Authors: T. Davis Bunn
“I'm sure Hodgewell will recover from the disappointment. Only do stop by and let me know what develops, won't you?”
Despite her age and size, Lavinia set a pace that had the men scrambling to keep up. As they left Main Street for smaller byways, Jake asked, “Should we stop off for reinforcements?”
“Time for that later,” Commander Teaves replied. “Let's check this out for ourselves, make sure there's something to the rumor.”
“No rumor,” Lavinia huffed, and picked up the pace even further. She wore a flat, black reed hat held in place with a pair of enormous pins. Black lacquered cherries trembled with each substantial step. She gripped an enormous shiny black purse with both hands, holding it defiantly before her body like a battering ram. “No rumor. Is truth.”
Teaves lowered his voice and finished, “Bingham is not the kind of man you want to bother with too many false alarms.”
Their way took them ever farther from the prosperous central districts. They passed through a market square fronting two older residential areas. The buildings were seedy and sagging, with rusting ironwork and facades shedding paint. Yet the brisk sea air and bright sunlight graced the entire area with a cheerful, picturesque charm.
People used the most remarkable contraptions as vehicles. Bicycles had grown homemade side trolleys and rear carts. Reinforced baby strollers served as all-purpose carriers. Horse-drawn hay wagons did duty as city buses.
There were smiles. Hunger, yes. Hardship, certainly. Pain was etched deep into some of the faces. Yet everywhere there were smiles. Jake found himself searching them out, hungering for the sense of being around people who dared to be happy.
Their way took them directly beneath the Rock. The gray behemoth dominated the horizon, rising from rich, verdant growth at its base to stand exposed and proud, splitting the sky, defying the elements as it had through the ages. There
at the base, ancient homes bordering the untamed parkland bore evidence of a grander age.
The road took a final sharp turning, from which they could see lines of newer military warehouses flanking what appeared to be a great hole carved into the mountainside.
Lavinia halted just beyond the turning and pointed to one of the old houses. “There. Go there.”
Harry Teaves grunted at the sight of a mass of men milling about the dusty front yard. “What is that, our welcoming committee?”
“Don't know. Cousin and friends maybe. You go. I have work.” With that Lavinia settled her hat more firmly into place, wheeled about, and stumped off.
“Some of them have clubs,” Pierre said doubtfully.
“Maybe there's been some mistake,” Jake suggested.
Teaves took a tentative step backward. “Why don't we justâ”
But someone in the group spotted them, and with a great shout a number of men peeled off and hustled over. “Too late,” Jake said.
A crowd of angry, shouting men raced up and surrounded them. All were hard-faced working people, grizzled and unshaven, with sleeves rolled up to reveal arms knotted from lifetimes of hard work. Most waved clubs overhead. The weapons were long and polished and black and dangerous. The three officers eased into a tight cluster, standing back-to-back, and waited.
A broad little bantam of a man pushed his way through and shouted the crowd to silence. He then turned to the trio, his chest puffed out with importance. “You friends of Señora Haskeens?”
“That depends,” Jake replied.
“Yes, yes,” Teaves countered energetically. “Bosom buddies. Known her for ages.”
“Good. You seek two men, yes?”
“That's right.”
The little man spun around. “You come.”
Encircled by the group of muttering men, Jake and the others were ushered back to the ancient sagging house. More men massed upon the broad veranda, filled the doorway, spilled up the sweeping interior stairs. Through vast windows, Jake could see that the ground floor was a single open room. Tables and chairs had been plucked aside and heaped in various corners.
The little bantam wore a great fuzz of curling reddish-gray hair that shook about as he cocked his head and announced, “I am Fernando. This my restaurant. Upstairs have rooms. Two men, they stay three, maybe four weeks. You understand?”
“Loud and clear,” Teaves replied, giving another glance at the mass of clubs and the angry, eager fists clutching them. “Whatever you say.”
The little man shouted and gestured. A canvas sack was passed from hand to hand and deposited at their feet. The sack was covered with dirt and leaves.
