Girl Takes Up Her Sword (19 page)
“Fresh,” he said, as he crouched down to splash his face.
They followed it back across the meadow to the falls a few hundred feet away. Standing at the bottom, the top couldn’t be seen, shrouded in its own mist. No more than a hundred feet high, it might as well as been as high as the sky. The water crashed into a rocky lagoon, shallow enough to wade across at most points.
“This is as good a spot to rest as any,” Danko proposed, pointing to a sheltered spot inside a thicket. “We can hunt him down once the moon is up.”
George sat in silence for the next several hours while his companion closed his eyes. Something about the scene spoke to him in the depths of his soul. The forest, the meadow, the stream and the waterfall, all beckoned to him. “This is your home,” they seemed to say. “Live and die in our shade. Bury yourself here and become one with us.” The reverie intoxicated him and seduced him. At that moment, he could see no reason ever to leave.
The three-quarter moon culminated a couple hours after midnight, but the storm never materialized, having turned south during the night. Danko got up to eat and explore the area around the lagoon.
“Back here, George, check this out.” He stood at one edge of the falls, pointing to a ledge jutting out from under heavy vines. “I think there’s an opening.”
They stepped behind the curtain of water, wisps of humid air curling all around the light from their flashlights. Just enough moonlight peeked through to make the water glow. A few feet further along the ledge, George saw it first, a dark hole gaping in silence, more than a little menacing.
“You think this is one of the escape routes?”
“I don’t remember anything like this on the blueprints, but if it isn’t one, it ought to be.”
“We might as well recon it. Even if it leads nowhere, it might still come in handy.”
Within a few steps, it was already too dark to see without lights. Cool air pressed against their faces, reassuring them of an opening at the other end. The floor fell away under their feet as they went further, descending twenty or thirty feet in a hundred meters, before it flattened out into what was clearly an artificial corridor. An escape tunnel—they’d stumbled upon it. If Walker was stalking Tammy elsewhere in the tunnels, he might not expect anyone to approach from this direction.
Enough dim light flickered out of scattered fixtures to allow them to do without flashlights. Rough hewn stone walls and poured concrete floors crisscrossed inside the belly of the island. In one semicircular stretch, some sort of moss clung to the humid stone on the convex side, rivulets trickling down to seep into a gap at the edge of the concrete floor.
“The source of the water in the falls must be right behind this wall,” Danko said. “This is the main tunnel in the complex. All the others branch off this one, with chambers every thirty feet on the outer ring. It’ll take a while to clear all of ‘em.”
A shriek echoing down a side corridor promised to shorten their task. George ran forward as quickly as silence would allow, with Danko trailing behind.
~~~~~~~
“All this time and effort to find me,” Walker said with a contemptuous sneer, sword dripping over his latest victim. “Was it worth it?”
Tammy’s elite unit lay scattered about the corridor, dead before they could fire a single shot. Walker would take his time with his last victim, to taste the full measure of the man’s terror.
“Go ahead, kill me,” Tammy shouted defiantly. “Do you think I care? You already took my wife and son from me.”
Walker paused, disappointed by his victim’s despair. It wouldn’t save him, even if it meant less pleasure. The combination of sorrow and resentment he detected promised no satisfaction, even if it felt painfully familiar.
He hesitated, disgusted, planted his foot and prepared to swing his sword, looking for the optimal angle for a single, precise stroke, his new preoccupation. Tammy’s eyes burned, staring up at him without cringing.
When the blow connected, the disorientation was intense. A foot to the back of his knee twisted Walker around, forcing him to kneel. He found himself looking up into his cousin’s face.
Where did he come from?
George wrenched the sword from his hand and tossed it aside. Walker spun away on his hands and knees, looking for a way to stand and fight. A sharp kick to the chest just as he regained his footing drove him back into the stone of the wall. He felt something hard and cold strike the back of his head and fell to the ground woozy, and then unconscious.
~~~~~~~
“You! What are you doing here?” Tammy shouted.
“Your sister sent us,” Danko replied. “She’s worried about you.”
George hoisted Walker over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him around the corner before Tammy could react.
“My sister? Why you guys?”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Danko said.
