Thirty
A heavy fog had followed hard upon the rain. It choked the street. The reflected light of the village’s two streetlamps caused the murky stuff to glow as if infused with an eerie energy. The cold moonlight added an additional, seemingly unnatural radiance.
There were times, lately, Joshua thought, when he could almost bring himself to believe in the paranormal. But it wasn’t the strange effect of the gas lamps and moonlight on fog that made him wonder about the existence of psychical energy. It was the sensation he experienced whenever he was near Beatrice; whenever he thought about her. Which was most of the time, he realized. Even when he was concentrating on murder and a madman, she was always there at the edge of his awareness.
The unfamiliar sense of intimacy between them went beyond sexual attraction, beyond admiration for her spirit and intelligence, beyond anything he had ever experienced with another woman. When he had kissed her last night it was as if he had unlocked a door somewhere inside himself and walked through it into a realm where things were different. The world on the other side of the door was somehow brighter and more interesting in every way.
For the first time since the wildfire of his young manhood he acknowledged that he was capable of strong passions.
At the start of his relationship with Beatrice he had told himself that if she was not involved in the blackmail scheme she might be in serious danger and he had a responsibility to protect her. But something inside him insisted that what he felt was more than a responsibility—it was his right to take care of her.
Which was nonsense, of course. He had no rights at all when it came to Beatrice. But there was a part of him that was not convinced of that.
He pushed aside his fanciful thoughts and watched the opposite side of the street from the shadows of the narrow stone walk alongside the inn. The figure in the doorway extinguished the light and started toward the inn, drifting like a ghost through the glowing fog. It was impossible to make out his features in the heavy mist but it was clear that he was tall and thin and that he moved with the long, easy stride of a predator.
He crossed the street and came swiftly toward the Blue Fox. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly in the deep silence. He was dressed in a long overcoat and a low-crowned hat pulled down over his eyes. He carried a pack that was slung across one shoulder.
Instead of going up the steps to the front door of the Blue Fox, he veered toward the narrow walk where Joshua waited.
For a few seconds it appeared that he would not risk striking another light before he entered the deep shadows that drenched the walk. That would make things simple and efficient, Joshua thought. The man would not see that there was someone else nearby.
But just before the newcomer started into the passage, he paused. Evidently sensing that all was not right, he took a step back and reached into his pocket.
Circumstances were far from ideal but Joshua knew that he had no choice other than to move as quickly as possible. The man with the pack would see him as soon as the light flared.
Joshua went forward as swiftly and silently as possible but in spite of his great care the cane thumped softly on the stone walk.
“Who’s there?” The thick accent was unmistakably Russian.
He lowered the pack to the ground and produced a knife from his pocket.
“You’re the one he warned me about, aren’t you, the one with the cane? He said you were dangerous. I told him a lame bastard would not be a problem for the Bone Man. I owe you for interrupting my work last night.”
He swept forward in a low rush. The blade in his hand glinted in the odd light.
Joshua flattened his palm against the wall of the inn to brace himself and swung the cane in a slashing arc aimed at the Bone Man’s knife arm. He did not have the leverage he needed for a bone-breaking blow but he did have the element of surprise. The assassin was not expecting the cane to be employed as a weapon.
The stick struck the assassin’s forearm with considerable force. He grunted, dropped the knife and leaped backward with the fluid grace of a dancer.
In an instant he whirled and swept forward again, intending to retrieve the blade.
Joshua kept one hand flattened against the wall and used the cane to sweep the knife aside into the bushes, out of the Bone Man’s reach.
The assassin retreated a second time. Joshua expected him to produce another knife. Instead, he grabbed the pack, dragged it out into the street and reached inside.
Joshua started forward again.
The assassin removed an object from the pack and hurled it to the ground at Joshua’s feet. Glass shattered. A smoky mist erupted. Joshua instinctively held his breath and retreated out of range of the vapors. But he could not avoid all of the effects. His eyes burned and his throat tightened. He could only hope that he had not breathed in some lethal poison.
The sound of a window being yanked open somewhere above the street reverberated in the night.
“You down there,” Beatrice shouted. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”
Another window slammed open. “Sound the alarm. There’s a villain in the street.”
Joshua pushed through the vapors into untainted air but the sound of running footsteps told him that his quarry was escaping. There was no chance of overtaking him. A lame bastard had to accept his physical limitations.
In that moment it was all he could do not to slam the damned stick against the nearest wall. But he knew even as the searing anger and frustration threatened to overwhelm him that such a blow would likely destroy the cane. If that happened he would be even less able to protect Beatrice.
And protecting her was all that mattered.
More windows opened. Joshua looked up and saw the innkeeper, garbed in nightshirt and cap, peering down into the street. Beatrice and several other guests were watching from their windows.
“What’s going on down there?” the innkeeper demanded. “Shall I summon the constable?”
“Feel free to do so,” Joshua said. “But I doubt if he’ll find the villain.”
“A burglar, eh?”
“A would-be burglar,” Joshua said. “I spotted him in time to send him running off.”
“I thank you for the effort, sir, but you shouldn’t have tried to go after him on your own,” the innkeeper admonished. “You should have alerted me. What chance does a man with a cane have of stopping a member of the criminal class?”
“An excellent question,” Joshua said.
He grabbed the pack, slung it over his shoulder and limped back toward the inn.