Peacemaker (The Flash Gold Chronicles, #3) Page 8

  The remaining man, the one who had offered Kali a seat, shrugged amiably and left as well.

  When Kali and Lockhart were alone, she waved at the kit full of dice, cards, and chips, and said, “If this ruse was for Cedar’s sake, or mine, you can stop now. I know who you are, and he knows that you’re here.”

  Lockhart’s face grew closed. “You told Cedar—” he said the pseudonym with a curl of the lip, “—about me, did you?”

  “You played your hand too soon.” Kali thought that sounded like a gambling-appropriate thing to say. “Showing me the newspaper and pointing him out.”

  “Yes, I feared that might be the case. I was hoping you’d be concerned when you learned what a monster he is. You seemed smart, so I was hoping you’d know better than to go right to that murderer.”

  “He’s not a—” Kali started to say murderer, but she supposed that technically he was, even if he only aimed for killers with bounties on their heads, “—criminal,” she said instead. “I know what happened, and you’re after the wrong man.”

  Lockhart sneered. “Of course he’d tell you that. Do you even know his real name?”

  “Yes. He told me before you ever came to town. I’ll point out that you never gave me your real name, Agent Lockhart.”

  His eyebrows twitched beneath his hat. “I see.”

  “I wouldn’t spend time with an evil man, sir. Cedar—Milos—was framed by Cudgel Conrad. I imagine you’ve heard of him?”

  “I’m aware of the felon.”

  “Cedar’s been after him for years, because Cudgel killed his brother. The man would do anything to get rid of Cedar, but he’s not good enough to kill Cedar outright.” When Kali said the last, a muscle twitched in Lockhart’s jaw. Was he irked he wasn’t good enough to kill Cedar outright either? “Cudgel must have figured that the next best thing was to get the law after Cedar, so he’d be harried every step of the way and have less time to spend on collecting Cudgel’s bounty. And that’s just what you’re doing, harrying him and making trouble for him, exactly the way that criminal wants.”

  Lockhart’s face remained cold and impassive throughout Kali’s speech, and she feared she wasn’t swaying him at all. She ought to be sweet-talking him, not stating blunt truths, but she was no gifted flannel mouth. She preferred to deliver things straight up, whether people liked hearing them or not. She doubted it would sound sincere if she tried to do anything else.

  “This is the story he told you?” Lockhart asked.

  Kali bristled, wanting to say it was the truth, not a story, but she had only Cedar’s words to go on. She believed him—he’d been too honest, and too pained about his choices, to be making things up. And, even though she always told him that she wasn’t quick to trust people, him included, she did trust him at this point. They’d been through enough together that she believed she could rely upon him.

  “That’s what he told me,” Kali said. “Look, there was a series of murders down in San Francisco, right? And Cedar got blamed because he was found standing over a woman killed in the same manner as the others, right? He didn’t murder her or the others though. Surely you must have wondered when he left town and the murders continued. You must have known you had the wrong man.”

  “The murders didn’t continue.”

  Kali blinked. “What?”

  “When he was gone, they stopped.”

  Damn, she had been sure she’d been on to something. What had happened then? Had the murderer figured things were too hot and he dared not strike again? Or had it simply been coincidence that Cedar had left at the same time as this cutthroat stopped attacking women in San Francisco?

  “I’m not after the wrong man, Miss McAlister,” Lockhart said softly, gently, as if he was sorry he had to hurt her feelings by telling her a truth she didn’t want to hear.

  Kali sat up straight, a growl in the back of her throat. It wasn’t the truth. “Listen, mister, I’ve seen him do a lot of good up here. He’s brought in heaps of murdering criminals. You two should be allies, not enemies.”

  Lockhart snorted.

  Kali leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. “You weren’t around when he first told me about his past, so he had no reason to lie to me. He volunteered the information.”

  “Miss McAlister, I’ve learned that most men tell tall tales, especially to women they want to bed. That fibs are commonplace doesn’t make them true or any less insidious.” Lockhart drew his shiny steel Colt and raised it above the table.

