It was impossible to make out any objects in the room, but even though Lawton could not turn his head he could hear the faint sound of Esperanza Claramunt’s breathing. He tried to lift his bare feet, but the straps were bound so tightly that they began to cut into his ankles.
“Esperanza, wake up!” he hissed.
There was no answer, and then he heard a faint murmur.
“Esperanza?”
Again there was no answer. Lawton was shivering and trembling now, and he let out a low sound that was somewhere between a moan and a growl as he rocked backward and forward and strained against the straps. Once again his arms and legs were held fast. He was still tugging uselessly against the straps when he noticed that the chair had moved slightly from the rocking motion. It was only then that he realized that the board to which the chair was attached was not fixed to the floor. In that moment it occurred to him that there might just be something he could do. He began to rock backward and forward and side to side now in a more controlled and purposeful manner, until he felt the chair moving toward Esperanza’s. Even that tiny movement required enormous effort and concentration, but it was enough to make him continue. Once again he called Esperanza’s name and this time he heard an answering moan through the gag.
“I’m coming toward you!” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”
There was no answer, and he sensed that she was only barely present. He continued to rock the chair, pausing only to call her name or listen out for footsteps. It was clumsy and painstaking work, and it was made even more difficult by his inability to see or move his head. He was also conscious of the risk of overbalancing and tipping the chair over. At last he felt her chair alongside his own, and he was able to touch her bare arm with his little finger. He continued to rock and shuffle forward till his right hand was pressing against her left.
She felt cold and still as he groped for the buckle on the other side of her wrist, but his hand was held so tightly that he could only touch the metal with the outside of his little finger.
“Can you move your hand?”
Once again there was no answer, then he felt her fingers moving.
“I want you to reach for my strap. Can you feel the buckle?”
He heard what sounded vaguely like a noise of affirmation. As he had hoped, her wrist was not strapped down as tightly as his, and he felt her fingers crawling over his wrist like a spider’s legs as she reached for the end of the strap.
“That’s it!” he said. “Push it through now.”
He felt her fingers and thumb fumbling with the strap, and then her fingers slipped away from him.
“Try again!” he said. “If you don’t we’re going to die here.”
For a moment he thought she had passed out, and then the cold, delicate fingers worked their way back across his wrist and pushed the strap up through the metal loop.
“Good girl! Now open it!”
Lawton felt her struggling to ease the leather strap out through the prong. At one point she had nearly succeeded, then her fingers fell back and the strap sank back down.
“Come on! Push the damn thing!” he growled.
Once again she gripped the end of the strap between her thumb and forefinger and pushed it upward. For a moment he thought she would fail again, but then the strap came loose and he slipped his hand free. He almost tore the strap from his other wrist, before he pushed the box on his head back on its hinges and undid the strap around his chest. He reached down and unstrapped his feet and suddenly he was standing upright once again on his own two feet and ready to fight.
He stumbled toward the counter and used the wall to guide his way back toward the door, till he reached the light switch. He turned the light back on and went over to get his clothes. When he had dressed he leaned over Esperanza’s chair. She was sitting with her eyes closed, and she did not open them when he unbuckled her straps. No sooner had he tilted back the wooden box and untied her gag than her head fell to one side. He slapped her lightly on the cheek till she straightened up and looked at him with a desolate expression.
“It wasn’t Ruben,” she said, in a tired, sad voice. “It was Arnau.”
“This isn’t the time for that. Can you stand?”
“I don’t know.” She pushed down on the arms of the chair and tried to lift herself up, and then sat back down again. “It’s my legs. They’re like water.”
“Stay there for now.” Lawton had felt briefly hopeful and optimistic but now he was beginning to feel trapped once again. The clock on the wall gave one o’clock, which left two hours before Foulkes and the others returned. He looked around for a weapon. At the far end of the counter he saw a lantern and a microscope, and in the corner beyond it he noticed a large can of paraffin. None of these objects were much use, and he began to look with growing desperation through the cupboards and drawers.
