Cradle of Solitude

by Alex Archer

  Both she and Garin had seen Michaels have his men execute Reinhardt and Mitchell. There was no way that Michaels would let them go free as a result. There was a chance that Garin was already dead, but Annja doubted Michaels would throw away his ace in the hole easily. With Garin alive he could force her cooperation. With him dead, there was nothing stopping Annja from going to the police with everything she knew.

  No, she suspected that Michaels would live up to his end of the agreement, at least until he had the whereabouts of the treasure guaranteed.

  When that happened, all bets were off. There was nothing stopping Michaels from putting a bullet in both of them at that point except Annja’s own ingenuity. She had to find a way to get Garin out into the open before turning over the coordinates. That way she’d have a chance of getting them both out of this mess alive.

  Perhaps Tallulah Gorge was the answer she’d been looking for in more ways than one.

  With the police actively seeking her, there was no way she could risk getting on a flight. She was going to have to make the trip from Pennsylvania to Georgia by car, a drive of about twelve hours, if she did it without stopping.

  She glanced at the clock and did some quick mental arithmetic. If all went well, she’d arrive at the Gorge with barely an hour to spare before the end of Michaels’s deadline.

  Theoretically speaking, it was doable, but that didn’t take into account the events of the past few days. The constant travel combined with her need to be up all night in order to recover the chest from the cemetery had left her dead on her feet. There was no way she was going to be able to make a twelve-hour drive without getting some sleep first. But doing so meant she would fail to meet Michaels’s deadline.

  In order to pull it off, she was going to need some help.

  “…it’ll be the best episode we’ve ever had!”

  She realized with a start that Doug had been speaking to her the whole time. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said nor did she have time to deal with whatever cockamamie plan he’d come up with, so she did what she always did when Doug went off on one of his rabbit trails; she ignored him.

  “I’m going to need you to arrange for a car and driver for me, Doug.”

  “I know I can get the network’s approval and…wait a minute! What?”

  “I need a car and a driver. There’s no way I can make the drive to Tallulah Gorge on my own. You’re going to have to arrange to have someone meet me somewhere. Maybe Richmond?”

  Doug tried to catch up with her line of thought. “Tallulah Gorge? Why are you going there?”

  “I don’t have time to explain, Doug. Can you get me a car and driver or not?”

  He hesitated. “I don’t know, Annja. The cops are already crawling all over me because of that diving equipment I arranged for you. I spent half the day at the police station answering questions and for all I know they’re bugging my telephone!”

  That explained the pay phone.

  Still, time was ticking and she didn’t have any to waste. Michaels’s deadline was looming closer with every minute.

  “A man’s life is at stake, Doug. I need that car!”

  “All right, all right. Give me a minute,” he said.

  The street sounds got louder as he took the pay phone receiver away from his ear and then she could hear the beeping of his cell phone as he clicked through different screens. She could hear him start speaking to someone on the other line and she tapped her foot impatiently.

  There was a rustle as he picked up the phone again and said, “You said Richmond, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s, uh, in Virginia, right?”

  Annja sighed. “Yes, Doug, that’s in Virginia.”

  “Cool. Hang on…”

  It took him another couple of minutes, and a few more questions, but in the end the arrangements were made. She would meet her driver in the parking lot of the Marriott Hotel just after seven that morning, as the drive to Richmond would take Annja about two hours. A phone call to the rental car company would inform them of the location of their vehicle and the driver would then chauffeur Annja the rest of the way to Georgia. Once in Tallulah Falls, the driver would leave the vehicle with Annja and she could use it for as long as she needed.

  “Thank you, Doug,” she told him, when he’d finished relaying the details. “You’re a lifesaver. Literally.”

  “Yeah, sure. Just get this squared away quickly, will ya? Once you do we can get started on the fugitive episode. I can’t wait!”

  Alarm bells began ringing in the back of her mind. Just what had she missed earlier when she hadn’t been listening?

  “What are you talking about? What fugitive episode?”

  Apparently she wasn’t the only one with selective hearing. “Good luck! Call me once you catch up with the driver,” he said, and then hung up.

  That was twice now that he’d gotten the better of her. Clearly she was slipping.

  38

  Two hours later Annja found herself driving through downtown Richmond, right past the very house Jefferson Davis had used to run his presidency. The White House of the Confederacy, as it was now called, was the centerpiece of a museum devoted to the era and Annja found herself wishing she had the time to wander through the halls, to see with her own eyes the artifacts and exhibits on display there, to try and better understand the man who had ordered the treasury moved in the first place.

  But she wasn’t here as a tourist and she drove past, telling herself that she’d return some other time, when her life was less hectic.

  Whenever that might be.

  She found the Marriott Hotel without difficulty, parked her car and went inside. She was thinking of approaching the concierge and asking for assistance in locating her driver when she spotted two young guys in their early twenties, dressed in dark suits, one of them carrying a hand-lettered sign that read Chasing History’s Monsters.

