The Wicked Affair of the Golden Emperor
A Charles Goodfoote Mystery in Old San Francisco
Chapter 51
Goodfoote fights for his life, and is captured by Bullump
Darrigan’s Crag lay on a wind-blown slab of rock that jutted over the Pacific Ocean. In the best of times it gave a majestic view of the sea, high above the pounding surf that crashed onto granite boulders that looked as if a giant had spilled a handful of gray marbles into the ocean. Tonight, prevailing westerly winds brought towering black clouds over the ocean, alive with spider lightning and low rumbles of thunder. The starlight we had been using for guidance was fast disappearing, and darkness rapidly enveloped the landscape. We left our mounts a short distance from the compound and hurried forward on foot. A plan was needed, and fast, if we were to get to the ladies while they still had life in them.
With only head-high walls of stone and a large iron-grill gate, Darrigan’s Crag didn’t seem to have much outer protection. I had seen more imposing barriers on convents. The three of us ran to the wall and surveyed the grounds. In the dim light, I could make out a cannon, a nine-pounder, facing the main gate.
The house itself, modest for a member of the Collective, was about half the size of Walker’s Castle. It was two stories of brick, with an entrance in the Italianate style, with porch and portico. Ivy covered its sides and had begun to climb the front. But it was the outbuildings, set perhaps a hundred yards from the house, that now held my immediate attention. Train tracks entered the grounds from the south and three boxcars were standing near the largest building’s entrance. If my theory was right, gold was melted down inside that building.
Two guards armed with rifles walked past as we watched from the shadows.
I used sign language to send Kaya to scout out the estate’s periphery, and steal a peek into the outbuildings. If the women were being held, the main house or one of those outbuildings were the most likely prisons. The Apache moved away silently. Then, as quietly as possible, Doc and I slipped over the wall and lay under some bushes on the other side.
“Doc,” I whispered, “Jubal will send Colonel Barkley with his soldiers on the double. When they get here, they’ll run right into that cannon. We need to spike it.”
Thorp simply nodded. In a crouch, we ran to the cannon. A quick inspection showed the cannon had already been spiked, a piece of metal driven into its firing breech. Rust showed the gun had been rendered useless sometime in the past. Another puzzle to work out later.
Now, to find the women.
Again in a crouch, using the darkest part of the estate, Doc and I approached the vine-covered rear of the house. Sycamore trees gave us cover as two guards, talking to each other about the brewing storm, walked within three feet of us. After they passed, I whispered to Thorp, “Climb up to the second floor and get in that window. See if that’s where the women are being held. Play whatever hand you’re dealt. Those fancy six-guns of yours may see some more action before we’re done here.”
The second floor was dark. As the wind started to gust, I waited until Thorp, grabbing handfuls of ivy, quickly climbed up the brickwork. Soundlessly, he opened the unlocked window and disappeared. Unwary guards, unlocked windows, a useless cannon? Something wasn’t right here. Was I watching the puppet rather than the puppeteer?
A sound brought me around and I ducked back behind a tree. The door at the back of the house opened and a man emerged holding a weather lantern. It was Motley, one of Bullump’s thugs. He paused to lock the door, then headed down a path toward a small brick building that I took to be a smokehouse. This building near the house would be a likely place to put the women, I thought. The storm’s gathering darkness allowed me to closely follow him.
When he got to the smokehouse, Motley hammered on the door until it opened a crack. A thin, fiery glow showed from within. In the light from Motley’s lantern I saw the wicked face of Grues.
“You’re wanted up the house,” Motley said. “Finish them, then come on up. Make it look good.”
Grues grinned like a demon, the lantern casting his face in moving shadows. I stepped behind a tree as the lantern-carrying messenger returned to the house.
As stealthily as I could, I glided to the smokehouse. After a quick glance around I leaned against the door and raised its wooden handle. To my surprise, the door was unlocked, so I slowly pushed it open. The sight that greeted me brought my blood to a boil.
