Blade caught him by the scruff of his neck, pulled him out from under the trap and hauled him to the opening.
All the time he was doing this, his ears were alert for any sounds in the house.
In Spanish he called out: ‘One coming down, Juan,’ and dropped the unconscious man into the cellar below.
Dropping to his knees, he called out: ‘Can you see my hand, Juan?’
Juan could and leapt for it. Blade gained a hold first try and within a couple of seconds of straining and heaving, coupled with some violent cursing, Juan was beside him. Blade quickly closed the trap.
‘What the hell goes on there?’
The voice startled both of them out of their wits. Without thought, Blade whirled, thumbing and triggering the gun that was aimed unerringly at the voice. Only when the muzzle-flame pierced the gloom did he realize that he could see nothing. But he knew he’d found a living target The man cried out and there came the sound of a body falling to the floor.
‘Let’s go,’ Blade said and hurried forward, hoping that he was going towards the street.
Suddenly the darkness ahead of them was cut open by a bright shaft of light that hurt their eyes.
There was a man there, no more than a dark shape against the light. Going full-tilt as he was, jumping the body of the man he’d shot, Blade ran head first into this new danger. He knew no more than that the man was lifting a gun. His shoulder rammed into the man, catching him low on the rib cage and driving him back against the open door. Blade almost lost his balance, managed just to stay on his feet and found himself trying to look into the room, but was blinded by the bright light.
A gun went off and splinters flew from the door jamb near his head. He thought he heard Dimsdale’s voice as the governor cried out his alarm. Blade blundered into the room, made out a standing figure and heard a gun go off again. He turned his gun on this dim figure and fired.
Another and another gun went off. Somebody at his side cried out and he knew that Juan was hit. Blade tried to jump to one side, stumbled on a piece of furniture and went down hard.
He knew he’d lost his gun. His hand searched for it desperately.
Something hard and heavy landed on his head. The floor came up and struck him in the face. There was time for the brief thought that he seemed to be getting himself knocked unconscious an awful lot this trip. Maybe this was the last.
George McMasters, son of a famous Yankee trader and a Cheyenne woman, was one of those men of mixed blood who had inherited a number of the virtues of both races. Under that immobile face of his was concealed a man of extreme sensitivity. Indian-like, at that moment, his deeper senses told him that his medicine was not good. If he had been all Indian, he would have turned back, for, if a man’s medicine was bad what sense was there in going on? It says much for his courage and loyalty that he did not turn back. He screwed up his courage and rode into the town of Tucson.
When he left his horse at the livery stable, he saw the horse which Blade had been riding. The old liveryman showed him the animal, saying: ‘You an’ that Joe Blade kinda hanker after killin’ your mounts under saddle, George.’
‘You seen Joe since he rode in?’
‘No, sir. Not hide nor hair.’
McMasters made his way through the moonlit town to the rear of the governor’s palace, dodged a pacing sentry and went over the selfsame wall that Blade had climbed.: The door leading from the governor’s office to the patio was open. On silent feet, McMasters stepped into the office. A man sat at the desk with his back to McMasters. Now, McMasters had met the governor once or twice with his father William McMasters. This had been some years before when General Dimsdale was serving with the army.
Softly, McMasters said: ‘General.’
The man in the chair spun around, alarm showing on his face.
In the first seconds of the meeting, McMasters had the feeling that something was wrong. The very alarm on this man’s face was wrong. It was not in the character of the army officer that McMasters knew. Even so, McMasters did not suspect for one moment that this man was not General Dimsdale.
Steefen exclaimed: ‘Who the hell’re you?’
McMasters stepped further into the light.
‘You mean you don’t remember me, general?’
The expression on Steefen’s face changed – ‘Ah ... of course.’
There was a moment’s silence between them and McMasters said: ‘Have you seen Blade, general?’
The name startled the man.
‘Blade?’ he exclaimed. He recovered himself slightly. ‘Oh, Blade. Sure, Joe was here. Sit down, man. Help yourself to a drink.’
