, having been replaced by a tall man with a thin, cruel mouth. The fellow was emptying a black medical bag onto the washstand, and laying out an array of shiny steel surgical instruments. Uh oh.
He next produced a small metal container that was ingeniously transformed into a tiny brazier, already full of red-hot coals. Some branding irons followed, along with pliers, knives, shears, eye-gougers, testicle crushers, and several unearthly looking apparatuses that sent chills down the elderly professor's spine. In his college days, Einstein had experimented on animals in his medical classes, but he had always been polite enough to make sure the subject was thoroughly deceased first. However, it did not appear that courtesy was going to be afforded to him in return. Lord Carstairs, where the Hell are you?
"My name is Adolph Gunderson, and you are an admirable adversary, Professor," the fellow announced, placing both of the branding irons into the hot coals. "You have also earned my deepest admiration. There are few men who can resist the siren allure of my sister, Yolanda."
Minutely adjusting the array of steel on display, Adolph waited for the expected response, but as it was not forthcoming, he continued. Let the poor fellow save his voice for the screaming.
"However, if you will not talk willingly," Adolph added, raising a knife to inspect the edge in the red light of the glowing brazier, "then I must rip the information my master desires from your quivering flesh."
Conscious of the sweat that trickled down his back as he heard this pronouncement, Einstein swallowed hard. This was no idle threat, but the deadly serious announcement of a master craftsman about to begin his hellish work. A dozen escape plans flew through the professor's mind, each critically flawed by the fact that he was thoroughly bound, and speech was the only weapon remaining to him, with the topics of conversation not his to choose.
"What is the information they desire?" Professor Einstein asked, stalling for time.
Every second of life offered the possibility of this Adolph person's making a fatal mistake or of Einstein's outwitting the man. The weapons were on the bed, so if the professor got a hand loose, that would be the direction Adolph would naturally block. So Einstein would go the other way, throw the water pitcher through the window, and grab a shard of glass as a makeshift dagger. Yes, it could work! If he had a hand free. Just one hand was all he needed!
Placing aside the knife, Adolph grinned. "First, let me remove any thoughts in your mind of these being mere threats." And without any further preamble, he picked up a sharp-tipped glowing iron rod and shoved it against the professor's left earlobe.
With a brief sizzle, the needle seared through the flesh so quickly that Einstein could only gasp in shock at the sight and horrible sound. Then the burning pain arrived. The professor ground his teeth together as the agony blossomed on the side of his head. Bloody buggering Hell!
"You will never leave this room alive," Adolph droned on, his words barely audible through the fog of agony. "I am the last person you will ever see. Mine is the last voice you will ever hear. Your cooperation will only decide how quickly I give you the sweet release of death. A release from the unimaginable agonies you are about to experience."
The professor fought to bring air back into his lungs, and made no reply.
"Nothing personal," Adolph added in a friendly manner, removing the larger branding iron from the brazier. "Just business."
As his last great act of defiance, the professor summoned his every ounce of pluck he possessed. He spat forth the most astonishingly vulgar phrase that he knew: one crafted from a lifetime of exploring the vilest pestholes on the face of the globe, and associating with the sub-human scum who thrived in those beastly environments.
Recoiling in shock, Adolph dropped the glowing iron back into the brazier, creating a small explosion of swirling sparks. He had never heard anything even vaguely like that before in his entire existence!
"Sideways, in your hat," Einstein added as a fillip, knowing there was nothing to lose.
With ill controlled fury, Adolph bared his teeth. His face contorted into a feral mask of insanity. "Now it is personal!" Adolph snarled, grabbing the professor's shirt. With a quick jerk that caused buttons to go fling, he ripped it open, exposing the pale silver hair on the chest underneath.
As the glowing iron advanced, Professor Einstein mentally said goodbye to his niece and prepared to meet his Maker with what dignity and courage he possessed. He would wait, until the very last second, and then thrust himself forward onto the iron, piercing his own heart, and ending the torture long before his mind was broken. These foul bastards would never learn the location of Lord Carstairs! Death before betraying a fellow club member! Oh yes, and saving the world, too. That was also rather important. But the club came first, naturally.
"I hope you never tell us the location of the Sword of Alexander!" Adolph added hatefully, taking up the blade once more to warm the tip in the crackling fire. The edge began to glow a dull orange.
But the odd words brought icy clarity to Einstein's mind. "The what?" the professor demanded loudly, leaning forward against the binding ropes.
Caught off guard by this reaction, Adolph took a step away from the scowling prisoner. "The Sword of Alexander," he repeated. "You stole it from the New York Metropolitan Museum. They want the relic returned."
Blinking away the sweat in his eyes, Professor Einstein licked his dry lips several times before speaking. "Is that what all of this folderol is about?" he demanded furiously. "That bloody damn sword that I won in a poker game from the German Explorers Club? You're not a Squid God worshiper?"
