As he started across it, a cry came from the hallway, and the sound of running feet told him that their escape had been discovered. He quickly dragged Shawna to the window. Again he felt that his prayers had been answered. The window led to a small veranda, and he looked down into a garden.
As the voices drew nearer and the door was slammed open, Jacob snatched Shawna up in his arms and climbed onto the balcony. There was a shot. Jacob's body jerked violently, and Shawna screamed. Then Jacob leaped.
❧
Marc had not slept in forty-eight hours. His eyes burned and his hair was tousled. A dark stubble of beard made him look almost piratical. He had not changed his clothes, and those about him thought that the usually immaculate Marc Garrison had gone mad.
Though he had continued the search, each report brought to him was negative. During this time he had not eaten but had drunk brandy. He showed no sign of being drunk, but his mood was a violent one.
Rage simmered within him, ready to explode at any time. He walked a razor edge, and those about him tread easily lest he find them responsible for the loss of the three people he held dear.
He had sent men to the house he had been lured to by the fake message from China, and they had found it empty as he had suspected it would be. Then he had set them to searching for the elusive woman who had been there.
It was nearly three o'clock in the morning. Marc had returned to the Belle and had just gulped down a liberal glass of brandy to ease his sense of failure over not finding a lead to Catalina.
"Marc," China said sympathetically, "you must eat something before you go out again. You can't keep drinking like that."
"Let me alone," he growled.
"I'm afraid too. But you can't destroy yourself," she declared softly.
"What more do I deserve for what I've done. I can't believe that there's no trace of her, China. I've been thinking about what you said, about her being someplace where we wouldn't think to look." He turned to face China. "The only place we haven't gone to is upper Natchez. But who up there would be involved in a thing like this?"
"I don't know ... but—"
"And another thing how do I go about searching the houses up there? Just burst in and tell them I'm looking for a girl who's been kidnapped. I don't think I'd get far before the authorities put a stop to my search. Damn it, China, there's some element here we just don't understand. Do you know if Travis has any friends up there?"
"I don't. He said he hadn't been in Natchez before, but he's lied about so many things we can't believe that."
Marc was about to answer when there was a loud noise outside the cabin. It was followed by muffled voices, the sound of a scuffle, and then a woman's angry voice. Finally the door burst open and two of Marc's men entered, dragging with them the woman who had delayed Marc while Catalina was being taken.
There was no doubt that she was terrified, and Marc did nothing to lessen her fear. Deciding to take advantage of it, he moved very close to her and watched her shrink in terror as she strained against the two men holding her arms. She watched Marc with wide eyes.
"So," he said, in a voice so soft that her terror grew. This man was a raging storm about to explode, and she was now his target. "We meet again. Maybe you still feel... conversational? I'm afraid the last time we met I did not. Now, my dear, what is your name?"
"Lil," she muttered.
"Well, Lil, it's time you and I had a long and very informative talk."
"I don't know anything." She moaned. "I only gave you a message."
"You know who sent it!" he growled.
"No! No, I never saw him before!"
"Just what were your orders?"
"I was just supposed to keep you away from your boat for as long as I could. I swear I don't know anything more ... I don't."
"You were paid well, Lil?" Marc asked mildly.
"Y-yes," she replied.
"And you do have a name for me?"
"A name?"
"They had to find you somehow, Lil. They had to know you'd take pay for a thing like this. I want a name, any name."
"I can't do that," she cried. "He'll kill me for bringing you down on him!"
"I want to tell you something." Marc's voice was dangerously soft. "Cat was loved by those aboard this boat. Now give me a name... or you will find the Mississippi deep and very cold."
"You wouldn't—"
"If I don't have a name in five minutes, I will have you taken to the deepest part of the river... and I'll make sure you don't come back. Are you a good swimmer, Lil? The current is awfully strong."
The two men who held Lil had never seen Marc in this condition, nor had they ever heard him give such a brutal order, but they remained impassive. Even China, who knew Marc would never really hurt Lil, kept her silence.
Lil looked from one to the other, seeking some support, some pity, but she saw none. Her courage failed, and she sagged in the grasp of her captors.
"All right... It was McNally who came to me with the money. McNally—he runs the Three Stars tavern."
Excited about getting the name, Marc reached into his pocket and offered several gold coins to Lil.
"Take this and get on the first boat leaving Natchez," he said quickly. "Leave town as fast as you can if you don't want to be caught in the backwash."
Lil bunked in surprise. She'd been certain McNally would get her once he learned she'd named him. Now the man she had deceived was helping her to escape. She found this hard to believe and hesitated, suspecting treachery, which was all she had ever known in her lifetime.
Marc nodded to the two men who held her. When they released her, he took her hand'and put the money into it.
"You don't have much time, Lil. All hell is going to break loose when I get my hands on McNally. You'd better be gone."
Lil backed away, still stunned. Then she suddenly turned and ran from the room. Marc turned to his two men.
"McNally," he said crisply. "Do either of you know him?"
"Yes, sir," one replied. "He runs the place down on the lower end. It's pretty bad."
