The Devil's Path (An Alexander Scott Novel Book 1)

by Richard Turner

  Another shot rang out.

  Kate screamed.

  Chips of stone flew off a stone gargoyle inches away from Kate.

  Ducking down, Scott looked back and saw a man dressed in a blue police uniform, a pistol in his hand, taking aim at them once more. Pushing Kate to the ground, Scott dropped onto one knee, drew his derringer, and fired both barrels in the direction of their attacker. Without waiting to see if he had hit the man, Scott grabbed Kate’s hand, pulled her up, and together they dashed through the maze-like alleyway.

  The fake Gendarme stood there his body shaking with rage. He couldn’t believe that he had missed, or that he hadn’t been hit when the American had fired at him. Instead the derringer’s bullets had flown into wall beside him. With a snarl of rage, he ordered two of his men to go back the way they came and to try to cut off the Americans’ escape route, while he and the remaining thug followed them through the streets.

  Kate struggled to keep up with Scott. She wasn’t used to running and the shoes she was wearing were more fashionable than practical. Turning a sharp bend, they suddenly stopped; Scott quickly peered round the corner.

  No one was there.

  Reaching in his coat pocket, Scott grabbed two bullets for his derringer, quickly loading them into his small but deadly weapon.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Kate, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath.

  “I’m not sure,” Scott said as he took her hand once more. “I just know that I will feel a hell of a lot safer once we reach the abbey.” With that, they took off down the curved alley. Turning, they came to a set of stairs carved onto the rock face. With Scott in the lead, they quickly scrambled up the stairs.

  Another shot echoed down the narrow streets.

  A burning pain lanced across Scott’s right shoulder. The bullet had only grazed him, but it still hurt like hell. Gritting his teeth, Scott aimed in the general direction of their attacker and fired his pistol, hoping to keep the man’s head down while they escaped.

  Re-cocking his pistol, the Gendarme stepped forward. He heard the bullet sail past his head but ignored it. Looking up he tried to get a better view of his fleeing prey, only to see them disappear behind a large piece of the battlement that surrounded the top of the mount. His blood was up. He reveled in the chase and especially…the kill. The man was a hired assassin who had worked for the Wollf family for the past several years, dealing with problems they wished to see go away. With a wave of his pistol, the thug led his accomplice in pursuit.

  Scott threw open the side door to the abbey and pulled Kate inside with him. Slamming the door shut, Scott looked around for something to bar the door. Seeing only a couple of tables, Kate and Scott grabbed hold, then dragged the nearest heavy oak table over and heaved it up against the door. Scott knew that it would not hold them out forever, but it just might buy them some time.

  Kate looked at him, her eyes wide and scared.

  Scott grabbed her hand and desperately looked about the empty church, his eyes searching for another way out.

  Without warning, a man stepped out from a side chamber.

  Scott instantly raised his derringer and took aim.

  “Stop, my son,” yelled Father Hulot, his hands raised defensively in front of his face.

  Scott dropped his derringer and swore at the man’s rash act. He could have been killed if Scott hadn’t waited the split second to determine if the man was a foe or not. “Father, there are men after Kate and I,” said Scott quickly. “They are armed and mean us harm.”

  The door at the back of the church suddenly buckled in violently. It was as if some wild ravenous animal was trying to break in. A second later, the door shook again. The door would not hold them back much longer. They needed to do something and fast.

  Hulot saw the journal from his collection in Kate’s hands. He said nothing. Looking deep into Kate’s terrified eyes, Hulot turned on his heels and calmly said, “This way, follow me.”

  Scott and Kate followed the priest as he ran towards the front of the Abbey. At the entranceway was a narrow corridor. Father Hulot led them down. Stopping at a locked door at the far end, Hulot hurriedly dug out his master key, unlocked the door, and then held it open for Kate and Scott. Looking down, Scott could see a poorly lit spiral staircase cut into the rock that seemed to head far below the church.

