by Simon Hawke
“How very kind of you,” the king said, flatly.
“I’m sorry,” said Detchard. “I, for one, have nothing against you. You’re not a bad sort of fellow. I’ve tried not to treat you ill, insofar as Michael would allow. I give you my word that when the time comes, your end shall be swift and as painless as possible.”
“Most considerate of you,” the king said. “When do you think that will be? I grow weary of waiting.”
“Not too much longer, I should think,” Detchard said. “I would not dwell on it, if I were you. You need your rest.”
“For what?” said Rudolf.
“Yes, well, I see your point. Good night, Your Majesty.” She heard the sound of a heavy door opening and closing and the faint crack of light around the pipe disappeared. A moment later, she heard the sounds of the king sobbing softly. Bastards, she thought. Prisoner or not, it was no way to treat a man. Why torture him with explanations of how they would dispose of him? She sat down in the boat. From Michael’s point of view, she had to admit that it was a simple and effective plan. If anyone tried to take the castle, they would kill the king, weight his corpse, then lift it up and slide it into the pipe. It would sink to the bottom of the moat in some twenty feet of water and be buried in the mud. if necessary, they could then slide down the pipe themselves and swim the moat to safety. Otherwise, they could release the pipe, it would sink into the moat, then they could close the iron grate over the window and who would ever know that the king had been held prisoner there?
She examined the pipe to see how it was fastened over the window. She could not tell. She tried a gentle shove at it, then she tried again, more firmly. It would not move. It had to be attached somehow from inside. It would be a simple matter to cut through it with her laser. The grate across the window could be taken care of in the same way. She licked her lips anxiously. The thought of that poor man sobbing in the darkness made her want to do it at once, but she steeled herself against the temptation. Now was not the time and she was not the one to do it. Besides, getting the king out of the castle would be the very least of their problems. At any rate, now Finn would know where Rudolf was being held.
She looked all around her carefully, noting every detail of her surroundings. Immediately on the other side of the pipe, there was a section of protruding stone wall. Beyond it, an expanse of moat and the drawbridge. There was a lighted window some fifteen to twenty feet above her. She looked still higher. The wall was straight and smooth all the way up to the tower until, near the top, a small turret stuck out from it. No, not a turret, but a balcony of sorts, shaped like a turret, but open on the front and sides. She breathed in sharply as she saw that someone was standing on the balcony, looking down at her.
She heard a soft, coughing sound and in the next instant, felt a tremendous blow to her left shoulder. It knocked her to her knees and almost over the side of the small boat. She dropped the oar. She clapped a hand to her shoulder and felt the flow of blood. She also felt the blunt end of a nysteel dart, the tip of which had penetrated through her skin and deep into the bone. There was a line attached to it.
She cried out as she was yanked out of the boat to rise quickly through the air as the nysteel line retracted with a soft whirring sound. She was being reeled in like a fish. The moat seemed to drop away beneath her and in the next moment, she felt a strong arm encircling her neck, dragging her over the side of the balcony. She lost consciousness.
Forrester shook Lucas hard. “Take it easy! Lucas, damn it, relax!”
“I can’t believe it! I just can’t fucking believe it! They got her and I just stood here and watched!”
“I was here, too, remember? There was nothing we could do. We didn’t even have a shot. She went up so fast that if we tried to burn the line, we might’ve burned her, instead.”
Lucas gritted his teeth. “Christ! They just harpooned her! What if she’s dead? What if that rappelling dart severed an artery?”
“Then she’s dead,” said Forrester. “Stop blaming yourself. There was nothing you could do.”
Lucas clenched his fists. “She must have broken a beam or something. I was a fool not to consider that. Dammit! Now what do we do?”
“We wait. If she isn’t dead, it’ll be in their interest to keep her alive. They’ll want to question her. And they’ll want to keep her alive to make sure we try to get her back. If we’re lucky, she’ll have a chance to drop the remote somewhere before they discover it on her.”
“And if we’re not lucky, then they’ll be smart enough to search her first and then we’ll be clocking right into a trap.”
