The Devil's Path (An Alexander Scott Novel Book 1) Page 6
“Yeah, dumb luck,” muttered Scott under his breath. “Any chance of you gentlemen letting me go now that you have what you want?”
The Frenchman smirked at Scott’s last remark. “No, Mister Scott, there is absolutement no chance in hell that I am going to let you leave this alleyway alive. Once Yuri has killed you and taken your wallet to make it look like a robbery, I intend to go back to the boarding house and see that your little friend comes with me.”
With that, the Russian, his knife thrust out, started to walk towards Scott, a malevolent look gleaming in his eyes.
Scott took a step back and turned his body until only his side faced the approaching thug, his heart racing, his knees bent ready to receive his attacker.
With a guttural cry, the Russian launched himself straight at Scott. The man was a street brawler, a powerful brute who lacked sophistication.
Scott saw the blade coming at him. Stepping back slightly, the Russian’s thrust missed Scott’s face by inches. With his arm outstretched and his body vulnerable, Scott didn’t hesitate. Stepping forward, Scott delivered several sharp and powerful blows to the man’s exposed kidneys.
With a loud moan, the Russian staggered and dropped his arms to protect his injured side. In an instant, Scott shot his right fist into the stunned Russian’s nose, snapping it. Blood gushed forth. The man moaned in agony. Dropping his knife, the man staggered back from Scott and meekly made his way over beside his unimpressed boss.
Scott was covered in sweat. His chest heaved up and down as he fought to control his breathing and his growing fear. He was running out of time.
“I had hoped to do this without drawing attention,” said the Frenchman as he raised the pistol and aimed it at Scott. “But I suppose these people won’t mind if I leave your body here for them to pick over.”
“You’re making a mistake,” said Scott. All he could see in his mind was the pistol pointing straight at him.
“No, I am not, but I am growing bored of you,” said the Frenchman as his thumb pulled back on the hammer of the pistol.
Scott saw his own death as he heard the hammer of the pistol stop clicking.
A loud shot rang out, echoing down the alley.
Scott flinched. He expected to be lying on the ground with a hole in his chest. Instead, he saw the Frenchman stagger forwards a couple of paces, his eyes slowly rolling up inside his head. A second later, he dropped onto his knees and then fell face first onto a pile of rotting garbage. Looking past the dead body, Scott saw Kate standing there, both hands wrapped around his Remington .44 revolver.
The Russian stood there helplessly looking down at his dead boss, trying to stop the flow of blood gushing out of his broken nose.
“Sit down,” ordered Scott in Russian as he walked over beside Kate. The thug, used to taking orders, nodded his head and then silently took a seat on the dirt.
Kate just stood there, her eyes as wide as saucers, her breathing fast and ragged. She stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the lifeless form lying face down in the muck.
“It’s alright, Kate,” said Scott as he reached over and placed his hands gently over the top of hers and then ever so slowly pushed her hands down until the pistol pointed at the ground. “You did the right thing,” Scott said as he took the pistol out of her hands and placed it in his pocket. “It was him or me, and I’m grateful that it wasn’t me.”
“What about him?” said Kate, still staring blankly down at the injured thug.
Scott looked over at the Russian. He had never killed a man in cold blood before, and he was not about to tonight. Looking around, he found an abandoned cricket bat. Picking it up in his hands to get a feel for the weight, Scott took a couple of steps forward and then sent the bat flying into the side of the Russian’s head. With a loud thud, the man rolled over onto the muck-filled alley floor. Tossing the bat away, Scott walked towards Kate and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“He’ll be out for hours,” said Scott reassuringly. “By the time he comes to we’ll be long gone.”
“If you say so,” said Kate. Suddenly her face turned pale, her head started to spin, and in a flash, she bent over and emptied her stomach all over Scott’s shoes.
Chapter 7
The world was black. Imperceptibly, images began to form like ghosts floating in the night.
A bright flash suddenly filled the darkness.
With a gasp of horror, Kate shot straight up in her bed. Her heart was racing wildly in her chest. A cold sweat covered her body. Dread seeped into her mind. She did not know where she was. Fearfully looking around, she was relieved to see Scott sitting in her open doorway whistling to himself while he polished his shoes.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” said Scott with a smile on his face.
Kate, seeing Scott sitting there, suddenly felt self-conscious. She pulled up her sheets to her neck and turned to face Scott.
“Why are you sitting there?” Kate said.
Scott looked around at the open door. “Oh this,” Scott said. “Our matron didn’t approve of me staying in your room after I brought you back last night…so we compromised. I got to watch over you, from the doorway.”
Kate ran a hand through her tangled hair and then let out a deep sigh. Her hair was a complete mess.
“What happened? How did I get back here?”
Scott put his shoes down and leaned forward in his chair, so he could talk lightly. “After you shot our mysterious Frenchman in the alley, you were sick all over my shoes and then fainted.”
Kate looked down at the polished shoes and said, “Sorry about that, it’s just that I’ve never killed a man before.”
