Texas Viscount (44 page)

      
“Can this Parker fellow really find that dynamite in Trafalgar and seal off this place?” Josh asked dubiously as they approached the park.

      
“I fervently hope so. Miss Edgewater's information was most helpful about the conveyance. They can easily search for a wagon loaded with turnips,” Jamison replied.

      
“She had more information than a mail-order catalogue, that's for sure. We'd be up the creek without a paddle if not for her,” Josh replied.

      
“You care for her.”

      
Michael's tone was neutral, but Josh knew enough about the way the English mind—not to mention the class system—worked to realize what his friend was thinking. “I don't just care for her, I'm fixin’ to marry her,” he surprised himself by saying.

      
Jamison's eyebrows rose. “My grandmother, as I may have mentioned, was American. Also possessed of quite a scandalous reputation as a libertine before she married the Earl of Lynden. Considering how very properly English and properly proper Miss Edgewater is, I don't imagine she'll have any difficulty being accepted in Society”

      
Josh looked at the twinkle of amusement in Michael’s eyes. “You mean Society’ll accept her a hell of a lot faster than it did me,” he said with an answering grin.

      
“Quite. We'd best split up here,” he said as they rode in sight of the park. “I'll approach by the Mall, since they probably won't recognize me. You slip in from the eastern side.”

      
“Watch your backside,” Josh called out as his friend rode away.

      
The park was beautiful, rambling and hilly, lush with tall trees and dense shrubbery allowed to grow into a natural-appearing wild habitat right in the middle of the smoky, overcrowded city. In short, a perfect place from which a keen marksman could pick off a target and vanish without a trace before the police and Foreign Office agents could respond.

      
Josh surveyed the lay of the land, trying to remember any clear views of the Mall from high elevation. He'd been through it a few times, but not nearly as often as Hyde Park, which was larger and offered more open space in which to ride. As he recalled, there was one rise on this side of the artificially created swan pond that might offer a good vantage point.

      
He approached as close as he dared on horseback, then dismounted, finding a youth who sold meat pies to passersby and offering him some coins to watch the winded black gelding. He might still have need of a mount before this afternoon was over. Josh squinted at the sun. It must now be getting on a quarter past four. Not much time to find one varmint in a ninety-acre wood.

      
Going on pure instinct, which he'd learned to trust during the war, he made his way past flower beds now spent in the warm autumn sun, shoving spirea bushes aside as he climbed through the most densely overgrown part of the park. Having learned to hunt small game as a boy, he moved silently, his Colt clutched in his hand. Josh peered through the still green shrubbery toward the hill overlooking the Mall.

      
It was then he saw a figure lying flat on his belly, aiming what looked to be a Remington-Creedmore .44/100 at the Mall below. In minutes the Royal Horse Guards would proceed ahead of the targeted carriage.

      
Just like Sabrina described it.
Josh eyed the sniper's weapon. The rifle was the finest made for such a difficult shot. In the hands of an expert marksman, it could blow Hayashi's head clean off his shoulders. Josh drew closer, preparing to get the drop on the sniper. When he recognized the man, Josh understood why Natasha had thought it so amusing that he was the mastermind behind their schemes. Damned if he hadn't been taken in just like everyone else.

      
Feeling betrayed, although he knew that was a damn fool attitude, he raised his Colt; but before he could order the other man to drop his rifle, the sound of a twig snapping behind him made him crouch and pivot, to confront a knife blade that would have slit his throat in another instant.

      
“I would suggest you drop your weapon,” the sniper said conversationally, rolling over and aiming directly at Josh's back.

* * * *

      
Sabrina stood at the edge of the crowd, observing the commotion as half a dozen agents assisted by bobbies removed a sizable bundle of explosives concealed beneath a load of turnips. The two men on the wagon were in custody. She recognized neither one of them, but both were babbling in Russian.

      
Now if only Mr. Jamison and Josh could capture Zarenko and Valerian...

      
Her thoughts were interrupted by a harshly familiar whisper. “I might have known you'd be responsible for this.” She felt the cold pressure of a pistol pressed into her ribs as Nikolai Zarenko clamped one elegant hand around her arm and began leading her away from the crowd.

      
“You'd be best advised to release me,” she said with considerably more bravado than she felt. “The government knows everything, and agents have your companions in custody now, including your sister. There will be no assassination.”

      
“All the more reason you'll be useful...if what you say is true. But give me leave to doubt our sniper in the park has been taken,” he purred. “Even without this little diversion, we'll succeed—with a proper English hostage or two. Perhaps the viscount? I imagine Lord Hambleton would move heaven and earth to obtain his release in exchange for my sister.”

      
“Don't be foolish,” she said, trying to wrest her arm free of his punishing grasp. “How do you expect to capture Jo—the viscount?”

      
He pressed the gun harder against her side. “Why, with you as bait. I know he's one of the men prowling the park. And he’s your lover.” He tsked mockingly. “Servants do gossip, especially English servants. In Russia we'd cut out their tongues if they were so loose.”

      
“You, sir, are an animal,” she said coldly, trying to gather her racing thoughts to form some kind of plan. She would never allow this viper to use her to trap Josh.

      
Ignoring her insult, he dragged her toward a closed carriage parked across the street. The driver was one of the men she'd seen at the lodge. If she got inside, all would be lost. Willing herself to use every ounce of strength her already aching body had left, she twisted free of Zarenko's grasp and started to scream, but he raised his pistol and clubbed her over the head before she could utter a sound.

      
Everything went black.