“So we take the chance,” said Forrester. “That’s what we’re paid for.”
Lucas shook his head, calming himself down with an effort. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” said Forrester. “Damn it, Lucas-”
“Are you taking over command of the adjustment?” Lucas said, in a level tone.
Forrester stared at him fixedly. “No, Major. It’s your play. You’re in command.”
“Right. Then we split up. That way, if it’s a trap, they won’t get both of us. One of us homes in on the remote and clocks in blind. The other goes in from outside, the hard way.”
“You sure that’s the hard way?”
“You have any preference?” Lucas said.
Forrester’s lips were tight. “It’s my son we’re up against,” he said grimly. “If there are any chances to be taken, I’m the one to take them. I’ll clock in blind. What the hell, I’m technically A.W.O.L. anyway. If I survive, I’ll probably be facing a court martial when I get back. No point to risking my second-in-command, as well.”
“Moses-”
“What?”
Lucas took Forrester by the upper arms in a strong grip. “Friend to friend,” he said. “Don’t allow yourself to feel guilty. That’s what she wants.”
“I know,” said Forrester.
“You hesitated once and a man died,” said Lucas.
“Damn you.”
“Drakov made his own choices,” Lucas said. “Would Vanna have approved of them?”
“Back off, Major,” Forrester said, tensely. “I know what I have to do.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you to be the sentimental type,” said Lucas harshly, “but you’ve shown me a side of you I hadn’t seen before. You knew what you had to do when S amp; R found you and you didn’t do it. If your little playmate had been given an abortion, none of us might be in this mess.”
Forrester grabbed Lucas by the shirt front with one hand and drew back his fist. He hesitated.
“See what I mean?” said Lucas. “Go on, Moses. Hit me. Think it’ll help?”
Forrester let him go and turned away, fighting to get himself under control. Finally, with a note of forced calm in his voice, he said, “I know what you’re trying to do, Priest. I can even appreciate it. Just the same, when we get back from this, I’m going to take you apart.”
“Just hold onto that thought,” said Lucas.
Forrester turned to face him, his face expressionless. “Count on it, Major.”
10
“I have never seen anything like it,” Hentzau told Bersonin. “I tell you, Karl, he was beaten senseless!”
The lanky mercenary gave Hentzau a highly dubious look. “And you think the countess did it?”
“She did it, for a fact,” said Hentzau. “Go and see for yourself if you do not believe me. Look at her hands. Her knuckles are cut from knocking out his teeth. Evidently, Michael had the temerity to strike her. She took her pound of flesh, I can tell you. The coach is spattered with his blood.”
“Really, Rupert,” said Bersonin, smiling as if his leg was being pulled, “you expect me to believe that a mere woman-”
“A mere woman who can handle a sabre better than many men I’ve met,” said Hentzau. “I tell you, she’s an animal! God, she’s absolutely magnificent!”
“You must be mad.”
“Mad, am I? Well, we shall
see who’s mad. We shall see who calls the tune from now on, Michael or Sophia. You wouldn’t care to place a little wager?”
“I think-”
He was interrupted by Falcon entering the hall. She had changed from her evening gown to a riding costume that lacked only the jacket. She wore a white lace shirt and waistcoat of black leather, tight black breeches and high black boots. She was pulling on her gloves as she came in. Her ash-blonde hair was pulled back, and she had removed all of her makeup.
“Where is Albert Lauengram?” she asked Bersonin, crisply.
“Just one moment, Countess,” said Bersonin, somewhat patronizingly. “First, there are a few questions which-”
“I shall ask the questions, Karl, and you shall provide the answers. Now, where is Lauengram?”
“I think you presume a bit too much, Madame,” Bersonin said, in a tone of rebuke. Hentzau watched this interplay with a faint smile upon his face. “I take no orders from you.”
“And I will take no insolence from you, Karl. Now, I shall ask you only one more time. Where is Lauengram?”