McMasters circled the desk, helped himself to whiskey and drank. The man behind the desk was watching him closely, intently. There was a puzzled look in the eyes that McMasters could not miss. McMasters himself was puzzled. There was something here which he could not fathom.
‘Well?’ Steefen asked.
McMasters said: ‘How did Blade seem when you saw him?’
Steefen ignored the question – ‘What brings you here? Is there something wrong?’
‘I want to find Blade,’ McMasters said.
Steefen allowed himself a smile of superior amusement – ‘Have you mislaid him somewhere?’
‘I heard he was taken?’
‘Taken? By whom?’
‘The Ring.’
Steefen looked surprised and asked innocently ‘What Ring?’
McMasters did not answer that. He sat very still in his chair and fixed his dark Indian eyes on the man in the governors seat.
‘Governor,’ he said, ‘what is my name?’
It was Steefen’s turn to become motionless. He sat there still as an icicle and there was momentary alarm in his eyes.
‘Your name?’ he said. ‘You must forgive me. In my position it isn’t possible to remember all the names .. .’
McMasters said: ‘There’s something wrong here, General. Blade must be a pretty important man to you right now and you don’t seem to give a solitary goddam what has happened to him.’
Steefen started to be animated, suddenly.
‘You mustn’t think that,’ he said. ‘Not for one moment. I have everything under control, rest assured. Here, let me show you this.’
He opened a drawer in the desk. From the drawer he produced a gun which he cocked and pointed at McMasters.
‘Put both your hands on the desk in front of you,’ he ordered.
McMasters obeyed him, for he had a healthy respect for a cocked gun.
‘What the hell is this? he demanded. ‘My orders were to report to you.’
Steefen said: ‘Just stay still.’ He reached for a small bell with his left hand and rang it.
A moment later, McMasters heard the door behind him open.
Steefen said: ‘Fetch Mr Alpert and be quick about it.’ The door closed again.
McMasters said: ‘I don’t get it. What in God’s name is the gun for? I’m on your side, ain’t I? I mean, it’s Blade and me you hired.’
Steefen said: ‘All will become clear to you in good time.’
The door opened and closed again. A small dapper man walked into the lamplight. He stood and looked at McMasters.
Steefen said: ‘Do you know this man, Alpert?’
‘Sure I do,’ the secretary replied. ‘George McMasters, halfbreed son of William McMasters.’
‘A friend of Blade’s.’
Alpert nodded and said: ‘Reporting to you no doubt because Blade is no longer on the scene. Our luck is in. This fellow roaming around could have embarrassed us. Now I think we have the whole crew. Binns has brought in the Clayton girl and Davida Dunfield. He came up with them at old man Espada’s place. Draper wants the whole bunch of them dropped down a deep hole. The old mine seems just the place. They’ll never be found there.’
McMaster looked from one to the other of them in amazement.
‘What do we do with this fellow?’ Steefen asked.
‘You
keep an eye on him, Steefen,’ said Alpert, ‘and I’ll get a couple of the boys to take him over to Draper’s.’ With that, he walked out of the room.
McMasters looked at the man on the other side of the desk in some wonder.
‘He called you Steefen,’ he said. ‘Does that mean you’re not Bogart Dimsdale?’
Steefen grinned – ‘That’s what it means, my friend. We have undone everything you and that fool Blade have been working for. The Ring reigns triumphant. The governor has signed a strong recommendation to the President of the United States for the establishment of martial law in the territory of Arizona. There is at this moment being perpetrated a whole series of crimes and Indian raids which will make the establishment of military rule imperative. The Ring has the military in its pocket. By the time Arizona becomes a state, big business and the best of the land will be in possession of the Ring. The whole scheme revolves around Yours Truly. The Ring will be appropriately grateful.’
‘What happens to Blade and the governor?’ McMasters asked.
‘As you heard. They will be dropped into a deep hole.’
