The Infiltrators Read online

  As soon as he opened the door he was met with a man holding a sword.

  “Sheriff’s deputy!” the man said with as much conviction as though it were a magical incantation.

  “You slipped, but I got away.”

  Half second of silence.

  “You’ve got one more second. I’m looking for my kidnapped wife!”

  Leol wouldn’t have permitted Pitkins to spare the deputy a second longer, but he unwittingly saved the deputy’s life due to the madness he inserted into Pitkins’ eyes.

  A damp circle began to grow in the man’s groin area, and then, knees shaking, he slipped and fell to the ground.

  Pitkins had exhausted in that instant, however, whatever compunction had survived his earlier incantation to Leol.

  Two men identifying themselves as sheriff’s deputies were charging up the stairs. Pitkins let the whore slide from his shoulder, and he told her “STAY!” with the self-assurance of a man talking to a well-trained dog.

  “You’re under arrest!” the deputy at the top of the stairs screamed.

  Pitkins turned his body at an angle and thrust his sword in and out of the man’s heart with the calm and precision of a pool shark executing a simple shot. It was so fast the man continued walking another two steps, seemingly unaware of the wound, before his eyes rolled backwards into his skull and he collapsed down the stairs.

  As the other deputy turned and looked at his fallen comrade, Pitkins sliced his sword hand off at the wrist and then kicked him down the stairs.

  He turned and saw the whore still seated as instructed.

  He yanked her back on top of his shoulder.

  “I can walk, you know!”

  Pitkins set her down and twirled her around face to face with him.

  “Flee and you die,” he said ominously.

  Her eyes pulsated with fear.

  He grabbed her left wrist, and she struggled to keep up as he ran down the stairs.

  There was one more sheriff’s deputy there, guarding the exit.

  Pitkins grabbed the whore and pulled her towards him, placing his knife to her throat.

  “Move, or she dies.”

  “You misjudged me, if you think a whore’ll do for a hostage.”

  Pitkins feinted an overhead attack, prompting the deputy to raise his sword defensively.

  Pitkins squatted down fast and cut the man’s foot left foot off at the heel.

  “I’d wager she earns her money more honestly than you!” Pitkins shouted to the downed deputy.

  The whore, meanwhile, momentarily felt like a lady whose honor had just been defended by a valiant knight in shining armor.

  A rude tug at her arm snapped her out of her fantasy . . . though not completely.

  Pitkins threw her atop Frederick and was behind a half second later.

  He leaned forward and slashed Frederick’s reins.

  “Which way?!” Pitkins barked.

  “Left.”

  Pitkins wheeled Frederick around and put his knees against the noble beast’s ribs. He was soon in a full gallop. He could hear alarm bells being rung throughout the vicinity.

  Chapter 28

  When Pitkins heard some thundering footsteps coming from up ahead, he quickly eased the pressure on Frederick’s sides and brought him almost down to a walk.

  “Scream, holler, wink, or any other tricks, and I’ll run you through,” Pitkins said, bringing out his dagger just enough to give a little prick to the back of his guest’s right side.

  “I won’t.”

  “What’s your name anyway?”

  “Samantha.”

  “Well, Samantha, you’re gonna be like glue until you introduce me to Rose. Once you do that, you can leave.”

  “Once I do that, I’m as good as dead.”

  “Not if Rose helps me find Rucifus.”

  Silence.

  The thundering hooves were drawing nearer now. Pitkins’ brought Frederick all the way down to a walk.

  “My name’s Ben, and you’re my girlfriend, Kathy.”

  “If they’re deputies, they’ll probably recognize me. They visit the bordellos rather often.”

  “Then I’m Ben, you’re Samantha, and I’ve bought you for the night.”

  “That’s better, but there’s just one problem.”

  “Which is?”

  “Have you seen your face?”

  Pitkins brought his hand up to his face and felt the blood even before he saw it.

  “You look like you’ve put in a long day at the butcher house and forgot to wear an apron.”

  Pitkins cringed as the galloping horses slowed to a fast trot.

  “Giggle and act like a silly trollop,” Pitkins whispered.

  Pitkins put his face to Samantha’s right side and began lightly nibbling on her neck. She giggled.

