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Jarret and Detective Quinn stood at the top of the hidden stairway looking at each other.
“You found it,” the detective said. “You get to go first.”
Jarret reached in and flipped the light switch. Light came on in the stairwell and below.
The detective followed him down.
The room had bare cement walls and floor. Rows of dusty wooden wine racks, all empty, filled the space. A lone rack against the wall facing the stairs looked different, newer, less dusty, and held one bottle. They looked at the label, Chateau d’Yquem, 1936.
“Is that a good one?” Jarret asked.
“Couldn’t tell you,” the detective said. “It’s not in my price range. But if it’s down here I imagine it’s one of the best.”
Against the back wall were four large wine casks with oval fronts. The casks were two feet thick with their staves butting against the back wall. The oval fronts were five feet high and four feet wide. Each barrel had a stopcock set into the front six inches above the bottom staves.
“We have our wine cocks,” the detective said.
Jarret looked around the room. “I don’t see a clock.”
“No, and I don’t like the idea of bringing them down till we know what we’re going to find,” Detective Quinn said.
“Then let’s see what happens if we turn a cock,” Jarret said.
He knelt and turned the cock on the first barrel left, then right. Nothing happened. He did the same on the second barrel, again with the same result. But when he turned the cock on the third barrel to the right, they heard a loud click and the front panel of the barrel was free to swing out. The barrel staves formed a short tunnel into the room behind. Jarret went through and found a switch on the wall low enough to reach before going in all the way. He flipped it and Detective Quinn came through behind him.
The walls were crimson silk damask embossed with fleurs-de-lis above wainscoting of mahogany. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling over craps, blackjack, and poker tables. A mahogany bar was along one wall. A small stage was beside it with a piano and three microphone stands. Round tables with four chairs and tablecloths now dust-shaded gray were bunched in front of the bar and stage. Camelback sofas, settees, and love seats, all padded and posh, were along the walls. An opulently carved grandfather clock stood alone in the center of one wall.
“Looks like old Gavin ran a speakeasy,” Detective Quinn said. “No wonder his son’s a teetotaler.”
“Do you think Lester knew?” Jarret asked.
“Maybe not,” the detective said, “but we need to find out.”
The detective went to a door across from the cask-tunnel entrance that also looked like an entrance. He opened it, flopped the switch inside, and called Jarret.
A pier extended across the front with cleats along the edge for tying up boats. A long counter was built into the wall with nautical gear laid out: coiled ropes that had the sharp muscular tar smell that gave ships their essence, small anchors and buckets with ropes attached, extra cleats and oar locks. Pegs on the wall above the counter held sets of oars.
A floating dock designed to rise and fall with the tide reached into the water at one end of the pier. Stairs led down into the water at the other. The grotto itself disappeared into the darkness of the cave beyond.
“This is how his clients came and went,” Detective Quinn said.
They looked around a little longer then went back inside. Another wall had two doors. The first opened to an office. Detective Quinn sat at the desk to check the drawers while Jarret went to the cabinets along one wall. The cabinets were empty. One desk drawer had decks of playing cards still in their wrappers. Another drawer had racks of chips sorted by color. The other drawers were empty. No ledgers or papers.
The detective felt under the middle drawer and found spring clips sticking down. He knelt and looked at them.
“Mr. Owlin, what do you make of this?”
Jarret came over and knelt. “Looks like a small pistol would fit,” he said.
The detective grunted and got up.
The next door opened to a private poker room with two poker tables and its own small bar, presumably for the high rollers. Covers formed to fit the tables were draped over them but something was under one of them. Detective Quinn looked under an edge of the cover, then had Jarret help him carefully lift it off. Underneath was a desiccated body in fashionable clothes. Beside the body was a gray Alpine hat with a bright blue macaw feather in the band. A dark stain around the edge of the underbrim of the hat got the detective to roll the head to one side. He put his finger on the hole he saw there.
“Bigger than a thirty-eight, smaller than a forty-five. He was killed somewhere else where he bled,” the detective said. “I’d say this changes the hunt.”
“The wound matches the position of the bullet hole in the photograph upstairs,” Jarret said. “Whoever doctored the photo knew about the murder.”
“As if we don’t have enough cryptic clues,” Detective Quinn said.
“Do you think one of the guests did it?” Jarret asked.
“Assuming this is Russell Revlis, the immediate choices are Sheila Graves and Brent Breckmore because of their connection to him, but being down here in the speakeasy also puts Revlis, Tobias Truman, and Professor Prince in the picture since they’d all been to the manor for the first treasure hunt.”
“What do we do now?”
“We have to close off the speakeasy till the police can go through it, but other than that we have to let everyone go about their business and hope somebody does something that tells us more. We need to tell Revlis and Miss Graves first, and I want them together when we do so they don’t each put on their own show for us. Then we tell the rest.”
