Against the Wall

by Lyn Stone

"You know what will happen if we aren't able to deliver this!" Belclair shouted. "It is half paid for!"

  Chari threw up his free hand. "Then take as many as you and the men can carry and go! I will meet you at the garage."

  He moved closer to Belclair, the pistol still aimed in the direction of Jack, Solange and René.

  "You dare give me orders? You?" Belclair spat on the floor. "You are nothing, you half-baked cinema freak! Your only value to us was in providing facilities." He snorted. "And your stupidity and greed, of course. I should kill you now, but—"

  Chari raised one foot, planted it swiftly in Belclair's middle and kicked him backward through the door. His fat body crashed heavily into the others who were working inside.

  Chari slammed the door shut and quickly twisted the key in the lock. "The woman was right! You are a filthy pig!" he shouted.

  Jack rushed him. Chari fired. The bullet grazed Jack's shoulder. He felt the sting, instinctively halted and grabbed at the wound. By the time he recovered his balance, Chari had stepped well out of reach.

  René rushed up behind Jack and slipped an arm around him as if to keep him from falling. Jack felt the boy's hand fumble at his back, felt Todi's weapon slide from inside his belt.

  Could René shoot his own father? Jack devoutly hoped so, or soon they would all be trapped down here.

  "Get away from him!" Chari screamed at René.

  "In a moment, Father. I must check him for weapons. He might shoot you."

  René moved between them, his back to Chari. He gave Jack the gun. "Do it," he whispered. "Solange is behind you. He can't hit her."

  Jack needed Chari alive. They had to get the whole story about the toxin. He grabbed René and placed the barrel of Todi's nine-millimeter against the boy's head. "Put the gun down, Chari, or I will kill him."

  He could barely hear his own voice for the screams, shouts and pounding from inside the locked room.

  "No!" Chari's mouth trembled with the word. His panicked gaze slid to the locked door that was vibrating from blows from within.

  "Father!" René cried. "Do as he says! Please, I do not want to die!"

  Chan's gun wavered. He firmed his grip and stiffened his arm, bracing it with his other hand. "Let him go or I will shoot!"

  "You can't do that," Jack argued. "He is your son, Chari. Your blood. Think! Who would carry on your work? He is your only hope of immortality."

  "My work will stand—"

  "And how will this story stand for anything if you both die? That is what you were in this for, why you played this part, is it not? The story?"

  Chari's eyes glazed a little. "It will be...told. I can—"

  "How will it be told, Chari? If you shoot, so will I and you will die where you stand." Jack shook his head slowly. "It will end here, Chari. Only the two bad movies and a charge of treason as your epitaph. Is that what you want?"

  Indecision clouded Chari's features, but he held the weapon steadfast. "They were not bad! No one understood them, what I was trying to say."

  "But you could do better next time. Think about it. You need that chance, Chari."

  "Father! In prison there would be time to write! To plan!" René exclaimed. "Think of the experiences you have, the material. I will help you. Bring you supplies. Arrange everything. Together we can do it." He added an impressive whine. "Please do not let him kill me!"

  "Get rid of that gun or I will shoot him, Chari," Jack declared in his most menacing voice.

  Chari slowly lowered his arms. The gun hung useless by his side, his mind obviously elsewhere.

  "Drop it on the floor, Chari. Let it go," Jack ordered. Smoke was drifting through the open door to the stairwell. He knew the study must be in flames by this time. Even now it might be too late to get out.

  The gun thunked as it hit the floor.

  Jack released René and the boy scurried forward to grab the weapon, then scrambled back beside Jack.

  "What about them, sir?" he asked, inclining his head toward the locked door. "Should we let them out?"

  "We can't. We'll have to leave them. If we open it, whatever is in those canisters could spread if they were damaged. Is there another way out of here other than the study and the windows upstairs?"

  René shook his head. "Shall I tie him up?"