It was then that McMasters, ever a realist, faced the cold facts of the situation. He knew as surely as the sun would rise at dawn that he would be dropped into the same deep hole. That is, if he did not do something about it right now. There was, he knew, nothing to be lost whatever he did. If he didn’t do something, he would be as dead as last week’s mutton.
He put a wry look on his face and said: ‘It sure looks like I’m a gone coon.’
Steefen grinned widely, enjoying this new-found power, and said: ‘It’s gratifying to see a man face his end with such perfect equanimity.’
As he spoke that last word, his astounded eyes saw the man sitting in front of him disappear below the edge of the desk. He fired involuntarily and the bullet thudded into the chair which McMasters had occupied. Next second, the heavy desk reared up and caught him in the chest, driving himself and his chair backward. He landed on the floor with the wind knocked out of him. He managed, however, to free his right hand and to point the gun at the other man.
He fired a second shot. The range was almost point-blank and he didn’t see how he could miss. As that second shot boomed in the confined space of the room, the din of it was an enormous comfort to him. McMasters must be dead and he, Steefen, must be safe.
But it was not so. He saw the other held a gun. He heard the hammer come back to full cock, he heard the hammer fall and the roar of the shot. The rapid action seemed to take an eternity of time. He felt the heavy ball strike him in the centre of his chest.
Almost immediately McMaster’s second shot struck him in the forehead and his whole life exploded into scarlet shreds.
There was a last brief thought – My God, he’s killed me.
McMasters stayed still for a moment, half-stunned by the din of the guns and by the sudden explosion of violence.
He heard the door open and saw a man there.
McMasters turned quickly and fired, putting the bullet into the wall near the door, close enough to make the man snap back out of sight. That pleased McMasters. One dead man was enough for one day.
He did the only thing he could do under such circumstances. He turned and ran. By the time he reached the far wall of the patio, there were men in the governor’s office, shouting. A soldier came into the patio from his right and shouted something. McMasters kept going, leapt for the top of the wall and went over it fast as a coyote after a rabbit. The soldier fired one shot that struck the wall and went screaming away into the night. McMasters legged it as fast as he could go down the alleyway.
Back in the governor’s office confusion was king.
One of the first people to enter the room after the shooting was Rose Mary Dimsdale. She seemed to be suffering from considerable mental confusion. Which was understandable. There on the floor in a pool of blood lay a man who resembled her husband in every detail. She acted as though it were Dimsdale himself. She wept and wrung her hands and got in everybody’s way.
Alpert, almost beside himself with anxiety, was the second into the room, drawn by the sound of gunshots. They scared him. His scare turned to pure terror when he saw Steefen lying dead. He wrung his hands as strenuously as Mrs Dimsdale did hers.
‘Oh, my god,’ he kept saying over and over. ‘What do we do now?’ Ruin stared him in the face.
The third person to enter the room was a young lieutenant of the volunteers who had come to the governor’s residence to change the guard. Close on his heels was a corporal and two soldiers. While the soldiers bunched in the doorway, the officer entered the room. Poor Alpert’s terror turned almost to dementia. The situation now seemed utterly out of control. However, circumstances were so bad that they had frozen the secretary’s mind. He realized with a sudden rush of relief that the dead man not only lay in the shadow, but that the heavy desk standing on its side completely hid the corpse from the soldier’s view.
Alpert approached the young man and stood between him and the dead man.
‘This is an emergency, lieutenant,’ he said, authority heavy on his voice. ‘I want a strong guard back and front of the building. Immediately. Send a man for Mr Draper. At once. Do you know Mr Drapers house?’
‘Sure,’ said the young man
‘Move it now,’ Alpert snapped.
The officer threw him up a salute and drove his men from the open doorway. Alpert could hear him bellowing his orders as he strode to the front of the house. Alpert slammed the door shut.
‘Collect yourself, madam,’ he told Rose Mary. ‘This man can mean nothing to you.’
