Beyond the Rails 3: Slayer of Darkness

Chapter 17

Kisumu Friday morning

          “So,” Monroe asked as Hobbs climbed the near-vertical ladder from the lower deck, barely causing ripples on the cup of tea in her hand, “are you lot going out again today?”
          “We haven’t found the bastard yet,” Jinx replied, coming up behind her, “so, yes.”
          “You aren’t ready to deal with the likelihood that he’s given you the slip, then?”
          “That’s hardly likely, Captain,” she replied. “He doesn’t even know I’m after him.”
          “Miss Jenkins,” Monroe said, trying to be tactful, “this is, by your own description, a leading figure in an international criminal organization. He didn’t rise to that position by being stupid. Your organization has you watching him. Perhaps his has someone watching you. Did you think of that?”
          “Oh, I doubt it. I’m pretty low-level.”
          “They aren’t going to worry about your rank, you know. You’re a threat, and that’s all they’re going to care about. When I commanded a frigate, threats were responded to in proportion to their severity. If something external was threatening the success of my mission or the safety of my ship, it didn’t interest me whether it was being led by a fleet admiral or a junior petty officer. It was a danger, and had to be dealt with. You, Miss Jenkins, have proven yourself to be a danger to this man and his organization, and I assure you that if they haven’t allocated resources to your neutralization yet, then they are too stupid for us to be worried about.”
          “That’s a sobering thought, Captain,” she said, leaning on the rail and looking out across the inlet to the town sprawled along the far bank. “But why haven’t they tried to eliminate me? I mean, these people don’t recognize the law or conventions of polite society. If they’ve marked me as a threat, I should have been shot by an assassin by now.”
          “Maybe they’re trying to figure you out first, gain some knowledge about who sent you and what your organization finds interesting. All I know is, you’re taking my crew over there and getting them involved in your business. Anyone looking at you is going to be looking at them now as well, and that’s the position I wanted to avoid at all costs.”
          “Are you saying I can’t use them?”
          “He’d better not be,” Hobbs said.
          “No, and just for the reason she alluded to. These people aren’t my children. They aren’t slaves, and I don’t own them. If they want to help you, they’re free to do so. I just worry about that letter I’ll have to send to Patty’s uncle Jeffrey if someone mistakes her for you when they decide to drop the hammer.”
          “Patience,” Jinx said, “it was thoughtless of me to involve you. If you want to step back from it, I’ll understand perfectly, of course.”
          “Nonsense,” Hobbs replied. “What would I do, sit around here keeping the kettle warm? Most of the time, we’re aloft, and I’m married to that steering wheel. I’m looking forward to getting out and seeing the sights. In fact, I thought I might go with you today. Two young women might loosen some tongues that would otherwise remain stiff.”
          “What about David?”
          “What about him? Oh! Do you two have a thing going on?”
          “If you knew me, Patience, you would be embarrassed by making such a suggestion. I was merely thinking that two young women might attract unwanted attention that has nothing to do with this job.”
          “So, we can take care of ourselves.”
          “Very capably, but we might be less likely to have to if we have a big, tough-looking man with us.”
          “And that big, tough-looking man might be what’s sealing all the lips over there. Do you really believe there’s a man over there in a metal mask that covers half his face, and nobody, nobody remembers him? Maybe a couple of curvy bodices and fluttering eyelashes will jog some memories.”
          “You do make an interesting point. Captain, what do you think?”
          “Men do have a tendency to speak less guardedly around an attractive woman. Two attractive women could only heighten the effect.”
          “Why Captain,” Patience said, maneuvering those eyelashes in a test flutter, “you think I’m attractive?”
          “Cutest little tomboy in the whole crew,” he replied, to her suddenly disgusted expression. “It’s probably worth a try, Jinx, but if you take her out, I want you both visibly armed and looking not in the least like potential victims.”
          “That shouldn’t be a problem. You can see my gun, and that cannon she just got should give any masher pause. She raises an interesting point, and it will be instructive to see whether it works.”
          “All right, go ahead and try it, but remember, Jinx, you’re the professional. I’m charging you to look out for my little tomboy.”
          “Don’t fret yourself, Captain. I’m on a hair trigger. Anyone else going out?”
          “David will probably want to, and Darweshi. Bakari, well, that will depend on whether he has any work to do on the power plant.”
          “All right. We’ll keep an eye out for them. Patty, if you’d care to go strap on your fieldpiece, we can get started.”
          “Shan’t be but a jiffy. Have a nice quiet day, Captain,” she said with a wink, heading for the ladder.