Bersonin glanced at Hentzau and smirked. “I follow Michael Elphberg,” he said, “not his concubine.”
Her eyes seemed to flare. “Really? In that case, you are no more use to me than Michael is. Your sword, Rupert.”
With an arch look at Bersonin, Hentzau drew his sabre and casually tossed it to her. She caught it easily by the hilt.
“Never say I didn’t warn you,” Hentzau said.
“You must be joking,” said Bersonin.
“Draw your sword, Karl,” Falcon said.
“Against a woman? I’ll not. This is ridiculous.”
“Fine, then.” Before Bersonin could react, her sabre swished through the air between them, opening up his cheek from the left ear to the jaw.
Bersonin cried out, staggering several steps back, his hands going to his face. They came away bloody. He stared at her with livid fury. Wiping his bloody hands upon his breeches, he drew his sabre. “Have it your way, then. Michael or no Michael, you’ll die for that.”
Hentzau swung a chair around, sitting in it backward with his arms crossed upon its back, watching as Bersonin sprang at her. She parried his thrust effortlessly, disengaged with astonishing speed, beat his blade out of the way and opened up his other cheek.
With a howl of fury, Bersonin attacked, fully intending to cut her to shreds. Instead, to his amazement, he found himself at once on the defensive. The clang of steel on steel filled the hall as she drove him back, refusing to give quarter. He backed up against a table, faked a thrust and rolled backward across it, putting it between them so that his longer reach would give him an advantage. Falcon vaulted the table, coming down lightly on the other side. Bersonin lunged at her while she was in mid-air, but even before she landed, she parried his thrust, turned his blade, and went on the attack.
Lauengram chose that moment to walk in. He had been eating in the kitchen and pressing his suit against one of Michael’s pretty young serving girls. Having heard the sounds of fencing, he had come to see what was transpiring. At the sight of Bersonin dueling the countess, he froze, mouth agape. “What in God’s name…?”
“Here,” Hentzau said, reaching back and pulling out another chair. “Sit down and watch this, Albert. It should prove interesting.”
Eyes wide, Lauengram ignored the chair and simply stood there, mesmerized by the spectacle. Bersonin, an accomplished swordsman, was dueling with a woman and he seemed sorely beset.
Bersonin himself was in a panic. He could do absolutely nothing with her. Her blade was everywhere, slashing his shoulder, pricking his upper arm, deflecting each of his thrusts and lunges. She had cut him half a dozen times and he had yet to score a touch. He realized with a sudden horror that she was actually toying with him, that he, who had killed more than a dozen men in duels, was no match for her. He recoiled from that lightning blade, from those lambent, ferocious eyes that fixed him with a devilish fury, turning and running from her. He ran about ten steps, turned quickly to face her once again and threw down his sword.
“Enough! I yield! I wish no more of this!”
“Well, I do,” said Falcon. She swiftly changed her grip upon the sabre and threw it, like a javelin. It pierced Bersonin’s chest, the tip of the edged blade ripping through flesh and sinew to protrude from his back. Bersonin glanced down at it with a look of utter disbelief. Slowly, his hands came up to grasp the blade, as if to reassure him of its reality; then he toppled forward and collapsed upon the floor.
“Dear God in heaven!” Lauengram whispered, awestruck.
Hentzau stood and clapped his hands. “Bravo! Bravo! An inspired exhibition! You have been holding back on me, Sophia! Never did you fence so well in practice!”
She turned to face them both. “Does anyone else wish to question my authority?” she said.
Lauengram slowly shook his head from side to side, unable to tear his eyes away from her. He had never in his life seen a woman fight like that. He, himself, had been no match for Bersonin and she had disposed of him as casually and with as little apparent effort as a fencing master in a match with a new pupil.
“Not I!” he said.
“And I am yours unswervingly!” cried Hentzau, flashing a handsome grin. “By God, Sophia, what a pair we two shall make! You were wasted on that fool, Michael. Together, we shall-”
“Be quiet, Rupert,” she said. “Have someone clean up that mess. We are leaving tonight for Zenda Castle. I want the two of you to take Michael in the coach and depart at once. Inform the other three that I shall be taking charge. Should they have any reservations, you can inform them also of what happened to Bersonin. Tell them as well that their pay is to be doubled henceforth.”
