The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2)

by Linda Watkins

  Terrance stared at his wife, his expression angry. “We will proceed as planned and I don’t want to hear any more of your prattle. Do you hear me? You will do as I say or I will give you to him. Would you like that, Mary?”

  His wife took a deep breath. She loved her husband, but this quest for eternal life had changed him. The old man had changed him. But, still, she didn’t want to lose him.

  “I will comply with your wishes,” she finally said, bowing her head, unable to meet his gaze.

  “Good. Now, finish getting ready. Jeremy and Kate will arrive shortly. Be sure you put that powder in her drink. One sip and she will be sent off to night-night land and when she wakes, she’ll have no idea what has happened to her fiancé.”

  Mary nodded, then sadly got up and walked out of the room. There was a bottle of vodka in the kitchen and she was sorely in need of a drink.

  61

  Kate

  The Tunnels

  SLOWLY, WE DESCENDED into the labyrinth beneath Storm Island. As we walked, I thought about my situation. I would be lucky to get out of this alive. But, as much as I feared for my own safety, my greater concern was for Jeremy. He would be alone with that old man. I didn’t understand why, but now that I was down here with a gun at my back, I knew in my gut that the assumption I’d dismissed about Ian Morrison was probably true. He was ancient, descended from that serpent so long ago. And now, wanting to live yet another life, was planning to take that of my lover. Jeremy was in mortal peril and I was helpless to do anything about it.

  I slowed my pace, trying to buy time, but Svetlana wasn’t having any of that. She rammed the gun into my back and pushed me ahead, telling me to “get moving.” As soon as we had entered the tunnel that led to the sea, she put on a headlamp that gave out enough light to illuminate the passageway three to four feet ahead of us. But, beyond that, the tunnel was black as pitch.

  I was grateful for the jacket she’d insisted I wear for it was bitter cold. I stepped gingerly because I knew the floor was probably littered with patches of black ice and, in my high heels, that ice could be perilous.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “My father has a boat moored just beyond this tunnel’s exit. A punt is waiting there.”

  “But where is your father?”

  She laughed. “He could be anywhere – on the boat, waiting in the punt, or just around the corner. Do you miss him? He misses you.”

  I shuddered at the thought of that man “missing” me.

  “What’s he going to do with me?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Kill you. Play with you. Da, I think he’ll play with you a while. He was very interested in your reaction to the opium. Perhaps he’ll allow you to enjoy some more of it. Who knows. He has a very creative mind.”

  Time seemed to stand still as we made our way through the tunnels. As we walked, I racked my brain trying to figure out how I was going to get out of the desperate situation I’d gotten myself into. My heart was beating rapidly and my mind kept returning to Jeremy. What was happening to him?

  “Brrrr, it’s cold down here,” said Svetlana. “Stop a minute. I need button up my coat.”

  I did as she asked.

  I was still standing in front of her, but when we stopped, moved slightly sideways so as to observe her as she adjusted her coat. I noted that she’d shifted the gun to her left hand and, since she was right-handed, knew this was my only chance.

  She was buttoning the top button on her jacket when my hand shot out and chopped down hard on her left wrist.

  The gun clattered to the stone floor, sliding away on black ice into the darkness ahead of us.

  “Wha...?” she cried.

  I didn’t let her finish her sentence. Instead, I attacked.

  My hand shot out, palm forward, the part just above the wrist joint connecting with the base of her nose.

  CRUNCH!

  I was gratified to hear bone break.

  She struggled for a minute with pain and surprise at my attack and I took the opportunity to try to book it out of there.

  But she recovered too quickly.

  She grabbed me by the hair, pulling me backward. As I moved, my heel hit black ice and my foot shot out in front of me.

  I fell heavily to the floor, but my weight took her down with me.

  We tumbled, fighting like girls – fingernails flashing, hair pulled fiercely, teeth biting whatever and wherever we could.

  Finally, I got the upper hand and grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her head against the stone wall.

  Her body went limp.

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of my heart. I checked her pulse to make sure she was still alive. After all, I was a doctor, not a killer.

  Satisfied that she would survive, I retrieved my cell phone from her pocket, got to my feet, and began to run toward what I believed was the tunnel that would take me to the Morrison mansion.

  62

  Kate

  Almost Home Free?

  LEAVING SVETLANA UNCONSCIOUS, I ran down the main tunnel, headed in the opposite direction from where Vlad’s boat was probably anchored. Remembering the labyrinth map, I knew this passageway led to a large room where bootlegged liquor had once been stored awaiting distribution. It was also the place that Vlad had lined with dog kennels – cages in which he kept girls who had been abducted and were for sale on the black market. I had had the unlikely privilege of being a prisoner in one of those kennels, albeit only for about twenty-four hours. The thought of girls imprisoned there for days and, possibly longer, turned my stomach and broke my heart.

  I expected I would encounter an intersecting east-west tunnel just before entering the bootlegger’s storage room. This was the passageway that would take me directly to the Morrison house.