Dressed only in their undergarments, Emily, Meghan, and Jonna were suspended by their hands six feet over a shallow pit heaped with unlit firewood and charcoal. Even in the flickering dim light, I could see them twisting, desperately trying to free themselves.
Grues had his shirt off, his back to me. He was tending a fire in a waist-high metal brazier from which flickering flames made the walls dance with shadows. His broad back was covered by a mat of reddish hair that glistened with sweat, and his muscles rippled as he worked an iron rod deep into the coals. His other hand worked a small bellows.
The three women were about to be hideously tortured, then roasted, if Grues had his way. All three, faces red with exertion, were struggling with the ropes that bound them. Only Miss O’Shannahan saw me enter, but she quickly averted her eyes to give no sign she knew of my presence. The roar of the fire and the wheeze of the bellows masked the sound of my entrance.
I slid to the madman’s right, as close to the wall I could. I had drawn my revolver, but hesitated shooting. Even with the storm mounting outside, the sound of a gunshot might be heard by a roving guard, or even by someone in the house.
I was about to shout at Grues to stop and surrender when he suddenly spun and flipped his glowing red poker at me. As I ducked, he slammed into me and struck my gunhand, sending my weapon clattering across the floor.
Grues was as strong as a buffalo, quick as a snake, and had a long history of dirty fighting to call on. My brief time in the boxing club at Harvard would be near worthless against this beast. But my life after college, scrapping with the lowest of hard-core thugs in some of the toughest towns in the West, had taught me much.
The monster grabbed me by my throat and tried to drive his knee into my groin, but I twisted slightly and caught his blow on my hip. I was able to jam my thumbs in his eyes, which loosened his grip on my windpipe long enough for me to slam a three knuckle punch to his Adam’s apple. That staggered him a little, but he quickly recovered and swung his fist catching me on my jaw, a blow that would have contused a lesser man. He drove an open knife-hand toward my throat, a killing strike if I hadn’t blocked it with my forearm. I responded with an elbow slam to his temple that should have ended the fight, but his head was like a cannon ball, and slowed him down only a moment.
He dropped into a fighting stance I recognized as a type of Chinese boxing. When John Fong had shown it to me, he called it “The Tiger Form.” With swirling arms, dancing feet, and growling like an enraged beast, Grues flew at me. It was touch and go after that, him striking with his fists and feet and me blocking as best I could. He got in a blow to my chest that rattled my timbers all the way to my toes, but I countered with a crippling kick to his knee and a rifle-like blow that squashed his nose and brought a torrent of blood. His disciplined fighting failed after that, and his blazing temper made him careless.
Grues lunged for his pack on the floor and pulled out a short sword I saw was the dreaded dao. By the time he turned, sword in hand, I had reached my gun and was pointing it at him. Screaming with rage, his eyes red in the firelight, Grues charged at me. As he swirled the blade in great arcs, spittle and blood coursed from his mouth and nose. I had no choice but to shoot. The first shot slammed into his chest, but, although I saw the bullet go home, he didn’t stop coming. Firing again, I took out his left eye, then stepped aside as he piled into the stone wall behind me. With no regrets, I had sent this killer straight into the abyss.
I was breathing hard and my hip felt like I had been kicked by a draft horse, but I quickly used the dao to free the three women. A water pump is kept in all smoke houses to damp down the flames and the ladies put it to good use. They drank deeply then took turns splashing cool water onto themselves. At first, they looked near ready to collapse, but the water seemed to revive them.
“Do you think anyone heard the shots?” Meghan asked, as she rummaged through the pile of clothes on the floor.
“Not sure. That’s why I didn’t want to use my gun, but I had no choice. But these walls are thick and that door is heavy wood. With the storm whipping up outside, I doubt if anyone at the house heard anything. If a guard heard the shots, he would have already come through the door. I think we’re safe for now.”
“They seized us…” Emily began, as she picked up her clothing.