Then the sheer horror of what had happened struck him again. What could they do now? Who had the temerity or even a good reason to want to kill Dimsdale except a member of the Ring. The whole situation seemed utterly crazy. He paced up and down, clenched and unclenched his fists. Would Draper never come?
When he did come he would blame Alpert for this, and Alpert dreaded Draper more than any other man on earth. He was tempted to saddle a horse and ride as far and as fast as he could from Tucson. To hell with power and riches. What good were they to you when you were cold in the grave?
The door opened and Draper stood there.
Alpert stopped his pacing and stared at the big man, fascinated. The governors wife went still, her eyes fixed on his massive form.
‘This had better be important, Miley,’ Draper said to Alpert. ‘I told you that I must never be brought in here.’ His eyes rested on the upturned desk. ‘Where’s the governor?’
Alpert pointed a shaking finger.
‘There. Dead.’
‘What?’
Even Draper was shaken. He stepped forward and stared down into the sightless eyes of the dead man.
Very softly, he asked: ‘How did this happen?’
So great was Alpert’s fear and alarm at SteefenY death that for a moment his fear of Draper was conquered. He replied hysterically: ‘How in God’s name should I know what happened? I wasn’t in the room. I heard shots and I came running. McMasters must have done it.’
Draper’s voice was hard when he said: ‘Calm down, man.’ He turned and gazed thoughtfully at Mortimer Stavers who had followed him in. Beyond him were one or two of Draper’s strong-arm men.
Rose Mary Dimsdale asked: ‘I would like to know what you and these other men are doing here, Mr Draper.’
Draper looked amused – ‘I am here because that man lying there, ma’am, was my creature. Now I must ask you to stay in this room and remain silent.’
‘What right have you—?’
Mrs Dimsdale, the general’s wife, did not get any further. Draper gripped her by one arm and said through his teeth: ‘Shut your mouth, you stupid bitch. I still have your husband, remember.’
She looked at him in horror and remained silent, sinking down into a chair as though her legs were no longer strong enough to hold her.
Draper stood thoughtfully in the middle of the room for a full minute.
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‘Right,’ he said finally, ‘I have it.’ Stavers literally jumped when the big man fixed his eyes on him. ‘Stavers, you bring Dimsdale back here. If we can’t have one governor, we’ll have another. This time we’ll have one that signs papers we put in front of him. Because we shall now have his wife. Alpert, get this woman over to my house.’
Alpert quavered: ‘How the hell can I get her to your house? The guard will see her.’
‘Think of something,’ Draper said. ‘Do I have to do every bit of goddam thinking in this outfit? Drug her and roll her up in a carpet. Anything. Stavers, see Dimsdale is rigged out with the beard and moustache etcetera. Go ahead, don’t just stand there. You men, get rid of the stiff. You’ll want a wagon. We’ll drop him down the same deep hole as the others. Alpert, there’s a soldier out there on the patio. Get rid of him.’
Draper lost himself in thought, unaware of the others in the room, indifferent to the fact that there was a dead man there.
He was a little troubled in his thoughts. The general was playing the hero, refusing to sign the letter to the president asking for martial law. Well, Draper and the Ring would have to go ahead without Colonel Rally in the saddle. But maybe Dimsdale would sign when he saw his little lady suffering a little. Men like Dimsdale were soft-centred when it came to their women. Dimsdale would be soft about this proud southern beauty, even though she’d shared her bed last night with that weak son-of-a-bitch, Steefen.
Twelve
Don Sebastian was so ashamed that he could have wept tears of pure rage.
He had handed over half his land to that man Draper because Draper had threatened his life and he knew that Draper would not hesitate to take it. That was being a realist. He had handed over the poor country to the south and east. There was nothing there for man or beast. Or so the don had thought. He must have been wrong or a man like Draper would not have wanted it. So Don Sebastian had sold for a pittance and kept some of his pride, for nobody knew for how small a sum he had sold out.
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