  So much for keeping a low profile, she thought. She hoped she could get out of there quickly before anyone noticed her.

  Annja strode over to the pair and introduced herself. The two men, David and Andrew, were complete professionals and it wasn’t long before Annja was resting comfortably in the back of a Cadillac, David behind the wheel, while Andrew drove her rental car back to his apartment. He would hold on to it for twenty-four hours before returning it to the Richmond airport in her name. By then things would have unfolded one way or another with Michaels, and she’d no longer be worried about the local authorities getting a fix on her location.

  Good or bad, it would all be over by then.

  She intended to use the time to get some sleep, but first she had to set the stage for Garin’s eventual rescue.

  She pulled out the phone she’d taken from Michaels’s henchman in the airport—what felt like a lifetime ago—and dialed the number she’d memorized.

  It rang several times before being answered. “Yes?” said a gruff French voice.

  “Get me Michaels.”

  The man in question must have been sitting right there, for the pause was only a few seconds.

  “Do you have what I need, Miss Creed?”

  Damn right I do, she thought as an image of her sword loomed large in her mind, but she answered with a simple, “Yes.”

  “Excellent. I have lived up to my part of the bargain, as well. Your friend, Mr. Braden, is alive and well.”

  Mr. Braden? Garin had given his real name. She wondered what that meant and what other surprises Michaels might have in store for her, but knew she’d find out soon enough.

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” she asked, putting everything else out of her mind for the time being. One thing at a time, Annja, she thought, calming her anger.

  There was silence on the line for a moment and Annja was just about to repeat her question when she heard a muffled sound as the phone changed hands.

  “Annja?”

  It was Garin; she knew it as surely as she knew how to draw her sword.<
br />
  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. I’ve survived far worse in my day.”

  Given the length of “his day,” she thought it was probably the understatement of the year. She was about to answer him, only to hear the menacing voice of Michaels come back on the line.

  “As I said, Miss Creed, your Mr. Braden is just fine.”

  “Good. See that he stays that way. Meet me in the parking lot of the Tallulah Gorge State Park in Tallulah Falls, Georgia, in two hours. Have Garin with you.”

  “I hardly think you’re in a position to dictate terms to me,” Michaels said.

  “Who asked you to think?” Annja replied, and then broke the connection.

  Michaels wanted the treasure; Annja had no doubt that he would follow her orders.

  39

  Annja found herself standing beside the Cadillac in the all-but-empty parking lot at the Tallulah Gorge State Park just over an hour and a half later. After speaking to Michaels, she had passed the rest of the journey in contemplative silence until her driver had indicated that they had reached the outskirts of Clayton, which was just north of Tallulah Falls. He drove to the local Greyhound station, where he got out, turned the car over to Annja and then purchased a bus ticket back to Richmond.

  Annja made the rest of the journey on her own.

  When she came up with her plan earlier that morning, she’d expected the parking lot at the Gorge to be full of eager tourists. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other ideas. The blue skies had given way to stone gray and a light drizzle had begun to fall in the early afternoon. By the time Annja arrived, the park was mostly deserted.

  So much for making the exchange in public.

  Nothing in the past day had changed her view that Michaels would kill both her and Garin once he had the coordinates. Her only chance to pull this off was to get Garin out in the open where they had a possibility of getting away from Michaels and his men before she was forced to give up the location of the treasure.

  How she was going to do that, she still wasn’t certain.

  Great time not to have a plan, the nagging little voice in the back of her mind told her as she saw Michaels and his entourage approach.

  Three black SUVs drove into the parking lot and parked a short distance away from her car. Four men got out of each of the two lead vehicles and took up positions around the third, though what they thought they were guarding against, Annja had no idea. Once the team leader was apparently satisfied with the situation, he knocked on the glass of the final vehicle with the knuckles of one hand.

  The doors opened. Blaine Michaels emerged from the front passenger seat, while Garin and two more thugs got out of the rear.

  Eleven against two. Not the best odds, but she’d deal with it.

  Leaving the vast majority of his men behind him with the vehicles, Michaels strode toward her. Garin came along, as well, escorted on either side by two guards. She could see from the way he held himself that Garin’s arms were secured behind his back. She knew the guards, and perhaps even Michaels, would be armed, but none of their firearms were in evidence at the moment, which was a point in her favor.

  It wasn’t much but at least it was something.

  Now if she could just get Garin into the proper position.

  She’d chosen her current location with care. The car was parked lengthwise across several parking spaces at the back of the lot. Just beyond it, hidden by the bulk of the vehicle, at least at a distance, was a trailhead leading into the dense Georgia forest at her back. If she and Garin could get into the thick of the trees, they stood a chance of getting away from their pursuers before any serious damage could be done.

  Michaels stopped within arm’s reach, facing her, his long trench coat hiding any weapons he might be carrying.

  “I believe you have something for me,” he said.

  Annja ignored him, looking over his shoulder at Garin instead. “Are you all right?”

  “Peachy,” he replied, and then, ever so slightly, nodded his head.

