Steven James - The Knight

“OK!” I yelled.

“Next time it’s deeper.”

“All right. I’m doing it.” I bent toward the ground.

“Slowly.”

I tossed the SIG halfway between us.

“Don’t worry,” I said to Cliff. “I’m going to get you out of this.”

He gave me a small nod.

“Now, your knife and your phone,” Kurt said. “All the way to me this time.”

“Let me stop his bleeding, Kurt. Then you can-”

“Throw them to me.”

I deliberated for a moment, then tossed my Wraith to him. It landed at his feet and he kicked it to the side, sending it clattering down the shaft. Then I threw him Tessa’s phone, which he smashed with his heel.

“My stepdaughter is not going to be happy about that.”

“Empty your pockets, Pat. Easy. Don’t try anything.”

All I had with me were my Mini Maglite, my car keys, and the roll of athletic tape from the chopper’s first aid kit. I began holding them up one at a time. “Cheryl’s not at her sister’s, is she, Kurt?”

“She’s with Ari. Back pockets.”

“Dead? Are they dead?”

He didn’t answer. I pocketed the flashlight, keys, and tape.

“Where are they, Kurt? You can at least tell me that.”

“Turns out Ari rented a self-storage unit. I’ll be visiting the two of them when we’re done here. Now, let me see your back pockets.”

If he’s going to visit them, they’re still alive.

I showed him that my back pockets were empty, then faced him again just in time to see him press a needle against Cliff’s neck and depress the plunger.

“No!” I sprinted forward.

“Stop!” Kurt wrenched Cliff’s head back, blade at his neck.

I froze but watched for a chance to make a move. My gun lay just a few meters in front of me.

Cliff’s eyes rolled back, he went limp, and Kurt eased him to the ground.

“What did you give him?” I yelled.

“It’s just to knock him out. To give us some time alone. Back away from the gun.”

I held my ground.

He pulled a Wilson Combat 1911, aimed it at me. “Step back.”

I did.

“Farther.”

He waved me back until I was too far away to dive for the SIG, then he folded up his straight razor and slipped it into his pocket. Kept his gun out, kicked mine down the shaft.

“Kelsey was supposed to die in the freezer, wasn’t she?” I said.

“And she could identify you, so that’s why you sent Reggie in with the sketch artist, why you didn’t enter her room at the hospital. Are you going back for her? Calvin too? No loose ends?”

He didn’t reply, and I took that as a yes.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Threw them to me. They landed at my feet. “Normally, I prefer ropes, but it’s too hard for a person to tie himself up.” He gestured toward the cuffs. “Put them on.”

I didn’t move. “Besides London last year, were there other stories? How long have you been doing this?”

He waved his gun at the handcuffs. “Cuff your hands behind your back, Pat. When you get to the bottom I’ll leave you the key.”

I still didn’t move, and he fired the 1911, sending a cloud of dirt exploding at my feet.

“Put on the cuffs or the next bullet goes into your leg.”

I believed him. I picked up the cuffs. “I’ll find a way out.”

“There is no way out. Not after the shaft is blown shut.”

“You don’t know me. I’ll get out.”

“I do know you, Pat. Remember? I’m the one who requested that you join the task force. I’ve been watching you. I know you very well. There’s no escape. I made sure. Now, put on-”

“Good.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Good?”

“That there’s no escape.” As I spoke, I surveyed the pulley system, the release lever, the ropes, above the shaft. “Because it might take us awhile to dig you out after I leave you down there, and I wouldn’t want you going anywhere.” I clicked the cuff around my left wrist.

He watched me carefully, with a bit of caution. “Go on. The other wrist.”

I thought of a plan and began to click the other cuff around my right wrist “No. Behind your back-hang on. First, throw me your keys. You have a lock pick set on your key ring. I’ve seen it.”

Oh, this was not good. Not at all.

I pulled out my Maglite to get to my keys.

“You can keep the flashlight. I want you to spend a couple days exploring your new home.”

I tossed him my keys and slipped the flashlight into my back pocket. “Where’s Father Hughes? According to Boccaccio’s story, the priest is supposed to survive. Is he still alive?”

“It’s hard to say. He’s chained to a pole, just like Father Alberto in Pampinea’s story. But now that he’s been up on Dover’s Ridge for a nearly week, and it snowed yesterday, I don’t think his chances are very good.”

The smoldering anger inside of me flared up. I needed to relax or I’d make a mistake. A fatal one.

“Now, the other cuff.”

If I snapped it shut, I’d have no way to escape. It’d all be over. “Will you be the one to find him? The hero?” I put both arms behind my back.

“There are several ways things might play out. That’s one of them.”

“And Cheryl and Ari?”

“I’m shifting Amy Lynn and Cliff to story eight-”

“You said you were going to let Cliff live.”

“I lied to you, Pat. And as far as Ari and Cheryl, I still need to tell story number nine, so it looks like I’ll be serving Mr. Ryman’s heart to my wife for dinner tonight.”

Kurt had planned out every detail, every contingency, and al though I could think of a few loose ends, there weren’t many, and I had a feeling he’d already taken steps to wrap them up.

Think, Pat. Think!

I had my hands behind my back, but I hadn’t snapped the second cuff. “But why, Kurt? Why kill these people?”

Kurt thought for a moment. “It’s interesting to watch people die.”

He said no more, and his stark, simple answer sent a chill slicing through me.

“But what about Hannah’s death?” I said. “You grieved when she died. I watched you.”

“I don’t grieve. I act.” He aimed the gun at my face. “Now, finish with the cuff. I want to hear it snap shut.”

I was no longer sure I could get away. “You’ve been planning this since her death, haven’t you? When Amy Lynn interviewed you, that’s when you chose her for the story.”

I felt the bump of my Mini Maglite in my back pocket.

Yes, that’s it.

“Are you Galeotto? From Dante’s Inferno? Is that it? You see yourself as a knight who brings lovers together with death?”

“Bryant gave you that.” Then he started toward me. He must have had enough of my stalling.

I pressed the cuff against my back and clicked it shut.

“Turn around.” He stopped walking, kept the gun on me. “Let me see.”

I turned. Showed him my wrists, handcuffed together.

“OK,” he said, “come here.”

Then I faced him, and as I slowly approached him, I fished my flashlight out of my back pocket and began to unscrew the cylinder from the cap that houses the lightbulb.

Respond accordingly.

All right.

I believe I will.

I was able to unscrew the cylinder, but that wasn’t the part I needed. I slipped the flashlight’s casing into my back pocket.

More time. A little more time.

I surveyed the tunnel again. The rock walls and ceiling reminded me of the climbing cave in my garage-how could I use that to my advantage? The lantern? Throw it at him? Find a way to his gun?

Kurt kept his 1911 trained on me but used one finger to tap at a remote detonator that he held in his other hand. I saw the display screen flash thirty seconds, but he didn’t start the countdown. He slipped the device into his pocket.