  “This was built hundreds of years ago to allow the priests to escape when danger came. It leads you to the bottom of the hill,” explained Hulot. “Now hurry up my children and be on your way.”

  “Thanks,” said Kate and Scott in unison as they hurriedly made their way onto the narrow, winding stone staircase and began to rush down the stairs.

  “Whatever you don’t ever lose that journal,” said Hulot to Kate with a slight grin on his face as he closed the door.

  Kate canted her head and looked up. She did not know how to respond.

  The sound of wood splitting apart filled the chamber. The locked door had been breached.

  Scott and Kate vanished from sight. Hulot crossed himself and then steadied himself to meet whomever it was hell-bent on death in a house of God.

  A shot echoed through the church.

  The Gendarme, his pistol still smoking, stepped over the dead body of Father Hulot, and picked up the master key from the Father’s hand. Placing it in the lock, he turned the key. The door creaked loudly as it swung open. Stepping inside. he peered down into the darkness below. The smell of salt water and rotting garbage wafted up from below. “You go first,” he said to the man with him, pointing into the passageway with his pistol. Stepping uncertainly, the ma with his pistol held out in front of him started down the narrow stairs.

  The light from above began to fade fast.

  Feeling his way along the cold, damp wall Scott kept pushing on. To stop now would be to invite death. His hand felt a recess in the wall. Inside he found a candle. Grabbing hold of it, he dug out his matches and lit the candle, its flame flickering as a putrid-smelling wind rose up from below.

  “What is that awful smell?” said Kate, almost gagging. Taking out a delicate white kerchief, Kate placed it over her mouth as she followed close in behind Scott.

  “I think we just found where they dump the abbey’s garbage,” replied Scott, holding the candle above his head. The light from the candle illuminated the stairs as they headed deeper into the earth. A rumbling sound from below grew louder.

  “What’s that noise?” asked Kate.

  “Wherever this tunnel ends it must be open to the sea,” said Scott. “That noise is from waves crashing against the outer walls.”

  A minute later, they reached the bottom of the stairs. In front of them was a slender arched tunnel that led to another set of stairs that led up to a closed door.

  A way out perhaps, thought Scott.

  Rhythmically, the water surged in and out of the small passageway, the tidal surf rising up from an opening somewhere below in the dark muck-filled water. Rotting pieces of garbage and several bloated animal corpses that looked like they had been gnawed upon seemed trapped floating in the compartment.

  “This is just repulsive,” mumbled Kate as she watched the carcass of a small dead dog rolling back and forth with the tide. She felt like vomiting but fought back the urge.

  “They must just dump their refuse over the side of the walls and let the tide take it out,” said Scott, trying not to breathe through his nose. “Depending on the tide, some of it must get trapped and then finds its way back in here, by the looks of it,” said Scott as he stepped into the cold, sewage-filled water. He could feel a slime-covered path underneath the water. Looking down, Scott was relieved to see that the water only came up to his knees.

  Kate cringed and then stepped down beside Scott. “Let’s get out of here fast,” said Kate, almost pushing Scott along the slippery pathway. She wanted out of there as soon as she could. Her pace quickened as she saw the door growing closer by the foot.

  The surging wate
r made the footing treacherous on the slippery stones, but both Kate and Scott - holding on to one another - managed to stay upright.

  They reached the door.

  Kate stepped forward, placed her hand on the brass door handle, and then went to push it open.

  A shot ripped through the narrow passageway, hitting the door inches away from Kate’s hand.

  With a scream, Kate leapt back from the door and hunched down.

  Scott instantly spun on his heels, brought his derringer up and fired off both barrels. The flash and the noise of the derringer firing inside the constricted chamber pained the senses for a moment. Scott heard a man cry out and then tumble over into the filthy water.

  “Go,” yelled Scott as he thrust Kate up towards the closed door.

  “It’s locked,” cried Kate as she angrily bashed at the locked door with her fists.