  "No. Let's go." He turned toward the smoke-filled doorway, their only exit. Solange had a stack of what appeared to be lab suits in her arms. He grabbed some, threw them at René and Chari, then rushed to the sink. "Douse these, put them over your heads, then follow me."

  Jack shrouded first Solange, then himself in the sopping fabric. "Let's go. Solange, hang on to my belt. René, you next."

  He double-timed up the winding stairs. He had no idea where Piers and the other guards were right now. At least a couple were in that locked room with Belclair.

  If the others were outside watching the chateau go up in flames, Jack doubted this escape from the tower— if indeed they were able to effect one—would matter much.

  He kept his eyes shut and his hands against the walls as he climbed. When he reached the door to the study, it was closed. It was also bowed toward him and hot as hell.

  He rushed on past it, vastly relieved when he reached the next door that led into one of the bedrooms. Once the four of them were inside, he slammed the door and went straight for the window and tried to open it.

  Painted shut.

  René grabbed a small stool and brushed Jack aside to break out the panes. He took the time to knock out the shards that might injure them climbing out.

  "You go first," Jack ordered. "Take your time and find good toeholds. Solange, come over here and watch how he does it. You'll go next."

  While she was approaching, René glanced past Jack at his father who was observing the boy as he readied for the perilous climb down. There was sadness in René's dark eyes, Jack noted, but also promise. The boy had meant what he had said to Chari about helping him. He knew his father was mad.

  "Go ahead, son, and be careful," Jack told him. "We'll be right behind you."

  He pressed Solange closer to the window so that she could see how it was done.

  The descent proved easier than Jack had imagined. The old stones provided more purchase than most of the mountain faces he had climbed.

  The agile René had made it without a hitch and, much to Jack's relief, so had Solange. She had kicked off her shoes and gone down the side of the tower like an expert climber. They stood on the ground and watched Chari, who had lingered longer at the window than he should have.

  With less than a dozen feet left to go, he suddenly lost his hold and fell, landing squarely on both feet. One leg snapped. Chari crumpled to the grass, screaming.

  "We have to get him away from the tower," Jack said. There was danger that the structure would collapse if the fire ravaged it.

  The middle section of the chateau was an inferno already. Also, Piers and whoever was left of the guards could be skulking around somewhere.

  With Chari screaming foul curses, the three of them lifted him and carried him to the far edge of the yard, then into the woods.

  "We have to get someone out here immediately to see about containment," Jack announced. "Solange, do you still have any of those keys?"

  She shook her head, raising her hands to show they were empty. Probably dropped them when Chari beaned her in the hallway. Tears were streaming from her reddened eyes. Whether from the smoke or sheer terror, Jack couldn't tell.

  He brushed a hand over her face, sweeping the sooty hair away from her brow and off her cheek. "Don't cave now, sweetheart. You're doing great."

  "No keys," she whispered. "What will we do, Jacques?"

  "I'll have to hotwire something. René, stay here with your father until help comes," he said. He took Solange's hand and headed for the garage at a run. With Todi's pistol he fired into the wood around the padlock, then kicked out the section that held the hasp. The door swung open.

  In less than four minutes he h
ad the Land Rover, the closest vehicle to the door, up and running. "It's up to you, Solange. Get to Tournade and contact the team. Have them send backup. And cleanup," he added.

  "Where will you be?" she asked as she slid behind the wheel.

  "Looking for Piers. He has some of that toxin with him, and I know he hasn't left yet." He glanced around the garage. "It appears all the vehicles are still here. Looking for the keys must have delayed him, thank God.

  "As determined as he was to get that stuff into Tournade, I don't think he will give up. He must have a grudge against someone in the village. Maybe the whole population, given how adamant he was about using the stuff there."

  "Your shoulder's still bleeding," Solange observed. "I should see about that first."

  "It's nothing and there's no time. Now get out of here!"