“I don’t know if you remember, but I told you that you did the right thing. It was him or me, and I am quite happy to be sitting here today talking to you,” said Scott. “Besides, what were you doing out last night anyway? I told you to stay put until I returned,” admonished Scott.
“I became concerned when you didn’t come back,” Kate said, “so when you didn’t return, I decided to see what was taking you. I went to your room, grabbed your pistol, put it in my coat pocket, and went out looking for you. I saw our other houseguest and a mountain of a man forcing you off the street, so I followed them. Everything after that is kinda blurry.”
“Don’t worry about it too much. I’m used to people doing as I say, but for once I am happy you didn’t listen to me,” said Scott, winking at her.
Kate’s stomach rumbled.
“That’s my cue to leave,” said Scott. “Why don’t you get dressed and meet me in the dining room. I’ll ask Mrs. Shaw to make us some breakfast.”
A half-hour later, Kate walked into the dining room wearing a dark-green dress and matching coat that complimented her eyes. Scott noticed that her hair was immaculate; not a single hair was out of place.
Scott rose, pulled out her chair and then together they sat down and devoured a hearty breakfast of bacon, sausages, and eggs. After the plates had been taken away and they were alone with a fresh pot of tea, their conversation turned to Kate’s father and his whereabouts.
Scott handed Kate the letters he found in the room and the package her father had left for her at his old apartment.
With her hands slightly trembling, Kate pulled off the paper wrapping and then laid a small worn brown leather-bound book on the table. Inside the book was a letter addressed to Kate. Scott sat there silently watching Kate as she read the letter. Without saying a word, she opened the book and started to read it for a moment before closing it. Reaching over, she picked up the two letters that Scott had found in his room and slowly read them both before looking up at Scott, her eyes sparkling like jewels in the light.
“Well?” said Scott.
“I know where my father went and what he is after,” said Kate with a triumphant smile.
Scott sat there for a moment, waiting for Kate to tell him what was going on. Instead, she grabbed up the letters and the book into her hands and stood up.
“Alex, we have to leave immediately,” said Kate as she hurriedly made her way out of the dining room.
“Why?”
“Because my father went to Wales, that’s why.”
Scott reached out and gently took Kate’s arm and turned her, so he could look into her eyes and said, “Kate, if he’s in Wales, don’t you think you would have heard from him by now? After all, he’s been missing for close to two months now.”
“I didn’t say he was in Wales, I said he went to Wales. After reading his letters, I honestly don’t think we’ll find him there either.”
Scott shook his head. Kate wasn’t making any sense. “So if he’s not there, what do you expect to find?”
“Alex, he knew he was being followed, so he moved on without telling a soul, so he couldn’t be tracked. If he is half as good a sleuth as I think he is, he is long gone, but I intend to find out where he went next,” said Kate with a disarming smile. “Come on, Mister Scott, we’re wasting time.”
Scott stood there, hands on his hips, shaking his head, wondering if everyone he was going to deal with on this assignment was going to speak in riddles to him.
Two hours later, Scott and Kate sat down in the first-class carriage of a steam train as it slowly made its way out of London heading for the sleepy little town of Ruabon located in the northeast of Wales. From there, they would have to hire a carriage to take them to their destination, the Castle Dinas Bran, located atop a hill on the outskirts of the small farming community of Llangollen.
Before leaving, Scott tipped their landlady generously for her hospitality, then passed on regrettably that they had to leave early to attend a funeral in Oxford, trying to misdirect anyone trying to divine where they had actually gone. The carriage Scott had hired the night before was waiting outside. Scott asked the driver to take a circuitous route to Paddington Station, hoping to throw off anyone tailing them. A few more well-spent gold coins ensured that anyone who spoke with the driver would be fed further false information about their destination, this time Glasgow.
The first-class carriage that Scott had purchased to guarantee privacy for their trip was spacious compared to the cramped confines that the majority third-class passengers travelled in. Kate suggested they go for tea, so after securing their luggage, they headed to the dining car. The carriage was decorated in matching royal blue carpets and drapes. Scott and Kate sat down in a pair of comfortable chairs covered in a thick, plush blue felt at the back of the carriage. They hoped that no one would bother them while they tried to talk over their next moves. Luckily, only two other couples boarded the carriage and they both sat together at the far end, leaving Scott and Kate to themselves. A young steward in a tight fitting blue military-style uniform came around and offered them some tea and biscuits, which they both accepted. Scott nibbled on his dry, bland tasting shortbread while Kate buried her nose in her father’s journals, reading them from cover to cover. An hour into their journey, Scott thought he was going to explode from the silence between them. With a forced smile on his lips, he reached over and placed his hand on the journal in Kate’s hands, then gently pushed it down until Kate’s alluring emerald eyes looked up into his.
“Kate, sorry to disturb your reading, but I would appreciate it if you please explain to me why we are going to Wales, if you know your father won’t be there,” said Scott.
“Sorry,” said Kate, reaching for her now-cold tea, which she drank down in one gulp. “My father’s brown leather journal, the one that you retrieved for me, is a detailed account of the research that he was able to do in, and around London before he left for Wales. It complements the work he did over the past couple of years back home in Virginia, which was written down in the red leather book that was given to me when he disappeared.”