  In panic mode, I moved as swiftly as I could. The tunnels were dark and I wished I’d had the presence of mind to take Svetlana’s headlamp before I left her. My eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness, so it was difficult going. I tried my phone’s flashlight feature but it was of little use. I also tried to utilize the emergency app on my phone to call nine-one-one, but all I got was a message saying there was no service available. I’d expected this but had to try anyway.

  I’d been running for about five minutes when, suddenly, I hit a patch of black ice. My lead foot slid out from under me, causing me to fall to the floor, my legs doing an awkward sort of split on my way down. One knee banged against the wall, tearing my stocking and probably my flesh. My head then joined my knee, bouncing off the side of the tunnel.

  For a moment, everything was a tapestry of pain and I saw stars. Afraid I would faint, I rapidly moved my head between my knees and waited for the dizziness to clear. Holding my legs tightly to my chest, I assessed the damage I’d done to my body. Nothing was broken, but I would be sore and bruised if I lived to see the morning. My knee was wet and sticky with blood and I hoped the cuts weren’t bad enough to need stitches.

  Slowly, I got to my feet. I contemplated leaving my high heels behind, but decided not to. They were the only protection I had and I feared that if I were shoeless my toes would go numb and, possibly, succumb to frostbite. My only option was to slow down and be more cautious as I navigated the tunnel system.

  Confused as to exactly where I was, I closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths, and tried to envision the map of the system. If I were where I thought I should be, I would reach the intersecting tunnel that led to the Morrison mansion in about ten minutes.

  Resolved to be more careful, I hugged the wall as I continued on my journey.

  My eyes were adjusting to the dim light and it became easier to avoid ice and other hazards that lay in wait for me. I was limping badly, but I knew I couldn’t stop. Sokolov was out there somewhere and if he found me, I was doomed. But more important was Jeremy and what that old bastard could be doing to him.

  As I made my way through the cold, damp passageway, I prayed that my gut was
wrong and that when I finally emerged at the Morrison house I would find my lover with a drink in his hand, having a good time with friends. But every fiber of my being told me that idea was just a pipe dream.

  I continued to press on, stopping every so often to listen for the sound of footfalls behind me. But all was quiet except for the constant sound of water dripping down the walls somewhere.

  I saw an opening up ahead and I knew I was approaching the juncture where the east-west tunnel intersected the north-south. I picked up my pace. I was almost there.

  I was about to turn into the tunnel that would lead me to Jeremy, when, out of nowhere, a large hand grabbed my upper arm and pulled me backward. I spun around, trying to escape, but my assailant slammed me into the wall, face first. I staggered, trying to regain my balance so I could get away, but before I could move, an arm looped itself around my neck, pulling me away from the wall, pinning me close to my assailant’s body.

  “We meet again, Dr. Pomeroy.”

  I immediately recognized the heavy eastern European accent and knew that my worst fears had been realized. Vlad had found me.

  I struggled to be free of him, but he only tightened his grip on my neck, causing me to choke.

  “Please get a hold of yourself, Dr. Pomeroy,” he said sternly. “I’m not going to hurt you. And, although your movements in that satin gown are quite provocative, I’m beginning to find them tiresome. Don’t make me slam your head against the rocks like you did to my poor Svetlana.”

  I could hear the steel in his voice, so I stopped resisting. Nodding and smiling, he released his grip on my neck and turned me toward him. He was holding a gun pointed at my heart.

  “Just in case you try to do something foolish,” he said, waving the gun in my face.

  I said nothing, just stared at him. He looked as I remembered. He was a big man, tall with broad shoulders. He was in his fifties and some women, I supposed, would consider him attractive. When I’d encountered him last summer, he’d had a full head of shoulder-length salt n’ pepper hair that he’d tied back in a ponytail. Now, his head was shaved clean and I suspected the removal of his hair had something to do with his recent incarceration – initiation to some sort of prison culture or cult.

  Except for this and one other thing, he was pretty much the same. The other change was that he now sported a scar that ran from the corner of his lip all the way up to the top of his left cheekbone. From what I could see of the wound, it was fairly fresh – the scar tissue still fragile.

  Vlad smiled. “You like my new facial adornment, Dr. Pomeroy?”

  As he spoke, he ran his finger along the edge of the scar. “This pretty little souvenir is just another thing I need to thank you for.”

  I frowned, not understanding what he was getting at.

  “Come on, Katherine, you’re smarter than that. If I hadn’t gone to prison, there would be no scar. Right?”

  I nodded slightly, acknowledging his logic.

  “You see, good doctor,” he went on. “I let, for one minute, my guard slip and that skinhead thought he could challenge me. Well, he got the first licks in as you can see, but his advantage did not last long. Would you like me to describe what I did to him?”

  I took a deep breath. “No, thank you.”

  Vlad laughed. “Such delicate sensibilities. I think you and I are going to become great friends.”

  I stared at him defiantly.

  “Well, maybe not friends,” he continued. “But possibly something better – more lasting. You liked that little taste of opium I left for you, didn’t you? Well, there’s a lot more of that and other richer enticements for you on my boat. Shall we take a leisurely cruise, you and I, and get to know each other better – much better?”