They came back up and closed the mirror door. They slid the left-side drawers back in hoping no one had seen the mirror opened. Then they took Revlis and Sheila into the library. The other guests watched them leave the dining room with vastly curious looks.
When the two were seated, Detective Quinn started in. “I’m afraid I have bad news for the two of you. Mr. Owlin found the way into the wine cellar.”
“That’s not bad news,” Sheila said.
“But what we found there is. The turn-the-cock clue opens a door to a speakeasy, and in the speakeasy we found a desiccated body that has been there for years. Beside it was a gray Alpine hat with a bright blue feather.”
“Russell,” Revlis said with dejection at the same time Sheila said, “Russell?” as a question.
Meeting the man who would become Robin Hood:
“So ya are a robber,” the man with the barrel said when two armed men came out of the ruins, “sent to keep me till these two got here.”
“I’m no robber and I don’t know these men,” Jarret said.
“We aren’t here to rob you,” the leader of the two said, “but scur are coming. We have to hide your water.” He went to the edge of the rubble and pulled away a section of roof leaning against two concrete blocks. “Put it in here.”
The man with the barrel hesitated. The two men put their crossbows, truncheons, and daggers in the gap between the broken blocks. “Let’s go!” the leader said. “You don’t have time to think.”
“The trolls’ll get it if I leave it there,” the man said.
“Better than the scur catching you with river water if you like your neck.”
The man looked at him, then wheeled the dolly with the barrel over and slid it into the shelter. The leader pulled the section of roof back over everything and let the vines fall back into place. Then he got everyone walking toward the bridge. They’d gone barely ten yards when six men in black uniforms with a taloned-hawk insignia on their shoulders and hats came out of a smaller road.
“Stand where you are,” the one with the most patches and bars on his uniform said. The group stopped. The other five looked them over closely, touching bulges in clothing where something might be hidden. While they did, the officer asked them their names, where they were coming from, and where they were going.
The man with the water was Phil Krim, heading home after working his field. The leader of the pair was Robert Dieztel and with him was Bateman Fisk, both coming from Robert’s field. Then the officer got to Jarret. Jarret didn’t like any of his options but grabbed the last one that had come to mind and hoped the others would cover.
“Jarret Owlin,” Jarret said. “Just been hired to help in Mr. Dieztel’s field.”
“You hired this scrawny bag o’ bones?” the officer asked.
“I took pity on him,” Robert Dieztel said.
The officer looked them over, reluctant to leave it at that but not knowing what to do about it. Then he started down the road away from the bridge and his men fell in behind him.
Robert turned to Jarret. “Nicely done,” he said, then turned and spoke to Phil Krim and Jarret together. “A lady I’m fond of is coming through on her way to her uncle’s shir. We’re here to see she gets there safely. Join us if you like and we’ll eat well when we reach his castle.”
“I have a sick boy,” Phil said. “I need to get my load home.” As he said it he started for the hiding place.
“It’s not there,” Robert called after him.
Phil spun around to face him. “The trolls got it so quick?”
“The trolls are my friends,” Robert said. “Your water will be under some debris behind your house.”
Phil looked at him, eyes squinting. “You wouldn’t be the Man o’ the Hood, would you now?”
“That’s fantasy,” Robert said. “No such man.”
“Next you’re gonna tell me the White Ghost ain’t real, neither.”
“More fantasy,” Robert said.
“No he ain’t,” Phil said, “‘cause I seen ‘im.”
“Then watch out for shadows going home and go take care of your boy, Phil,” Robert said. “Keep him away from the hood water and check the rubble in two days for another barrel.”
Phil stood for a moment considering what Robert had said, then thanked him and headed off.
“And you, my new friend,” Robert said to Jarret. “What are you up to?”
“Not much,” Jarret said, “and I get the sense things happen when you’re around. If your offer still stands, I’ll tag along.”
Robert smiled. “Glad to have you,” he said and turned into the road the scur had come from. Bateman and Jarret fell in beside him.
“And while we go,” Robert said to Jarret, “you can tell me about your hood and how you found yourself in Quamshir.”
Before Jarret could say anything, two more men came out of the ruins armed with crossbows, daggers and truncheons. They carried Robert’s and Bateman’s weapons and as Robert took his, they heard a far-off birdcall. Robert said to stay with Jarret and headed into the ruins.
They all stood waiting, listening. Five minutes later Robert came back.
“Ambush,” he said. He led them further along the road, walking quickly this time. They came to a collapsed wall blocking part of the road and as they went around it they saw a genteel lady on a hopper slowly coming toward them, two men on foot on either side. The men carried truncheons in their belts and crossbows at the ready. Four more followed. Seeing Robert, they raised their crossbows and took aim. The lady spoke softly to them and they relaxed their bows.