  It was a signal and one that didn’t take a lot of brain-power to understand.

  Garin was ready for whatever she had planned for getting them out of this mess.

  His faith in her was reassuring.

  Her lack of a specific plan was not.

  Michaels was tired of waiting. “The treasure, Miss Creed.”

  She shook her head. “Not until you release him.”

  Expecting him to argue, she was surprised when he turned, studied Garin for a moment and then nodded at the guard standing beside his captive.

  The guard drew a clasp knife out of his pocket, opened it and stepped up behind Garin.

  “Don’t even think about it…” Annja warned, the tone of her voice dark and deadly. Her concern was misplaced, however. The guard simply used the knife to slash Garin’s bonds.

  Garin brought his arms up in front of his chest, using his hands to rub each of his wrists in turn where the zip tie had dug into the skin. While the movement looked perfectly natural, Annja knew better. Garin was preparing for action.

  “I won’t ask again,” Michaels said in an icy tone, one hand reaching inside his coat.

  Annja held up her hands in front of her in a gesture of surrender. “No need for anger. I have what you need,” she told him, smiling at the same time to help reinforce the idea that she wasn’t a threat.

  When she saw Michaels relax slightly as a result, she made her move.

  She lashed out with a savage front kick, catching Michaels square between the legs with one booted foot. As the pain slammed into him a half second after the strike he dropped to his knees and toppled to the ground, groaning in agony.

  Annja wasn’t waiting around to see the results, however. She was already in motion, driving forward toward the guard on Garin’s left. The man was just reaching inside his coat for his weapon when Annja called her sword to hand and ran him through. He looked down at the length of steel sticking out of his gut, tried to say something through the blood that was suddenly filling his throat and then collapsed.

  Garin moved in the same instant as Annja. He smashed his elbow into the face of the guard on the other side of him and followed it up with several short, sharp punches that sent the man reeling to the ground.

  “Follow me!” Annja shouted as she slid over the hood of the Cadillac, glancing back at the rest of Michaels’s men as she did so.

  It was not a pretty sight. The guards were charging toward them, guns in hand, and even as Garin bent over to grab the pistol out of the hand of the guard he’d knocked over, the bullets started flying.

  “Come on, Garin! Move!” she roared.

  She felt useless standing there with her sword in hand, but there wasn’t anything she could do. They had to get under cover of the trees before the rest of the guards caught up with them or they would be killed.

  Garin threw himself over the hood of the car, rolled to his feet and spun back around. He snapped off three quick shots, sending the gunmen diving for cover, then grinned at her.

  “What are you waiting for?” he asked.

  She turned and ran for the trailhead, Garin at her heels.

  They were almost within the trees when the gunfire started again. She could hear bullets striking the Cadillac behind them and was grateful for her foresight in setting it up as a barrier. She was just about convinced they could make a clean getaway when she heard a grunt of pain and felt Garin stumble into her.

  She caught him before he could fall and helped him stumble forward into the dense protection of the trees. His right hand was clasped to his left shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers, and the gun he’d risked himself to retrieve was nowhere to be seen.

  “How bad?” she asked as he righted himself and continued under his own power.

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “Went clean through.”

  The pain in his voice told her differently, though.

  Their chances of escape had just been cut in half.


  Without any idea where the trail actually went, they were stuck just following it, hoping it would lead them somewhere safe. Annja could hear Michaels shouting at his men to find them and knew their pursuers wouldn’t be slow in doing as instructed.

  Suddenly they burst free of the tree line and found themselves standing on a promontory that jutted out into the canyon. In front of them, a sagging old bridge connected their side of the canyon to the other.

  The bridge was essentially just two parallel strains of braided steel cable to which slats of wood had been secured at six-inch intervals. The cables were less than an inch in diameter and painted red with rust. The slats weren’t in much better shape. In more than a handful of places they had been eaten clear through by the elements. Only the rope railings that stretched the length of the bridge’s span appeared to be in decent shape.

  Annja did not want to cross that bridge. She looked frantically about, searching for some other way out of their predicament. About a quarter of a mile up the canyon from where they stood she could see the modern bridge, a graceful span of iron and steel, but there was no way for them to get to it. They’d have to backtrack the way they’d come to get off the promontory and somehow manage to elude their pursuers while doing so.

  A glance behind let her know that wasn’t possible; she could see forms approaching through the trees and knew it was Michaels’s thugs closing in on them. It would only be a matter of moments before they were within shooting distance.

  No choice, then.

  “Come on!” she shouted, grabbing Garin’s arm and literally dragging him out onto the bridge in her wake.

  The sagging old structure jerked and swayed with their every step but Annja didn’t care. All she wanted to do was make it to the other side. She kept her doubts to herself.

  Garin, on the other hand, wasn’t shy about voicing his concerns.

  “Are you nuts, Annja? We’re sitting ducks out here!” he shouted as he made his way along as best he could with only one arm to steady himself. “The minute they reach the clearing, it will be like shooting fish in a barrel.”