“Wait! Where’s he taking Walker?”
“You have to give that one up. He’s not going to let you kill his cousin. Just be thankful you’re alive.” Danko crouched down to assess his wounds. “C’mon. Let’s get a bandage on that. Then we can get you back to your men.”
“They’re all dead. Walker, he’s like Death itself. He came upon us in the night. We fled in here to escape him, but we got lost in the dark. It’s like he was everywhere, killing anything he came across.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Danko said. “But not all your men were killed. We found a few hiding in the jungle. They’re waiting by the boats.”
“My sister really sent you?”
Danko nodded as he leaned over to help Tammy to his feet. The two of them hobbled down the long curving main tunnel together.
“I came here to kill Walker. I’ve been hunting him for almost two years. I can see that’s over. What now?”
Holding up the much smaller man, helping him walk, Danko mulled over Tammy’s perplexity. His own loathing of Walker helped him almost sympathize.
“Your sister thinks you’re a good man. And George must think so, too. Why not just start with that.” A few steps later, he stopped with a new idea. “You know this island fortress—Meacham’s building it with your father’s money. It’s gonna take him at least a week to get his crew back down here. If you can get your people dug in before then… think the Mong Tai Revolutionary Army can use a secret base?”
Tammy smiled broadly at a deliciously subversive suggestion.
~~~~~~~
Danko found George a few hours later in the depths of the first cave, Walker stretched out cold against the wall next to him.
“Did he get off okay?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Danko replied. “What about him?”
“He’s still sleeping it off. I must have hit him harder than I thought.”
“You sure he’s not dead?”
George glowered at him.
“Okay. I get it,” Danko added quickly, recognizing a tender subject. “We better wake him up, then, if we’re gonna make it to the plane in time.”
“What on earth are you guys doing here?” Walker demanded, rubbing the back of his head. “And what the hell did you hit me with?”
“Whatever it was, it looks like he didn’t hit you hard enough,” Danko said.
Walker grumbled and cursed.
“Where the hell are we?”
“You don’t recognize the place?”
Walker cast his eyes around the cave, but the dim light revealed nothing familiar. The sound of water crashing in the distance should have been a clue. Danko shrugged.
“Seriously, what are you doing here?”
“We came for you,” George replied.
“The hell you did,” he said, only just beginning to piece together where they were. “You came to get in my way. This was none of your damn business.”
“I think you’ve had enough killing,” George snarled.
“Why do you care?”
“Look, David. You killed his wife and son that day in the Golden Triangle. It’s time to leave him be. I think you owe him at least that.”
Danko could hardly suppress a contemptuous snort at these words. The absurdity of the sentiment was almost too much for him. If any serious moral reckoning was to be taken, the only possible conclusion would have to involve killing Walker on the spot. But just as George couldn’t countenance killing his cousin, he couldn’t bring himself to require it.
“If you really think that, why didn’t you just let him kill me, or let Danko do it?” Walker demanded.
George scowled at him and said: “I’m not gonna come for you again.”
“Guys, our ride is waiting,” Danko reminded them.
“Wait, where’s my sword,” Walker said with growing agitation, scanning the cave as well as he could in the dim light. “You didn’t break it, did you?”
George reached behind him and produced a long katana in an inlaid scabbard.
“Here. I have to admit, this one looks a lot better than the last few. I think even Sensei might approve of it”
“You have no idea how much I paid for it. I’m pretty sure it’s seventeenth century.”
“You know, they say real swords contain the spirit of the warrior, or maybe of the people it killed,” George said. “Aren’t you worried that all those spirits might come back to haunt you?”
“Maybe it’s their company I’m looking for.”
Danko shook his head, walking behind the two of them, as they made their way back to the waterfall and out to the meadow. How strange this pair seemed. So small, relatively speaking, neither one measuring even six feet or a hundred eighty pounds, and yet as dangerous as any two people ever to walk this earth. He knew how much they hated each other, George especially. Still, intense passions like that have their own sort of intimacy, and it was palpable to him just how close they really were. They seemed to trust each other with their very lives. Of course, Danko trusted George in that way, and maybe he knew Walker wouldn’t turn on him. But would he risk anything to protect him? Probably not. The obscure code of Black Ops justice, which values loyalty, courage and resourcefulness above all else, but supplied few other distinctions, often left one in a quandary when it came to judging the character of one’s comrades.