Most of them were filled with bottles, vials, rubber tubes, and an array of syringes, needles, and catheters, but another contained an array of scalpels and other surgical instruments. He was still looking through it when he heard Weygrand’s high-pitched nasal voice. He grabbed a curved amputation knife and ran over to the light switch. He had barely had time to switch it off when the door opened and Weygrand turned it back on again.
Lawton was still pressed against the wall with the door turned toward him, and now he slashed downward with the knife. Weygrand shrieked and dropped his cane as Lawton reached around the door and grabbed Zorka by her collar. She opened her mouth as if to scream, but he wrenched her into the room and slammed the door shut, pressing the knife against her throat even as Weygrand reached for his stick with his good hand. Lawton brought his bare foot down on Weygrand’s fingers, and kicked the stick away from him.
Weygrand was still holding his wrist, and a little puddle of blood was beginning to form on the floor. Lawton reached down and picked up the stick. As soon as he held it he realized why Weygrand had been so keen to retrieve it. The cane was heavier than it should have been, and he separated the stick from the silver handle to reveal a cane-pistol with a drop-down trigger, of the type that English gentlemen used in the last century to defend themselves on the streets. He had often heard of such weapons, but had never seen one, and now he pointed it directly at Zorka’s catlike eyes.
“Do exactly as I say,” Lawton ordered. “Or I swear to God I shall kill you both.” He looked down at Weygrand. “Get up,” he ordered.
“I’m bleeding!” Weygrand whined incredulously. “I need a bandage.”
“Sit down.” Lawton pointed toward the empty chair. “Miss Claramunt. Can you strap this bloodsucker’s feet?”
Esperanza hauled herself to her feet with obvious difficulty, and knelt down to tie the straps around Weygrand’s ankles. As soon as she had finished she turned away and retched.
“The she-wolf can take your place,” Lawton pointed with his gun toward the vacant chair. Zorka meekly sat down and buckled the straps around her ankles as Esperanza limped over to the autopsy table and sat down.
“What are you doing here?” Lawton asked. “You said you weren’t coming back till three.”
“Foulkes doesn’t like women to come into the laboratory while we’re working,” Weygrand said. “But Zorka wanted to see you.”
“Did she now?”
“Dammit man, can’t you give me a bandage?”
“A little bleeding won’t hurt you. Just think of it as an experiment.” Lawton turned to Zorka. “So you wanted to watch me? These things please you, do they?”
“It’s not true!” cried Zorka. “He made me come. I don’t know what they do here!”
“Of course you don’t. Like you didn’t know what was in that cigarette.” Lawton wiped the knife on Weygrand’s trouser leg and slipped it into his belt. “Do you have any spare bullets for this?” he held up the cane gun.
Weygrand shook his head, and Lawton looked through his jacket pockets. There were no bullets, but he was pleased to find his cigarette case and lighter. He lit a cigarette and filled his lungs. “Zorka told me that you really can read minds,” he said. “Do you know what I’m thinking now?” Weygrand said nothing. “I’m thinking that it wouldn’t be a bad thing to let you bleed to death. But I’d much rather see you dangling from the end of a rope.”
Weygrand looked at him with a cowed expression as he walked over to the counter and took a roll of bandage from one of the drawers. “How many men are guarding the building?” he asked.
“Only one,” Weygrand replied.
Lawton laid his weapons on the ground and quickly bandaged Weygrand’s wrist. It was only now that he put his boots on, and knelt down to tie his laces. He picked up the gun and knife and walked over to Esperanza.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
“In her state?” said Weygrand. “She can hardly walk.”
“He’s right Harry,” Esperanza said. “Save yourself.”
“We’re going together.” Lawton stuck the knife in his belt and led her by the arm toward Weygrand. “Undo your straps,” he ordered. “Anything else and I’ll shoot you dead.”
Weygrand leaned forward and unstrapped himself.
“Now her.” Lawton nodded at Zorka, and Weygrand undid her straps.
“Stay just in front of me,” Lawton ordered. “Otherwise it’ll be the bullet for one of you and the knife for the other. Turn around.” He prodded Zorka and Weygrand toward the doorway and they walked out into the corridor. Even before they reached the grille he heard voices shouting up from below and he paused and peered down into the gloom.
“Listen carefully,” he said. “I’m going to get help. But you need to be silent now. Otherwise all of us will die. Do you understand?”