  “Can’t you wait until we get a room?” she said in a playful voice.

  The two approaching riders were on Pitkins’ left. Out of the limited vision he had from his position against Samantha’s neck, he could see they gave both of them the up and down but kept right on riding towards the sound of the clanging alarm bells.

  Pitkins kept Frederick at a walk as Samantha instructed him on the various turns, and moments later several more deputies came galloping by, this time not even stopping to glance at the frisky young couple. The growing darkness also befriended Pitkins.

  Ten minutes later, Samantha informed him they had arrived at Rose’s bordello. From here, no alarm bells could be heard clanging, and all seemed oblivious to the small massacre that had happened a half-hour away.

  Nonetheless, Pitkins knew that with his face and clothes looking like those of a man who narrowly survived a shark attack, there was no point wasting any time on deception.

  “Stray more than five feet from me, and I will run you down and then run you through, understand?”

  Samantha nodded.

  “Do your best to convince people to stand aside, that is, if there’s anyone here whose life matters a fig to you.”

  “I don’t know anyone here. I don’t even know Rose. I just know of her.”

  “Well, when you see what you see, just remember I never asked for any of this.”

  Samantha gulped. “I have a plan. Try to play along.”

  “I’ll give it a shot. If fighting starts, you can get out of the way. But don’t try running away.”

  “Got it.”

  Pitkins got off his horse, helped Samantha down, and then she led the way towards the doorman.

  “Hey, handsome,” she began in the smoothest voice possible, given the circumstances.

  “I work at the Honey Trap. Gavin sent me and Ben over here because he got into a bit of a scrap helping us out with some creep who was slapping the girls around. He got a little banged up, and Gavin said to tell you a bath deluxe would be on the house.”

  The tall man looked at Samantha with cruel, suspicious eyes. “I play poker with Gavin several times a week. You have any idea what’s gonna happen to you if one word of what you’re sayin’ turns out to be a lie. I’m gonna slap the teeth out of you, that’s what. Kasani! This guy ain’t presentable!”

  He huffed.

  “Don’t blame me. It’s Gavin’s errand.”

  The man gave her a long, cold look.

  “Come around back. Both of you!”

  Pitkins and Samantha followed the man around until they came to a door with a large padlock on it. He fished around for the right key, then inserted it and opened the lock and then the door.

  “Wait just a second. I’ve gotta make sure there’s one available . . . or maybe make one available,” he said irritatedly.

  Pitkins considered entering without permission during the five minutes that ensued and was just about to when the man came back and motioned them inside, all the while looking around furtively as if they were breaking into a bank.

  He quickly led them up the stairs and into a room with a bath and then shut the door behind them.

&
nbsp; Pitkins gave a warning look to Samantha and then dunked his head completely underwater, rubbed his face vigorously, and then raised his head up, fully expecting her to have left. She was still there, looking at him strangely.

  “No one would ever come looking for me if I disappeared. A couple people might care. But look for me? Ha.”

  Pitkins grabbed both of her trembling hands and looked directly into her eyes.

  “I didn’t ask for any of this, but I know you didn’t either. Help me through this, and I’ll pay you so handsomely you can leave this place—or even this country—forever. Understand?”

  She nodded, a tear in her eye.

  “Go find Rose for me. If she’s with someone, see if you can sweet-talk her into coming this way with this,” Pitkins said, handing her a small bag packed tightly with gold coins. “If she won’t, let me know immediately. I’ll come looking for you if you’re gone more than five minutes,” he said, pointing to his watch.

  Pitkins happened to find a shirt lying on the floor, and while it wouldn’t have been his first pick at a store, its lack of blood spatter made it irresistibly attractive. He quickly threw it over his shirt and then spent the rest of the five minutes crouched by the doorway, sword drawn, ready to ferociously pounce on anyone entering the room.

  Seconds after the five minutes had expired, and just as Pitkins was getting ready to begin Round Two of butcher-house diplomacy, Samantha returned.

  “I found her, but I’ve drawn some attention to myself in the process, and Rose is being stubborn, saying she has to finish with a client first. She said the soonest she can come is in a half-hour.”