  His tone was both seductive and sarcastic and, as he spoke, I had to fight the terror that threatened to overwhelm me.

  “I don’t want anything to do with you,” I said shakily. “Take my money. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”

  Vlad threw back his head and laughed. “Always the feisty one! I think I am going to enjoy breaking you. And, yes, I will take your money. Every red cent of it. But, more important, I will take you, break you, and then reinvent you as I see fit. How would you like that, Dr. Pomeroy?”

  I knew what he meant. He was going to turn me into an addict – one who would do anything and everything he asked. He would debase and destroy me a little bit every day. He would pass me on to his friends when he needed a favor and use me for his own pleasure whenever he wanted. I would be his pet and, because of my hunger for drugs, would do anything to win his favor.

  That would be my life, if you could call it a life – a slave to a ruthless sadist, addicted to heroin or whatever drug he decided to inject into my body. And, if it got that far, I would be helpless to stop him. I cringed at that thought and knew that when he was through with me, he would either kill me or discard me someplace where I would drown in a sea of addiction.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  I stared at him, trying desperately to stay in control. I thought that maybe if I drew him into conversation, I could delay the inevitable.

  “How did you find me so fast?” I asked. “I thought you were waiting at the boat.”

  Vlad grinned. “I was, but I got bored and, maybe, a little worried. My lovely Svetlana is good, but so are you, my dear doctor. I feared that you might take advantage of her sweet disposition. And, I was right. I heard your scuffle and found her only a minute or two after you’d left. She was stunned, but aware. I sent her back to the boat.”

  “But how did you know which way I went?”

  “You were easy to track, my dear, those shoes, though very sexy, do make a lot of noise in these tunnels.”

  I didn’t respond, but silently cursed my choice in footwear. Vlad was beginning to look impatient, so I didn’t press the conversation further. I knew I didn’t have much time, but I also knew I had to wait. One thing I was sure of in life was that everyone dropped their guard sometime even if it were just for a split-second. Vlad was no exception, as the scar on his face proved. A lapse would happen, just like it did with Svetlana, and I had to be ready to recognize and act upon it. I didn’t want to die, but knew I would gladly give my life rather than face the future he had in store for me. And, if I had to die, I wanted to take him with me.

  Vlad watched me carefully, trying to assess how great a threat I was, but I didn’t cower. I knew he would see through that type of ruse in a minute and punish me for it. Instead, I stood defiant and said nothing.

  Finally, he nodded. “Okay, Dr. Pomeroy. We go to the boat. Svetlana is waiting for us there. She is, quite understandably, not happy with you. But I have told her that, as long as you comply with my wishes, she cannot harm you. Oh, she may be allowed to hurt you a little. After all, you hurt her. But she cannot and will not mar your looks. No, that I will not have. Any hurt she does to you will be where others cannot see it.”

  He waited for a reaction. I gave him none.

  Again, he nodded. “Let’s go.”

  He pushed me ahead of him and we started back the way I’d just come – back toward the wharf. I took deep breaths as I limped along, trying to formulate a plan for escape.

  63

  Kate

  Designer Shoes

  WE MOVED FORWARD slowly because of my banged-up knee and I could tell that this vexed Vlad. I exaggerated my limp a bit, hoping he would believe I was hurt more badly than I was. I wanted to throw him off his game a bit – keep him a little off-balance, as well as buy some more time.

  I tried to be patient, waiting for an opening, but knew that if I didn’t get one soon, I would be lost.

  Up ahead, I caught a glimpse of a patch of black ice reflected in the light from Vlad’s headlamp. The ice was on the right side of the path and, before the light shifted, I noted carefully where it was. I now had the beginnings of a plan.

  Vlad was walking close behind me and a little to my left. He held his gun,
pointed at the middle of my back, in his right hand. Steeling myself, I moved forward, trying to steer Vlad closer to the small pocket of ice.

  When we approached the spot, it was directly in our path. Vlad, behind me and still just a little to my left, seemed to be completely unaware that he was about to encounter a hazard. I noted he was wearing shoes that had heavy rubber soles and I knew they, unfortunately, would blunt somewhat the impact of stepping on a slick surface. But I hoped the fates would continue to be kind to me and that he would, however minimally, lose some balance.

  The ice was now just inches away. I continued walking straight on. My foot missed the patch by about an inch and I held my breath as Vlad, behind me, stepped right in the middle of it.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement.

  His foot slipped and I could feel his body sway as he tried to regain his equilibrium. He reached out with his left hand to grab at the wall to steady himself. When he did this, his gun hand moved slightly to the right and, as a result, the weapon was no longer pointed directly at me.

  I feigned a stumble, reaching out with one of my hands as if I were trying to keep myself from falling.

  “Oh!” I cried as I grasped his arm.

  He tried to steady me, but instead of using his arm for support, I grabbed hold of it and pushed him back toward the wall. Surprised and unable to recover fast enough, he slammed into the cold stone side of the tunnel.

  When his head hit the wall, his gun hand shifted again. The barrel was now pointing downward, toward the floor.