Simon Hawke - Hellfire Rebellion

“What Drakov wants,” said Lucas, “is to strike out against Moses Forester, against time travel, against the very world that brought him into existence. And you are an unwitting part of that insane plan of vengeance. And there’s something else you may not know. The real Nikolai Drakov is dead.”

Moffat stared at him with incomprehension.

“At least, we think the original Nikolai Drakov is dead.” said Lucas, “but we really can’t be sure. Because, you see, one of the things that Drakov did with the process he stole from Phillipe Moreau was to use his own genetic material to replicate himself. We don’t know how many times. The man you know may be the original Nikolai Drakov, but for all we know, he might be a hominoid just like yourself.”

“No.” said Moffat, his lower lip trembling. “No, that isn’t possible.”

“It’s not only possible,” said Lucas, “it’s very probable. Chances are he doesn’t even know himself. But one thing is for sure. Nobody can make life out of nothing. You may not have been born in the conventional manner and you may not be able to have children, but you are the result of genetic engineering. You may have been cloned in a Petri dish and gestated in an artificial womb, you may have been programmed and conditioned with certain psychological imperatives, but you’re as human as the rest of us. You think. You bleed. You feel. No matter what you’ve been conditioned to believe. Your own independent thoughts may have been subverted in some ways, but what do your feelings tell you?”

“Oh. God.” said Moffat. very softly. “Sally…” A tear rolled down his cheek.

Lucas stood. “Leave him alone now.” he said softly, he shook his head sadly. “Poor bastard.”

They left the room and softly closed the door.

Johnny Small was frantic. He couldn’t find Andre and the others anywhere. The innkeeper at the Peacock Tavern said he hadn’t seen them and there was no one home at Hunter’s house on Long Lane, either. It was as if they’d all simply disappeared without a trace. It was his job to watch them and now he had no idea where they were. He fingered the Liberty medallion Sam Adams had given him. Adams had expressed confidence in him and now he’d failed him. He had no idea what to do.

As he walked through the dark streets of Boston, he tried to think where they might have gone. They wouldn’t have gone to one of the radical taverns, surely, because except for Hunter, they were all posing as Tories. The last time he had seen them. Andre had been on her way to meet with Hunter, so perhaps they were with him, but where? He tried to think where Hunter might have gone, who his close associates were. Perhaps one of them could tell him where Hunter could be found. He tried to think and then it came to him.

Hunter had been sponsored into the Sons of Liberty by Ben Edes and Ebenezer Macintosh. The hour was late and Edes was known to retire early, but Macintosh was a notorious carouser. He hurried to The Bunch of Grapes, but was told that he’d missed Macintosh by only twenty minutes. He had gone staggering home, full of rum, as usual. Johnny showed his Liberty medallion and said he had an urgent message for Macintosh from Samuel Adams and the he produced Macintosh’s address. He ran all the way there, desperately hoping that Macintosh Was not so drunk that he would be passed out by the time he arrived. As he ran, he had no idea that he was being followed.

“Mac, wake up.” said Hunter.

“Whhuh? Who izzit?”

“Mac! Come on. Mac. wake up, God damn it!”

Hunter grabbed Macintosh by his shirtfront and slapped him several times across the face. He had fallen into bed completely dressed, without even bothering to take his shoes off. Macintosh came awake with a drunken roar, sat up in bed, and took a wild swing at Hunter. Hunter easily avoided it and threw him out of bed onto the floor. Macintosh rose to his hands and knees and shook himself. He looked up and saw Hunter.

“Reese! Damn your eyes! What in God’s name are ya doin’ here?” he said, his voice thick with drink. “How’d ya get in here, anyway?”

“You left the door open, you drunken idiot. Come on, get up. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Macintosh remained sitting on the floor, squinting at Hunter.

“Man can’t even sleep in peace. y’want? Breakin’ inta a man’s home at this ungodly hour.”

“Mac, get up!” said Hunter. “If you want to live, move yourself!”

“What kinda way is that ta talk? Go ‘way. Lemme alone.”

“Damn it, Mac…” Hunter went over to the washstand and picked up the basin. He threw the water into Macintosh’s face.

“ Aaarrghr

Macintosh lunged up off the floor and came lumbering at Hunter like an angry bear. Hunter ducked his swing and gave him a sharp jab in the solar plexus. Macintosh wheezed and doubled over. Hunter threw him up against the wall and slapped him twice across the face.

“Snap out of it. Mac, damn you!”

Macintosh made a small stunting, squealing sort of noise. “Gonna be sick…”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake

Hawke Hunter stepped away as Macintosh doubled over and threw up on the floor.

“Mac, you’re a fucking mess.” said Hunter.

Macintosh wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Now look what ya gone an’ done,” he said. “I’m gonna break yer bloody neck…”

“It’s your own neck I’m trying to save. you fool.” said Hunter.

“They’re going to hang you!” Macintosh blinked. “What? Who? What the devil are ya talkin’ about?”

“The Tories! The Hellfire Club. you idiot! The followers of the headless horseman! They could be on their way here right now to lynch you, just like they did to those four friends of yours!”

Macintosh paled. “The horseman’s men’? They’re gonna hang me?”

“That’s right, you fool. Sober up if you don’t want to die! You’ve got to get out of hem right now!”

“Sweet Mother o’God,” said Macintosh. “And ya come ta warn me. God bless ya. Reese. you’re a real friend. I’m sorry I took a poke at ya-”

“Never mind that now,” said Hunter, impatiently. “You’ve got to get out of here. Are you sober enough to remember what I tell you?”

“Aye, if comes to my own neck, that I am,” said Macintosh, rubbing his face. “They’re not gonna hang Ebenezer Macintosh. by God!”

“Listen to me carefully,” said Hunter. “We haven’t got much time and lives depend on it. The horseman’s men are going to try to kill off the leaders of the Sons of Liberty, one by one. Get to your South End boys. Tell them that they’ve got to place a constant watch on Adams and the others or they’ll wind up dangling from the Liberty Tree. Have several men watch each of them at all times, especially at night. And you stay out of sight, yourself. You got that’?”

Macintosh took a deep breath and nodded. “The horseman’s men are gonna try ta kill Adams an’ the others. Have my boys watch ’em, day an’ night.”

“Good man. Now come on, we’ve got to get you out of here. Have you got a place to go where you can hide out?”

“Aye. I’ll go an’ see my boys. They’ll take care o’ me. They’ll know what ta do.”

“All right, get moving. Quickly, now!”

Macintosh grabbed his coat and hat and lumbered down the stairs, Hunter right behind him. “God bless ya. Reese,” he said as they stepped outside. “You’re a good friend. I won’t forget this-”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a saint, I know. Get moving. And for God’s sake, keep to the alleys. Don’t let anybody see you. And don’t forget what I told you.”

“I won’t forget. I’m on my way.” He shambled off into the darkness and turned into an alleyway. Hunter sighed with relief. And then he heard the sound of running footsteps. His fingers closed around the butt of his Beretta, but he relaxed when he saw Johnny Small come running up to him.