The Golden Flask (53 page)

* * *

"It was some manner of rebel plot," Clayton Bauer
told his brother-in-law as he was helped to the couch.
"They were trying to get information from me on Sir
William's plans. At least I believe that is what they
were doing. I told them he was going to Boston." He
managed a wry smile as he sat down. "The idiot has probably changed his mind several times now, and re
versed course from Philadelphia, so lord knows I may
have told them the truth.” He noticed Egans. “Who the hell are you?"

Bauer jumped upwards, still struggling with the ef
fects of the drugs. Bebeef s sleeping powder had a
nasty habit of leaving the joints knotted with pain for
several hours after the primary effect had worn off.

Egans did not react.

"He's a messenger from Burgoyne," said Lord Wil
liam.

"Gentleman Johnny is using clowns?"

"My name is Egans," the white Oneida said. "I was told to extend the general's personal regards before
reporting to General Clinton."

"What the hell would you be told that for?"

"I am not in the habit of questioning my orders," said Egans. "If you wish me to leave, I shall."

"No, I do not wish you to leave," said Clayton, who waved off his brother's attempts to pull him back to the couch. "I want you to explain who the hell you are, and
what you are doing here. The last time I saw Burgoyne
I promised to see him in hell for his slander. He would no more extend me greetings than he would address a
horse in the street."

* * *

Jake nearly screamed with the pain as Lady Patricia
clamped her teeth on his fingers. He caught her as she
tried to squirm away and pulled her back, hesitating to
punch her but finally seeing no choice.

Just as his fist found the side of her head, a dark
brown figure rushed through the door and flew at his
back, snarling and barking. The mastiff that had once guarded him on the beach now sent him flying forward
on the bed; Jake reached for his Segallas in his belt but lost his balance and fell over as the animal slashed its teeth into his side.

For nearly a full minute he fought the dog with his bare hands, wrestling desperately to keep its mouth from his throat. Finally he managed to fall to the side and roll to his stomach, his back and coat offering some protection from the angry beast's slashes.

Jake found the handle of the knife and pulled it from his boot, but dropped the blade as the mastiff slashed at his arm. He rolled over the knife and had to fight to his knees, the dog pulling viciously at his clothes before the spy finally managed to grab the weapon again. A sharp plunge with the blade into the animal's stomach drained the fight from it; he finished the job quickly by slitting upwards, all the way to its throat.

He rose to find a servant at the door holding a pistol on him.

* * *

"I have told you who I am," Egans said coldly. "If there is ill blood between you and my superior, it is none of my concern. I will take my leave. I am already several days late."

"Stop, Indian, or whatever you are," Bauer reached for the side of the couch. He didn't do so to steady himself. Ripping away the cloth, he retrieved a loaded pistol and pointed it at Egans.

"George, what the hell is going on with that dog!" Bauer yelled before turning to the sailor who had helped bring him into the house. "Get the guards from outside and have him arrested," he ordered. "Move, man, before I have you thrown in chains as well."

The sailor quickly headed for the door.

* * *

"Drop the knife, I say."

"Come now," Jake told the servant. "You're not going to shoot me for a brief indiscretion."

"Drop it or you're as good as dead."

Jake complied as the man steadied his aim. He was
holding the pistol with more confidence than David
displayed toward his slingshot.

"What have you done to her ladyship?"

"Just put her to sleep." Jake took a stagey glance
toward the bed, but George was too smart to allow him
an opening. He circled around to the other side, out of
reach for a lunge.

Jake's blow had sent her slumbering, but otherwise
left her unharmed. The servant placed his hand briefly at Lady Patricia's mouth to make sure she was still
breathing.

There was barely six feet separating them. Still, it would take more than Jake's normal dose of good luck
to keep from getting a gut's worth of trouble if he dove
for the pistol. Nor did a plunge through the door into the house seem like a good option.

The Segallas was still in his belt, tucked beneath his
coat. He tried to ease his hands down where he might
grab it, but the servant returned his attention to him.

"Keep your hands up and walk through the door."

"And what if I don't feel in the mood for a stroll?"
asked Jake.

"Then I will kill you here and not bother cluttering the courts."