“My son find this under my house,” Fernando said, his neck growing as red as his hair. He stooped down, released the leather catch. Flinging open the sack, he revealed three machine guns, extra clips, two revolvers, boxes of ammunition, and several sticks of dynamite.
“Bingo,” Jake said.
“
My
son find under
my
house,” the little man cried, almost dancing with rage.
Teaves had a battle-hard glint in his eyes as he said to Pierre, “Before we turn this over to the authorities, I would imagine you might have a couple of questions you'd like to ask.”
“One or two,” Pierre growled, his eyes still on the sack.
“Yes, yes,” Fernando agreed. “First questions, then police.”
“A man after my own heart,” Teaves said. “I take it the prey are upstairs.”
The little man bobbed affirmative. “Trapped in room. My friends and I, we have plan. You come?”
“No lynching allowed,” Teaves warned.
Fernando frowned.
“Qué?
”
“We want to deliver these men to the police intact,” Teaves explained. “Not in separate little bits and pieces.”
“Yes, yes, understand,” the little man said impatiently. “You come?”
They exchanged glances. Jake asked, “What choice do we have?”
“As long as I get my answers,” Pierre grated, “I will go to the ends of the earth.”
“Not so far,” Fernando said, his grin exposing discolored teeth. “Okay, we begin.”
A narrow way opened for them through the men thronging the stairs and the second-floor hallway. At the hall's far end a door stood open. Passing through it, they saw more armed men lining the room. Seated on the floor in the center were two very disgruntled men in T-shirts and skivvies. Both men had their wrists and ankles firmly tied.
“Catch while asleep,” Fernando announced proudly.
Both men had the leathery complexion of those hardened by long marches under desert skies. Blue eyes attested to non-Arab blood. The younger of the pair bore a knife scar that traced its way from temple to collarbone, just missing the left eye. It gave his fierce expression an even more sinister cast.
The elder was nursing his hands close to his chest. He looked up at the sound of Fernando's words, glanced at the trio filling the doorway, spotted Pierre, and emitted an involuntary gasp.
“It's them,” Pierre cried exultantly. “They recognize me.”
“Find more guns under beds,” Fernando said, pointing to yet another pair of revolvers. “One man try to shoot, but my brother, he move very fast.”
A burly man standing over the pair hefted his club and gave them a proud gap-toothed smile.
“Bet that hurt,” Jake said conversationally, then turned
to Pierre. “You realize these guys are not going to be very helpful.”
“With time they will,” Pierre replied grimly.
“No time, no time,” Fernando said impatiently. “Police must be called, yes? We learn what we need now.”
“Just exactly what do you have in mind?” Teaves asked.
“You see.” He motioned at the men and spoke a torrent of Spanish. Immediately the room was filled with a hungry roar.
The pair of prisoners showed wide-eyed alarm as arms hefted them aloft and carried them from the room. The noise was picked up by the men crowding the hall and the stairs and the veranda as the procession made its way down and out of the house. The prisoners struggled, but were held fast by more hands than there was flesh to hold.
As Jake was carried along by the fierce horde, he said to Pierre, “I hope they leave enough for you to ask questions to.”
From Pierre's other side, Teaves shouted back, “You think you can stop them, be my guest.”
The throng made its way around the house and entered the vast, overgrown stretch bordering the Rock. Their own shouts were soon joined by barking cries emitted from the surrounding growth. Jake shot wide questioning eyes to Teaves, who shouted, “Barbary apes. They live here.”
For some reason, the chattering screeches raised the crowd's excitement to a fever pitch. The prisoners were hefted up higher, and those arms that could not reach the men lifted a forest of black clubs. A few men slowed and lit fire-blackened lanterns.
A jink in the path revealed a mammoth opening at the base of the Rock. As the men started in, Teaves said, “There are over thirty miles of tunnels carved into the Rock. Hospitals, kitchens, barracks, weapons stores, you name it. There's place here for keeping an army of four thousand men.”
