Authors: Geoffrey Knight

Tags: #Mystery, #Suspense, #Adventure, #Gay

The Curse of the Dragon God (27 page)

BOOK: The Curse of the Dragon God

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Like a handyman’s toolshed, the car was adorned with the tools of the doctor’s trade. A dozen or more large instruments were now hanging from hooks where centuries-old works of Chinese art had, until an hour or so ago, been hanging.

Spread-eagled on the bed, completely naked and face up, his wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts, was an unconscious Luca, the most beautiful specimen Doctor Cyclops had ever laid his eye on, at least on the outside; he suspected the inside was even more heavenly.

On the bedspread between Luca’s bare legs were several syringes of different sizes filled with different colored fluids: blood thinners, pain killers, numbing agents, all to keep the victim alive and conscious so the doctor could extend the torture for as long as possible.

The one-eyed drunk was holding a syringe in his shaky hand, squirting a jet or two of liquid into the air, when Chad entered the room.

“What the fuck are you doing, you goddamn psycho!”

Doctor Cyclops turned sharply, surprised but not enough to lose the grin. “I’m going to take his life from him. Inch by beautiful inch. I’m going to find out what’s underneath.”

“Jesus Christ! Who else is here? How many of them followed you here?”

“Just him.” Cyclops said, shrugging unconvincingly.

Chad fumed. “Kill him. Kill him now and be done with it! There’s too much at stake now, there’re already too many loose ends!”

“Let me have this one, just this one. He’s so—” a foamy trickle slipped from the doctor’s cracked bottom lip “—perfect. Keep your money, you don’t have to pay me. All I want is—”

“I said kill him now! Before he wakes up, dammit!”

As Chad pushed his way through the door leading out of the bedroom and stormed across the walkway back to the exhibition carriage, he heard the
choof
of the engine. Looking up, he saw the first cloud of steam fill the night sky.

Then a lurch. Then another loud
choof!
The wheels of the train began to grind against the tracks, rolling slowly at first, then building up momentum with every huff of the steam engine.

Automatically the gates of the compound opened to release the train, and despite his rage and frustration at Doctor Cyclops, Chad couldn’t help but smile, knowing that the train’s return trip to Beijing would end in one of history’s greatest catastrophes.

A chuckle escaped him as he entered the exhibition carriage.

Mya, her gun still trained on Will and Bradley, turned to him.

“We’re on our way,” Chad said with a grin. “I think it’s safe to reunite these two with the Professor and Sen now. I’m looking forward to this.”

XVIII

The Mountains of Shandong Province, China

THE TRAIN BILLOWED CLOUDS OF STEAM, WHITE-RIMMED in the light of the moon, as it powered its way up through the mountains, leaving the glow of Beijing far behind. As the locomotive curved and climbed higher and higher, the temperature dropped lower and lower.

In the engine compartment, however, Xi had worked up a sweat. He climbed on top of the mountain of coal and dug his shovel into the black nuggets, scooping a load into the basket.

Beneath the coal, something shifted. But the blanket of coal was so black, Xi didn’t notice.

Buried as deep as they could manage in their haste to hide, Jake and Shane tried desperately to move their legs to avoid Xi’s stabbing spade. They had trouble breathing, the coal dust thick in their lungs, but as Xi dug deeper into the mound, the greater danger came not from suffocating but from losing a limb to Xi’s shovel and being discovered. Xi had a weapon already in hand. Jake and Shane were unarmed. Right now, remaining undetected was their best chance of staying alive and trying to rescue the others.

Crunch!
The shovel’s blade missed Shane’s foot by an inch.

Stab!
Jake forced his leg a fraction to the left and barely missed having his thigh severed.

Slice!
Shane bunched up his fingers and managed to keep them.

Then the coal basket was full. Leaving a black smear across his sweaty forehead, Xi wiped his brow, threw the shovel on top of the basket, and picked up his coal before laboring with it back to the locomotive’s engine.

