Coyote (39 page)

I slammed my foot down on the arch of one guard's foot. While he was bent over, I rammed my elbow backwards into the other one's face.

Klaasen, seeing his opportunity, punched me in the stomach.

I dry-heaved once, then forced myself upright. Panting, I snapped a front kick straight into Klaasen's soft belly. His horrified face told me he could dish it out but he couldn't take it. He crumpled in the middle then staggered sideways into the blustering mayor. They both went down in a heap.

I spun and raced for the elevator where I watched 48 turn red. Webb had gone up to check that I hadn't disabled the bomb.

I ripped open the fire door and bounded up the stairs. Every drop of adrenaline in my body was pumping through my veins. If I didn't prevent Webb from leaving the building we were all dead.

The guards chasing at my heels bellowed curses up the stairwell.

I slammed the fire door open to find Webb crouching behind the big green target. I grabbed a chair and wedged it under the fire door handle … it wouldn't hold them long … but hopefully it would be long enough.

Webb was poised over the bomb like a spider. He was checking to see if I'd somehow managed to disarm it.

‘Get away from that, Webb!' I barked.

‘You're too late, Dupree.' Webb smiled in satisfaction, holding up the detonator so he could gloat. ‘Don't come any closer. You know what this is!'

‘Give up, Webb. You can't go through with this now … not without killing yourself as well.'

His beady blue eyes shifted. Webb certainly wasn't prepared to die for the pleasure of reliving his hero's sickest moment.

I stuck out my uninjured hand. ‘Just give me the detonator and I'll move out of your way. You can get in the elevator — I swear I'll let you past me. You can make a run for it. But otherwise,' I shook my head, ‘I promise you — I will never let you out of this building alive.'

I pulled the bow off my shoulder and slid a razor-sharp arrow out of my quiver, setting it in the bow. I had to clench my teeth to stop my black and swollen hand from trembling. But the threat was clear.

‘Oh, I'll get out of here, all right.' Webb laughed. ‘Right over your dead body!'

He switched the detonator to his left hand and grabbed for the pistol on his right.

I drew the bow string back and took aim …

The door behind me burst open and the two security guards rushed through to tackle me. The bow and arrow crashed to the floor and I fell, face down, under them. Their combined weight dug the
quiver full of arrows into my back and forced my thumb once more right out of its socket. I screamed.

Webb came out from where he'd been hiding behind the big green target. His pistol was back in its holster, but his left hand — and the detonator — were hidden behind him.

The guards rose and dragged me with them, one man now holding each wrist.

‘Sorry, Mr Webb,' said one of the guards. ‘We got up here as soon as we could!'

‘The woman's mad,' spluttered Webb. As he spoke, he inched his way around to the elevator. ‘Who is she anyway?'

From the way his free hand hovered over his pistol, as soon as Webb got in the elevator, he'd shoot the three of us and escape.

I got ready to move …

Webb was at the elevator doors.

The elevator pinged once.

Webb twirled at the noise like it was a gunshot. The elevator doors parted and Cornelius Klaasen stomped out, his face twisted in fury, his gun ready. He stalked right past Webb, aiming for me like a dive bomber ready to strike.

Webb was about to step into that open elevator.

I sank down, ramming my bent elbow straight into the groin of the guard holding my left wrist. Whirling, I used his grip as a fulcrum and threw his now bent-over body headfirst into the floor. He lay there.

The guard on my right sent a meaty punch straight into my face.

I swerved away, blocked the punch, and kicked directly into his diaphragm. He flew backwards and slid down the wall.

Behind Klaasen, Gideon Webb slipped into the elevator. He waved me goodbye, grinning like a maniac.

Klaasen, now on a mission to stop me at all costs, raised his gun to shoot.

I dived to the floor as a bullet exploded past my head.

Webb was hammering the elevator buttons like a madman, the detonator remote still clasped in his left hand.

There was no time to waste.

I rolled down and under Klaasen's outstretched gun, making sure not to land on the quiver full of razor-sharp arrows on my back. Most of the arrows fell out as I lunged upright at the entrance to the elevator.

Webb abandoned banging the elevator buttons with his right hand to pull out his pistol, the detonator still in his left.

I swept his gun hand away with a block, just as the pistol fired. The bullet shattered the huge window opposite. I grabbed the hand holding the gun and twisted it up. Another bullet discharged into the ceiling.

