Caleb Carr - The Angel Of Darkness

Trying to stifle her own weeping, Mrs. Hastings nodded. “Yes-I think so-that is, we took my husband there when he-oh, Your Honor, I can’t bear it!”

“Listen to me!” the Doctor said. “Take the detective sergeant with you.” With a nod of his head he indicated Marcus, who had put his jacket back on over his undershirt. “Telephone Dr. Lawrence, and tell him to prepare. Then get over to Mr. Wooley, at the stables. Have him ready his gentlest wagon, and fit it out with whatever padding he can. Mrs. Hastings!” The Doctor grasped the grief-stricken woman’s arm harder. “Can you do this?”

“I-” She began to nod, and tried to pull herself together. “Yes, Doctor. If the detective sergeant will help me.”

“Come on, Mrs. Hastings,” Marcus said, guiding her to the door. “If we move quickly enough, everything will be fine.”

As the pair left the room, the Doctor went back to work bandaging Mr. Picton’s wounds. “Yes- if they move quickly enough…” he said quietly, in a voice what didn’t contain much hope.

Hearing those words, I considered for the first time the possibility that Mr. Picton might die; and along with the terrible sadness of that thought came the full realization of who had attacked him, and what that attack meant: Libby Hatch was loose, and on her way, almost certainly, back to New York.

“What about the woman, Doctor?” Lucius asked, as he continued to help with the bandaging. “Mr. Picton’s right-she’s got a good jump on us.”

“That can’t be helped,” the Doctor answered quickly. “We owe this man too much-whatever can be done must be done. We need to talk to Sheriff Dunning, as well. I want it to be absolutely clear what happened here, so that when we go after her this time we can do it openly.”

Hearing all this talk, and struck cold by the sight of all the blood in the room, I could think of only one thing: What would happen to Kat when Libby got back to New York? It was past midnight-a tough, maybe impossible, hour to get a message through to Betty in time for her to get over to the Dusters’ and warn Kat who was coming. What would happen? I wondered with mounting fear, my hands going cold and my feet shifting nervously. If the woman could do this to poor Mr. Picton, not to mention the big, dead man lying against the wall across the room, what would happen when she-

I felt a tug at the back of my shirt. Turning, I saw El Niño, who seemed to have put his bout of grief aside, at least as much as he could: instead of tears, there was now a glaring fire in his dark eyes, and his face, for the first time since I’d known him, seemed to show what kind of violence he was capable of once his blood was up. At that moment I wasn’t looking at an amiable little aborigine; I was looking at a man who’d been violently torn away from his people at an early age, sold into bondage, and then escaped to become a wandering mercenary.

“Señorito Stevie,” he whispered, urging me into the stairway while the others continued to fix their attention on Mr. Picton. I followed him in, keeping my own eyes on the Doctor’s fast-moving hands.

“Señorito Stevie,” El Niño repeated, once we were out of earshot of the others. “I must go.”

“Go?” I said, glancing at him quickly to see his face setting even harder. “Go where?”

“The jefe will die,” El Niño said, in a matter-of-fact way what still betrayed much of his grief. “I have seen such wounds before. And I have read it in the Señor Doctor’s eyes. He will try to save Señor Picton-but he will fail. And his failure will take hours. My future here will die with the jefe . I must go.” Suddenly his gleaming kris appeared from under the dinner jacket. “Before the trail of the woman becomes lost. I owe this to Señor Picton. He was to give me a life-I shall avenge his.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, turning fully to him.

“They will not let me go,” he said, nodding at the others. “They will try to stop me-and they will try to stop you, too.”

“ Me ?”I said.

“You cannot wait for the jefe to die,” the aborigine said. “Not if you are to save your friend, and baby Ana. It is for us to do this thing, Señorito Stevie, and we must do it now . You know the places we must go. And I have the skills”-he glanced down at the knife in his hand-“to do what must be done. But they will not permit it, if they know.”

I turned again to look at the Doctor, knowing just what El Niño meant. If I’d even suggested that I be allowed to go ahead on my own and see to Kat’s safety, the Doctor would never have agreed. He’d let me stay involved in the case from the beginning because I’d promised not to put myself in danger unnecessarily-and there was every chance that he’d view me bolting off to New York on my own to try to protect Kat as too high of a risk. He’d probably be right, too.

“But,” I whispered, “how would we-where-”

“It is no great difficulty,” El Niño said. “You and I, we are people who know the ways of such things.”

I gave the matter a few seconds’ consideration. “They’d be expecting us to try to get on a train,” I thought out loud. “So they’d try to stop us at the station. We could steal a horse from the stables, ride to Troy, and catch an express from there-”

The aborigine put a firm hand to my shoulder. “Yes. You see, Señorito Stevie, it is for you and I to do this thing. It is we who know the way of it.”

Taking two or three heavy breaths to try to calm the pounding in my chest brought on by the possible death of Mr. Picton and the definite danger that Kat had suddenly been placed in, I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “There’s just one thing…”

Going to the staircase doorway, I made a little hissing sound in Mr. Moore’s direction. I had to do it two or three times before I got his attention, and then finally he turned.

“Mr. Moore!” I whispered; then I urged him over with a wave of my hands.

Moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on Mr. Picton, he joined us in the staircase. “What is it, Stevie?”

“Mr. Moore,” I said, shuffling in my anxiousness, “I’ve- we’ve -we’re going. Now .”

That got his attention, and he turned his tear-stained face to me fully. “What do you mean?”

“She’s got a long lead,” I answered. “The rest of you have to take care of Mr. Picton and clear things with the sheriff. By the time all that happens…”

Mr. Moore pondered that for a second, then grabbed another quick look at Mr. Picton. “But what can you-” Turning back to us and looking down, he suddenly caught sight of El Niño’s kris . When he did, his face filled with darkness-but not disapproval. “How will you go?”

“We’ll manage,” I answered. “But we’ll need a little bit of a start.”

Looking to his blood-soaked friend again, Mr. Moore reached into his pocket and pulled out his billfold. “You’ll need money, too,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“You’ll help us?” I said, a slight tremble of relief coursing through me.

Mr. Moore nodded once. “Kreizler’ll have my guts for garters,” he whispered. “But it’s the only way.” He forked over a wad of bills, everything he had, then put one hand on my shoulder and the other on El Niño’s. “Don’t tell me how you’ll get there-I can’t reveal what I don’t know. And watch yourselves. We’ll follow as soon as we can. As soon as-”

“I know,” I said. “And tell the Doctor-” I glanced into the room once more to look at the man who’d done so much for me in my life, and who I was now defying. “Tell the Doctor I’m sorry…”

“I know,” Mr. Moore answered. “Don’t worry-and don’t waste any more time. Just go, and do what you have to.” He gave me a hard, meaningful stare. “ Go , Stevepipe…”