* * *

Egans's face betrayed no emotion. He knew the "sailor" would soon return with either some story or
his weapon drawn, or both. He already had the infor
mation he had come for; all he need do now was wait.

That he could do for a long time, as difficult as it was
to stomach the stench of the cowardly Englishmen. If
duty had not required his returning with the informa
tion Jake Gibbs and his friend the Dutchman sought,
Egans would surely have attempted killing them all with his bare hands. In such a way, he decided, his
mistakes would begin to be corrected, blood for blood.

"You are not a native," said Bauer. "Why are you
dressed that way?"

Egans did not answer.

"Speak, you race turncoat. Speak. That is an order." Bauer waved the gun in his face.

"I was born white and adopted. I am an Oneida and a member of the bear clan. No one can steal that identity from me, for it has been sealed with blood."

"White blood, I would bet," said Clayton. "Your soul has been poisoned by the pagans."

Egans had many rejoinders, but offered none.

"Really, Clayton," said Lord William. "I think you should let the soldiers handle this. You are weak from your ordeal."

"He is undoubtedly another spy!"

"He showed papers."

"Easily forged. I should kill him now."

"I don't think that would be wise," said the sailor, returning from outside. A Southerner caught in the city when the British invaded, James Dewey had joined in several clandestine operations against the British during his sojourn. Baffled by his compatriots' disappearance from outside, he'd decided retreat was now in order, and had produced a gun from under his billowing shirt to effect it. "Put down your pistol."

Bauer shook his head. "I believe we have a standoff."

"Not in the least." Dewey had been told by Daltoons that Jake would be inside the house, and so endeavored to tip the balance by calling him out.

"I'm here," announced Jake, answering his call as he appeared beneath the arch leading to the hallway. "But not alone."

The servant stood behind him, pistol poking into his ribs.

Chapter Forty-five

Wherein, a lesson in ciphers is well-learned, but does not prevent dire consequences.

D
ewey had always prided
himself on his ability at arithmetic, and fully realized that the patriot forces were currently one weapon short. Still, by his reckoning there was no immediate need to comply with Clayton Bauer’s demand that he put down his gun.
He was confident that the men who were supposed to be posted outside would eventually reinforce him.

“
I can kill you as soon as you fire. And I will,” he told Bauer.

"Brave words, rebel," said Bauer. "Bring him over
there, George. Where's my sister?"

"Oh my God," said Lord William. He took a tenta
tive step for the door, but the sailor's voice caught him.

"Move, and your brother will die."

"She's all right, m'lord," said the servant. "I caught this one before he could harm her."

"Your wife is sleeping," Jake told Lord William. "I
found it necessary to give her a blow to the head, but
there should be no permanent damage. At least she will stay out of the line of fire."

"My guards will be on you in a minute," promised
Clayton.

"We have replaced your guards," said Jake. "Our men are just now disposing of them. Your best course is to surrender; we will spare your lives."

"I hardly expect, much less would I even accept, mercy from a rebel."

Jake shrugged and continued to survey the room for some implement or distraction that would change the precarious equation.

Egans made the first move. He had his eyes trained on Jake's guard, and when the servant began moving toward the window to see where the shots were coming from, he crashed against Clayton Bauer with the force of an angry bear. Bauer's bullet flew into the ceiling — but only after it punched a wide hole in Egans's bare chest.

Jake dove to the ground as the servant and sailor shot at each other, the servant's bullet crashing straight through the sailor's heart, killing him instantly. Dewey's aim was just as true, for in that same moment his bullet flew into his enemy's mouth, exploding with gore through the back of his head.

Jake jumped to his feet, Segallas in hand. He grabbed Lord William and fired a single shot directly into his temple. The bullet was too small to kill him instantly, and so the nobleman slumped to the floor, leaving his life to ebb slowly from him.

The patriot spy turned and found Bauer descending on him, wielding his pistol like a hatchet. Jake took a blow at the side of the neck as he shot the Segallas point blank into the Tory's shoulder.

The blow stung Bauer back to the couch.

"Where is Howe going?" Jake demanded, flipping the barrel mechanism around so two fresh bullets were ready to fire.

"Never," promised Bauer. He threw his gun at Jake, who ducked instinctively, choosing not to fire. If he did not succeed in getting Howe's destination, all of these deaths, and his entire mission, would be in vain.