Danko knew exactly why he hated Walker, why given the opportunity he might have killed him in the labyrinth. What he didn’t understand is why George never would. This was a soul not worth saving, and if he couldn’t see that… well, that was a dangerous blind spot for someone in this line of work.
When they cleared the tree line, Ensign Savaransky yelled to them from the end of the pier.
“Tick, tock, guys. Step lively if you want to make it home before dark.”
“Hold your horses, Ensign,” Danko shouted back. “We’re coming.”
On the flight back, Danko sat up front with Savaransky in order to give the cousins space to talk. As far as he could tell, not a word passed between them. Of course, not much more passed between him and Savaransky.
“What a hard, cold fish,” he thought. “And those fierce eyes, that predatory look. No wonder Meacham likes her. She could probably kill someone with just a glance. She’s definitely been spending too much time with Walker.”
Chapter
23
Rebuilding the Roadhouse
The last weekend before the end of school, and no more homework to be done, Emily had time for a morning errand in West Virginia. She wanted to go alone, but Ethan and Connie were insistent, and they’d probably just follow her there anyway.
By now, the route had drifted into familiarity: route 64 west through Waynesboro, south to Lexington and west through Clifton Forge and Covington. A couple of miles south of White Sulphur Springs, on a poorly paved road off the interstate, they found a dirt and gravel yard backing up to a ravine opposite wooded hills. No sign of the explosions that destroyed the old structures was anywhere visible. Ethan pulled the SUV into the lot, grumbled about potholes, and parked in front of the smaller of two recently installed pre-fab buildings. The smells and sounds of an active machine shop were evident even before Ethan stepped outside.
“Wait here. Let me check it out,” he growled, looking exceedingly pleased with himself.
The driver’s side door hadn’t clicked shut before half a dozen menacing and rather scruffy looking men emerged from the shed, the largest of them almost as big as Ethan, wearing a singed leather apron and sporting a large scar down one side of his face, curving from temple to jaw.
“Oh, crap,” Ethan muttered, according to Connie’s lip reading skills. She cracked open her window to hear. Emily couldn’t suppress a giggle from the back seat.
“Were you expecting trouble?” Connie asked.
They watched for a moment as Ethan exchanged scowls with the gang.
“What do you want here?” one voice demanded loudly.
“Just making sure it’s safe.”
“Safe for what?” another voice sneered. “It may not be safe for you. Why don’t you just move on down the road?”
Ethan growled something inaudible in response and let his jacket blow open in the breeze to give them all a glimpse of the gun hanging under his arm.
“I think he’s had enough fun,” Emily said as she pushed open her door and popped her head out. “Hi, guys,” she announced with a big smile.
“Princess! It’s you,” the big man in the apron roared.
Before Ethan could stop him, he rushed over to scoop her up into a hug.
“It’s good to see you, too, Luther. What happened to your face?” she asked, pressing her hand to his cheek.
“Ain’t nothing. That scrape I got in the blast got infected. The Doc thinks there’s a sliver of metal in there.”
“You better take care of that, big guy.”
“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow. They all wanted to have the bikes finished to show you.”
“Do you have time to give me the grand tour today?”
By this time, eleven men and three women had gathered round the SUV to see what the commotion was about. Almost all of them were clearly very happy to see Emily, even if they were suspicious of Ethan and Connie. Introductions took up the next few minutes. Reggie and Carl had grease on their hands, so they just nodded. Boris pulled off his welding gear and reached out a huge hand. Max, Bronk and T-Bone smiled and waved from the back. Chester and Big Jake squeezed through the crowd for the pleasure of touching her hand.
“What do you guys think this is, Snow White and the Eleven Dwarves?” one of the women shouted. “Give the girl some air.”
“And this is Roxie,” Luther said. “My old lady.”
“Pleased to meet you under happier circumstances, Miss Emily. And this is my cousin, Jackie.”
