Stones of Fire

28

With only a wolf and an eagle to bear witness to their deaths, Cædmon affected a calm he didn’t feel. ‘I say. That’s not very friendly of you.’

‘You’re a fool to think you can get away with murdering us,’ Edie hissed, adopting an entirely different approach.

One side of Eliot Hopkins’ mouth lifted in a rueful half-smile. ‘Killing you and your charming companion will be the least of my crimes.’

‘You’re actually going to kill us in cold blood all because of some religious artefact? Gold stuff! That’s all it is.’

‘None of the artefacts mentioned in the Bible can compare with the Ark of the Covenant,’ Hopkins whispered, the gun unsteady in his gloved hand. ‘The Ark contains the majesty and glory of Yahweh. It alone could inspire or destroy a nation.’

‘Or an innocent couple,’ Cædmon murmured, the Ark about to consume its next two victims.

Raising the gun a few inches higher, Hopkins pointed it at Edie’s chest. ‘I do hope you will forgive me, but if I don’t comply with their orders, they’ll kill my daughter.’

‘“They” being your mysterious consortium, aka the Warriors of God,’ said Edie.

Behind her brave facade, Cædmon saw the tremble in Edie’s shoulder. Although tempted to put a comforting arm around her shoulders, he refrained. Instead he said, ‘I can see to it that no harm comes to your daughter.’

‘Olivia presently attends boarding school in Switzerland.’ As he spoke, tears welled in Eliot Hopkins’ eyes. ‘My hands are tied. I have only one child. She alone is my hope for the future. My legacy.’

‘I can contact Interpol,’ Cædmon pressed, that being the only gambit he could think of. ‘Within the half-hour your daughter could be in protective custody.’

‘Entrust my daughter to strangers more than three thousand miles away?’ The museum director wearily shook his head. ‘You ask the impossible.’

Refusing to give up, Cædmon pressed a bit harder. ‘Yesterday afternoon, in your museum, Jonathan Padgham was senselessly slain. Let us stop this madness before anyone else is killed.’

‘I can’t stop the madness,’ the older man croaked, barely audible. ‘I am truly sorry. I have no choice but to —’

A lion roared in the distance, a deep-throated bawl that rumbled through the leafless trees and echoed off the ice-laden boulders. The stentorian bellow momentarily distracted the elderly angel of death, Eliot Hopkins nervously glancing about.

Divine intervention or serendipity, Cædmon had no way of knowing. He only knew it was the moment to act. Before the window slammed shut.

Carpe diem, he silently invoked, his thighs, buttocks and biceps all tightening as he yanked the closed umbrella from where it hung on his forearm and hurled it like a spear. That done, he shoved Edie out of the line of fire behind a massive concrete rubbish receptacle and watched as the umbrella hit its mark, the stainless-steel tip hitting Eliot Hopkins square in the chest.

Knocked off balance, Hopkins dropped the pistol. The handgun fell to the ground, skittering along the icy surface.

About to retrieve the gun, Cædmon froze as a bullet whizzed past his ear, slamming into Eliot Hopkins’ heart, killing him on impact.

There was a sniper on the hillside!

It had been a set-up. None of them was to have left the zoo alive.

Knowing that in combat he who hesitates is lost, Cædmon dived behind the rubbish receptacle, pushing against Edie’s quivering backside.

‘I’m beginning to think that “land of the free” means free to shoot and kill,’ he muttered into her ear.

‘He’s on the hill above the bald eagle, isn’t he?’

Cædmon nodded, assuming the man was a professional assassin. If they showed themselves, he would snap off two kill shots. Men trained to kill at a distance did so without remorse or regret, the action no different than breathing.

Edie peered at him from over her shoulder, a stricken expression on her face. ‘Please tell me you’ve got a plan.’

‘I haven’t,’ he replied truthfully. Although I had better come up with something bloody quick. Briefly he considered trying to retrieve Hopkins’ pistol. Just as quickly he rejected the idea, certain he’d take a bullet to the head for his troubles.

‘May I take a peek inside your bag?’ he asked, tugging on the large canvas sack she had clutched to her body.

Edie wordlessly complied, opening it for his inspection. There being no time for niceties, he rifled through the bag’s contents. He pulled out her khaki-coloured waistcoat.