Through the coal heap, a single sooty finger appeared, pushing the loose nuggets aside before a blackened face broke the surface, gasping for air. A second charcoal-covered face burst free next to the first. Jake and Shane pulled their arms loose and wiped desperately at their eyes, taking in lungfuls of frigid mountain air.

“You okay?” Jake asked.

Shane nodded. “You?”

“Yeah.” Jake was already taking in their surroundings. Ahead of them he could see the raging furnace and the silhouette of Xi in front of it, tirelessly fueling the fire. Above, the trail of steam clouds puffed into the night. Beside the tracks, excited villagers and their children ran to see the train, carrying lanterns and waving, thrilled at the rare sight of a train passing through the night.

“Look at them,” Shane said. “They have no idea what’s about to happen. We have to find that bomb.”

He began digging himself out of the coal, but Jake held him back. “Not yet. We’re outnumbered.”

“We can take him,” Shane said, gesturing to Xi.

“Then what? We try to take control of the train and risk everyone’s life? That’s not a plan.”

Shane shook his head. “Since when does Jake Stone care about plans? I thought you were supposed to be the reckless one.”

He tried to pull away, but Jake grabbed Shane even harder, his voice burdened with guilt and regret and responsibility. “That was before Eden ended up in a coma.”

Shane stopped pulling.

Even before he opened his eyes, Luca could feel the tickling sensation running up his side. He groaned groggily and tried to open his eyes, but his lids were made of lead. When he did manage to open them slightly, his sight was smeared.

Then a figure moved across his field of vision.

Despite the tickling on Luca’s side, it was the blurred, giggling figure in front of him that triggered an alarm inside Luca’s brain. Suddenly he forced his eyes wide open, trying to snap his arms and legs into motion. But his limbs simply tugged against their ropes.

His vision cleared and he realized quickly he was a captive and naked.

Strapped to a bed at the mercy of a spidery man with a patch over one eye and a broken-piano-key grin.

Luca felt the rock and pitch of the car now and realized the train was moving. “Where are we going? What are you doing?” he spat through clenched teeth, his Italian accent strong in his panic.

Doctor Cyclops chuckled excitedly. “I’m going to cut you open.” The doctor buzzed. “I want to see how perfect you are. Outside…and in.” He held up a leaky fountain pen, his fingers dripping with black ink. Luca glanced down over his naked body and saw intricate dissection marks crisscrossing his entire frame, as though the young model’s body had been turned into a crazed work of art. He pulled at his ropes even harder, straining, trying in vain to work himself free. “You’re the one who cut open the Professor, aren’t you. Is he alive?”

“Oh, yes,” the doctor answered, concentrating on his drawing once more. “But not for much longer. You, on the other hand, I intend to keep alive for as long as possible. I’ll take my time. I’ll make every incision slow. I’ll lift and fold your skin like silk. And I’ll let you watch it all.”

In his excitement he pressed too hard on the pen and the sharp nib broke, puncturing Luca’s torso. The young Italian winced as ink and blood ran down his side. Doctor Cyclops panted with delight. “You’ll see just how pretty pain can be.”

They were seated in a semicircle in the master carriage, tied to armchairs—Will, Bradley, Sen, and the Professor. Mya stood before them, gun still in hand. Richard was admiring the bronze, life-sized statue of Sen and the nameless mine worker. “Immortality,” he mused. “Nice to know it’s one of the things money can still buy.”

He wandered over to one of the plush Parisian lounges, sat down, and pulled the curtain aside to peer at his own image in the glass. He caught sight of conditions outside. “It’s started snowing. Rather fiercely too. It’ll be cold at the mines.”

“Only for a short while,” Chad said, walking over to the desk, opening the top drawer, and pulling out a gun for himself. “I’m sure the zidium will warm things up.”

“You’ll end up killing yourselves,” the Professor cautioned. “You can’t expect to dabble with this sort of danger without ramifications.” He flinched then as a sharp pain shot through him.

