The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (41 page)

“Colonel, I must say that this may have been a bad decision on your part,” Jackson said as he too saw that this was not going to end well.

“Now, now, we do not want any bloodshed,” the sultan said, but all could see his smiling, excited eyes as Jessy came within inches of being decapitated.

Taylor felt the wind rush past his face and he figured this had gone on for far too long. He waited for the giant to recover and then stepped to the middle of the hall once more. Again the drums started beating and everyone knew this was no demonstration—the Europeans were making a point. This time there was no smile or polite nod of the head. Jessy opened up with sword at his side, inviting the bear-sized man to attack. He did. With sword raised high he came on. Women screamed, men readied themselves, and John Henry smiled.

The giant felt the American’s much smaller sword glance off his large Saracen blade. The
ting
was loud as Jessy countered once again. The noise was tremendous, and most wondered why the American’s blade didn’t break. But Jessy countered again and again. He stepped lightly around the large man, slapping him again and again on his backside. The Immortal was becoming furious at his embarrassment and that was just what Jessy wanted. Again a lunge, again another quick move to the right, and then the sword slap. Once more the lunge, once more the dodge and slap. The crowd was now beginning to laugh as if this had all been choreographed. Taylor was like a matador from Spain dodging a furiously charging bull in the ring. Finally the giant of a man lost it and charged with sword held high again. One final time Jessy let him come on. He was now tired of the game and as the blade started down once more, Taylor fell to the floor, kicked out, and caught the Turk in the left shin. The man tripped and went flying into the large buffet table, knocking more than a few British and French delegates over.

The crowd went wild with laughter. That was until Jessy approached the struggling man. He turned, bowed to the sultan, who was still smiling, and then quickly raised his sword before anyone could say anything.

“Jessy, no!” John Henry yelled as the others gasped just as the sword came down.

The guests saw the blade descend and the legs of the Immortal go stiff. Several of the gentler women swooned and fell into the arms of their escorts while the rest just stared wide-eyed. Thomas felt his shoulders slump as he did not have to picture what the Wilkinson sword had just done to the Immortal. He had seen Confederate handiwork with a blade before and he knew it not to be a pretty sight.

Then he heard the gathered guests laughing and applauding as Jessy slowly brought the sword up. On the very tip was a melon that Taylor tossed high into the air, and then before it completed its arc he sliced it in two before both halves landed on either side of the head of the prone and embarrassed, but alive, Immortal.

John Henry took a deep breath as the crowd continued to applaud Taylor for his chivalry in the face of an out-of-control opponent. Taylor turned and faced the throne and a cowed sultan. Finally the monarch looked around and saw all eyes were on him. He half-smiled and then stood and also started to add his congratulations to the American. Jessy bowed, leaned over, and wiped off the blade of his sword on the Immortal’s backside, and then slammed the sword into its sheath. He turned and made his way back to the group of pleased Americans. Jackson was smiling and nodding his head. Claire was aghast and McDonald shocked at what had just transpired. John Henry only raised his brows at a smiling Jessy.

“A truly gifted swordsman,” the sultan said loudly as he waved men and women to silence. “You have my deepest apologies for the overzealous nature of my guard. Immortals are taught to control their attacks. He will be punished, I assure you.”

Taylor watched as the giant was led away by two of his compatriots. Taylor looked at the sultan with as much distaste as he could muster. He nodded and then stepped away before he said something that would make the giant’s attack seem feeble by comparison.

“I think that’s just about enough entertainment for this evening,” John Henry said.

“You know that wasn’t the sultan’s little idea,” Jessy said as he removed a half-full glass of wine from an undamaged table and drank deeply.

“No, but it was his way of letting us know that he is watching our little group.” John Henry looked up and smiled at the sultan, who seemed to have regained most of his color after the humiliation of his Immortal.

“Surely you cannot still insist this mission go forward?” McDonald asked, as he had been shocked beyond measure at how easily the American had disposed of the Turk.