Whirling, I used my weight and Webb's wrist as a fulcrum to wrench him clean out of the elevator. I felt a bone in his wrist crack under the strain. His pistol dropped to the floor as he gave one sharp, short ascending scream. He stumbled towards the big green target, still clutching the detonator in his other hand.

I followed …

Something heavy hit me from behind. I yowled and grabbed the back of my head. Klaasen had slugged me with his gun.

Klaasen got between me and Webb. He waved the gun in my face. ‘Make one move, Dupree … and I'll shoot you where you stand.'

Over Klaasen's shoulder, I saw Webb carefully place the detonator on a chair to the side of the big green target. He slid his second pistol from its holster.

‘Don't worry, Mr Webb.' Klaasen used his best commanding voice. ‘I have her firmly under control now. The police should arrive any second.'

Webb shot him in the back.

Klaasen fell to his knees, his mouth gasping in surprise.

I dived down and away, snatching Prairie Rose's green bow as I went. I staggered back up to my feet, grabbing one of the two remaining arrows from her red quiver.

I notched, aimed and fired … the arrow streaked from the bow like lightning.

Gideon Webb whirled to shoot me.

But the arrow skewered Webb straight through the right shoulder … pinning him to the big green target.

My last arrow pinned his left.

I sat with Des in the hospital sunroom. We sipped cups of tea while I briefed him. The fog had finally lifted and I'd had only a couple of hours' sleep, so I kept my dark glasses on. My sore thumb was strapped up but the painkillers were working nicely.

‘So let me get this straight,' said Des, eager to make sure he was back on top of things again. ‘Hector Kershaw came to Santa Fe on the trail of Isabella's Cross … where he worked out that it was hidden on Spruce Tree Mesa. But Coyote Jack was camped there, so Hector committed the Dry Gulch massacre to use the US cavalry to chase him off the mesa.'

‘That's right,' I replied. ‘Then Hector headed to boom-town San Francisco, possibly in part attracted by Prairie Rose, and set about taking over the city. First, he married the daughter of the richest man in town, then he framed the Corsairs for acts he himself committed to mobilise the city against them.'

‘So it was Spruce Tree Mesa all over again … Hector framed someone to get a third party to do his dirty work.'

‘Yep — that's it, Des. Then when Hector disappeared, his wife, Edwina, found out what he'd done. And the Kershaws have kept the shameful secret hidden ever since …'

I took another sip, but the tea was too weak to keep my red eyes from wanting to close. I abandoned the milky muck onto the table next to me. ‘Gideon Webb pieced together the Kershaw family secret when he was researching Hector. He tried blackmailing Seymour Kershaw, but didn't have concrete proof. So, to gain leverage, he re-enacted the Portsmouth Square disaster, framed Seymour Kershaw for it then made Seymour pay him to dispose of the false evidence.'

‘Sounds like Webb copycatted Hector's own methods.' Des was quietly fuming that he'd missed out on all the action.

‘Yep. And it was Webb who broke into our office that first week and then attacked you. He thought we might have information from Seymour that could help him find the diary.'

‘But I don't understand why Gideon Webb tried to re-enact the destruction of the Montgomery Building last night.' Des was furious that he hadn't been there to back me up. ‘Surely he understood there was no way he could get away with it?'

‘I know.' I shrugged. ‘I think he'd started to believe he
was
Hector Kershaw.'

We both pondered that horrible thought and what it'd cost this city. The warm sun was making me drowsy. ‘Bloody Hector,' I murmured. ‘He's still causing trouble now, centuries later.'

‘Well, at least it ended well,' said Des. He gently patted me on the arm, making sure he didn't come close to the strapping.

‘Yeah.' He was right … mostly. At least we were all still alive. I put my head back and shut my eyes … just for a minute.

‘Hey,' said Des, prodding my side. ‘So what happened to Gilda?' He wasn't letting me snooze until he'd caught up completely.

‘The SFPD are after her, but no one knows where she's fled.' I kind of hoped that they wouldn't catch her. But knowing Gilda, if she didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be.

‘Okay … and what about our first ex-client, Seymour Kershaw?'

‘He turned himself in … accompanied by half of the top criminal lawyers on the West Coast. As long as he cooperates when Gideon Webb stands trial, I'm guessing he's not going to have any major headaches.' I shrugged. ‘He was one of Gideon Webb's victims after all.'

Another long pause. I may have snored.

‘Well,' said Des loudly. I jerked awake. ‘Maybe our first case has turned out to be a big success after all?'