‘Perfect.’ Reaching beside him, he grabbed a fistful of snow.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Weighing it so I can chuck it in the air. If we’re lucky, the sniper will see the sudden motion, take aim and fire. The ruse won’t gain us more than a few seconds, but that’s all we’ll need to get our arses behind those rocks.’ With a lift of the chin, he indicated a jumble of boulders some twenty yards from their current position.

If she had misgivings, and no doubt she did, she kept them to herself.

Hoping the venture didn’t prove a deadly mistake, Cædmon quickly tied the ends of the waistcoat into a knot, securing the ball of snow. Silently mouthing, ‘On three,’ he counted to two before throwing the waistcoat through the air. A perfectly bowled cricket delivery.

There being no time to observe the arc and descent of the makeshift decoy, Cædmon snatched Edie by the hand. Bending at the waist, making himself as small a target as possible, he charged towards the clustered rocks. Behind him, he heard a bullet ping! off the metal handrail that fronted the Mexican wolf enclosure.

The ruse had worked.

With Edie in tow, he dodged behind a waist-high boulder. Crouching, they pressed themselves against the stone. Quickly, he glanced from side to side. In the hilly terrain above the bald eagles he thought he detected a figure in a black anorak. A deadly predator on the prowl.

‘It would be suicide for us to retrace our steps to the main entrance,’ he said in a hushed tone, fearful that if they didn’t find another means of escape they would meet the same fate as the museum director.

Edie lifted her head a scant few inches, enabling her to glance about furtively. Grimacing, she wiped the base of her palm across the trickle of blood that oozed from a scrape on her upper cheek. With the same hand she gestured uphill.

‘If we can get to the Think Tank at the top of the hill, there’s a path leading down to Rock Creek. This time of year, the creek should be low enough for us to cross on foot.’

‘And the advantage of this escape route?’

‘It’s the quickest way out of here.’ Again she wiped at the scrape on her upper cheek. A blooded huntswoman.

He took a moment to consider the merits of her plan. Although the uphill route would put more strain on lung and leg, the path was hedged with clustered bunches of reedy bamboo, which would provide excellent cover. If they moved quickly and carefully, they could remain hidden from sight. Assuming the sniper had no friends with him.

Cædmon deferred to her plan with a quick nod.

Once again snatching her by the hand, he led the way, running towards the uphill fork in the path. He considered it a good sign that he heard no whizzing bullets. However, the screeching bald eagle did not bode well, signalling that the sniper was in pursuit.

Midway up the hill, Edie started to lag, her exhalations loud and uneven. There being no time to rally the troops, he yanked her after him. Letting go of her hand, he slung his left arm around her shoulder, pulling her to his side, forcing her to keep pace with him.

‘You can catch your breath once we’re clear.’

Propelled no doubt by a burst of fearful adrenaline, Edie managed to pick up speed.

A few seconds later the path levelled out.

‘The Think Tank is that stone building straight ahead of us,’ Edie gasped, pointing to a quaint structure straight out of a Thomas Hardy novel.

Pulling her behind a drystone wall that oozed icicles, he surveyed the area. Dismayed, he could see that they’d have to navigate a long stretch of open path — no trees, rocks or bamboo to obscure their movements.

‘There’s thirty yards of open terrain between here and the Think Tank. Will you be able to sprint that far?’

She nodded. Then, sinking her fingers into his forearm, she whispered, ‘Cædmon, I’m afraid. Really, really afraid.’

‘No disgrace in that. I’m feeling a bit unmanned myself.’

Her brown eyes opened wide. ‘You’re kidding right? You’re like one of those guys in the Light Brigade.’

‘Yes, well, we know what happened to them, don’t we?’

‘No, what happened?’

‘Nearly half of them perished in the charge.’ Not giving her time to contemplate the significance of that bit of British history, he snatched hold of her hand and set off at a run. His gait the longer, she had to move her legs twice as fast to keep up. A lone zookeeper, attired in wellies and a pair of brown overalls, overtook them in a covered golf cart, several buckets of animal feed lashed into the cargo space with bungee cords.

‘I’m halfway tempted to hitch a ride,’ Edie muttered, puffing heavily as she spoke. Barely able to raise her arm, she pointed to a grotto-like area. ‘There’s the path — on the other side of the building.’

‘Right.’ He veered in the direction indicated, ‘the path’ being a set of boarded steps that snaked down the side of a very steep hillside. At the bottom of the wooden steps Cædmon could see a deserted car park.

