The Watch Man 4, page 15
‘Is there a beach there?’ asked Wade, pointing to the lower slope.
‘There is,’ husked the old man, lowering the sail and taking up oars as he did so.
‘That’ll do then, if you’ll be so kind.’
With a grunt the fisherman seated himself and laid out the oars.
Joe Peck turned in his seat, ‘Where’s the windmill?’
‘Up there,’ said the old man raising his eyebrows to upper reaches of the dark cliffs. ‘Ain’t much to see now, place has been empty for years. You thinking on buying it?’
‘Hardly,’ answered Joe, abruptly enough to shut down any further queries.
Wade stepped around the oarsman and crouched down beside the others.
‘When we make landfall, spread out in a line but keep in touch. You’ve already heard what a tricky fellow this brother of mine is and don’t doubt it if you want to stay alive. My guess is he’ll have traps and snares laid out so watch how you move.’
‘An uphill advance then,’ observed Sly Hochstetter, squinting through the mist at the island. ‘He has the advantage. You think he’ll be alone?’
Wade offered a downturned lip, ‘I don’t know but it will be me that he’s after particularly.’
‘Don’t worry,’ growled Bill Bodrum, in a show of solemn comradeship. ‘We got your back.’
‘So, it’s just this Emily Black woman we’re after, that right?’ asked Sly.
‘Yes,’ nodded Wade. ‘You can leave Sylvan to me.’
Joe perked up from his place in the bow, ‘Been hearing about you for a while now. The Watch Man, ain’t it?’
‘Just call me Wade.’
‘Okay, Wade. How you get to fall out with your brother?’
Shingle rasped under the bottom of the boat as they reached shallow water.
‘Long story,’ said Wade.
‘Some other time then, huh, Watch Man?’ chuckled Joe, as he leapt over the sharp prow and landed in water up to his boot ankles.
‘You want me to wait?’ the fisherman called out to them.
‘Give us a couple of hours and if we’re not back then haul off.’
‘What are you boys up to?’ asked the old man curiously.
‘Just a little hunting, is all,’ obliged Wade.
‘Hunting! There’s nothing on this heap of rock worth hunting, all you’ll catch here is a cold.’
Leaving him behind they spread out as they crunched up the shelving beach and disappeared into the mist. Weapons were out now and Wade heard the snick of hammers as guns were locked back to full cock. Together they moved inland and Wade looked along the line and was troubled to see that the others were already fading into silhouettes amidst the hovering mist.
Seagulls dived overhead, curious at the strangers and their cry was a raucous alarm. Wade bit his lip in irritation, as he knew that they signaled their arrival to Sylvan and told him he had company.
‘Damn birds,’ he heard, Joe rasp in a whisper.
They were into the tree line now and soon contact was hard to maintain as the dark clumps of undergrowth amidst the mist hid them from each other.
Wade’s foot descended on something soft and flat, there was a click and a whirr of mechanism. He froze for an instant and then called out, ‘Get down!’
Something swooshed through the mist, slicing an almost silent path through the haze. The silver disc flashed as it passed at head height. Joe Peck was saved only by his short stature. He had ducked at Wade’s call and the circular slice of sharp steel whirled by inches above his head.
‘Jesus!’ he bellowed. ‘What was that?’
‘That’s the first of them,’ warned Wade. ‘Watch where you put your feet, they’re triggered by pressure.’
Wade recalled Sylvan’s warning; ‘Every Step Nearer is a Step Nearer Death.’ He knew now this is what his half-brother had meant.
‘Who is this guy?’ hissed Sly.
In the dull light it was near impossible to tell where the hidden triggers were lying and the only sound was the crunch of their careful tread over the undergrowth. Moving on and as they climbed the steady slope the mist beginning to clear in untidy strips as they neared the heights. Above them the stark outline of the old windmill hung.
‘Almost there,’ breathed Wade.
‘Another one!’ hollered Sly, as he dropped forward to take cover on the ground.