“Robin,” she called out, “you’ve come as promised.”
“You didn’t doubt I would,” Robert said, “but so has someone else wearing armor and hiding with a dozen scur.”
“Who is it?” the lady asked.
“I couldn’t tell,” Robert said. “He had on his armor. But the scur uniforms have the taloned-hawk badge.”
“Then bend your bows,” she said to her men. “Be ready.”
“Drop your bows,” a voice called out. The man stood on a broken wall. He wore a suit of a heavy material Jarret didn’t recognize with a hood that covered all but his eyes. Men stood up in the ruins with cocked crossbows. More scrambled out from the green gripping truncheons. Robert shouted a curse and fired, dropping the lead archer. Darts flew both ways. Bateman Fisk went down and lay still. One of the men beside Marian’s hopper fell with a dart in his thigh. Three of the attacking archers went down. The fight moved to truncheons and the attacking archers dropped their bows and waded in.
Two men with truncheons doubled on Robert. Robert checked a sidearm swing from one with a blow to the man’s wrist, then blocking his wrist, grabbed the man’s elbow and rolled his arm, swinging him around so the blow from the second attacker’s truncheon hit his back. Robert pushed the man into the second attacker, went low and slammed the attacker’s knee. As the two men fell, Robert cracked both heads with two quick blows. The bodies collapsed in an unconscious heap. Before they hit the ground, Robert had turned to take on two more. Jarret saw his smile, white teeth grinning from a cinnamon face that glistened with sweat. Robert was enjoying himself.
Then Jarret saw the prince fire and hit another of Marian’s men. Then he pulled the small slide in front of the trigger guard and a lever that hinged under the bow dropped down from the stock. He pulled it back till it folded back up into the stock then pushed forward another small slide on the side of the stock. Jarret grabbed the crossbow Bateman Fisk had dropped and pulled the slide at the trigger guard. The lever that dropped down pulled back easily but did nothing. In frustration Jarret pushed it forward and felt it click. Now when he pulled the lever the bow rope was pulled back till it caught in its lock and the lever swung up easily the last few degrees to latch into the stock. Then Jarret pushed the little slide on the side of the stock and a dart came up from inside the stock and settled in the groove in front of the locked string.
But by then the prince was taking aim at Robert. Suddenly a green shimmer rose out of the ruins and hovered above them. A scur yelled, “Glow Specter!” and swung around to fire at it. The prince fired too but with aim disrupted. Jarret sighted down the groove. Remembering all he’d learned back on Enki with Jeeker rifles, he fired. He saw the dart sink into the prince’s left eye. The prince fell from his perch, causing a clatter as he slid down the bank of debris. The scur already spooked by the green shimmer saw him fall, shouted to each other, and dodged back into the ruins.
Jarret looked at the body in the heavy suit at the bottom of the bank of rubble. He lay there tangled in the loose vines his falling had pulled down with him, the shaft of Jarret’s dart sticking from his eye. Robert went to the body and lifted the hood to see the man’s face, then let it fall.
He turned to Jarret. “Could you do that again?”
“I don’t know that I’d want to,” Jarret said.
“But are you that good a shot?”
“I had lots of practice with Jeeker rifles under the eye of a good teacher,” Jarret said, “but I never fired a crossbow before so don’t doubt luck had more to do with it.”
Meeting Flash Tik Argent:
But there was another reason for Jarret’s loitering. From the commissioner’s first mention, Jarret had in the back of his head the question of whether Tik Argent might be the one-legged space-sailor the captain had been so fearful of. He stood outside the gray granite-block building still worried. Then he steeled his nerve and stepped through the open door.
Another open door was on the far side of the room but neither let in much light through the fog. The room was made bright by lamps spaced along the walls. The lamps meant Tik Argent had the means for a personal generator. Panels of decorative wood covered the granite walls, another sign of means. Noisy grip-soaked space-sailors filled the room. Most had hair braided into ropetails. Nearly as many had gold-ring earrings. Grim tattoos covered forearms and necks. A few had red bandanas tied over their heads. Fewer had the wrinkled skin and yellow eyes of too much time spent in the hibernation baths of deep-space flight. A bar along one wall was crowded with men sitting and standing, jostling with others reaching in to get their drinks. The seats around the tables were full. Men stood and knelt to be in on what was going on at each of them. The buzz was loud, with an occasional voice rising above the din to make a point.
A man came out of a side room and Jarret knew he was Flash Tik Argent. He was a large man, broad and durable, and he walked with a slight limp. His face was the size of a melon, spongey but split open by a wide jovial grin. He looked nothing like the pirates Jarret had confronted so far so he relaxed. He went to the man and stood before him. “Mr. Argent?” he asked.
