Cincinnati Run

Chapter Eight

“Watch them,” Blade directed Hickok, then snatched the Commando and dashed after Geronimo to the front porch.

“See?” Geronimo said.

Less than a mile to the southeast a pair of headlights were visible, approaching in the general direction of the farmhouse.

“Get Holly,” Blade directed.

“You’ve got it,” Geronimo responded, and went indoors.

Blade stared at the circles of light, pondering the implications. The hour was still early, too early for anyone to be abroad, for someone to be paying the Eberles a visit. How far would the noise of the shotgun blast have carried? If a Russian patrol heard the sound, they’d undoubtedly investigate. He intended to jump a Soviet squad and confiscate their uniforms, but he wanted to pick the time and the place.

Geronimo returned with Holly.

“What is it?” she queried.

Blade pointed at the distant headlights. “Is there a road to the south of your farm?”

“A dirt lane leads from our farm to a paved road,” Holly said. “I’d say that vehicle is on the road.”

“Are there any other farms nearby? Any turnoffs?”

“Gus Seuell has a farm a quarter of a mile to the east,” Holly mentioned. “To get here, he has to swing around to the south. That could be him.”

“Why would he be coming here at this time of the morning?” Blade questioned.

“I don’t know,” Holly said.

“Is this Seuell a close friend of yours?”

“To tell you the truth, I never much liked Gus. Tim and him were good buddies, but he always made me feel uncomfortable,” Holly disclosed.

“Why?”

Holly shrugged. “I can’t really say. Gus was always nice to me, always considerate. Since Tim was executed, Gus has been over here every day asking if there’s anything he can do to help out. I suppose I should like him more, but my intuition bothers me whenever he’s around.”

“Hmmmmm,” was all Blade said.

“Orders?” Geronimo asked.

“Go inside and turn out all the lights,” Blade stated. “Have Hickok stay in the living room with the Eberles, except for Holly. She’ll be with me.

Find a second-floor window and be ready if I give the signal.”

“What about the dead dogs?”

“I’ll hide them,” Blade proposed. “Get going.”

Geronimo departed.

“What about me?” Holly queried.

“You can remain on the porch or come with me,” Blade said, striding down the steps.

“I’ll go with you,” Holly said, following. “I must be crazy. You killed most of our dogs, broke into our house, and yet I feel safe around you.”

Blade looked at her. “I’m truly sorry about the dogs. I tried to avoid harming them. They didn’t leave us any choice.”

“Farm dogs are very territorial,” Holly commented.

The large brown dog and the small black and white canine abruptly raced around a yellow poplar tree on the left, growling as they neared the Warrior.

“Daffodil! Buttercup! No!” Holly declared. “Stop!”

They checked their rush, growling and glaring at Blade.

“Go to the barn!” Holly directed. “The barn! Go! Now!”

Buttercup and Daffodil, unwilling but obedient, padded off.

“The barn!” Holly called after them. “Go to the barn!”

“Thanks,” Blade said. “I didn’t want to kill them too.” He walked to the corpses of the five dead dogs.

“Sweet Jesus!” Holly blurted out when she spied the bodies.

Blade slung the Commando over his left arm and grabbed one of the dogs by the scruff of the neck. He lugged the canine to a nearby lilac bush and placed it at the base of the ten-foot high shrub. He arranged the lower branches and leaves to partially screen the dead dog, then stepped back to inspect his handiwork. Unless someone was within a yard or two of the lilac bush, he doubted the corpse could be seen. Working quickly, he brought the other bodies over and hid them in the shadows.

“I’d better bury them before Danny and Claudia see them,” Holly remarked.

“We’ll bury them before we leave,” Blade said, and turned to the southwest. The headlights were a half mile distant, intermittently discernible, their glimmering radiance eclipsed by periodic stands of trees. He glanced at the barn and noticed a driveway on the south side.

The gravel drive widened and extended to within 15 yards of the farmhouse. A cement walk connected the end of the driveway to the front steps.

“Do you mind if I ask a few questions?” Holly queried.

“No,” Blade replied, walking toward the porch.

“Why are you here?”

“I can’t divulge the reason we came to Ohio,” Blade said.

“The Soviets have renamed Ohio and call it Novgorod,” Holly divulged, “but that’s not what I meant. Why are you at our farm?”

“This was as good a place as any to acquire the information we need.”