  Kali tensed. He had no law-abiding reason to kill her, but the gun’s appearance made her nervous. He’d see if she reached for the man-stopper in her front overalls pocket, but, out of sight beneath the table, her hand drifted to the pocket where she kept the pair of smoke nuts.

  Lockhart laid the revolver down in front of her and leaned forward, eyes intent. “They call this gun the Peacemaker, and it’s here with me to kill Milos Kartes and bring peace to the spirits of those he murdered. Half a dozen innocent women in San Francisco, dead by his hand. His guilt was determined by a jury of his peers. Evidence, not tall tales, condemned him. If I come across Cudgel Conrad, I’ll kill him, too, because he’s wanted a hundred times over for his crimes, but his isn’t the case I was assigned. I’m here to get Kartes.” He gazed straight into her eyes. “And if you get in my way, Miss, I’ll have the Mounties lock you up until I catch up with my man.”

  Kali wanted to declare that Lockhart was from the United States, and had less sway with the RCMP than Cedar did, but his hard, unwavering stare stole her defiance. She had to fight to not squirm and look away. Seconds ticked by as she tried to come up with a strong, intelligent reply, but she couldn’t think of anything.

  A scream came from a hallway behind the stage.

  Kali lunged to her feet, tipping her chair over. Lockhart leaped up even faster. With his Colt in hand, he vaulted over the table and sprinted for the hallway.

  The fiddle halted, and the dancers stopped. Kali started to follow Lockhart, but caught herself. If the murderer was back there, he supposedly liked to torment his victims before killing them. He couldn’t do that in a public place. If he was kidnapping a girl, he might run out the back.

  Kali pushed past groups of gawking men and headed for the front door. If she could get around the building quickly enough, maybe she could stop, or at least delay, someone coming out the back.

  She ducked past a burly man in the doorway, gasped a breath of fresh air, and sprinted down the boardwalk toward the alley. Muffled grunts and whimpers of feminine distress came from behind the building. Kali dug into a pocket and pulled out one of her smoke nuts. She jumped off the boardwalk and into the ally. Mud squished audibly beneath her feet, and she winced, hoping the kidnapper had not heard. Striving for quiet, she advanced more slowly than she wanted.

  A shadow passed over her, and Kali glanced up. The buildings on either side of her hid all but a slice of the night sky, and she saw nothing but stars in the gap.

  “Your imagination,” she muttered under her breath.

  Kali picked her way through the sucking mud as quickly as she could. She reached the back of the saloon and peeked around the corner.

  A towering man with a torso as broad as a grizzly’s was stalking toward her. That had to be Sparwood. A woman thrashed in his arms, but he kept her crushed against his chest, her feet dangling a foot above the ground. Her flailing was useless.

  Kali tightened her hand around the smoke nut, but hesitated before arming it. The shrapnel her weapon flung would hit the woman, too, probably harming her more than the man, since he was holding her before him like a shield.

  They were only five steps from her hiding spot. There was no time to think of a better plan. The man would take at least some of the shrapnel, and Kali could attack him under the cover of the smoke.

  She armed the smoke nut and drew back her hand to throw. Someone grabbed her wrist.

  Kali spun, her free hand reaching for the man-stopper, but she thought it might
be Cedar or Lockhart and wasn’t as quick to draw as she might have been. She didn’t recognize the dark figure before her, though, and a calloused hand caught her other wrist before she could grab the gun. Someone else appeared and ripped the smoke nut from her grasp, then hurled it onto the roof. It went off, shards of metal pinging against stove pipes and chimneys, but the building kept it from doing any good down in the alley.

  Kali tried to twist free of her captor’s grip, but he was strong and he wasn’t alone. Three other men had come into view. Behind them a rope ladder dangled from the sky. Not the sky. The pirate airship. Even with the limited view and the night darkness, she recognized its black silhouette blotting out the stars above.

  Mud squished behind her. “What we got here?” a deep voice rumbled over the continuing struggles of his female captive. “Two for the price of one?” He laughed, a dark, cruel laugh that sent a chill down Kali’s spine. “She’s familiar too. You the one what was skulking around in the woods?”

