The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [193]
All five of our heads started nodding slowly; but much as we may have agreed that Mr. Moore’s plan was the only way to both get what we needed and look out for Mr. Picton’s and the detective sergeants’ legal and ethical positions, that didn’t change the fact that we were contemplating a grisly, frightening, and illegal action, one what had gotten many people hanged—or worse—over the centuries. It took, you might say, a little adjusting to.
Mr. Moore did manage to find a shovel in the basement, along with a couple of lengths of strong rope, and he put them all outside the kitchen door while the rest of us were in the living room. Then we all went in to dinner, the prospect of what wewere about to undertake keeping most of us pretty quiet through the better part of the meal. Mr. Picton, fortunately, filled up the silence with a stream of talk about the case she’d been studying; then it was back into the living room for a little more of the music what Cyrus had been playing the day before. Finally, the time came to head upstairs. We’d have to wait for Mr. Picton and the detective sergeants to go to bed, at which point the rest of us would leave the house separately, to meet up around the corneron Ballston Avenue. From there we’d head down to the cemetery.
CHAPTER 34
The house finally grew completely quiet at just past one o’clock. I left my room carefully and got outside, almost running headlong into Mr. Moore on the front lawn as he made his way around from the kitchen with his shovel and rope. We didn’t see any sign of the rest of our fellow ghouls until we arrived at the appointed meeting spot around the corner. The Doctor and Miss Howard were sharing a cigarette, with Cyrus peering anxiously around at the darkened houses on either side of the street. He could’ve saved himself some sweat, the way I saw it, even given what we were up to: Ballston Spa was obviously the kind of town what shut down early and stayed shut down, even on a Saturday night.
“All right, now, remember,” the Doctor murmured, as Mr. Moore and I reached them. “What we are about to undertake is a serious criminal offense. Moore and I will therefore be the only ones to actually participate. Stevie, you’ll stand watch at this end of the street. Cyrus, you’ll go an equal distance in the opposite direction. Sara will be our last line of defense—she’ll guard the cemetery gate.”
“With the artillery,” she said, producing the weapon what she used on really special occasions: a .45-caliber Colt revolver of her own, one with a short barrel and pearl grips. She checked its chamber with the quick moves of an expert as the Doctor went on:
“If you encounter anyone, any of you, you must claim complete ignorance. You’re a guest of Mr. Picton’s, and you’re out taking the air on a lovely night. Understood? Very well, then …”
Mr. Moore started to move farther up the block with Miss Howard and Cyrus. “Why don’t you stay here with Stevie until I’ve got the hole dug, Kreizler? The fewer people inside at one time the better, and it’s not like—” Mr. Moore cut himself off quickly, though he’d already glanced at the Doctor’s bad left arm.
“Yes,” the Doctor said, following Mr. Moore’s eyes down to his slightly withered limb. “I take your point, Moore—I wouldn’t be much use to you in the digging. Very well. Signal when you’re ready.”
Nodding and looking a bit sorry for what he’d said, even though he’d clearly meant no offense, Mr. Moore hustled off with the other two.
The Doctor and I just stood there for a few minutes, myself not knowing exactly what to say to break the awkward moment brought on by the subject of his arm. But he soon made that job unnecessary by himself glancing down at the thing again, and then laughing once, quietly.
“It’s strange,” he whispered, “I never thought it might actually serve some purpose …”
“Hunh?” was all I could say.
“My arm,” the Doctor whispered back. “I’ve been so used to seeing it as a source of pain and a reminder of the past that I never imagined it