"You two come with me. We're going to pay Mr. McNally a visit." Marc turned to China. "Nina still locked in the cabin?"
"Yes," she replied. "She's screamed and cried herself out, but she won't tell me a thing."
"Keep after her, she must know more than she's saying."
Marc walked to his desk, took a pistol from the drawer, and tucked it into his belt. "Go and arm yourselves. Be on deck in five minutes," he ordered, and the men swiftly left.
"Marc, please be careful. This man McNally sounds very dangerous."
"He doesn't know what danger is yet, but if he doesn't answer my questions, he's sure as hell going to find out."
"Just watch yourself. You won't be of any use to Cat if you wind up dead in an alley. This lot is treacherous."
"I'll be careful, China, but I'll get my answers," he said quietly. "You can count on that."
He strode to the door, and when his quick footsteps faded, China went to the cabin where a now-silent Nina waited.
❧
Marc and his two men stopped before the disintegrating tavern. When they walked inside, it took only moments to see the type of riffraff that frequented the place. The dregs of river travelers washed up here, and Marc was sure thieves and murderers were regular patrons.
They walked through dark mists of smoke and crowded tables to the bar, where they faced a man who had most obviously weathered some brutal days.
His face was as furrowed as a well-traveled highway. If he immediately realized that Marc was not the type to be a habitual customer, he kept it to himself. He had learned long ago that it paid to stay out of people's affairs. He scowled darkly across the bar.
"What'll ya have, gents?"
"Whiskey," Marc said shortly, "and conversation."
The man eyed Marc thoughtfully as he poured three drinks.
"Conversation ain't cheap, friend," he stated suggestively.
Marc smiled and drew two coins from his pocket. The man's eyes narrowed as he looked from the coins Marc had placed on the bar to Marc's face.
"What's your name, friend?" he inquired.
"I'll ask the questions ... I'm paying," Marc replied. "What's your name?"
"Henry."
"Well, Henry, I'm looking for a man named McNally."
"Ned McNally. He owns this place here."
"I know. Where can I find him?"
"He's in the back room."
"Alone?"
"Mister, you can't go back there."
Without speaking, Marc took three more coins from his pocket and placed them atop the other two. For a few minutes Henry looked at them. Then his eyes returned to Marc, and he half smiled as he reached out to take them.
"I don't want you to even consider warning him," Marc said coldly as he drew the pistol from his pocket. "I'm a dead shot, and any sound from you will most definitely be your last."
The man smiled and shrugged, then moved down to the other end of the bar.
Marc strode to the door at the back of the place, pistol in hand, his men close behind.
He broke into the room so abruptly that the large man seated at the table had little chance to move before Marc was beside him, the pistol nearly touching his forehead.
Ned McNally, never having been blessed with an overabundance of courage, broke into a sweat when he looked into the muzzle of the pistol and then up into cold green eyes that had not one touch of mercy in them. Attempting to exhibit some bravado, he snarled, "What you gents doin' bustin' in on a man in his private officer
"We should have made an appointment I guess." Marc smiled coldly. "But we were afraid you might be too busy to see us. You aren't too busy to talk to me now are you, Ned?"
"What do you want with me? How do you know my name?"
"That's irrelevant. I want a name from you."
"Name ... what are you talkin' about?"
"A few hours ago a lady and two friends were kidnapped near my boat. A little bird has informed me that you just might have some answers to who kidnapped them, who was behind it, and where they were taken. I want some answers, Ned"—he cocked the pistol—"and I want them before I get very nervous and blow your brains all over this room."
Ned had been sweating before, but now he began to tremble, for he knew that Marc meant business.
"What do you want?" he gasped, as the muzzle of the pistol nudged his brow.
"You had me kept busy while you arranged the kidnapping. I want to know who set you to it."
"Willie ... Willie Best was part of it. Him and those other three."
"Three? You know their names?"
"Sure. I knowed Nina Brent and Charlene Gilbert and Willie a long time. The other gent... well I seen him around Natchez some."
"Gent," Marc repeated, realizing, with a new surge of rage, that Catalina was most likely in Travis's hands.
"I don't know his name."
"Don't worry ... I do. I want to know where these three were taken."
Ned licked his lips and his body trembled even more. "Mister, I can't tell you that. My life wouldn't be worth a plug nickel if I named any names."
"Your life isn't worth much more right now." Marc tapped the pistol lightly against Ned's forehead.
"That man's too big, mister. You can shoot me if you want, but I can't throw his name out."
Marc was puzzled for a minute. He knew Ned was afraid of him and of the pistol, but he was obviously more afraid of the unnamed man who was at the source of the problem. Whoever he was, this man must be very rich and very powerful. Power and wealth could not be found in Natchez-under-the-hill... he had to come from upper Natchez.
"He's not from down here, is he?"
Ned's response was a negative shake of the head. Marc realized that something or someone much bigger than Travis was behind all this, like some pervading dark shadow.
Travis did not have the means to achieve so much control or to get so much help from Natchez-under-the-hill. This man could strike fear into men of Ned's caliber. Marc had to think.