There was a murmur of assent and the voices fell silent before a woman called, “God bless you, Señor” in a soft, hopeful voice.
They walked on toward the closed doors, where Lawton unhooked Esperanza’s arm and told Zorka and Weygrand to stand still. He was walking just in front of them now, with the knife in one hand and the pistol in the other as he inched one of the doors open. The chapel was silent, and he closed the doors once again and ordered Weygrand to kneel on the floor.
“Why?” Weygrand asked nervously. “What are you going to do?”
Lawton handed the pistol to Esperanza. “Hold this against his head,” he said. “If he moves shoot him,” he said. “And if I say anything I also want you to shoot him.”
Esperanza nodded and rested the barrel against the back of Weygrand’s polished black hair. Zorka looked at Lawton expectantly, as he pointed toward the stairs. “You’re coming with me. When I tell you, call the guard in. Anything else and I’ll cut your throat. Is that clear?”
“Of course, Harry. Whatever you say.”
Lawton ignored the sarcasm and took her by the arm. The entrance to the chapel was slightly ajar, and he could not see the guard as he walked slowly and carefully through the pews, with his hand on Zorka’s wrist. It was not until he reached the door that he gave her a nod.
“Señor,” Zorka called. “I need you.”
“Señora?”
Lawton heard the footsteps coming up the little step. The guard had barely stepped inside when he let go of Zorka’s wrist and kicked the door shut. The guard tried to unhook the shotgun, but Lawton slashed him across the throat with a scythe-like motion. The guard let out a gargling sound and tried to staunch the wound with his hands, but his eyes were glazing over as he dropped to his knees and toppled over. Zorka had one hand over her mouth and she stared at Lawton with fascination as he wiped the knife on the guard’s shirt.
The guard was carrying a 12-gauge pump-action Winchester, and Lawton unhooked it from his shoulder and rifled through his pockets for spare cartridges. He shoved them into his own pockets and inched the door open. There were no other guards nearby, but he could see two armed men walking along the far perimeter wall near the main entrance. To his left, the estate reached out across a wide strip of open ground behind the main house toward a citrus orchard that led into the wall and a fenced-in field where some horses were grazing. As far as he could see, the orchard offered the only way out, provided they were able to reach the trees without being seen.
Zorka seemed entirely docile now as he slotted the knife in his belt and pushed her back down into the tunnel, where they found Esperanza still leaning against the wall with the cane-pistol resting against Weygrand’s head. Lawton took it from her and tucked it into his belt along with the knife, before nudging Weygrand with the shotgun.
“Get up,” he ordered. “We’re leaving.” He looked at Zorka. “You can help carry Miss Claramunt. Take your arm away from her and I’ll kill you. And if anyone tries to stop us out there then I’ll kill the two of you first. Don’t think I won’t.”
Weygrand’s bulbous eyes flitted around desperately as Zorka put one arm around Esperanza’s waist. Even then Esperanza struggled to get up the stairs, and she had to lean on the pews for support as they threaded their way back toward the doorway. Weygrand peered down at the dead guard as Lawton pushed him around the spreading pool of blood. “You can’t kill them all,” he said.
“You better hope they don’t see us then,” Lawton replied.
Lawton opened the door once again. There were no guards in sight, and he ushered the others out in front of him and pointed with the shotgun toward the orchard. In any other circumstances he would have run the short distance to the trees, but now he was forced to walk at Esperanza’s pace as she stumbled forward with her arm around Zorka’s shoulder. They had nearly reached the orchard, and he was beginning to think that they might make it after all, when he heard a shout from behind him.
He looked back and saw a guard standing at the corner of the outbuildings. In the same moment the dogs began to bark and two more guards came running toward them from the far wall. Zorka had stopped walking now and she had a faint smirk of triumph on her face, which quickly vanished as he raised the shotgun toward her head. Even as they neared the trees the barking grew suddenly louder. Lawton looked back and saw three more guards coming toward them, holding the two Dobermans by the leash. It was all going as badly as it could, he thought, and as he pushed Zorka and Weygrand into the trees there was no obvious prospect that it would get any better.