  Scott moved her aside. Putting his shoulder into it, he flung himself against the door. The old lock instantly snapped. Scott and Kate tumbled out onto the ground. The fresh cool morning air was a welcome relief from the disgusting odors of the sewer. Taking a deep breath to clear his polluted lungs, Scott rolled over on his side and then quickly looked around trying to get his bearings. He saw that they had come out perhaps only a couple dozen yards from the main entrance to the church. Closing the door behind them, Scott took Kate by the hand and quickly led her towards the front gate. Kate was still shaking like a leaf in the wind, her free hand clenching the journal tight to her chest as if it were her most prized possession in the entire world.

  Scott saw the front doors to the church were wide open. He was about to pick up the pace, when suddenly out of nowhere a man came charging straight towards him. Letting go of Kate, Scott barely had time to turn towards his attacker before the man hit him hard. Scott felt the wind being knocked out of him as he and his attacker hit the ground and tumbled over.

  Scott heard a scream. Kate was in trouble, but there was nothing he could do for her until he broke free from his assailant. Scott could feel the hot sticky breath of his attacker on his face as they grappled back and forth along the hard stone surface. Out of the corner of his eye, Scott saw the gleam of a blade. Reaching up, Scott clamped onto the man’s hand and held onto it with all his strength. Digging his right heel in the ground to stop them from rolling around, Scott tried to push his assailant off him. The man was no fool. Sensing what Scott was up to, he pushed down with all his weight, trying to stop Scott from pushing him off. Both men gasped for air as the fight dragged on.

  Realizing that they were evenly matched, Scott started to grow desperate; he needed to escape his attacker and help Kate before it was too late. Turning his head, he saw his opponent’s knife hand barely inches away from his face. With all his remaining strength, he lunged out and dug his teeth into the man’s hand. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. The thug howled in pain and released his knife. Scott heard it clatter along the stone. With his left hand suddenly free, Scott did not hesitate. Hauling off, he smashed his fist as hard as he could into his opponents face. Blood from a gash on the man’s lip flew against the wall.

  Staggered, the man relented for just a moment. Scott saw his opportunity, pushed his knee into the man’s groin. Scott saw him stagger towards the side of the battlement. A sudden tug from his jacket collar made Scott realize that his opponent still had a tight grip on him. Before he could grab hold of anything, Scott felt himself being pulled along with the man. With a yell of surprise, Scott found himself falling over the side of the wall and then into the air as he plummeted towards the raging surf below.

  With a loud crash, the door to the secret passage burst open. The assassin, his eyes ablaze with anger, staggered out into the open, his pants soaked in foul-smelling water. Seeing Kate held by one of his men brought a small crooked smile of satisfaction to his scarred face.

  Walking over, he only saw one man standing there. “Where is Tolinski?”

  The man holding Kate pointed towards the battlement wall. “He went over the side with the American.”

  Walking over to the edge of the wall, the assassin looked over the side. All he could see below was white froth and spray rising up from the surging waves as they battered against the sides of the walls surrounding the Mont. They must have both drowned, thought the thug with some satisfaction. Placing his pistol back in its holster, the imposter walked over beside Kate. Reaching over, he touched her slender neck with his calloused hand.

  Kate recoiled in horror. It was like being touched by a large repulsive reptile. Her skin crawled at the mere thought of him being near her.

  The man licked his lips. If he didn’t have his orders, he would have had her right then and there. “You should show me some more respect, Miss O’Sullivan,” said the killer menacingly. “I am going to take you to people who want to talk to you.”

  “Go to hell,” said Kate. A second later, she spat in her tormentor’s face.

  White-hot anger flashed through the assassin’s brain. With a loud slap, the man struck Kate straight across her face, knocking her off her feet. “If I had it my way, I’d let my men play with you a while before slitting your pretty little throat,” threatened the hideous man. “But there are men who want you alive. So you can count your blessings that they gave me explicit orders,” said the thug as he roughly grabbed onto Kate’s arm. With a snarl, he started to drag her towards the open front gate. Waiting outside was their carriage. Opening the door, he angrily threw Kate inside. Ordering his other man to climb on top, the assassin climbed inside, drew his pistol, and aimed it at Kate. With a loud crack of the whip, the carriage started to move down the causeway and away from the church.