“Aye, lad,” the man said, “so I’m often called to be sure. And who might you be?”
“Jarret Owlin, sir. Commissioner Coxsun sent me to you with this note,” Jarret said holding out the note the commissioner had given him.
“Commissioner Coxsun, hey,” Flash Tik said surprisingly loudly. He took the note with his large left hand then held out his large right hand to shake Jarret’s. Jarret raised his and Flash Tik swallowed it in his own with an energetic grip. Just then Jarret saw a man get up and head for the opposite door and Jarret recognized Mad Dog.
“Stop that man,” Jarret yelled. “It’s Mad Dog, one of the pirates!”
‘Whoever he is, he’s a pirate to me, leavin’ like that without payin’ his fare,” Flash Tik said. “Brith,” he yelled, “after ‘im!”
One of the men near the door got up and ran out to pursue. Two others followed.
“Who’d ya say he was?” Flash Tik asked. “What Dog?”
“Mad Dog, one of the pirates who came to the Commodore. Did the commissioner not tell you of them?”
“A pirate, by Jeeker, drinkin’ my grip in my inn and then skippin’ on the fare. Gestern,” Flash Tik called out, “Come over here.” The man Mad Dog had been sitting with got up slowly and came to them. “Now Gestern, don’t tell me you ever seen that man in here before.” Flash Tik said, still shaking his head.
“No sir, never,” Gestern said nearly saluting.
“Nor knew his name, nor knew he was a pirate?”
“No, sir,” Gestern said again.
“And so, Gestern, it’s good for you all that be true if ya want to keep drinkin’ under my roof. So what was you two sayin’?”
“Not much, sir.”
“Not much? You got a head, and you got ears on it. What was you two talkin’ about?”
“He seen a sailor get spaced – an accident, mind you. That was the first time he seen a red bloom. He was talkin’. I weren’t listenin’ all that hard.”
“Spacin’ huh? And that’s what I’ll do to that lout if ‘e ever shows up here agin, you can fold on that. Thank ye, Gestern. Go back and enjoy.”
Gestern went back to his seat. Flash Tik said quietly to Jarret, “An honest man, that Gestern, but he ain’t the brightest candlestick around.”
While he was talking a babazee came out of the back room and skipped to Flash Tik. He used his longer back legs more than his shorter front ones so he was walking nearly upright. He was covered with green fur, had large ears, a bulbous snout, and a long curling tail. On his way past one table he snatched a meatroll off a patron’s plate, then leaped onto a table by Flash Tik and from there to his shoulder.
Flash Tik laughed. “This here’s Captain Boulder,” he said to Jarret. “I give him that name because he’s a pirate when it comes ta stealin’ food off o’ people’s plates.” Flash Tik looked at the babazee with affection as the animal sat on his shoulder eating the stolen meatroll.
Then he snapped his fingers, “Mad Dog, huh, you know I have seen ‘im before. He used to come in leadin’ a ratty old blind man.”
“That would have been Flip,” Jarret said. “He was killed when he stepped in front of a constable’s hopper and got knocked down the hill.”
“Aye,” Flash Tik said, suddenly excited, “Flip were his name. A nasty pair to be sure. And now the swine owes me his fare. But then Brith’s a fast runner. If we can bring in that Mad Dog, that’d be news for the admiral now wouldn’t it, as well as get me my dabbles.”
Captain Boulder got caught up in Flask Tik’s excitement. He dropped what was left of the meatroll and leaped to the floor. He jumped up and down belching and shouting “Filthy lucre. Filthy lucre.” in a voice that sounded like a frog’s.
But then Blith and the other men came back and confessed that they’d lost Mad Dog in the crowds. “So now, young Jarret,” Flash Tik said, “what’s the admiral to think? I let this mongrel be sittin’ and drinkin’ in my own house. And you comes plain and tells me who he is, and here I let him give us the fold. If I had my legs I’d ‘a’ run ‘im down, but then there we are. So now, lad, I need you to do me justice with the admiral. You’re young, but I can see you’re smart as shine. I could see that when I first laid eyes on you – rattle me ribs, my fare! I forgot the thief stole my fare! The joke’s on me,” he said, “the joke’s on me.” With that Flash Tik started laughing. He laughed so hard he had to sit. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Before long Jarret couldn’t help himself. The room shook with their laughter. Others joined in without knowing the joke.
But then Flash Tik sat up and spoke, trying to stifle his laughter, “Come, lad, this ain’t right. It ain’t a laugh.” He wiped his eyes, barely able to hold more laughter back. “We gotta go tell the admiral and it don’t make neither of us look all so good that the pirate got away. Still, we surely will tell the whole truth of it.”
And so Flash Tik and Jarret set off for the Portside Inn to tell the admiral all.