  She obediently put the car in gear and rolled out of the garage. He watched as she took off down the driveway and disappeared around the corner of the burning mansion.

  Solange, accelerator pushed to the floorboard, flew down the drive to the main road, bouncing over the ruts in the unpaved surface. She had taken the SUV and the gears were grinding. Her own car had an automatic transmission and it had been years since she had driven anything else. Using the clutch was coming back to her, however, and she relished the power in the sturdy vehicle.

  She might even need the four-wheel drive before this was over. Thank goodness the Land Rover handled eas-ily.

  Once she had turned onto the highway and encountered a straight stretch of road, she glanced over her shoulder into the back seat. There were several boxes she thought might be ammunition of some kind.

  She could not see what was behind the second seat in the space meant for luggage. Coming up on the twisting road that led through the low hills to the village, she had to abandon checking out the interior of the Land Rover and concentrate on her driving.

  She kept glancing up at the rearview, imagining the worst, that Piers might overpower Jack and follow her. Soon a distant cloud of dust confirmed it. She knew it wouldn't be Jack on her heels. It had to be Piers on his way to Tournade.

  Though the car itself was not visible, she judged it would be little more than five minutes behind her. If it was the Saab, it might very well catch up to her before she reached the village.

  The wooden bridge loomed ahead, an old structure spanning the swift, narrow tributary of the Aisne River. The Rover lumbered over the bridge, and Solange cut sharply to the right, headed for the concealment of the nearby stand of trees. She pulled over a small rise and braked the car with a jarring thump. Quickly she hopped out, intending to conceal herself well away from the vehicle.

  When she passed the back windows, she happened to glance inside. Dark green wooden boxes were stacked in the back. Hoping to locate a weapon of some kind to defend herself with if caught, Solange popped open the hatch and lifted the latch on one of the lids.

  Weapons, for sure. Guns. Grenades. In another box there were sticks of dynamite. In another, caps and fuses. She had been riding in a car full of explosives.

  There must have been plans to use more than a biological weapon to create havoc. Or perhaps this was for blowing up the chateau when they had finished the work there?

  What would Jack do with these? The answer erupted out of nowhere, astounding her with its sheer insanity. But she had to do something. Jack would if he were here.

  If that car behind her was the Saab, Jacques had said it was geared for great speed for their escape from the prison. She would be overtaken before getting help. But if she stayed hidden here and did nothing, it would fly right past her, reach Tournade and Piers would carry out his plan with the toxin.

  If only she could destroy enough of the bridge to keep those following her from crossing to her side of it, she could at least prevent the toxin from getting to the village.

  Once they had been stopped, she could hurry on to the village herself and get Jacques's team to order helicopter support from somewhere to go to the chateau and help him.

  Guns were out of the question. Firearms were a total mystery to her. She knew virtually nothing about dynamite, either, or how to prepare it for use. However, she had watched enough television and movies to know that grenades were simple to operate. One pulled the pins out and the things exploded.

  Timing would be critical, she guessed, but how long did it take between pulling out the pin and the actual detonation? Time enough to throw it, of course. Would enough damage occur to make the bridge impassable? It was a very old structure, hardly wide enough for two cars to pass at once, so she thought that wrecking it might be possible. However, grenades blew up, rather than down. Didn't they?

  Low berms of earth rose on either side of the bridge where it connected to land. Would they protect her?

  She looked down at the deadly grenades. Must she pull all of the pins or would one do the trick and detonate the rest? And where should she put them to blow up a bridge? Underneath would be best, where the supports were, of course, but there was too little time to do that.

  The road wound around the low hills and she could see the car coming, now about half a mile away. Somehow she had to stop it. She dared not count on damaging the bridge enough, but perhaps she could block it.

  Act! Do something or it will be too late! She ordered herself to move.

  In an act of desperation, she climbed back into the SUV, spun the wheels as she backed it onto the road, then headed straight for the bridge and parked it there about a third of the way across the forty-foot span, facing the way she had come.