“Save that for later,” I interrupted. “Right now, I need to know who’s in the house. Who did Walker bring with him?”
“I saw a throng of villainous-looking men,” Meghan began. She pulled a dress out of a pile of clothing on the floor. “And Walker and a man they called Motley. There were others, but we were grabbed and carried here before I could count them all.”
Again, Miss O’Shannahan was showing great poise in calamitous circumstances. In fact, all three women were uncommonly calm for ladies who had come so close to being smoked like hams.
“Why would Walker want us tortured and killed?” Jonna Hoople asked, clearly perplexed. “He was always so sweet to us — until he pulled a revolver and made us get into his carriage. Why…?”
“I won’t be delicate. No time to sugar-coat it, Ladies. Your mutilated bodies would have been found in Chinatown, and that would gotten the Irish Brotherhood and the Hounds of the “Know-Nothing Party” to burn it to the ground. The mayor would have called out the Police, the Army, and the Vigilantes to try and restore order.”
“But how would that help Walker?” Emily asked.
“I think I know,” Meghan O’Shannahan said. She had quickly pulled on her dress, before I could turn away. As we spoke, she tied up her hair in a black ribbon. “He’s got something big planned and needed a catastrophe for cover. Stealing gold isn’t enough for that monster.”
How did she know he was stealing gold, I wondered? “That’s my read, too. And it’s why I’m here. Tonight is the new moon, and whatever he’s got planned, it starts now.”
In short order, the other ladies finished dressing while I averted my eyes. Their dresses, the ones they had worn to Walker’s dinner, were the best they owned and it took only their minor adjustments to once again become ravishing fashion statements. Or as close as possible under the circumstances.
After they finished, I saw Miss Jonna McMasters retrieve a revolver from a holster hanging on a peg. She thrust the weapon deep into her voluminous gown.
“I think it would be safer for you to hide behind this smokehouse until I come find you,” I said. “There is dangerous work ahead, and I want you ladies out of harm’s way.”
“And pigs fly,” Jonna McMasters said. “While we appreciate what you’ve done for us, we’re not hiding and waiting for you or any other man to ‘find us.’ Now, if you don’t mind, please inform us as to your plans and we’ll do our part.” Emily nodded. Meghan just looked at me with a smile.
This was a vexation. My primary duty was to keep these women safe, and I could do that better if they remained hidden. But seeing their resolute faces, I rethought my plan to include them. With an effort, I pushed any thoughts of failure from my mind.
“All right,” I said, with great reluctance. “I need a distraction. The three of you walking through the front door of the house will be just that.”
“Won’t they just shoot us?” Emily asked.
“Shooting you wouldn’t fit their wicked scheme. There would be too many loose ends.”
“But..” Emily began.
“We have no time now for talking. If I’m reading the sign right, Walker will be cleaning house tonight, and the bottomless pit will be doing a colossal business. Right now, I want you to keep everyone in the room talking and wondering how you eluded Grues. I’ll be coming in from a different direction.”
“Give us a minute to fix our hair,” Jonna said.
“Be quick about it,” I said. “Meanwhile, I’ll check outside for any wandering guards.”
Outside, I saw no guards, and was quickly joined by the ladies. We moved to the side of the house and ducked down next to the porch. I knew Kaya was still on the grounds somewhere, and that she’d be at hand when I needed her.
“Wait five minutes, then come through the front door,” I said. The timing on this improvised course would be critical. As the women started to count softly, I slipped around to the back of the mansion. A web of lightening lit up the house as a squall of wind swept through the compound.
After peering in several ground floor windows, I saw a library illuminated only by light coming through its open door. Most of the rest of the room was in shadow. The window was locked, but I threw back the latch with my knife, and noiselessly raised the sash.
As another firebolt lit up the sky, I stepped inside and immediately felt the muzzle of a revolver against my head. A familiar voice said, “Well, well. Lookee here. An uninvited guest.” Captain Bullump took my revolver and pushed me into a parlor full of my deadly enemies.