“Ok,” Scott said, wondering where all of this was going, “so what have you learned?”
“Oh, sorry, Mister Scott, it’s just been so overwhelming that I lost track of what I was doing,” said Kate apologetically.
“Kate, please we’ve been through this before, please just call me Alex.”
“Sorry, I’ll try to remember. As I was saying, from these two books, I was able to confirm that my father knew that he was being followed for several months before he even for England. He never really says who was observing him, but he kept going on about American and foreign agents working together…whatever that means,” said Kate. “That is why he insisted on writing everything in his unique shorthand and just as important, was why he arranged for his red journal to be delivered to me should he disappear. My father was becoming quite suspicious. He didn’t want his work falling into the wrong hands.”
“I would have said that sounded a might bit paranoid a couple of months ago, but now…”
“I don’t mind telling you, Alex that before father left for England, I was becoming increasingly concerned for his well-being. He had become far too obsessed in finding what he termed ‘true relics’ from the Bible. He was convinced that they could help mankind in our darkest hour, such as during our own current horrible civil war. His notes and thoughts on reported relics from the Bible are recorded in some detail in his red journal. It’s from the brown book that I was able to determine why he came to England in the first place,” Kate said, her voice becoming excited.
“And that would be….?”
“Before I say anything, Alex, do you believe in the word of God as transcribed in the Holy Bible?”
Scott sat back and looked into Kate’s face. Her eyes burnt with a passion he had yet to see. “Kate, my mother made me go to church until I was twelve. After that, she had a hard time finding me as I was always on the go. To be honest, I haven’t stepped foot inside a church in close to ten years, and if you had seen the cruelty and depravity that I have seen men doing to each other these past three years, you would wonder if there even was a God,” said Scott openly.
“Alex, many people would have lied and told me what I wanted to hear, just to find out what is written in my father’s journals…but, not you. You’re an exceptional man. You always try to give honest answers,” said Kate with a smile.
“Kate, there are men out there trying to kill us, I think it would be in our best interest if we were honest with one another. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, you’re right…now getting back to my question. The reason I asked you was because I believe in the Lord, just not as…passionately as my father,” said Kate, trying to pick the right words.
Scott felt they were going in circles. He tried not to show his frustration. Picking up the brown leather journal from the coffee table, Scott looked deep into Kate’s eyes and said, “Kate, I can’t take this anymore, please tell me what your father was doing in Wales and what he was looking for?”
Looking around to make sure no one was in earshot, Kate leaned forward in her chair and moved so close to Scott that he could smell her lavender perfume. “Alex, my father was looking for the Holy Grail, and he believes that at it was hidden away in Wales. That is why we are going there.”
“I beg your pardon,” blurted out Scott.
The other couples at the far end of the train heard Scott and looked over. Unimpressed with Kate and Scott, they slowly turned back to their conversation.
Kate giggled at Scott’s unease. “Alex, my father is looking for the Holy Grail.”
Scott sat there for a moment astounded, not really knowing what to say next. With a smile, he said, “I’m sorry, Kate, but my understanding of the Bible and anything to do with the Holy Grail is a little lacking these days to say the least.”
Kate said, “My father believed that the Holy Grail was a simple wooden or clay cup or bowl, no one knows for sure, but it was reputed to have been used by Christ at the last supper. Later, when Christ was dying on the cross, a Roman soldier pierced his side with a spear and outpoured
Jesus blood. Some of that blood was collected in the Holy Grail by Joseph of Arimathea, who according to legend took the Grail far away from the Holy Land to protect the mystical healing powers that it was reputed to contain. In his notes, my father wrote that he was positive that it made its way to Roman-Britain and was hidden away until sometime in the mid to late 600s, when once again, it was moved to safeguard the Grail.”
“So your father honestly believed that it was hidden somewhere in Wales?” said Scott, not convinced by what Kate was saying.
“Yes, he most certainly did.”
Scott sat there beginning to wish he had paid more attention to his biblical studies, rather than sneaking off to learn how to shoot and ride when he was a headstrong and ill-disciplined youth.
“It wasn’t just somewhere,” stressed Kate. “Alex, it was hidden in the Castle Dinas Bran for centuries, protected by men sworn to protect the Grail,” Kate said, certain of her father’s findings.
Scott digested what Kate had told him for a few moments and then said, “So he went there to search for clues as to where it could have been taken for safe keeping?”
“That’s correct,” said Kate, smiling. “He did just that. His notes end the day before he left for Wales. I am hoping that by visiting his last-known location that we can discover where he went next.”
Scott let out a low whistle. “Kate, that’s a long shot at best. This may turn into nothing more than a dead end. You have to be prepared to find out that this is where the trail may end. If I were a betting man, I would give us a one in ten chance of finding something that might lead us to your father.”
Kate smiled and stuck out her hand. “I’ll take that bet, Alexander Scott.”
Scott shook her hand and said, “Why’s that?”
“Because there’s a map on the last page of my father’s journal,” replied Kate smugly.