  With every second that passed, Kate’s heart ached a little more. She didn’t fear for herself. For the first time in her life, she feared that she would not see the one person she desperately needed to see alive. Kate looked out the window at the dark gray waves heaving all around the Mont. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Letting go of her pent-up emotions, she began to cry.

  The dark, cold water held Scott in its vice-like grip, tossing him from side to side like a child’s rag doll. His lungs ached. If he didn’t get some air soon…he knew was going to die a horrible death of drowning. He turned his head up and thought he could see the light above him, but the waves held him tight, pulling him into the depths, inviting him to his death. Struggling against the current, Scott began to fear that it was all futile; he would soon have to give in and let the water into his lungs. Suddenly, a massive wave, like an unseen hand, grabbed hold of his body. Spinning around, Scott felt himself being dragged towards the jagged rocks at the base of the hill. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see his own death, when suddenly he felt himself being thrust up out of the murky depths.

  Light, ever so dim, appeared above him.

  Kicking his legs as hard as he could, Scott burst through the water and took in a deep breath of precious air. It was fetid and smelt of death, but Scott didn’t care, he was happy to be alive. He instantly knew exactly where he was…the escape tunnel. Looking about, he could see the man he had shot earlier bobbing face down in the water. Pulling himself out of the cold, stinking water, Scott removed his soaked jacket and without another thought dropped it back into the water. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see lying on the wet stone path the pistol from the man he had shot earlier. Scott walked over, picked it up, checked that it was loaded and then jammed it tightly into his belt. Taking one last quick look around, Scott could not see the man that he had gone over the side of the wall with. Scott didn’t care either; he hoped that the bastard had drowned. Turning on his heels, Scott made his way for the exit. Emerging out into the open, Scott was not surprised to see that that Kate was no longer there. Anger raged through his heart; he had to get Kate back. Running to the open front gates of the Mont, Scott let out a primal scream as he saw the carriage with Kate in it making its way down the causeway.

  “You there,” said a haughty voice behind
Scott.

  Turning about, Scott saw an officious-looking man dressed in an expensive looking dark-blue suit riding a powerfully built white horse.

  “I say there…” was as far as the man got before Scott walked over, roughly grabbed his arm, and then hauled him off his horse.

  “Right now, I need her more that you do,” said Scott as he heaved himself up onto the horse’s saddle.

  The man lay there on the ground staring up at Scott, his mouth agape as if he wanted to say something, but thought it wiser if he did not.

  With a loud whistle and a gentle prod of her flanks, the horse leapt forward and raced down the causeway.

  Kate sat back in the leather seat as the carriage rocked back and forth as it left the causeway and made its way down a dirt trail towards a small farming village. Looking out her window, Kate saw two men riding horses fall in behind the carriage.

  She was trapped.

  Placing both hands on the old leather journal, Kate brought it up to her chest and held it tight. It felt like her whole world was crumbling around her. First, her father had gone missing, and now Scott was probably dead, murdered by her captor’s henchmen. She felt miserable deep inside, but looking over at the vile-looking man sitting across from her, she clenched her fists in anger but refused to show it.

  Scott could see the carriage, in the distance as it entered a tiny village. His horse was incredibly fast. A rare blend of speed and endurance, her owner must have taken great care of her. Scott felt bad about stealing another man’s horse, but as he said, he needed it more than the other man did.

  The only place Kate’s kidnappers could take her to get away quickly would be the train station in Avranches. From there, they could easily catch a train to Paris and disappear anywhere in Europe, and there was no way he was going to let her be taken.

  Scott’s horse seemed to love the run through the countryside. Reaching forward, Scott patted her neck and encouraged her to catch up with the escaping carriage.