  The chill deepened. Had he been watching all the time? While she and Cedar questioned the other pirate?

  “Hurry up,” someone said, already jumping for the ladder. “There’s a Pinkerton detective on his way out, and Ralph can only keep him busy so long.”

  As the men backed toward the ladder, Kali rallied for one more escape attempt. She tried to jam a knee into her captor’s groin, but he saw the move coming and blocked her. Someone grabbed her from behind and slipped a bag over her head. Kali twisted her neck and tried to bite the man through the burlap. She caught something—a hand?—between her teeth, but a fist slammed into her temple. Pain ricocheted through her head. The bag made it stuffy and hard to breathe, and she gasped for air.

  “Feisty wench, ain’t she?” Sparwood asked, predatory hunger in his voice.

  “Just like you like ’em.” The other men laughed.

  Idiot, Kali, she cursed herself. They never should have believed that pirate’s story.

  She sucked in a deep breath to scream for Cedar, but she’d barely gotten the “C” out when a hand clamped down on her mouth. Someone hoisted her legs into the air and wound rope about her wrists and ankles. In heartbeats she was tied tight. She bit down on the hand gagging her, and a man cursed. Before she could try to scream again, another fist collided with her head. Her dazed body refused to comply with her brain’s orders to keep fighting, and the men hauled her up the ladder.

  The shrapnel being flung from her smoke nut had ceased, and only its smoke lingered in the air as they climbed. Kali cursed Lockhart for being slow, but more, she cursed herself for not sticking with Cedar. Talking to Lockhart had been a waste of time, and now she was captured, in the hands of a rapist and murderer, surrounded by a whole crew that apparently supported him.

  Part VIII

  Kali’s captors dragged her into the bowels of the airship. Though the bag over her head stole her sight, the stifling heat told her where they were. The boiler room.

  The man carrying Kali dropped her like a sack of corn meal, and her shoulder hit hard, sending a fresh stab of pain through her. While men shuffled about, and chains clacked nearby, Kali fantasized about commandeering the ship, sailing to the North Pole, and making these louts walk the plank. She’d leave them on a sheet of ice where they could become a nice snack for a passing polar bear.

  Someone grabbed her by the head and pulled off the sack, removing numerous strands of hair at the same time. It was hard to glower effectively from one’s back on the floor, but Kali gave it her best.

  The men ignored her icy stare. A burly pirate clapped a leg iron around one of her ankles. Its chain ran five feet to an eyelet in front of a bin of coal and two furnaces. The pirate cut the rope that tied her ankles together. Kali lifted her bound wrists, hoping he would do the same for them. He did not.

  “We don’t allow anyone free passage on our vessel,” a graying reed of a man said. Scars peppered his face, and he wore an eye patch like the pirates in storybooks. He lacked only a parrot to perch on his shoulder, though such birds were probably hard to come by in northern climes. He took a shovel from a scruffy man cloaked from head to foot in soot. “Everybody here works, ain’t that right, Chum?”

  “Oh, aye, Cap’n,” the sooty man said.

  Kali remained quiet. Working in the boiler room sounded far better than being mauled by that Sparwood, but she wasn’t about to say so. The other woman the pirates had kidnapped was nowhere to be seen, and Kali scowled at the realization of where she must be. Would she be next?

  “Take all of her things,” the captain said.

  Invasive hands pawed at Kali, and she gritted her teeth. With her wrists tied and her leg chained, she could do little to fight the intrusion, though she stood with one leg slightly in front of the other, blocking the view of the ankle that held her vial of flash gold. She hoped the man wouldn’t think to check her socks. Maybe she should have taken the vial back to her workshop and locked it in its safe, behind a series of booby traps. Too late now.

  Unfortunately, the man searching her proved adept at finding things. He removed her remaining smoke nut, her gun, and every single tool in her pockets.

  “Tarnation, girl,” the pirate said, “you rob a tool shop?”

  “Your murderers caught me when I was in the middle of a project,” Kali said.

  “I ain’t murdered anyone.”