“Professor, are you all right?” Will struggled against his ropes, then turned angrily to Chad. “He’s losing too much blood. Let me check his wounds.”

Chad stepped up to the Professor and looked down into the old man’s blind eyes. His eyelids were heavy, his head rolling from one side to the other. The carpet had grown sticky and squishy with blood under Chad’s Italian shoes.

“I’m not touching him. And I’m not carrying a corpse all the way down to the mines,” Richard muttered from his seat on the lounge.

Chad drew an agitated breath. “Shut up!”

“Dammit, let me help him!” Will shouted.

“No!” Chad shouted back. He looked from Will to Bradley and said, “
He
can do it.” Chad glanced at Mya, and a sharp nod of his head told her to untie Bradley’s hands.

She did so, then stood behind Bradley with her diamond-handled gun trained on the back of his head as he knelt before the Professor, one knee in the pool of blood, gently unbuttoning the Professor’s shirt to reveal the filthy, hastily applied bandages around the old man’s torso.

Chad stepped back, moving behind Sen.

Richard grimaced from his place on the lounge, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as though he might be sick.

Mya pressed the snout of her gun against the back of Bradley’s head impatiently. “Check him. Make it quick.”

Bradley looked at the Professor’s face apologetically and said softly, “This might hurt.” Then tenderly he touched his fingers to the bloodiest of the old man’s wounds. The bandage taped to the Professor’s abdomen made a sucking sound as Bradley peeled it away. A gush of blood flowed from the sticky wound.

“The stitches have all come loose,” Bradley said urgently. “He needs help.”

Chad groaned with annoyance and looked at Richard. “Go get that fucking psycho of a doctor. He’s in the bedroom carriage. Tell him he needs to do his job. Properly, for once.” Then he muttered, “And for the last time.”

Richard grumbled, then agreed reluctantly and exited the car.

As the door shut behind him, Bradley shot a look at Will, who returned the same look. A look that said,
I’m game if you are. Now’s our chance.

Mya had the gun against Bradley’s head. Will knew he needed to somehow get that gun pointed somewhere else. He needed to distract her, enough for Bradley to try to make a move. Will’s hands were tied to the arms of the chair. But his feet weren’t.

Slowly he began to inch his boots across the carpet toward Mya’s high spiked heels. His intention was to get close enough to try to trip her up, but Mya was no fool. She spotted him out of the corner of her eye and quickly veered the gun toward him, pointing straight at his crotch.

“One more inch and I’ll put a bullet right between your—”

But before she could finish, Bradley’s strong skater’s legs launched him backward, onto his feet. He jerked his head back and the top of his skull butted Mya square in the forehead.

The gun went off.

Will’s legs spread wide, his body shifting back in the chair as far as he could as the bullet split the upholstery, missing his crotch by a millimeter.

Bradley spun on Mya, snatching the gun clean out of her hand, then twisting around behind her and using her as a shield, jamming the pistol into her temple.

“Let us all go or I’ll kill her,” he demanded, immediately facing off opposite Chad.

But Chad had already made his own move. Standing behind Sen, he seized the old man in headlock, lifted him out of his chair as high as his ropes would allow, and pointed his own pistol at the crown of Sen’s skull. “Go ahead. Kill her. Kill her and your uncle dies too.”

“I mean it!” Bradley shouted, cocking the pistol’s hammer, looking on desperately as Sen struggled.

Chad laughed. “Don’t be stupid. Are you really willing to sacrifice your own uncle? Now, drop the gun!”

“Don’t do it,” came the groggy voice of the Professor. All eyes turned to him as he sat up as best he could, straightening his head, his blind eyes pointed toward the sound of Bradley’s voice. “Don’t do it,” he repeated. “Don’t let go of the gun.”

Bradley looked at him, stunned. Mya wrestled in his arms. Bradley tightened his grip on her and on the pistol. “But my uncle—”

“Trust me,” the Professor said. “Don’t surrender the weapon.”

BOOK: The Curse of the Dragon God

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