      
He quickly handed the gun to a man inside the carriage, then glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately for him, all eyes remained fixed on the excitement across the square. He scooped her into his arms and handed her to his servant before climbing aboard himself. The carriage took off with a lurch, headed toward the park.

* * * *

      
“I think we have what folks back home call a Mexican standoff. You can't fire or you'll give away your position,” Josh said, his Colt aimed at Sergei Valerian's heart. He backed around so he could see both men. “I reckon I savvy why Natasha thought you being the brains of this outfit was so funny, Alexi.”

      
“Alexi, the good-natured drunk. Everyone loves a jovial buffoon—even you, my American friend. I have fooled your arrogant British spies as well,” Alexi Kurznikov said conversationally.

      
“Maybe,” Josh replied, waiting for an opening as Alexi started to leap to his feet in a surprisingly supple motion for one so rotund. Small wonder he had the capacity to drink a dozen men under the table and still stagger upright. What appeared to be fat was in reality thick, well-conditioned muscle. When the barrel of the rifle moved fractionally, Josh dived to the ground, rolling as he fired at Kurznikov, grazing his arm, but the Russian did not relinquish his hold on his weapon.

      
Before Alexi could sight in on his target, Josh was partially concealed behind a thicket of overgrown boxwoods. “Dispose of him,” Alexi snapped in Russian to Valerian, then turned back to observe the parade on the Mall. The open carriage continued to draw nearer, although several soldiers at the rear had pulled abreast of it to offer protection as soon as Josh's shot rang out.

      
He got off another shot at Alexi, but Valerian threw himself across the space separating them and spoiled his aim. The Russian landed on top of him, knocking the Colt from his hand even as he brought the deadly blade up, intent on silencing his foe permanently. They rolled in the thick brush, thrashing as Josh fought to hold on to Valerian's knife hand. The wickedly gleaming steel nicked his throat before the Texan was able to force it away.

      
Sweat beaded their faces as they struggled. Time was running out. Alexi was going to take that shot, and if he hit the Japanese minister, it would be an international catastrophe. Josh used his leg as he'd learned to do “Injun rasslin’ ” back home and hooked it over Valerian's leg, then bent it quickly, throwing his opponent off of him. The Texan followed, never relinquishing his grip on his enemy's knife hand. Now he was on top and used the leverage to lower the blade toward Valerian's throat.

      
Suddenly Michael burst into the clearing, winded from his run across the bridge and up the hill. Ignoring the life-and-death struggle between Josh and Valerian, he yelled at Kurznikov, “Drop the weapon or I'll kill you where you stand.”

      
Alexi did not comply. His sights were in alignment and his finger squeezed the trigger. Jamison’s shot rang out, plowing into Alexi's shoulder an instant before the Russian's Remington went off. Kurznikov's shot kicked up dust at the hooves of one of the Guards' horses, causing the animal to shy and rear up, but no harm was done once the frightened animal was back under control.

      
The carriage full of dignitaries continued on to St. James' Palace.

      
Josh used the interruption to good advantage, pressing the knife closer to Valerian's throat, but at the last instant, the Russian grabbed a fistful of dirt with his free hand and ground it in the Texan's face, then rolled over again as Josh, coughing and blinking away the stinging pain in his eyes, tried to regain control of the fight.

      
Michael sighted his Webley down on Alexi, who had lost his purchase on the rifle and lay, defeated, clutching his ruined shoulder, which was bleeding profusely. The British agent moved closer and picked up the sniper's rifle. “A fine weapon,” he said. “Pity you missed with it.” Then, satisfied that Kurznikov was no longer a threat, he turned to see how Josh was faring.

      
“I could use a mite of help, ole chap,” the viscount drawled as he punched blindly at the Russian's face. His fist connected with a glancing blow just as his vision started to clear. He rolled up on top again and put all his weight onto Valerian's arm so the knife blade pressed into his foe’s throat. “Drop it or bleed,” Josh said.

      
The Russian let the knife fall from his grasp, glaring up at the grinning Texan.

      
“Much obliged for your help,” Josh said dryly to Michael, who was hauling a pale, stoic Alexi Kurznikov to his feet.

      
“Think nothing of it, old chap,” Jamison said. “My first priority was to protect Count Hayashi. You are, after all, merely a viscount, and England already has a surfeit of them.”

      
“But only one Texas viscount,” Josh countered as he recovered his Colt from where it lay hidden in the brush and motioned for Valerian to stand. “That ought to mean somethin’.”

      
“We have a saying in jolly old England. A viscount by any other name is still a viscount,” Michael replied cheerily as they herded their prisoners down the slope.

      
“Will Shakespeare was talking about roses,” Josh groused.

      
Ignoring the gibe, Jamison looked around. “Where the deuce are our agents? The place should be swarming with them in response to those shots.”

      
“It's a large park, and I arranged for one of my servants to take them on a bit of a wild goose chase, I believe you English call it,” Nikolai Zarenko said conversationally as he stepped into their pathway with a pistol. When Josh and Michael started to turn their guns toward him, he added, “I would not advise shooting me, else Yuri will be forced to break Miss Edgewater's interfering neck.”

      
Josh swore as a bear of a man appeared beside him carrying an unconscious Sabrina in his arms. “If you've hurt her—”

      
“Not yet. But I would advise you to drop your weapons, lest she come to a swift and ugly end.”

      
“You have no hope whatever of escaping, Zarenko. Give yourself up, and your diplomatic immunity will see you safely back to Mother Russia,” Jamison said coolly.

      
“Forgive me if I place little faith in your government’s ‘immunity’ ” Alexi wheezed, struggling to stand upright as he broke free of Michael's hold.