"Poker game?" Adolph blinked in confusion. "Folderol? Squid God?"
Relaxing in the chair, the professor felt a wave of relief wash through his body. "Never mind, old man. The Germans stole the sword from the Metropolitan, and now New York wants it back? Fine. It is yours. I gave it to the Royal War Museum of Spain."
"Gave?" Adolph squeaked. Aghast, he dropped the knife. It fell to the floorboards with a thud and stayed in place. A tiny wisp of smoke rose from the charred wood.
"Well, I had to," Professor Einstein said with a small shrug. "It was useless for my research. The sword was a fake. A good job, but as Grecian as a Cockney bootblack."
In furious disbelief, Adolph narrowed his eyes to tiny slits. "You lie," he growled, grabbing
the branding rod again.
Once more, hot iron was applied to bare flesh, but for much longer this time. The hissing stink of roasted meat filled the bedroom. Eventually, Professor Einstein could take no more. He cut loose with a raw-throated scream of pain that seemed to last forever.
"Oh please, feel free to make all of the noise you wish," Adolph said brightly, laying down the cooled iron and picking up a pair of jagged-edged scissors. "This room has been completely soundproofed. Your cries will not be heard a foot outside these windows."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," Adolph grinned, but then paused. Wait a minute. That voice had not been the professor.
Groggy from the pain, Einstein had just come to the same conclusion. He opened his eyes in time to experience the most beautiful sight in his life. A tall, dark man with a bristling black moustache stepped out from a hole in the wall behind the wardrobe. His face was blackened with charcoal. In his hands was a sleek crossbow, the quarrel tipped with a razor-sharp barb.
Muttering a curse, Adolph clawed under his surgical gown, and extracted an old-fashioned Newark .66 pistol exactly as the stranger fired the crossbow. The quarrel slammed into Adolph's throat, the barbed head going completely through his neck and coming out the other side. Hot blood gushed from twin wounds, staining his white garments a spreading crimson. Hacking for breath, Adolph stumbled backwards against the dresser. Two more shafts slammed into his body.
Gurgling something incomprehensible, Adolph shuddered and went limp, but he did not drop to the floor, as he was pinned to the heavy piece of furniture by the steel shafts.
"If we had known the room was soundproof, we would have used our pistols and not wasted time getting these," the dark man stated in apology, brandishing the crossbow.
Dizzy from the pain, Professor Einstein tried to speak, "Who…" But his inquiry dissolved into a ragged series of coughs.
Slinging the crossbow over a shoulder, the Italian man with the big moustache blinked in surprise. " Ma don ! Do you not remember? You joined our organization several years ago, taking the ometra with my cousin, Nunzio."
Ometra : a blood oath of brotherhood. Einstein quickly rifled through the vast catalogue of his brain. Of course: the Italian resistance fighters struggling for political freedom against a brutal and oppressive Sardinian government. How could he have forgotten them?
Drawing a slim knife from his boot, the dark man began slicing through the ropes. "There has been a great deal of inquiry about you recently," he said, cutting with speed and care. "Inquiries from most unusual people. When you arrived in Rome without even stopping to pay your respects, we decided to keep an eye on your movements."
"Who are you?" Professor Einstein managed to mumble.
Sheathing the blade, the dark man smiled in gentle reproof. "You may call me Guido."
" G-grazie ."
With a shrug, Guido tossed the ropes aside and started to apply a soothing ointment to the puckered burn on the professor's chest and ear. "At first we thought, perhaps, you were having an assignation," he said, as more men armed with crossbows poured from the hole in the wall. "You English are so strange in these matters of sex. But when the truth became clear, we moved with all due haste."
"Much a-appreciated," the professor said with a weak smile, buttoning his vest in an attempt to hold his shirt closed. The pressure on the blisters was painful, but the merest trifle compared to what he had just been rescued from. Besides, the Italians would look upon any complaints as a sign of weakness, and Guido would lose face. It would be unthinkable to insult his host in such a manner.
Just then, the door swung open and in stepped a young, muscular giant, nearly the size of Lord Carstairs. " Padrone? " he rumbled like distant thunder.
Gently as possible, Guido assisted Einstein to stand. "Yes, Angelo?" he asked, without turning around.
Pursing his lips, Angelo glanced thoughtfully at the professor. "We caught the woman," Angelo said in Italian. "The one who drugged our compatriot. She attempted to flee on horseback."
"You killed her?" Guido answered in English.
Brushing back his slicked hair, Angelo appeared puzzled, and then gave a gesture of compliance. "Of course," he said in English. "Should I have the bodies dressed as beggars and tossed into the river?"
" Si. "
"No," the professor countered in perfect Italian, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to make the shaking stop. "For all of our sakes, it would be best if these particular bodies were never found."