He watched Ned's face closely as he began slowly and methodically to name those families in upper
Natchez wealthy enough to accomplish what had been done. He meant to find a motive after he learned the identity of the person behind this deed.
Name after name was spoken, but there was no reaction from Ned, Who now refused to meet Marc's eyes.
"Simon Gere," Marc said. Then he stopped, and the prolonged silence made Ned squirm. "Simon Gere," Marc repeated gently.
He had seen Ned go pale when he'd spoken this name, had seen him hold his breath as he tried to look as though he were not reacting.
Marc uncocked the pistol and stepped back from Ned.
"It was Simon Gere, wasn't it?"
Ned licked lips that had suddenly gone very dry.
"I didn't say that," he protested.
"You didn't have to. The name scared you to death. What does he have to do with all this?"
"Mister," Ned said weakly, "you just go ahead and shoot. I ain't sayin' a word to make a man like that think I been tossin' his name around."
"I'm not going to shoot you, Ned. You've told me all I need to know. But I'd advise you to get out of Natchez-under-the-hill—Marc's voice was heavy with murderous anger—"because I intend to tell Gere that you told me all I wanted to hear—that you chattered like a baby."
"He'll kill me! You can't do that!"
"I can and I will. You'd better run very fast, and very far."
Marc returned his pistol to his belt. Intending to leave a terrified Ned McNally behind, he crossed the room and was at the door when it swung open and he faced a pistol held by one of the two cold-faced men who seemed intent on killing him.
Chapter 35
Seth and Charles were both impatient to round the next bend of the river. When they did it would finally bring them in sight of Natchez.
"There it is, boy," Charles said. "Natchez-under-the-hill, one of the nastiest little places on earth, at least under the hill. Up there"—he pointed to the mansions above—"close to heaven."
"Some combination, isn't it?" Seth responded thoughtfully. "And where is my sister, I wonder?"
"We have to believe she's safe, Seth. We have to. We'll move heaven and hell to get news. Surely they stopped here, and they can't be that far ahead of us. Someone must have seen them, and will at least tell us if she's well."
"I hope you're right."
The lights of Natchez-under-the-hill greeted them as did raucous music and sounds of vibrant activity.
As they drew nearer and were about ready to dock, Seth cried out, "Charles, look!"
He pointed, and Charles could read intense excitement on his face. He followed Seth's trembling finger, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Why ... I believe . . ."
"It's the Belle! The Belle."
"By God, it is. We've caught up to them, boy. We've caught up to them."
"I hope I've really caught them," Seth said through clenched teeth. "I have a score to settle with Marc Garrison and Travis Sherman."
"First we had better find Cat, and make sure she's all right. Then we can do whatever else needs to be done. We can't just assume that she's been harmed. What will you do if you find no problem aboard the Belle?"
"I've had my mind set on catching up for so long, I hadn't thought about that. But you're right, Charles. Let's find Cat first. Everything depends on that."
"What do you want to do about the loss of the Belle if Cat is all right?"
"There is not much I can do, except stay with my original plan. Ill face my father with the truth and tell him I want to start again, if he'll let me. As long as Cat isn't hurt, I don't mind starting over."
"I'm glad to hear you talk like that, as I'm sure your father will be. All he's ever wanted is for you to straighten up your life and stand beside him in the business."
"You think he'll accept me now, since I've lo
st the Belle?"
"I think he'd be damned proud to."
"Thanks, Charles." Seth returned his gaze to the docks as the Constitution came to a halt and the gangplank was lowered.
Charles and Seth were the first to descend, and they made their way as rapidly as possible to the Belle, which they boarded quickly, well aware that it seemed to be deserted.
"Where is everybody?" Seth said. "In a town like this, surely they post some kind of guard."
"Unless the owner is well known and respected here."
"In this town? I can't imagine what kind of man would get the respect of this town. He'd have to be a ..." Seth stopped and looked at Charles; then he said softly, "Just what kind of a man is Marc Garrison?"
"Suppose we go down and face him and find out for sure."
They went to the cabin in which they expected to find Marc. It was empty, but Seth knew the Belle, so he moved swiftly from stateroom to stateroom, with Charles following, until he opened a door and faced a very surprised China.
It only took China seconds to put a name to Seth's face, and Seth recognized her immediately. He had only seen her the night of the game, and they had not really spoken. But they knew each other.
"Seth Carrington."
"Yes," he answered stiffly. "And you are Marc Garrison's friend, China. Just where is he, and where is my sister?"
"You have arrived at a very uncomfortable time, Mr. Carrington."
"I said where is my sister?"
"At this moment... I don't know."
"Where is your boss?" Seth demanded.
"If you're speaking of Marc, he isn't here either," China replied.
"And"—Seth laughed angrily—"I suppose you don't know where he is either?"
"Truthfully I don't."
"Truthfully? I don't think you or Marc know what the truth is."
"If you calm down and give me a chance to explain, I may be able to help you."
"I'm as calm as I intend to get," Seth declared, "so tell me whatever it is you want to say."
Catalina's Caress Page 36