  She leaped out, not even bothering to shut the door, and ran around and opened the hatch.

  She lifted two grenades out of the box to take with her. In case this did not work, she must try to throw them at the car as it passed.

  She pulled out the pin of one of those left in the box, tossed it back in and ran as fast as she could. She dived behind the berm of earth and lay flat against the ground, her hands over her ears and her face in the dirt.

  Nothing happened. Seconds passed. Was the grenade a dud? Were they all?

  She heard the car approaching, heard the change in the sound as it reached the bridge and left the solid surface of the road. No! She could not let them pass!

  Solange scrambled up, a grenade in hand and dashed from behind the berm. Piers was behind the wheel of the Saab. She could see his face clearly. Another of the guards rode in the passenger seat. The Saab slowed to a crawl and was steadily pushing the SUV backward off the bridge. It was almost off. In seconds he would be able to drive around it.

  She yanked the pin on the grenade she was holding and threw it at the open hatch of the SUV. Without pausing to see whether it hit its target, she leaped back behind the berm, hitting with a full length, bone-jarring thud and covered her head with her arms.

  Almost simultaneously, the grenade exploded. A larger, deafening explosion followed. Then the ground shook beneath her repeatedly.

  Debris rained down, an incessant shower of it. A shard of metal impaled a clump of grass near her shoulder.

  She knew she screamed, but could hear nothing now and felt absolutely numb, as if she were floating. Then she realized she was sliding. The very earth was moving under her, rocks tumbling around her. She grabbed at grass, at a nearby shrub, but it was all falling with her.

  She slid free of solid ground, arms windmilling as she hit the water with a splash and sank.

  A current snatched at her, towing her downstream as she fought her way to the surface. It seemed the harder she struggled, the more difficult it became to make her muscles respond. Jacques would not give up. He would never give up, she kept telling herself. And neither would she.

  Wreckage swept past her. She struggled upward toward the light, sucked in a deep breath and managed to stay afloat until she broke free of the eddy. Near the steep edge of the bank, she found calmer waters and began to swim back upstream toward the bridge.

  The old structure had survived, though
portions of the railings on either side stuck up like broken black teeth. The Rover was nothing more than fragments, unrecognizable.

  A large charred section of the other vehicle dangled, swinging precariously on one corner of the savaged rail.

  She trod water and watched as it swung free and splashed down.

  She had done it! It had actually worked. A bit better than she had hoped it would, she thought wryly, as she doggedly worked her way back through the water.

  She began to search for a place where the bank was not too steep and overgrown with vegetation for her to climb out.

  Her success was seriously marred by the fact that there was now no way for her to get to Tournade. No way to summon help for Jacques and René.

  She could not let herself consider the fact that she had just killed two men. The realization of it clawed away at the edge of her mind, but she staunchly kept it at bay.

  There were too many other, more critical problems left to resolve for her to dwell on any emotional trauma.

  For one thing, there was the toxin Piers must have had in the car.

  Chapter 13

  Jack cursed the wound in his shoulder that had slowed his reaction time. He'd circled around the chateau searching for Piers until he heard René shout for him to come back.

  He had seen them immediately, headed for the garage at a dead run, Piers holding one of the toxin canisters under his arm like a football.

  Vincent had been running backward, firing at Jack, but his aim was bad. Jack zigzagged across the open yard, providing an erratic target.

  They had outrun him and made it into the garage. Piers almost ran him over as the Saab burst from the open door and flew down the driveway.

  Loss of blood had weakened Jack, caused him to fumble around like an amateur while hotwiring the one vehicle left, the vintage Mercedes Chari had used last evening. He noted the gas gauge. Half full. At least it hadn't been sitting idle for years.

  But, God, was it slow! He floored the accelerator and headed after Piers.

  René was waving as he passed where he had left the boy and Chari in the edge of the woods. Jack braked.