Kisumu 11:20 AM

          Silar Brothers Gunsmiths was another dead end, and Jinx was sure they must be approaching a thousand of them since their search had begun two days ago. She turned aside from the door and sat down on the bench outside, removing her hat and rubbing the back of her head.
          “What if Captain Monroe is right?” Hobbs asked, sitting down beside her.
          “He can’t be,” Jinx stated. “Nobody’s smart enough to pull this off. Reinhard had no reason to believe anyone was looking at him. This couldn’t all have been a ruse, it just couldn’t.”
          “Maybe someone else was looking at him. Sure, you didn’t tip him off, but maybe he slept with another man’s wife, and now the husband wants his head on a stick. He doesn’t have to be hiding from you. Just hiding is enough.”
          “What about the telegram? The house in Kisumu? Surely, he couldn’t have been devious enough to leave that just to be found.”
          “Why not? What better way to throw this hypothetical husband, or any pursuer, off your track than to send them to the far end of another country?”
          “Christ, I hope I never have to track you!”
          “As do I. You could give a foxhound lessons in tenacity.”
          “Thanks for that, at least,” Jinx said, standing up. “What a day! I’m going to that restaurant across the street.”
          “We’ve already checked that.”
          “Yes, and during that check, I noticed that they have indoor toilet facilities. Care to join me?”
          “You know, as attractive as that sounds, I think I'll decline.”
          “Your loss. You’re just going to wind up in some grubby outhouse later.”
          “Maybe. You have yourself a nice little whatever over there. And no,” she said, holding up her hand, “I don’t want to know!”
          With a quick giggle and a toss of her head that accentuated the beauty hiding in the huntress, Jinx started across the street.

Kisumu 11:25 AM

          Patience leaned back against the wall and stretched like a cat as Jinx disappeared into the restaurant. Kisumu wasn’t like Mombasa, nor even Nairobi. On the inland side of the central highlands, the weather here was muggy and wet, and if not for the rocky soil, the whole region would be covered with jungle. She took off her cap and fanned herself with it, changing one cloud of hot air for another.
          Legs, and more importantly, back stretched, she stood and paced down to the end of the covered sidewalk, finding an ever so slight breeze blowing through the alley. She leaned her forearm on the supporting pillar and fanned herself some more, thinking that if Jinx wanted to go for an all-day walk in this heat again tomorrow, she could take someone else.
          Sssssst! came a hiss from down the alley.
          The first response to a hiss in this wild country was to check for a snake, and Patty’s head snapped around to look. The alley was short, leading to the next street’s businesses, and unadorned, bare pavement with simple indentations for goods wagons to pull off and make their deliveries.
          Sssssst! came again, this time followed by a whispered, “Lady!”
          Hobbs thumbed the retaining strap from her pistol, taking one step into the alley.
          “Who’s there?”
          “You are the one looking for Reinhard?” the whisper asked, now barely raised to become an audible voice.
          “You know something?”
          She took another step.
          “I know where to find him.”
          “Come out, then, and let's talk.”
          “Quiet, please! Someone will hear you. I cannot be seen talking to you. Of a certainty, he would kill me!”
          “Just like that, for talking?”
          “He is the devil!”
          “How do you know him, then?” she asked, taking another step, looking around for the hidden speaker.
          “I was a slave in his factory. When I was hurt too badly to work any longer, he threw me into the street. I know where he lives. I can show you, but you will have to come here where no one can see.”
          “I don’t like it,” she said. “Show yourself.”
          A gloved hand appeared from behind the wall at the loading bay to her left.
          “I will tell you everything,” the voice said, “but we cannot be seen together. Please come before someone sees me! It is only a matter of time before someone opens this door.”
          Hobbs stepped to the corner and looked around. There was only a square lot for wagons, a few shrubs growing wild around the edges, and the back doors of two businesses. No one was in sight. She stepped fully into view, taking in the rubbish piles, the haphazardly stacked crates, and paying especial attention to the three large shrubs at the far side of the lot.
          “All right, I’m here,” she said. “Show yourself.”
          “With pleasure,” the voice said from her immediate left, and a little mixed-race African she knew from somewhere rose from the rubbish beside her and shot her with a small, hand-held crossbow. She looked to see a brass and glass dart buried to the boss in her upper arm, its plunger fully depressed.
          “Son of a bitch!” she shouted, clawing at her pistol. The little man stood smiling at her as it came free, held by fingers already tingling.
          Passenger, her rapidly fuddling brain thought, last week sometime.
          Fingers going numb, she raised the huge pistol toward the smiling face, but her arm was already too weak to get it up. It fell back to her side, her new gun clattering to the ground beside her. As she began to fall, the little man stepped forward to catch her. The last thing she heard was his soft voice saying, “Little girls shouldn’t play with men’s toys.”