  “Take me to her.”

  Samantha’s eyes said, But . . ., along with a host of objections, but she bit her tongue, swiveled around, and walked out into the hallway, Pitkins close behind.

  She took him down a long hallway, made a left turn, and then opened the second door on her left.

  “What the hell?!” said an angry client, swiveling around. “What am I paying for here anyway?! I get more privacy in my damn house, and I’ve got five rug rats runnin’ around!!”

  Pitkins tossed him a small bag of gold. “This is for the inconvenience.” The man’s temper appeared to cool slightly as he took a peek at the contents and especially when he bit down on a couple of randomly selected coins.

  “This is for not saying a word to anyone,” Pitkins said, tossing another small bag of gold.

  The man’s temper appeared to have cooled completely. He hoisted up his pants, put his boots on, and began buttoning his shirt, while saying, “You’re a reasonable man.”

  “One last thing,” Pitkins said, letting a dagger slide into his right hand.

  “This is what you’ll soon see if you blab a word of this to anyone.”

  “It never happened!” the man said emphatically.

  Pitkins’ gut told him the man would probably wait fifteen minutes before blabbing, but he had no intention of sticking around that long.

  As soon as the door closed behind the man, Pitkins dropped down to his knees, grabbed Rose’s hands, and looked right into her eyes.

  “Look, I know you don’t know me. I know you have no reason to trust me. But Rucifus kidnapped my wife today. If I don’t find her before tomorrow, I fear the only thing I’ll ever find is . . . .” His voice choked at the end.

  “They say you know where she lives. Please . . . take me to her! I beg you!”

  “I’m dead, if I do,” Rose said matter-of-factly. “And not just dead. Tortured, then dead.”

  “I’ll pay you enough to retire,” Pitkins said, tossing five gold pouches into her lap.

  “The dead can’t spend money.”

  Faster than a rattlesnake strike, a knife was at her throat.

  His erstwhile teary eyes now blazed with vengeance. “Then choose between a certain death now and a future death I will do everything in my power to help you escape.”

  The sharp steel against her throat convinced her. She stood, threw a dress on, tossed the bags of gold unenthusiastically into a purse, and then said, “Will we be going out the front?”

  “Samantha, lead us out the back. Rose, stay in front of her. If there’s any fighting, stand aside, but don’t run, or I’ll kill you.”

  Rose sighed again, like a person unhappy about risking death but almost resigned to it.

  Their trek down the hallway was uneventful all the way to the back exit.

  The tall man was standing there with a smirk on his face.

  “Somehow knew this story stunk to high heaven, but now there’s no doubt. Sir, you can leave if you want. But you ain’t goin’ nowhere with either of these two girls.”

  Pitkins’ hand shot out like a rock from a concealed slingshot and struck the man in the throat with his fore-knuckles and left him wheezing and coughing on the floor while he and his gals headed down the stairs to Frederick.

  “There’ll be no stopping between here and my horse, so if anyone approaches me, stand back.”

  But the approach to Frederick was uneventful.

  Once all three were atop the large animal, however, a man shouted, “Rose?!!”

  Pitkins turned and saw it was another doorman.

  Pitkins dug his knees into Frederick, and they took off.

  Several blocks later, Pitkins brought Frederick to a halt.

  “Samantha, this is as far as you go,” he said lifting her off. He handed her five small pouches of gold.

  “I owe you more than this, but it’s all I can give you now.”

  “And I suppose I’m supposed to wait for you to find me to give me the rest?”

  “It’ll be easier for you to find me. Just ask around to find out where the estate of Pitkins and Donive is located.”

  “Pitkins?! Theee Pitkins—?”

  “Yes. For now, hide yourself. You’ll probably learn of my outcome in the news.”

  Chapter 29

  Rose and Pitkins rode a while in awkward silence, except for an occasional “Left here” and “Take this one right.”

  Then, with solicitude in her voice, Rose said, “Please . . . just let me get the hell out of here. You go up that street, and it’s on your left . . . about halfway . . . should be the only place with guards outside; plus, it’s the biggest.”

  Pitkins slid off the saddle; Rose looked down at him confused.

  He placed several pouches of gold in her hands.