‘Yeah, I'm not so sure just how big it's going to be, publicity-wise. The mayor says he wants to keep as much quiet as possible — doesn't want to scare everyone, especially not the foreign investors. But he did say he owed us big time.'

Des frowned but kept searching for the silver lining regardless. ‘What about the NTA? What do they say? Surely they agree we can make this case fully public? It's good publicity for them too.'

‘Nope.' I pushed the dark glasses further up my nose. ‘The NTA just want to keep Mayor Ruttle
happy. The time portal does sit in the middle of his city.'

Des scowled. ‘Bloody NTA! If it suited them they'd tell the mayor where to shove it.'

‘Yep, but they're not going to rattle the mayor's cage to help our little enterprise. You know how well connected he is in Washington.' Balthazar Ruttle's nickname was The Almighty. Hector would've envied his influence in this town and beyond.

We both sat there glumly, trying to work out how to use the Kershaw case to generate some new clients. Nothing jumped out at us. I started to nod off.

‘What about Daniel Honeycutt?' asked Des, searching for another news update to cross off his list.

I groaned and sat up. I needed to be awake for this bit. ‘He's fine, Des. He's back at his place, resting.'

‘And?'

I shot him a glance. I knew what Des was asking … but I didn't want to answer. Not yet anyway. I'd come close to losing Daniel last night and it'd almost wrenched the heart out of me … But he scared me too. I knew he was so protective because of his younger brother … but he was also a force of nature in his own right — unstoppable.

And I had no idea how to handle him. Why did we have to fight all the time?

Des studied my confused face. ‘You have to get back on the horse again sometime, Kannon.'

I grimaced. ‘Did you
really
have to use that particular phrase, Des?'

He ignored that. ‘Aren't you over Alex yet? Is that what's keeping you from moving on?'

‘Maybe … I don't know, Des. Maybe that's it, or …' I shook my head. ‘Daniel's pretty …' I searched for the right word. ‘He's pretty overwhelming.'

‘Oh, really?' Des raised his eyes to the ceiling in disgust. ‘Funny, that sounds just like someone else I know.'

I sighed. I wouldn't admit it to Des — not yet anyway, everything was still too raw — but after last night I now knew I cared deeply for Daniel … maybe even loved him.

Des was right. Why was I really holding back?

Then I remembered what Coyote Jack said to me in the Great Kiva — that I was afraid to give my heart freely because I still felt caged by my childhood memories. Was Daniel's fierce love for me triggering my childhood fear of being trapped and controlled?

‘Des, maybe I'm having trouble dealing with Daniel because of what happened to me … you know … when I was a kid.'

He shot me a searching look. ‘Are you only just realising that, Kannon?' he said softly.

I didn't know how to reply. I thought I'd healed from my past.

Des studied me, then nodded. ‘Well, Kannon, maybe you're right to hold back until you are sure … Because Daniel Honeycutt is playing for keeps. You know that.'

‘Yeah, maybe that's what scares me. After Alex, I don't know if I can go through it all over again.'

Des snorted. ‘You're trusting your fear, Kannon, not your heart.'

I couldn't stand being called a coward, but he was right.

Last night when I'd looked down into that dark watery hole and thought that Daniel had drowned … that he'd gone forever … my heart had shattered into slivers of ice.

Was I really going to lose this extraordinary man through my own stupid fear? Would I let that old cage stand between me and my future?

I refused to. I'd go and see Daniel tomorrow … I'd talk to him about how I felt …

But my chest ached at the thought … both with fear and longing.

 

‘There are too many loose ends in this case, Des. I don't like it.'

‘Yeah, Kannon, well that's what happens with cases that stretch back centuries,' he replied. ‘Remember the trouble I used to have with ones that only happened yesterday? Sometimes you just never find out the full story. So get used to it.'

I refused to be put off. ‘But what happened to Coyote Jack? I can't imagine him giving up.'

‘I guess he had to.' Des shrugged. ‘He was public enemy number one for the next twenty years, with the US army after him. He must've gone south to Mexico and stayed there.' Des frowned. ‘I'm sorry, Kannon, I should've trusted your judgement. But I was so convinced that Coyote Jack was El Chacal. It just seemed to fit so well … that El Chacal was the key to everything.'

The horrible night I'd found Des in the Mission Dolores cemetery, he'd just come from an appointment he'd made with Jackson River. He'd wanted to confront River about his suspicions, but River never turned up.