“What has changed?” John Henry asked, watching the French contingent as they made their way toward the front of the hall. The French spy Renaud was with them, and every few seconds he would look behind him at the Americans with hatred etching his features.

Thomas nodded at the retreating contingent of Europe’s finest. “They’re who we have to worry about for the time being. The sultan may eventually catch on, but by then hopefully we will have accomplished what it is we came here to do. It will take a while for our European friends to convince him to expose himself to embarrassment again. But yes, Mr. McDonald, they will eventually come to stop us.” John Henry turned to the false instructor of antiquity. “So I hope you are good at what you do, sir, because we have far less time than I had anticipated.”

“Perhaps we can make our apologies and get the hell out of here. I doubt if the rest of those Immortals are too much pleased at having Colonel Taylor make their man look like an amateur,” Jackson said.

“I made up that little bit right at the end there. Did you like it?” Taylor asked as a way of teasing both Claire and John Henry.

“Just as much as those angry Immortals who can’t seem to look away from you,” Claire retorted as Taylor noticed for the first time the number of enemies he had just made.

“I agree. Maybe now is a good time to catch that ferry to the eastern shores.”

As the Americans started to move off to offer their thanks and good-byes, Thomas shook his head as he looked over at Jessy.

“Why do you look so pleased?” Taylor asked.

“Nothing in particular, Colonel. It was just nice to see a Reb humiliate someone not in a blue uniform for a change.”

Taylor couldn’t help it. He smiled for the first time in days.

14

Lieutenant Parnell looked at the small pocketwatch once more. He saw the time was ten minutes after eleven before closing the cover and replacing it in his uniform jacket. He turned to face the
Yorktown
’s first officer.

“What time was the last departure of the ferry from the capital?”

“If they are not on the next boat, they won’t be here tonight,” the first officer said as he turned back to continue the off-loading of the expedition’s supplies.

“Great,” the marine officer mumbled under his breath.

“Any word yet?”

Parnell turned and saw Professor Ollafson as he too was looking at a pocketwatch.

“Professor, why don’t you go and wait inside the station? It may be a while until the supplies are off-loaded to the train.”

“Sitting drives me insane,” the old man said as he again looked at his watch. He glanced up at the spit-polished Parnell and knew he would get no sympathy from a boy like him. “I wish I had the patience of that Indian boy. Look at him,” he said as he brought Parnell’s attention to the last railcar in line before the caboose. Perched on the roof of the car was none other than Gray Dog, who had been there since they had off-loaded from the
Yorktown
, which was quickly preparing to head back to open water where she would wait to transit the Bosphorus Strait into the Black Sea to join the
Chesapeake
.

“Well, can’t say as I blame him much,” Parnell answered before yelling an order at a sailor for mishandling a box of concealed weapons disguised at surveying equipment. “After all, all the Rebel prisoners and not just a few of the naval and marine personnel think he’s responsible for the three murders. I think he feels comfortable by himself until the colonel returns.”

“What do you think?” Ollafson asked as he continued to look up at Gray Dog, who sat silently and watched the night.

Parnell looked down at the much-smaller professor. “Well, for me it’s simple power of deduction, the same deduction and conclusions that both Colonel Thomas and Captain Jackson came up with.”

“And that deduction is?” the small man born in Scandia asked as he once more removed his eyes from the strange Comanche only to pull his pocketwatch out of his vest once more to check the time.

“I find it a little difficult to believe that anyone, much less a savage, even one as resourceful as Mr. Dog up there, could enter a locked cell without the key and slaughter three men who outweighed him by two hundred and fifty pounds combined.”

“Then it’s someone with a key to the ship’s brig, then?”

“The obvious answer, yes.” Parnell smiled and then before returning to his duties of cargo master looked down to take in the bearded professor’s face in the lamplight of the train station. “However, the only man onboard the
Yorktown
with a key to the brig is Captain Jackson.”

“I see the conundrum.”

“That’s the problem, Professor. Anyone with a brain can see that particular conundrum and that’s what has everyone on edge.” Parnell walked away with his hands placed behind his back.