“About what?”

“Cincinnati. Have you visited the city?”

“Fairly frequently, particularly within the past year. Tim’s trial was held in Cincinnati, and I was in the courtroom every day.”

“Then you can provide a diagram of the streets and the Soviet installations.”

“You plan to take on the Russians?”

Blade nodded. The house, he observed, was shrouded in gloom.

“Just the three of you?”

Blade nodded again.

“You’re nuts.”

“So we’ve been told.”

Holly scrutinized the giant as they climbed the stairs and paused.

“What do you hope to accomplish?”

“I can’t say.”

“I don’t know why I should, but I’ll do what I can to help you. I hate the damn Commies, and if you’re going to give them a taste of their own medicine, then I’m all for it.”

“Let’s just say that they’ll know we’ve been there.”

Holly grinned. “Real men at last!”

Blade glanced at her. “Real men?”

“Most of the people have given up on the idea of opposing the Russians.

There’s the underground movement, but they’re not very effective. They try to slip food to the needy, but they don’t commit any violent acts because they’re afraid of reprisals. It’s nice to see men who aren’t afraid, who aren’t cowed by the Commies.”

“You can’t blame the people. Most, like your husband, probably have families, loved ones they wouldn’t want to see harmed. Your Tim sounds like he was a… real man. The measure of manhood does not lie in a man’s capacity for violence.”

Holly folded her hands at her waist and gazed at him. “You’re a strange one.”

“Do you think any less of Tim even though he didn’t rebel openly?”

“No, I don’t,” Holly conceded.

“I rest my case.”

“Are there others like you where you come from?”

“Quite a few.”

“Too bad there aren’t enough of you to overthrow the Russians.”

“One day, maybe,” Blade said.

“I hope it happens during my lifetime. I want to see them ground into the dust. I want every last one of the mothers pushing up daisies,” Holly stated harshly.

Blade grinned. “Maybe you should start a revolution yourself.”

“Maybe I will.”

The headlights were now several hundred yards south of the barn.

“Let’s go in,” Blade said, and opened the door for her. Once they were both in the hallway, he closed the door and positioned himself to the left, near the hinges.

“What do I do?” Holly inquired.

“We wait to see who it is,” Blade responded. “If they come to the door and knock, don’t answer for at least a minute. We want them to think that they roused you out of bed.”

Holly reached out and flicked a metal button underneath the doorknob.

“I locked it.”

“Thanks,” Blade said. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He suddenly realized he was feeling very fatigued, and he mentally chided himself for not having slept in over 24 hours. He’d attempted to rest early in the evening, after they had hidden the SEAL. Bothered by thoughts of Jenny and Gabe, and deeply upset at Geronimo’s impending resignation from the Warriors, he’d tossed and turned in his seat, unable to doze off.

“I know that car,” Holly stated, curtailing the giant’s reverie. She was standing next to a narrow pane of glass on the right side of the jamb.

Blade peeked out, noting a rattling black sedan as the vehicle braked within a yard of the cement walk. “Who is it?”

“Gus Seuell. What does he want at this hour?”

“We’ll know in a moment,” Blade said. “Don’t let him spot you.”

Holly backed into the corner. “This is really weird. First you guys, now Gus. What gives tonight?”

“There’s a full moon.”

“Oh.”

Blade heard a car door slam, then the sound of someone whistling. The tune was unfamiliar and erratic, rising in volume and tapering off repeatedly, as if the whistler wasn’t concentrating on the song. Footsteps shuffled on the cement walk, and then the caller was on the front porch.

Boots thudded up to the front door, and a fist pounded on the upper panel. Blade put his hands on the hilts of his Bowies.

“Open up!” a gruff voice barked. “This is Gus!” He knocked louder.

Holly went to move toward the doorknob, but Blade gestured with his left arm, stopping her.

“Open up, Holly!” Gus demanded. “I want to see you.” A series of blows to the door accented his request. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

“Now?” Holly whispered.

“Now.”

Holly stepped to the door, released the lock, and pulled on the knob.

“Gus,” she said. “This is a surprise.”

A gust of cool night air brushed Blade’s face. He peered through the crack between the inner edge of the door and the jamb. Gus Seuell was a scarecrow of a man with a scraggly beard and a wispy mustache, dressed in a red flannel shirt and bib overalls.