Hippo Point 3:00 PM

          Mutala guided the groggy, bound and blindfolded Hobbs through the double doors of Reinhard’s plush study, bringing her to a stop before his large desk. The fast-acting sedative he had darted her with was wearing off, but he still had to hold her upper arms from behind to keep her from falling.
          “Who is this?” Reinhard asked, looking up from the schematic he had been studying.
          “This is Miss Patty Hobbs, an airship pilot, and one of the people who has been searching so determinedly for you over the last two days.”
          “And, why is she here?”
          “To be interrogated. To discover what these people are after.”
          “I see. Remove her blindfold, then.”
          Mutala did so, and Reinhard studied the young woman’s attractive face for a moment. Whatever thoughts he had about her, he kept to himself.
          “So, Miss Patty Hobbs, airship pilot, welcome to my home. Why are you and your friends so interested in me?”
          “Hired,” she said, licking her lips, still feeling the effects of the drug. “Helping a client. It’s just a job.”
          “And just who is your client?”
          “Australian girl. Abigail something.”
          “What does she want with me?”
          “Her business. She pays, we help.”
          “Listen carefully, Miss Patty Hobbs. You are in a very bad position here. You have blundered into something much bigger than yourself, something you never should have seen, and you are in no position to play games. Kwame!” he called toward the door, a summons immediately answered by an exceptionally large African.
          “Yes, bwana?”
          “This is Miss Patty Hobbs. She is suffering from the effects of a drug that Mr. Mutala used on her. Take her to the cellar and lock her in one of the cages. I'll question her properly after she has recovered.”
          “Yes, bwana.”
          He took her arms and turned her to go.
          “Kwame.”
          “Yes?”
          “Don’t harm her. After she is locked up, you can untie her hands, but if she offers any resistance, do whatever is necessary.”
          “Yes, bwana.”
          He led her away.
          “What, exactly, were you thinking?” Reinhard asked Mutala when they had gone.
          “Sir?”
          “What tropical disease has infected your brain and made you believe that kidnapping one of them was a good idea?”
          “You said you wanted information, Sir,” Mutala replied, taking Hobbs’ gunbelt from his shoulder and placing it on Reinhard’s desk. “What better way to get information than from one of them?”
          “Imbecile!” Reinhard shouted, shooting to his feet and sweeping gun, holster, and a number of papers to the floor. “This, this lunacy is why you’ll never be anything more than a hired gun, a mindless appendage to hold a weapon! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
          “I’ve brought you a hostage.”
          “You’ve brought us all more trouble than you can imagine! They could have poked around in that town until our children were old and gray, and had nothing to show for it. Now you’ve confirmed that what they’re looking for is actually here.”
          “But, sir—”
          “You’ve done more than that. What do you suppose that crew, and the Australian girl she speaks of, are going to do when they can’t find her? Do you see them saying, ‘Oh, well,’ and sailing on the tide? Because I certainly don't. They’re going to turn this town upside-down and shake it to see what falls out, and if they can’t find us themselves, they’ll almost certainly involve the authorities.”
          “Sir, you could go back across the border for a couple of weeks, lay low until—”
          “The committee didn’t send me here to lay low, you— I have a job to do! Lord, why do you afflict me with the curse of fools?” He slammed his fist down on the desk, and held his head with the other hand. “Don’t you ever think before you act on your idiotic impulses?”
          “Mr. Reinhard, I’ve always served you well. You’ve said so many times.”
          “Yes, Mutala, yes you have, and everyone makes a mistake now and then. It’s unfortunate that your mistake had to come on a matter of this magnitude. If we let that girl go, she’s going to run right back to them and tell them everything she’s learned from your mistake. If we don’t, they’re going to look for her until judgement day.”
          “We could kill her, sir, and feed the body to the crocodiles.”
          “It could come to that, and rest assured that if it does, you’ll be doing the dirty work. But not immediately. Now that you’ve brought her here, I’ll get whatever information I can from her. Then... Has she been blindfolded the whole time?”
          “Yes, sir.”
          “She has no idea where she is, then. Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to turn that lack of knowledge to our advantage. Maybe let her see a few things to report that aren’t exactly true. We’ll have to plan it carefully, of course.” Reinhard sat down and pondered for a moment. “You see, Mutala, flexibility is key. You’ve created a rotten situation for me, and no mistake, but if we can manipulate it to our ultimate advantage, it may come out in the end. No thanks to you, of course!”
          “No, sir.”
          “Take the rest of the day off, but stay on the grounds. They’re going to be going berserk down there, if they aren’t already, and I don’t want you in the middle of it.”
          “What should I do, sir?”
          “I don’t care. Shoot some billiards. Read a book on strategy, maybe. Just stay sober. I may need you later.”