Before Wade could move there was the twang of a released bow and a long slender metal pole with a sharpened end whistled towards him. Wade was swung around as it penetrated the wings of his duster and tugged him over to fall in a tumble.
‘You okay?’ whispered Sly in a hushed voice.
‘Yes,’ said Wade, getting to his feet and studying the rent in his long coat. ‘It missed me.’
‘This guy is your brother?’ asked Sly in disbelief. ‘What rock did he crawl out from under?’
Wade ignored the query and pressed on. He knew that Sylvan would have Emily held tight somewhere in the windmill looming overhead and he focused his mind on freeing her.
It was a conical flat-sided structure built from wood with a few tiny windows inset and the long sails were locked upright in a crucifix form that stood out with dark menace against the pale sky. Around the center of the mill a wide gallery was raised on jutting supports and it was there that Wade saw a figure standing. Black and silhouetted against the pale sky, the solitary shape watched them approach without any sign of movement.
Wade’s heart beat faster and the urge to dash forward and meet with his foe rose in chest.
‘There he is!’ called Joe Peck and he loosed of a rifle shot at the figure above.
The sound boomed in the hollow air and then the others opened fire in unison and the gallery spat with splintered wood as the figure dashed aside and vanished from view.
‘Come on, we’ve got him,’ called Bill Bodrum and he lurched forward unheeding up the sloping hill.
‘Wait!’ Wade called after him.
It was too late, the flying length of thin wire, laced at each end with metal weights, snaked through the air. It hissed as its thin form shimmered and shone and then swung at full force to circle the big man’s neck. The wire laced itself around and Bodrum dropped his rifle and clasped at the tightening band of wire whilst it continued to swing in a constricting loop around him. Strangled by the wire noose Bodrum staggered backwards and then fell.
Sly ran across to the fallen figure that lay thrashing wildly on the ground, ‘Hold on, Bill,’ he called. ‘I’ll get it off.’
But the wire was deeply embedded and blood coated Sly’s hands as he struggled to release the band.
‘Hang on, Bill. Hang on,’ Sly pleaded.
Bodrum stared back at him, jerking and shaking on the damp ground but unable to speak. With his mouth wide open and features racked into a ghastly mask, Sly watched as the eyes rolled back and with a shudder Bill Bodrum gave up the ghost.
‘He’s gone,’ Sly spat. ‘Goddamn it, I’m going to kill that son-of-a-bitch.’
‘You’ll have to wait in line,’ muttered Wade.
They moved forward in a wave, spread out and separated as they closed with the base of the mill.
‘Joe, can you go around back and check it out?’ asked Wade.
‘On it,’ said Joe and he slid away, rifle held at the ready.
Wade and Sly stood alongside the only apparent sign of entry, the main door that allowed access into the lower part of the building. All the woodwork was weathered and eaten by worm and looked past its prime.
‘What do you reckon?’ asked Sly. ‘This door looks old enough to give way under a good kick.’
‘We do that,’ replied Wade suspiciously. ‘And there’s probably something nasty waiting on the other side.’
‘Hell, I’ve never been a back door man, always bust in the front way.’
‘Not this time,’ said Wade, lifting the shotgun from under his coat. ‘Stand aside.’
Two-handed he held the shortened weapon tightly, locked back both hammers and then let fly at the aged door. With a roar the shotgun spoke and the old wood folder at the center with woodworm dust and shattered timber flying in all directions.
The box-like thing that stepped forward out of the dust and lunged at them on unsteady tubular legs raised both arms with a clank of metal and swung snapping scissor shaped claws.
‘What the devil is that?’ gasped Sly, backing away from the monstrous thing.
‘One of Sylvan’s toys,’ Wade answered grimly. He stepped forward and swung the shotgun stock up against the eye-less tin head. The hollow metal rang and clattered under the blow and the creature lumbered on a few steps more. Then Wade dropped down and swung again at the unsteady legs. With a crash the monster fell forward and lay whirring and scrabbling unevenly on the ground, its snapping fingers flashing and scissoring wildly in the air.