"Never?" Rubbing his jaw with the back of a hand, Guido nodded. "Angelo, has the foundation been laid for the new building next to your brother's olive oil shop?"
" Si, padrone . Yes. They are working on it even as we speak."
"It is a fascinating process. Perhaps the signora and her friend would care to see it close up. Tender our usual compliments to the foreman and his crew."
"At once."
" Buon! Good."
Meticulously, Guido examined the dressing on the professor's ear and seemed satisfied. Upon his orders, several more men entered to carry the weakened Einstein down a long set of stairs and into a small courtyard at the rear of the private house. The purple grapes were full upon the arbors, and colorful flowers filled numerous clay pots. It was the most utterly beautiful garden that Professor Einstein had ever seen, and he treasured every smell, every sight.
Placing the professor on the ground, a short man in a striped shirt passed over a small corked bottle.
"What is it?" Professor Einstein asked groggily, weighing the container in a palm. It was heavy and cool.
"A powerful stimulant," Guido replied, tugging on his moustache. "Its effects will not be pleasant, but afterwards it will stop your shaking, and bring clarity to the mind. Pain is an old friend to us, and we know how to handle its many aspects."
Summoning his nerve and holding his nose, the professor drained the tiny vial in a single swallow. The men in the garden seemed impressed by the action. Professor Einstein found out why, as a few seconds later, his stomach did a flip. Then a flop. Then it did both. Glancing about frantically, the professor spotted a small brick kiosk with a door marked by a crescent moon: the international symbol for water closet. He dashed across the garden at Olympian speed.
A very long time later, Professor Einstein stumbled out of the privy as pale as wax, but once more strong and sure in his movements.
Sitting on a stone bench under an olive tree, Guido laid aside the piece of cheese he had been cutting pieces from as a snack, and watched closely as the professor approached. The other men were also still present. Several passed around a bottle of Chianti, while others were sharpening the tips of their crossbow quarrels on a whetstone.
"Feeling better?" Guido asked, laying aside a cheese.
"I'll live," Professor Einstein replied, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. The smell of the cheese made his stomach tremble, but that was all. "And it is a statement I would not have been able to make without your timely intervention."
" Grazie . Your belongings," Guido said, handing over the wallet, pocket watch, cane, and pistols. "I sense that this affair has nothing to do with our smuggling organization?"
Filling his pockets, Einstein checked the load in the .32 Adams pistol, making very sure not to touch any of the bullets with a bare finger. "That is correct. This is connected with my work outside your country."
In Sicilian elegance, Guido displayed his innocence in the matter by showing both of his open palms to God in Heaven. "Then I am sorry that we can only protect you here in Rome. Our organization is small. Even for a ginzo , we can only do so much."
With true heartfelt thanks, Felix Einstein shook the man's hand. "You have already done infinitely more than I ever had a right to expect. I thank you again, padrone ."
The expression of extreme respect did not go unnoticed. The nearby group of armed men murmured in approval. Standing slowly, Guido gave no sign that he heard the word. "My pleasure, Professor. The rights o
f the innocent must always be protected."
Heading for the wrought iron gate of the garden, Guido called over a shoulder, " Andiamo, i miei amici !" With a stiff-arm salute, the Italians blended into the shadows of the lush arbor and were gone.
Taking a few moments to build his strength, Professor Einstein sat on the bench and breathed in the fragrant air of the garden. Then, looking about to make sure he was alone, he threw the cheese as far away as possible.
Einstein realized that he would carry the memory of Guido's coming out of that closet to save him, for the rest of his life. By Gadfrey, they are such brave men fighting for a just cause . He had thought the group destroyed in the turmoil of The Trouble, and was very glad to see that they had survived. But as a student of history, Einstein hoped that if they won their struggle, the victory over the hated kings of Sardinia would not make them corrupt over time. They were such good fellows! He would hate to see the Mafia go bad.
The length of the shadows on the ground having caught his attention, the professor checked his watch. Gadzooks! He had to get back to the piazza before it closed. Shuffling out of the garden, Einstein stopped a moment to wipe the latch clean of any fingerprints with a handkerchief. He then hastily made his way along a brick alley to the main cobblestone street.
At the corner, the professor hailed a carriage and returned to the cafe. The traitorous waiter was thankfully gone. With a weary sigh, Professor Einstein sat down at the same table as before. Soon, another waiter arrived to take his order of a sealed bottle of wine and no glass.
Sipping the blood-red Chianti, Einstein savored the sounds, sights, and smells of the living city. But as the cathedrals began to ring their bells for evensong, the professor glanced at his pocket watch, and frowned in apprehension. Lord Carstairs was taking an inordinate amount of time for a relatively simple task. He certainly hoped that the lad hadn't also run into trouble.
THAT DARN SQUID GOD Page 9