“Is there to be a change of plan then?” Lauengram said, hesitantly.
“I will give you my instructions when I meet you there,” said Falcon. “Go now.”
She turned and walked calmly up the staircase toward her bedroom on the upper floor.
“I must be dreaming,” Lauengram said. “That is no woman. It is Satan with breasts.”
“Ah, but what breasts!” said Hentzau.
“What do we do now?” said Lauengram.
“Do? Why, we do what Satan tells us,” Hentzau said, grinning. “Didn’t you hear? Our pay is being doubled. Go on with you. Get Michael and drive His Would-Be Majesty to Zenda. I’ll join you later.”
“She said for both of us to go,” said Lauengram.
Hentzau winked at him. “I have some unfinished business to attend to.”
He went over to Bersonin’s corpse and retrieved his sabre, examining it to see that it was not damaged.
“I believe that if she were really Satan, you would still not be deterred,” said Lauengram. “I shall have to have a long talk with the others. We did not bargain for this.”
“Do what you will,” said Hentzau. “As for me, I go my own way.”
“You always have. But you may have gone out of your depth this time,” Lauengram told him. “A woman like that is no fit mate for any man.”
“Yes, well, I am not just any man,” said Hentzau. He tossed off a casual salute to Lauengram and followed Falcon up the stairs.
He had one very immediate purpose in mind, but his thoughts were racing. Suddenly, everything had changed. The balance of power had shifted and new opportunities were beginning to present themselves. He had to consider them all quite carefully. He took the stairs two at a time, then moved briskly down the hall towards Sophia’s rooms. He paused outside and tried the door. It was unlocked. He smiled to himself and pushed it open.
She was not there. He called her name several times, but there was no answer. He frowned as he walked through the suite, determining that it was in fact empty. Where the devil had the woman gone? Systematically, he searched every room on the floor. There was no sign of her. Outside, he heard the coach driving away and he went to a window in time to see it turn into the street with Albert driving.
Had she gone in the coach? But no, she had ordered both of them to go and she would have wanted to know why he was absent. She had to be still in the house somewhere. He searched every room in the mansion, ignoring the frightened servants until it finally occurred to him to question them, but no one had seen her. It was as if she had simply disappeared.
Hentzau sat down and ordered one of the servants to bring him some wine. He smoked a cigarette. Clearly, there had to be a way out of the house he did not know about. But what was the woman up to? The thing to do now was to consider all the aspects of the situation and find the one that would most benefit Rupert Hentzau. He would have to alter his own plans for tonight now.
On the other hand, he thought, perhaps not. One had to explore all options.
It was late and the streets were mostly empty as the royal coach drove from the palace.
“It was very kind of you to see me home,” said Flavia. “It was not necessary, you know.”
“A fine suitor I would be,” said Finn, “if I simply had the coach deliver you to your door as if you were a package.”
Flavia suppressed a smile. “It would not have been the first time,” she said.
“I’ve treated you dreadfully, haven’t I?” said Finn. “I don’t know what could have been wrong with me. From now on, I shall make it up to you, I promise.”
She looked at him and smiled. Finn felt wretched. The worst part of it all was that he really liked her. He had never been very good at concealing such things and she obviously was responding, which had been the whole idea. However, now he was beginning to have regrets, for her sake.
“Poor Michael,” he said to change the subject. “He did not even stay for dessert.”
Flavia shook her head. “You pushed him too far, Rudolf. There was murder in his eyes when he looked at you tonight.”
“Is that what it was? And I believed it to be indigestion!”
“You may joke,” she said, “but where before he may have envied you, you have now given him more than enough reason to truly despise you. You made him out to be a fool in front of everyone. I beg you to be wary of him, Rudolf. I fear that he may stop at nothing.”