‘Holy sh….’ uttered Sly taking another step backwards, his curse was suddenly cut off as a trapdoor opened above them in the gallery and the ton weight of a blacksmith’s last fell on him. Sly’s head disappeared under the falling load as it crushed his upper body with a terrible rending sound and Wade leapt away at the horrible explosion of blood and body parts.
Breath left Wade’s body in a long sigh as he looked down at Sly’s shattered remains, then with determination he stepped over the still twitching remnants of the metal monster and slipped inside the shadowed doorway.
Almost immediately he saw Emily, lit by the pale light from one of the small windows. She was high up and bound tightly around the body, she stood on a platform with a noose of rope around her neck. Steps led up towards the higher reaches of the mill and around them lay the piled remnants of the mill’s workings. Heaped in piles the heavy pieces of timber and grist millstones stood stacked, ominously coated in dusty shadows and cobwebs.
Cautiously, Wade looked around not daring to move unless he set off another of Sylvan’s deadly devices. He quartered the hidden corners waiting for any sign of movement but all was still, only the dust still settling from the forced doorway hovered in the air.
Emily no longer looked like the staunch figure he had known previously, she sagged under her bindings and only a gentle movement to ease the noose around her neck said that she still lived.
‘I’m here,’ Wade called up to her.
‘Wade?’ she husked. ‘Oh, thank God. Be careful, he’s here somewhere.’
‘I know it,’ said Wade, bracing himself and crossing over to take the steps up to her.
At the first step, Emily cried out, ‘No!’
The step lowered under Wade’s tread and a creak of mechanism echoed eerily. The rope above Emily turned on a drum-wheel overhead and tightened, lifting her up onto her toes. Wade quickly stepped back but the rope stayed taut.
‘Every step is fixed the same,’ gurgled Emily, struggling to maintain her balance. ‘You climb them and I’ll be strung up.’
‘Where is the devil?’ snarled Wade, then louder, ‘Come on out, Sylvan. I’m here for you.’
His voice echoed in the emptiness of the building and the only answer was a distant chuckle.
‘Damn you to hell, Sylvan! This is between you and me and not all these others. Show yourself.’
‘No way, brother dear,’ Sylvan called from the shadows. ‘I’m going to leave you to it. By the time you have released this bitch I’ll be long gone. Then lets see if you can get yourself off this pile of rock without harm, I have left a special surprise to keep you busy.’
‘I’ll get you, I promise I’ll come get you.’
‘See that you do. Because like the feral cuckoo you are, you once drove me from the nest but I have you where I want you now and will see that you pay in full.’
‘He’s mad, Wade,’ called Emily. ‘Quite mad.’
Wade crossed over to the doorway and called out, ‘Joe, he’s coming out now. Be ready.’
‘Oh, no good there,’ came Sylvan’s smug response. ‘Poor Joe is hanging around outside somewhere and studying the view, I doubt he’ll be interested,’ there was a pause and then. ‘So long, brother, we’ll meet again no doubt.’
Wade heard the shuffle of footprints and the creak of a door opening. He was torn; he could follow Sylvan out onto the island and hunt him down or try and find a way of releasing the already gasping Emily. The dominating urge in him was to make Sylvan pay not only for Nohemi but all the others he was slaughtering along the way. Then he heard Emily’s rasping breath and he knew he had to somehow figure out how to get to her first.
‘I’m coming, Mrs. Black.’
Emily laughed throatily, ‘Oh, Wade, don’t you think we long are past correct titles by now?’
Wade had to smile, the forced mode of proprieties did seem wildly out of place here, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you down somehow.’
‘Hurry, please, it’s getting harder to breath.’
Wade’s eyes roved over the interior, looking for a way to scale up and bypass the stairway. At first glance the heaped workings seemed the best bet but higher up they were too far removed from the platform where Emily stood. He wondered about scaling the outside and finding the door that Sylvan had left through but was unsure that anything he touched would not set off another turn of the hanging rope. There was only one option left to him.
Wade dropped the slung shotgun back under his coat and drew out his Colt revolver.