  “You let it happen on your ship.” Though she was responding to the man searching her, Kali looked the captain in the eyes when she spoke. She thought of the airship hovering above the alley behind the Aurora, and of that ladder dangling down. “You even help out, don’t you?” That explained why Cedar hadn’t found a trail at the murdered woman’s home. “You drop that bastard down and pick him up when he’s done, don’t you? You help him perpetrate the idea that there’s something otherworldly involved in these murders, since there’s nothing but those fake bead patches to be found.”

  Kali was surprised the pirates had chosen such a public target this time, a woman getting ready for a show in a saloon full of people. Maybe it’d been a last hit before the ship cleared out of town. Or maybe they’d counted on Sparwood getting in to steal the girl without anyone up front hearing about it. Kali’s stomach clenched at the idea of him leaving a bead patch in the changing room and people blaming “spirits” for the girl’s disappearance.

  The captain lifted his chin in response to Kali’s accusations. “Sparwood’s my best worker and fights better than ten men combined, and he doesn’t ask for a cut of the loot. He just wants the leeway to pursue his…hobby.”

  “That’s loathsome,” Kali said, “and so are you if you help.”

  “What’s this?” The man searching her had found all of her tools and weapons, and moved down to her ankles. Kali winced when he patted at the lump there. Having these slimy pirates running around with such power was the last thing she wanted.

  The man pulled out her vial and held it aloft. The flakes inside the clear container appeared no different from regular gold, but they glowed softly, sending occasional streaks of yellow lightning coursing through the glass tube.

  “That,” a new voice said from a hatchway leading to an upper deck, “is what I was hoping she’d have, and it’s why I’ve offered you more money than the Scar of Skagway for her capture.”

  The owner of the voice climbed down a ladder, boots ringing on the metal rungs. He clasped his hands behind his back and strolled toward the furnaces to join the captain and others in regarding Kali.

  A pale-skinned man, he wore an all white, expensive suit, tailored to fit his body. His boots were like nothing Kali had ever seen. Snake skin? Or maybe alligator or crocodile? She’d read about such creatures. The man bore no weapons, but all the pirates, the captain included, offered subdued greetings and touched their knuckles to their hats or foreheads in polite salutes.

  “Mister Conrad,” the captain said, and Kali’s head jerked up. Cudgel Conrad? Cedar’s nemesis? “We weren’t expecting you until morning,” the
captain went on, “so I was fixing to get some work out of her. But if you want—”

  “No, no,” Conrad said politely, as if he were passing on an after-dinner dessert offered by a waiter in some classy restaurant. “Work her all you wish. There’ll be plenty of time for questioning later.” He had greenish-blue eyes, the only spot of color on him, and they hardened then, reminding Kali of marbles as they bore into her. “First, there remains a spot of business to which I must attend. It’s time to make sure that dear detective gets his man.”

  Kali curled her lip. “You’d best be more worried about that man getting you.”

  Conrad yawned.

  “Mister Conrad, sir,” the captain said. “One of my men was wondering about her use for…entertainments.”

  A woman’s scream echoed from a higher deck. Kali tried to keep a defiant sneer on her face, but the timing of that scream, and the amused snort of one of the pirates, left little doubt in her mind as to what the captain meant.

  “What are your orders as to her person?” the captain finished.

  “Ensure she’s able to answer questions in the morning,” Conrad said.

  “That’s it?”

  “Indeed. In fact, encourage your man to make the experience memorable. Women rarely resist my interrogation techniques, but it can make things easier if they’ve been broken already.”

  Kali glowered. She wished she could do more. This fellow deserved a good kick in the bear cubs. No, he deserved a lot more than that for tormenting Cedar and killing countless others.

  Conrad took a step toward the hatch, but paused, raising a finger. “Actually, I do have one requirement. Don’t let your man damage her face. Should the Pinkerton detective fail, I may need to dangle her as bait to lure in a particularly troublesome fish.” His marble cold eyes found Kali’s again. “Despite this fish’s efforts to minimize contact with her of late, I do believe they’re close.”