“She’s with me,” Chester said, blushing under his whiskers.
“And that’s Nate and Oscar in the back there.”
“I’m glad to see all of you again,” Emily said. “Who’s that, over there?” she asked Roxie in a quiet voice, gesturing to a woman hanging back from the rest, leaning against the smaller shed.
“That’s Shelley. She’s the one who…”
“I know who she is,” Emily interrupted. “She came at me with a knife the first time I was here.”
“When you threw her over that table, well…”
“Is she with anyone?”
“Her guy was killed in the blast—Lance. That wasn’t none of your doing, though I think you broke his arm and banged up his face a bit that night at the lake. She’ll come around soon enough. Luther, why don’t you bring her over?”
“No, just leave her be,” Emily said. “She’s got a right to her feelings. And when she came at me, she probably just thought she was protecting her own. I can respect that. I mean, that’s all I was doing that night by the lake.”
Once everyone seemed content to have gotten noticed by Emily, they went back to whatever they were up to before she arrived. Roxie led the way over to the larger building, really just a big, rectangular shed made of corrugated steel. Large sections were transported over the last week pre-assembled. The main entrance consisted of double steel doors under a little portico.
“The electrician came by yesterday to finish the wiring, and the plumbing is completely functional, thank God,” she said with a laugh.
Roxie yanked opened the door for Emily and Connie, and followed them in. Ethan caught the door before the wind could slap it shut. The first thing Emily noticed was the long bar, a single roughhewn plank, already stocked with bottles on the shelves and three taps.
“Looks like you still have some work to do on the interior walls,” Ethan observed.
“Yeah, Nate’s the spackle expert,” Luther piped up. “He thinks we can have the sheetrock done by Monday evening now that the windows are in.”
“I think you still need a few more tables,” Emily said. “There’s barely enough seating in here for you guys.”
“Well, who the hell else do you think’s coming out here?”
“I don’t know, Luther. Has it occurred to you to run this place as a legit restaurant, and maybe a bike shop?”
“But don’t that require lots of papers and permits and inspections?” Luther asked. “And we don’t even know who owns the land. We really don’t want to draw too much attention, if you know what I mean.”
“Luther, you don’t think I dumped over a hundred thousand dollars into building you a bar and a workshop without sorting out those details, do you?”
Roxie laughed out loud and Luther winced.
“I see what you mean, hon,” Roxie said. “This girl’s a force to be reckoned with.”
“What are you talking about?” Luther asked in a loud whisper, clearly flustered. “A hundred thousand? No way we can pay you back.”
“Turns out the old roadhouse was a derelict property,” Connie interrupted. “Owner passed away about a dozen years ago with no relatives. The state was supposed to condemn it, but the paperwork got lost somewhere along the way.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means Emily got a friend to pull a few strings and now has title to the property.”
“Technically, I own half of it,” Emily said. “The other half is owned by one Luther Bussey. The ABC inspector will be by Tuesday morning for final approval of your liquor license.”
Roxie laughed out loud once more.
“She’s gonna make an honest man of you. Lord knows I tried.”
“What if I don’t want to run no damn restaurant?” he howled.
“So that’s why you added a kitchen to the plans,” Roxie said, in a sudden realization.
“Don’t worry, Luther,” Emily said in as soothing tone as she could manage, while trying hard not to laugh along with Roxie. “You don’t have to run a restaurant if you don’t want to.”
“But how am I supposed to pay you back that hundred thousand?”
“You’re not. As far as I’m concerned, we’re even. You do whatever you want with the place. Just don’t scare off the inspector when he gets here, you know, keep your options open.”
Ethan slapped him on the back and whispered, “Looks like the women are taking over. Better just grin and bear it. It’ll be better for you that way in the end.”
Roxie pulled Emily over behind the bar.
“What’s with the trapdoor and the tiny basement? Why’d you add those to the plans?”
“Oh yeah, that’s mainly what I wanted to see,” Emily said, lifting up the panel in the floor. A dark, dusty staircase, steep enough to be little more than a ladder cut into the wall. “Are the lights working down there?”