‘I know.' I nodded. ‘It's so strange that El Chacal was after Isabella's Cross just like Hector Kershaw.'

He sighed. ‘Well, Kannon, maybe we'll never know how it all fits together.'

‘No.' I shook my head. ‘It gives me a strange feeling
in my bones. We're missing something big … We're missing the big picture.'

He shrugged. ‘But what can we do, Kannon? We're out of money … and time. If we don't get a new client soon we're finished before we've really even started.'

I ignored that. It was true but I couldn't give up just yet. ‘But what about Hector Kershaw? What happened to Hector? Why would he disappear at the end of all his successful manipulation? The Corsairs were all dead … so were half the judges and politicians who could've opposed him. San Francisco was his for the taking. So why would Hector leave? And where would he go?'

A pretty, middle-aged nurse walked past, silently checking on Des. He gave her a smiling thumbs up. ‘Let it go, Kannon, you have to.'

‘No, Des, I'm not letting go just yet … If I can just find the diary, then we can use that to —'

‘Oh God … here we go again,' moaned Des. He covered his eyes. ‘I may just stay in hospital. At least the nurses are cute.'

‘Gimme a break, Des! I know that diary is hidden somewhere in the Little Boston Precinct.'

‘Oh, really?' Des perked up with interest. ‘What's this precinct you're talking about?'

‘Little Boston was Hector's pet development. He sank all his money into it.'

Des gave me a wary look. ‘And why are you so sure the diary is there?'

‘Because Gideon Webb told me so.'

Des' shaggy eyebrows quivered with interest. ‘What?'

‘You heard me right … Webb told me he'd discovered that Hector's architect died suddenly the week that the Little Boston Precinct was finished.
He'd been knifed on his way home. But before the architect was murdered he wrote to a friend telling him that Hector had asked him to put a secret room into one of the buildings.'

‘You're joking! A secret room? That changes everything!' The bloodhound in Des was well and truly roused. ‘Do you know where it is?'

‘No, not yet … but I have a plan.'

‘Go on,' he urged.

‘Hector was an expert liar and a genius at manipulating people, but he was also a deeply vain, boastful man. When he sold Isabella's Cross to Rodrigo de Vivar he couldn't resist telling his business partner how clever he'd been to find the cross.' I nodded to myself. ‘I think Hector was bursting with so many secrets he wanted to boast about —'

‘Hmm. I think I can see where you're headed. You reckon Hector couldn't resist revealing his real nature in some covert way.'

‘Yes, I think he did it in his pet project — the Little Boston Precinct. His hidden room, the place that reveals his true nature, is somewhere in Little Boston. And I think he made the whole precinct the symbolic setting to his private soul. I think I can decipher what Little Boston means.'

‘Go on,' urged Des, intrigued.

‘There's something in Hector's past that points the way to the secret room, the hidden core of Hector's real self. For example, why did Hector call his pet project “Little Boston” in the first place? Hector was running away from that city. But there must be something still in Boston to which he was attached … or something that happened there that he wanted to act out here.'

‘You sound like an FBI profiler, Kannon.'

I smiled. ‘I think Little Boston embodies the blueprint of Hector's twisted little mind.'

 

I stood on Prendergast Street, looking across at the Little Boston Precinct. I had my break-and-enter tools in my backpack.

Why had Hector called his pet project ‘Little Boston'? I could think of no good reason, only that it meant something personal to him, something that defined him.

There were five buildings, which were supposed to house a reformatory for delinquent girls and a women's prison, a school and a hospital. But Hector'd disappeared before all the buildings became operational and without the missing architectural documents no one knew which of the five buildings were which.

None of the buildings were named — except one.

I was guessing that the architect had been disposed of before they could all be similarly baptised. The only building with a name was the one directly opposite me — the Thackeray Building. And it had a marble facade while the rest were brick.

I tapped my upper lip. I was betting that the building that housed Hector's private sanctuary got preferential treatment.

But why had Hector called it ‘The Thackeray Building'?

I rang the de Vivar librarian who'd helped me with Hector before. ‘Do you know why Hector Kershaw would call one of his buildings the Thackeray?'

‘Hold on, I'll check …'

I studied the front of the building in more detail. That's right … there was that weird marble sculpture of a Greek hero slaying some kind of monster. I moved in for a better look.

‘Are you there?' asked the librarian.

‘Yes.'

‘It's strange …' I could hear the puzzlement in his voice. ‘The only connection I can find … is that Hector and his brother, Lysander, went there.'