‘Hold quite still, Emily. As still as you can, I’m going to part the rope with a bullet.’
‘Tricky shot in this dim light,’ she gasped in reply.
‘Save your breath, lady. This might take a few tries.’
It took four bullets before Wade parted the rope and Emily slumped down to the platform. Quickly he was up the stairway and lifted her enough to saw through the binding with his Bowie knife.
‘Thank you, Wade. Thank you most sincerely,’ she whispered tiredly.
‘Not yet,’ he said, lifting her gently into a sitting position and taking the noose from her neck. ‘We still have to get off this wretched island.’
Emily was exhausted and barely able to walk and Wade had to support as they stumbled out of the windmill. With a gasp of horror Emily noticed the crushed remains of Sly Hochstetter and she asked, ‘Were there many with you?’
‘Three Pinkerton men,’ Wade replied. ‘They want you back to question you about Brody’s activities.’
‘And the men, have they all gone?’
‘Stay here and I’ll check,’ he leant her back against the base of the mill and went to find Joe Peck, knowing full well that Sylvan’s hint at his demise would in all likelihood be fulfilled. It was so, the small man dangled, pinioned by a swinging scythe high under the gallery and the body turned slowly in the bright light as the sun burned off the haze. Wade hung his head in pity; he had liked the little guy and was sorry to see him leave in such a sad way.
Returning to Emily, he took her under his arm and they began the slow descent to beach below. There was dew on the ground thanks to the early mist and by using the trail left by their ascent Wade was able to avoid any of the still hidden snares set up by Sylvan.
They reached the shingle with the thinning mist still casting a veil at the lower level and Wade searched for the fisherman and his skiff amongst the offshore fog.
‘You have transport?’ Emily asked weakly.
‘The boatman was here,’ Wade replied peering into cloud lying above the sea. ‘Rest here and I’ll step along a-ways and see if he is further up the beach.’
‘Very well,’ sighed Emily gratefully.
Wade handed over his Colt, ‘Here, take my pistol, just in case.’
Wade set her down and began a crunching walk along the shingle beach.
‘Ho!’ he called. ‘The boat, where are you?’
The fog swung in and muffled his words and Wade was sure he could not be heard at any distance.
Then, to his relief a shape appeared amongst the swirling mist.
‘Is that you, Fisherman?’
The outline neared, it was capped by a halo of wild hair and wore long clothes that draped down to the ground and made it appear as if risen from the mist itself.
Suddenly, the figure emitted a piercing scream.
‘You killed my husband.’
The creature ran at full tilt towards him and Wade made out the raised arm and heavy knife held high above the head. The wreaths of mist flew back as the charging figure neared and Wade made out the ravaged features of Mary Ann Rotard. She appeared haggard and demented, dressed in black mourning clothes and wild in the extreme. There was nothing left he could recognize of the once-demure character, something had eaten away at her and torn at her docile sensibilities to leave the crazed creature before him.
She pulled to a wavering halt before him and stood shaking with righteous anger. The knife was still held high and the dilated pupils round and staring intensely, ‘You! You killed him, my dearest Bronx. Took him from me and he was all I had.’
‘No, ma’am, I did not,’ Wade answered as calmly as he could.
‘Yes, yes,’ she blurted in a sobbing voice. ‘I have it from your own brother’s lips. It was you that murdered him for no good reason and for that I will have justice in blood.’
‘Ma’am, please, put down the knife.’
Tears were beginning to stream down her face, ‘He was everything to me. Everything. And you cut him down without a second thought. You have torn the heart from my body.’
Wade knew the shotgun under his coat was empty, his revolver he had given to Emily and only the shoulder-holstered Colt was at his reach but if he made a move he feared it would tip the woman over the edge and she would drive the blade into his chest.
‘Can we talk, Mrs. Rotard? Please, I’d like you to understand.’
‘There’s nothing to say,’ she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘I have nothing left.’
‘I don’t believe you are a murderous woman, ma’am and I must tell you that you have been sorely misled by my brother’s lies.’
