The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [314]
“Go?” I said, glancing at him quickly to see his face setting even harder. “Go where?”
“The jefe will die,” El Niño said, in a matter-of-fact way what still betrayed much of his grief. “I have seen such wounds before. And I have read it in the Señor Doctor’s eyes. He will try to save Señor Picton—but he will fail. And his failure will take hours. My future here will die with the jefe. I must go.” Suddenly his gleaming kris appeared from under the dinner jacket. “Before the trail of the woman becomes lost. I owe this to Señor Picton. He was to give me a life—I shall avenge his.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, turning fully to him.
“They will not let me go,” he said, nodding at the others. “They will try to stop me—and they will try to stop you, too.”
“Me?” I said.
“You cannot wait for the jefe to die,” the aborigine said. “Not if you are to save your friend, and baby Ana. It is for us to do this thing, Señorito Stevie, and we must do it now. You know the places we must go. And I have the skills”—he glanced down at the knife in his hand—“to do what must be done. But they will not permit it, if they know.”
I turned again to look at the Doctor, knowing just what El Niño meant. If I’d even suggested that I be allowed to go ahead on my own and see to Kat’s safety, the Doctor would never have agreed. He’d let me stay involved in the case from the beginning because I’d promised not to put myself in danger unnecessarily—and there was every chance that he’d view me bolting off to New York on my own to try to protect Kat as too high of a risk. He’d probably be right, too.
“But,” I whispered, “how would we—where—”
“It is no great difficulty,” El Niño said. “You and I, we are people who know the ways of such things.”
I gave the matter a few seconds’ consideration. “They’d be expecting us to try to get on a train,” I thought out loud. “So they’d try to stop us at the station. We could steal a horse from the stables, ride to Troy, and catch an express from there—”
The aborigine put a firm hand to my shoulder. “Yes. You see, Señorito Stevie, it is for you and I to do this thing. It is we who know the way of it.”
Taking two or three heavy breaths to try to calm the pounding in my chest brought on by the possible death of Mr. Picton and the definite danger that Kat had suddenly been placed in, I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “There’s just one thing …”
Going to the staircase doorway, I made a little hissing sound in Mr. Moore’s direction. I had to do it two or three times before I got his attention, and then finally he turned.
“Mr. Moore!” I whispered; then I urged him over with a wave of my hands.
Moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on Mr. Picton, he joined us in the staircase. “What is it, Stevie?”
“Mr. Moore,” I said, shuffling in my anxiousness, “I’ve—we’ve—we’re going. Now.”
That got his attention, and he turned his tear-stained face to me fully. “What do you mean?”
“She’s got a long lead,” I answered. “The rest of you have to take care of Mr. Picton and clear things with the sheriff. By the time all that happens …”
Mr. Moore pondered that for a second, then grabbed another quick look at Mr. Picton. “But what can you—” Turning back to us and looking down, he suddenly caught sight of El Nino’s kris. When he did, his face filled with darkness—but not disapproval. “How will you go?”
“We’ll manage,” I answered. “But we’ll need a little bit of a start.”
Looking to his blood-soaked friend again, Mr. Moore reached into his pocket and pulled out his billfold. “You’ll need money, too,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“You’ll help us?” I said, a slight tremble of relief coursing through me.
Mr. Moore nodded once. “Kreizler’ll have my guts for garters,” he whispered. “But it’s the only way.” He forked over a wad of bills, everything he had, then put one hand on my shoulder and the other on El Nino’s. “Don’t tell me how you’ll get there—I can’t reveal what I don’t know. And watch yourselves. We’ll follow as soon as we can. As soon as