“Say! Did that bloke just pull a gun on you?” A paunchy man in a suit stood at the corner, looking at Dane as if he was radioactive. He held a cell phone, but appeared uncertain if he should use it.
“Yes, he did. Call the police.” Not waiting for the man to grow bolder, Dane turned and dashed back inside the building after Bones and Kaylin.
“Did you happen to see which way my friends went?” he asked the frightened desk clerk. “The blonde girl and the tall Indian.”
“Through that door.” The man pointed a shaky finger down the hall. “And another man came in after them while you were… fighting outside.”
As he dashed through the door the clerk had indicated, he heard a loud crash, and turned a corner just in time to see Bones punch a man in the throat, grab him by the back of the head, and drive a knee into his face. Kaylin, her face pale, but her expression resolute, hurried out and took Dane’s hand.
“What was the crash?” Dane asked as they turned away from the front desk and headed down a narrow hallway, following the sign that read ‘Emergency Exit.’
“Bones knocked down some books.” Kaylin raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know why.”
“I was trying to push the freakin’ bookshelf over on the dude.” Bones sounded defensive, almost hurt by her criticism.
“Those are huge shelves, and they’re anchored to the floor. You can’t just push one over.” Dane couldn’t help but grin, despite their perilous situation.
“In the movies, one shove and the whole library goes down like a bunch of dominoes.”
“Yes, Bones,” Kaylin said in a patient voice, as if speaking to a child, “but real life isn’t always like the movies.”
“Sure, you tell me that now,” he said in a sullen voice, “after I almost got us killed. We could see the guy through the shelf. He had a gun, and looked like he was up to something, so I tried to knock the shelf over on him. All I managed to do was hit him in the side with a few books.”
“Some of them were big books,” Kaylin said, “with lots of pages. Who knows? Maybe he got a paper cut.”
Bones muttered something Dane was certain was obscene, but Kaylin owed Bones for the tranny comment.
Outside, they hurried across the street and tried to blend in among the tourists in Hyde Park. After five minutes’ walking, they felt safe enough to stop and talk. Dane took out the wallet and looked at the driver’s license. It belonged to a Cyrus Wallace of Manassas, Virginia. The credit cards bore his name as well.
“Why did you take his wallet?” Kaylin frowned and looked at him in confusion.
“One, I wanted to know who he is. Two, having no cash, credit cards, or identification might make it harder for him to come after us.” Spotting a garbage can nearby, he hurried over to it and stuffed the wallet down to the bottom. “Screen me,” he instructed. While Bones and Kaylin moved in close to block him from view, he took out the pistol, removed the clip, and hastily wiped it down.
“You can’t have a handgun, here!” Kaylin gasped. “It’s against the law.”
“Yes, but bad guys don’t always follow the rules,” he said, stuffing the pistol down into the garbage and pocketing the clip. He would ditch it elsewhere.
“I know,” she mumbled, her cheeks pink. “And our next step is?”
“Now,” Dane said, “we pay this descendant of Fawcett a visit.”
Chapter 10
The first thing Cy was aware of was a faint, quavering voice in his ear.
“Just lie still there. Help is on the way.”
He didn’t know the voice. In fact, he wasn’t sure where he was. All he knew was he hurt. A lot. Groaning, he rolled over and spat blood on the ground. Running his tongue across his teeth, he counted two chipped, and one that was broken. Muttering a curse, he climbed to his feet. Damn! Now he remembered.
It was that Maddock guy he’d been warned to look out for. The chick from the R.G.S. had called to let him know that Maddock and his friends were asking about Fawcett. She’d lost sight of them as they headed toward Hyde Park, but once he showed a picture around, people remembered the big Indian, and had pointed him toward the naval library. He groaned as the memories returned. They’d warned Cy not to underestimate Maddock and Bonebrake, but neither had looked like much to Cy, and he’d had the element of surprise on his side, or so he’d thought.
The world swam into view and resolved into an image of a portly man peering down at him. Cy snarled and climbed to his feet. He grabbed the man by the tie and pulled him close.
“Which way did they go?”
“Uh, the fellow who… who kicked your arse? He went back inside the building there.”
Cy shoved him away and barged through the front door, hoping, praying someone would try to stop him. Inside, a frightened old man warned him that the authorities were on the way.
“You listen to me, you old fart.” Cy reached across the counter and took hold of the man’s lapel. “If they get here before I’m gone, you tell them I ran into the park. You do anything else, I use my gun on everyone I see. Got it?”
The man nodded.
“Now, what were those three looking for?”
“I don’t know. They went to the Cundall Library. That way.”
Cy hurried up the stairs. The average police response time in London was seventeen minutes, and a call about a fight that was already over probably wouldn’t be considered urgent. A glance at his watch told him he’d been out for three or four minutes, and had wasted another minute with the fat guy and the old man. If he made this quick, he should be okay.
Inside the Cundall Library, he met a chunky woman with two pairs of reading glasses on top of her gray hair, and another pair perched on the end of her nose. She blinked at him like an owl.
“May I help you?”
“Yeah, you can help. The people who were in here earlier: the guy, the girl, and the big Indian. What were they looking for?”
“Looking for?” She looked around, a dazed expression on her face, and stared at a nearby table as if she had never seen one before. He had a mind to shake an answer out of her, but then she seemed to wake from her trance. “Oh, the Fawcett people.”
“Yes, that would be them. Why did they come here looking for information on Fawcett? This is a naval library.”
“Why, yes, I know that.” She smiled faintly, as if pleased by the thought.
Where did they find this crackpot? Cy tried again. “Do you know if they found anything? Did they write down anything? Make any copies?”
“No copies. No notes.”
“All right, lady, listen to me.” He reached for his gun… it wasn’t there. Where was it? He patted himself all over. It wasn’t in his front pockets, nor his back… Wait a minute! Where was his wallet? Hell! He had lost it in the fight. Who was this Maddock, anyway? Kennedy had probably given him a bio in his email, but Cy had skimmed it. He wasn’t much of a reader.
The old lady was looking at him like he was the one who was nuts. The expression on her face infuriated him.
“All right, you crazy old cow. Listen to me very carefully. I want to know what they learned and I think you can tell me. Now start talking.”
“All I heard was something about an item that Fawcett treasured.” Her voice was serene, as if she was unaware of the danger she was in. Her eyes seemed to be focused on a point somewhere just above Cy’s head and, for an instant, he thought about looking behind him, but he could not act nervous. He needed to intimidate this loony toon if he could.
“What else did you hear?”
“They also mentioned Shackleton,” she said, “and I heard the phrase ‘buried in South Georgia.’ I did not hear anything else.”