The short tunnel emptied into a vast cave. The roof was so high that in the glint of feeble lanterns it was lost to shadows. Stalactites broader than a man hung down in grand natural
splendor. The ground was a soft sandy shale, littered with refuse and animal droppings. The odor was fierce.
The men crowded about a pair of metal frames. Jake stepped closer and saw they were white hospital beds, minus their mattresses. The prisoners struggled frantically, but powerful hands held them fast as their ropes were untied. The prisoners were then laced spread-eagled to the bed frames. Each rope was tested carefully a dozen times; then Fernando straightened and motioned. Gradually the hubbub settled into silence. He gestured toward the trio. “You speak now.”
Teaves stepped forward. “Do you two understand English?”
There was no reply.
He made a broad gesture, taking in the tightly packed horde of armed and scowling men. “I don't know exactly what they've got in store for you, but I think we can all assume it's not going to be pleasant. So why don't you do us all a favor, answer this man's questions, and we'll ship you off to a nice, safe, comfortable cell.”
The scar-faced man spit in Teaves' direction. Pierre stepped forward and barked a command down at the prisoners in French. They glowered and remained silent. Again he tried, and received the same response as Teaves'.
Fernando stepped forward, as puffed-up as an actor on the stage. “Is enough, yes? You wait, we get answers.”
“That's very kind of you,” Teaves said, showing a moment's squeamishness. “But to be honest, perhaps this is a matter for the police.”
“No, no, no police,” Fernando said impatiently, pushing the officers back. “Not now. Later, but not now. Now we get you answers.” He grinned fiercely. “And payment for room, yes?”
“I'm not sure I want to watch this,” Jake said quietly.
“You go stand there,” the little man said, directing them to where many of the others were already headed. “Now.”
Reluctantly they allowed themselves to be led into the shadows. As their eyes adjusted, they saw that the other men were climbing up a series of narrow steps and crowding into broad
alcoves carved from the walls of the cave. Room was made for them at the front of one alcove. They stood on the edge and looked out to where the two men lay tied. The last man to retreat from the cave floor was Fernando. He took a sack from his brother, then stooped and slid several objects under each bed. Then he ran over and joined the others in the alcoves.
The cave grew quieter still, until the only noise was the squeaking frames as the prisoners tried to free themselves.
Faintly at first, and then more clearly, Jake heard a series of loud, barking cries. Yes, he was certain now. The cries were growing closer, close enough to echo about the vast cave.
The prisoners stopped their struggles for a moment, their faces turned toward the opening through which they had been carried.
Suddenly Fernando's brother came racing into the cave, screaming at the top of his lungs, his eyes almost popping from his skull. In his panic he lost his footing and sprawled face first into the sand. But before he was completely down, his legs were already churning him back upright. Spitting sand and howling with fright, he raced past the beds and out of sight.
Then the first apes appeared.
They loped forward on arms longer than a man's. Their great reddish-blond manes flowed back and forth as they raced into the caves. Their barking cries filled the air as more and more emerged through the tunnel.
The prisoners emitted their first sounds since capture, shouting with fear and struggling madly against the frames.
Their voices rose several octaves as the first apes loped over to stand above them and grin with long, fiercely yellow teeth.
One of the apes grabbed the arm of the younger man. Jake flinched at the sight and saw Pierre blanch as the prisoner screamed with terror. Jake started down, not sure what he could do by himself, but knowing he could not stand and watch this happen. Half a dozen hands grasped and held him.
He turned and stopped his struggling. The men surrounding him were grinning.
Grinning
.
The apes circled the pair of beds, barking their great cries and rummaging about, using the frames as jumping platforms. The two prisoners, although hidden from view, were shouting at the top of their voices.
A chuckle rose from several of the men near Jake.
One ape clambered up onto the head-frame, bent his head far over, and barked down at the prisoner. The prisoner replied with a howl of his own. The chuckles took on strength. Pierre looked a question in Jake's direction. He could only shrug in reply.
Someone jabbed Jake in the back. He turned, saw a man gesture with his chin. Go ahead. He caught Pierre with an elbow, said, “Try your questions now.”