“About time,” Gus stated testily.

Blade’s nostrils detected the odor of alcohol.

“Why are you here?” Holly asked, her arms folded across her chest.

“Can’t you guess?” Gus responded.

“No. And I don’t appreciate your behavior. You have no call to show up on my doorstep drunk, waking up my family at this ungodly hour.”

Gus craned his neck to gaze into the darkened hall. “I don’t see your family. All I see is you.”

“Why don’t you come back after you’ve sobered up,” Holly suggested.

“Like hell I will,” Gus said, and seized her right forearm. Before she could break loose, he hauled her onto the porch and closed the door.

“We’re going to talk.”

Shocked and indignant, Holly tried to wrest her arm free. “Let go of me!”

“Not on your life, sweetheart,” Gus said. “I’ve got some words for you, and you’re going to listen.”

“You’re hurting me!”

Gus snickered. “Ain’t that a crying shame.” He let go and leered at her.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“I have no idea,” Holly said, rubbing her forearm.

“Don’t play the innocent with me,” Gus stated, his breath reeking of whiskey.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Holly insisted.

“Sure you don’t,” Gus said.

“I don’t,” Holly repeated, reaching for the door.

Gus Seuell slapped her, a hard blow across the mouth, knocking her backwards. “Don’t touch that door!” he hissed.

Holly pressed her right hand to her stinging mouth, tasting the salty tang of blood on her tongue.

“You’re going to hear me out!” Gus declared, stalking toward her.

Frightened by such cruel behavior in a man who previously had treated her with the utmost respect, Holly moved to the right, to the top step.

“Don’t touch me!” she warned.

Gus halted, his mouth twitching. “All right. We’ll play this your way.”

He took a pace nearer and she retreated to the cement walk.

“You’ll never set foot on my property again,” Holly said.

“That’s what you think,” Gus replied, and laughed. “This isn’t your property, you dumb broad. All the land belongs to the Ruskies, to the State. Diehards like your jerk of a husband and you can’t seem to accept the facts of life.”

“I thought you liked Tim.”

“Tim was a jackass. He believed he could resist the Commies. And he trusted me.”

Holly forgot about her bleeding lips and lowered her hand as the implications of Seuell’s comment dawned. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, missy?” Gus asked angrily, then tapped his chest. “I was the one who tipped the Ruskies to Tim’s bin. I was the one who turned him in.”

Holly was stupefied.

“That’s right!” Gus gloated, savoring her shock. “I called the KGB and reported your husband’s underground activities. I knew what would happen. Your idiot husband never suspected a thing.”

“But why?” Holly blurted.

“Can’t a smart woman like you figure it out? For years I’ve wanted you. For years I’ve dreamed about having you for myself. I came over here all the time not to see Tim, but to be close to you. I watched you cooking, and hanging the laundry, and feeding the cows and chickens.” He paused, his expression softening. “You drove me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

“You turned Tim in to the Russians,” Holly said in a daze. “You were responsible for his execution.”

“Damn straight I was. I knew I could never make a play for you while he was around, so I arranged to have him disposed of. I figured you’d open up to me after his death, but it’s been six months and you treat me like I’m dirt.”

Holly stared up at him, her eyes beginning to focus. “You killed Tim!”

“And I was paid in gold for doing it,” Tim bragged. “The Russian commander himself thanked me for my patriotism.” He tittered. “Can you imagine that? They paid me to get Tim out of the way.”

“You bastard!” Holly exploded, springing at him, her nails raking at his eyes.

Gus shoved her from him, sending her sprawling onto the grass. He moved down the steps and stood at her feet. “You have this coming, bitch.

I’ve waited long enough, and now I’m going to take what’s mine. Everyone has dues to pay, woman. Everyone.”

“How true,” said a deep voice behind him.

Gus Seuell turned to find the biggest man he’d ever seen standing on the steps, looming above him like a colossus, blotting out the stars.

“Who—?”

The colossus clamped his left hand on the back of Seuell’s head, gripped Gus by the chin with his right, and wrenched his massive arms in a sharp, twisting motion. There was a pronounced snap and the betrayer went limp.

“Dear Lord!” Holly breathed.

Blade flung Gus Seuell’s body contemptuously aside and looked at her.

“Like the man said, everyone has dues to pay. He paid his.”

A shiver ran along Holly’s spine.