‘Rock Creek is on the other side of the parking lot,’ Edie informed him between two noisy gasps. ‘Once we cross the creek, we should be able to hike our way up to Beach Drive, where we can hopefully hail a cab.’

Cædmon directed his gaze beyond the car park. Through a dense grove of leafless trees, he could see a creek winding through tumbled rock. And he could hear a busy motorway on the far side of the ravine, cars moving along at a fast clip. Somehow he had his doubts about hailing a cab.

Keeping his reservations to himself, he led the way down the wooden steps. They made good time, the steps laid in a pattern that allowed for an easy descent of the steep hill. As they neared the bottom, Edie muttered an apology, her heavy-heeled boots repeatedly making rhythmic thumps on the weathered wood.

‘It might help if you —’ He stopped in mid-suggestion, suddenly picking up the vibration of an unseen footfall.

He peered over his shoulder, catching a flash of motion at the top of the steps. His visibility impaired by the thick shrubs and trees on either side of the steps, he had no way of knowing if the third party was a zookeeper, a bystander or a cold-blooded killer.

‘We have company,’ he whispered in Edie’s ear, motioning her to silence.

Frantically, she glanced behind her. He wasn’t certain, but he thought she mouthed, ‘Oh God.’

A few seconds later, reaching the bottom of the steps, they arrived at a paved road. They crossed it. On the left was the deserted car park, on the right an abandoned greenhouse, sheets of torn plastic eerily waving in the breeze. In front lay a wild hinterland that hadn’t seen scythe nor blade in many a year.

‘This way,’ Edie hissed, lifting her skirt to knee height as she plunged into the wilderness.

Cædmon fell into step, reaching over her head to brush aside hanging limbs and foliage. While the brambles and briars caught on hands, face and clothing, the growth provided excellent cover. Cædmon was still unsure who had followed them down the steps, the intruder having yet to reveal himself.

Reaching the creek bank, they came to an abrupt halt.

‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, surprised to see that the creek was far more than the trickle of water he’d imagined. A calf-high torrent of water raged past, creating frothy whitecaps as it hit ice-covered rocks. ‘If we attempt to ford this so-called creek, we’ll break our —’

Just then, a tree limb plunged into the water, severed from its parent by a high-velocity bullet.

As though pushed by the hand of God, the two of them barrelled into the frigid creek, lingering concerns about the wisdom of braving the treacherous waters shoved aside.

Within seconds Edie had lost her footing, her arms windmilling in the air as she attempted to regain her balance. Cædmon grabbed hold of her tartan skirt, preventing her from pitching forward. Yanking her upright, he released the fistful of fabric only to shove his hand into her waistband, that being the most expedient way to keep her from falling over into what was fast becoming numbingly cold water. Thus linked, they sloshed across the aptly named Rock Creek.

‘Oh God!’ Edie shrieked as a nearby rock shattered from the impact of another bullet, splashing them both in the face.

Retreat not an option, they emerged from the creek, skirt and jeans saturated with cold water. Their goal being the nearby motorway, they clawed their way up the embankment. After one tumble and an ungainly scramble to keep from sliding back into the creek, they reached the top. In front of them was a four-lane highway, cars whizzing by at forty miles per hour.

‘There’s a cab!’ Edie exclaimed, pointing to a bright yellow vehicle in the distance. ‘Wave your arms so the cabbie can see us.’

Several feet from where they stood, a bullet embedded itself in the asphalt.

Galvanized into action, Edie ran along the hard shoulder, her arms wildly swinging to and fro. Almost instantly, car horns began to blare, one motorist rudely gesturing as he drove past. Cædmon had no choice but to give chase. Drenched to the knees, twigs and debris clinging to their garments, they looked like a pair of escaped asylum inmates.

In a reckless show of heroics, Edie stepped into the roadway, frantically hailing the fast-approaching cab.

The driver swerved into a skid, barely managing to brake his vehicle to a screeching halt several feet from where she stood.

Rushing over, she yanked open the back door.

Like a jack-in-the-box, a wide-eyed passenger popped his immaculately groomed head through the opening. With an upraised arm, he prevented her from getting into the vehicle.

‘In case you didn’t notice, this cab is already taken.’

Undeterred, Edie shoved her hand into her bag. A second later, she slapped a hundred-dollar bill into the passenger’s hand. ‘Now shut up and move over!’

The man obediently slid to the far side of the seat.