With one last look at Gray Dog, Ollafson shook his head as he wondered if the Comanche had seen belowdecks what he himself had witnessed on the slopes of Ararat.

*   *   *

Twenty minutes later, a signalman approached Lieutenant Parnell.

“Sir, Privates Cochran and Peavey report that a French warship from Constantinople has just tied up.”

“No ferry?” Parnell asked.

“No, sir, not yet.”

“Very well. Thank you, Corporal. Is the off-loading complete?” he asked as his eyes started to watch a thick blanket of fog roll in from the Bosphorus Strait. Fog always made the marine officer uneasy, something he could never get used to not only because of its blinding effects but because sound was mixed up inside the veil of white, which he found very disorienting.

He failed to see four men as they watched the
Yorktown
from their vantage point on the long, narrow dock.

*   *   *

“I suspect it would be inside the captain’s cabin. That’s all I can tell you. When you enter, be mindful of the marines onboard. Since the three murders let’s just say they will have a heightened sense of awareness and will not be too tolerant of more French invading their territory. So my advice is, don’t get caught. You may find the mood onboard quite unfriendly.”

The three men looked at the master spy who had transited the strait ahead of the Constantinople ferry. Renaud disarmed each man in turn and they looked none too happy about it.

“You send us in with nothing?”

“You are Frenchmen and out of uniform. If you get caught on a United States ship of war you could legally be shot. It may go easier on you if you are unarmed. That may sway that bunch of pirates into not hanging you on the spot. Now, you may take your weapons if you wish, or you can just try not to get caught.”

The men had to agree with the French spy. After all, he had suffered the humiliation of getting caught and they had not hung him. They just threw him overboard. One man nodded his head but knew if he drew the comparison Renaud would simply reach out and slice his throat before the man knew he had a blade. The rumor was Renaud was hated among even his own colleagues.

“And one other thing: Watch out for that American colonel’s pet Indian. He can be a pest.”

“Indians now?” one man said, glancing at the others.

“Yes, a savage one also.”

The three men felt helpless as they started off into the fog.

*   *   *

It seemed too simple for the three men to board the
Yorktown
without being noticed. The marines and deck personnel were busy finishing the off-loading of supplies, most of them mumbling that it would have been better to sail with the
Chesapeake
and the marching band already sailing on the Black Sea. They would rather pretend to be laying track than hauling freight across the Ottoman Empire.

The three French spies easily slipped in belowdecks. They immediately saw that most personnel were above deck and some had already transferred to the train. The leader placed one of the men at the companionway as he and his partner slowly slipped down the dark passage toward the captain’s cabin at the fantail of the ship.

They all froze when the door suddenly opened and an old man stepped out into the dimly lit companionway. The man looked at his watch and then turned the lock with a key and went above deck. The two men waiting in the shadows took a deep breath after almost having their mission end in such a short time had the old man looked up. He hadn’t, and the men thought they stood a good chance of getting what they had come for. The first left the shadows along the hull and approached the door and then removed a small pick from his coat. He had the government-issued lock off in seconds and then he simply stepped over the threshold of the cabin. The second man joined him.

The cabin was illuminated by a small candle. The oil lamps were doused, and thus the men had to feel with their hands to find what it was they sought. The first spied the small bundle of tightly wrapped cloth. It sat upon the large table alongside rolled-up maps.

“This is it. He said it would be inside waterproofed sailcloth.” The thin Frenchman picked up the bundle and then he immediately dropped it with a loud thud. The sound frightened the other man, who looked at the first as if he had lost his mind.

“What in the hell is in there, rocks?”

“It felt, felt—”

“Hot?” the second man asked when the first stammered as he took in the wrapped cloth on the table.

“No, it was freezing cold,” the man said as he touched a finger to the package. He withdrew the touch quickly, but then he extended his finger once more and then placed his palm on its top near the string that tied the bundle together. It was cool, but not freezing. He must have imagined it. He snatched up the bundle, feeling embarrassed. “Take the maps also.”