“Only if it’s been sunny, you know, what with the solar cells on the roof. Ain’t really ever enough light to do much down there but find the back door.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I had in mind. It’s not for storage. Just a way out if there’s trouble like last time. Let’s go check it out.”
Roxie followed her down, showed her the light switch and the lower door.
“In this darkness, you’d hardly notice it, if you didn’t already know where it is,” Roxie said.
“Perfect. Is the tunnel finished?” Emily asked as she opened the door.
The creaking of the hinges echoed down the long dark corridor. One dim fixture fifty feet away provided the only light. The wall on one side was damp, especially along one of the joints where concrete sections were joined. The tunnel turned twice to the left, where it must have followed the ravine behind the roadhouse. At the far end, after maybe a hundred and fifty feet, another steel door opened behind a curtain of weeds hanging from above.
The two women pushed through and stepped out onto the bank of a small creek. Emily balanced on a couple of rocks to cross the creek bed without getting her feet wet. From where she stood it was clear that the hillside had been extensively reworked to accommodate the tunnel, though from above it was probably invisible. And in time, as the underbrush grew back, even from this angle it might be undetectable.
“Do you know where the creek bed ends up if you follow it this way?”
“It winds through woods for about a quarter mile or so before it runs under an old timber trail.”
“And the trail leads up into the hills?”
“Yeah. It’s a fifteen minute ride to the state road on the other side.”
“Good,” Emily said. “That’s your escape route. If you expect trouble, have the guys move the bikes to the other end of the creek.”
“Look, honey, why are you taking so much trouble about us? You don’t owe us nothing.”
“Maybe I just like having more friends. I don’t know. But I might need a favor some day.”
“What kinda favor you talking about?” Roxie asked suspiciously.
“Maybe nothing, but maybe something dangerous. I really don’t know, and I hope I never need to ask.”
“If it’s just getting in a fight, or stomping some guys, that’s no problem. Those boys are as tough as anyone with their fists.” Roxie thought about that last statement for a second. “Well, maybe not as tough as you,” she added with a laugh, though Emily frowned at the reminder. “But these boys aren’t about guns and such. You can’t expect ‘em to get in no shootout for you.”
“I think the main favor I’m asking is for them to stay out of drugs or prostitution. I can’t be associated with a criminal organization, even indirectly. But I take your point about the guns, too.”
“Oh, That’s not really a problem no more. Daryl was the one who pushed them into dealing. Now that he’s dead, the one’s who are left don’t really have enough mean in them for that sort of thing. And they ain’t never been pimps.”
All this time, they’d been walking along the creek bed until they came out on the far end of the lot, behind the smaller shed.
“Where the hell did you guys get off to?” Connie yelled from across the yard. “We’ve been worried sick about you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Emily replied sarcastically. “Roxie was just showing me the back door.”
Connie laughed.
“Did it pass inspection?”
“Yeah, I think it’ll do in a pinch. We better go through the paperwork with Luther before we go.”
By this time, the rest of the guys were clamoring to show off the bikes they’d managed to get running.
“You can’t go without seeing the bikes,” Roxie whispered in her ear. “It’d break their hearts.”
All told, seven bikes were finished except for the paint. Two more were mechanically functional, but lacked seats or chrome. The last four were just frames and drive trains. Each one was started, motor revved, a few of the guys spun them out to show off for her. Oscar’s bike was custom sized for him, since he was a bit shorter than the others.
“You want to take it for a spin?” he asked Emily.
She hopped on with a huge grin.
“I’ve always wanted to try one of these things.”
She sped out of the yard before Connie or Ethan could even react, screeching the tire on the first bit of pavement they hit. The motor whined into the distance for a few long minutes, until it couldn’t be heard anymore.
“Whoa,” Nate said to Oscar. “I think she likes it. Maybe we should make her one just like it.”
“Yeah, she lit outta here like… I don’t know what.”
“Surprise her with it,” Roxie suggested, with Luther grinning behind her.
A few minutes later, the roar of the engine as she downshifted into a turn announced her return. She rolled back into the center of the crowd.
“Wow! I love it. So much power compared to my little dirt bike. Can you take it off road with that clearance?”