Chapter Twenty-eight: There's Just no Planning Like Over-planning...
"The proper response to a briefing is not'That's what you think'." ― 213 Things Skippy is no Longer Allowed to do in the United States Army
Well, they had a layout. And a plan, of sorts.
Of course, the plan pretty much involved shooting a lot of people, but that was to be expected, Xander thought. He'd certainly expected it, anyway.
Father Montoya, Father Jon, Brother David, and Brother William had arrived first, Vince leading them in carefully through the back way. They arrived just shortly ahead of Heidi, Giles, and Aaron, so very little time got wasted.
Good. Xander was getting itchy to stop wasting time. Plenty of other worthwhile things to waste.
They were settled into the Marshal's office's big living room for this. More people here, and they needed the room.
Both of his eyebrows went up abruptly when he saw Reginald Giles unsling a large bore double rifle from his shoulder and set it near the chair he was about to settle into. And Aaron with a large bore Farquharson single-shot with a long scope sight. Aaron looked more than just a bit self conscious with the long weapon. And frighteningly pale and determined.
"Africa?" Xander asked, his brows still raised.
Giles started a bit, raising his own eyebrow, then smiled tightly. "No. India. I stayed there for some amount of time in my youth, after I left Her Majesty's Lancers."
Xander nodded, and Chance eyed Jonathan a bit dubiously while that little conversation was going on. "Can you actually use that there thing, son?" he asked.
Aaron swallowed hard, nodding. "Yes sir. I'm a better than reasonably good shot. And Deputy Harris says you need rifles."
"Ever shoot at men?" Dude asked, looking a bit skeptical.
"No sir, Marshall," Aaron said. "But I'm pretty sure it can't be any more difficult than shooting deer. Except that deer don't shoot back, sir."
Heidi had been studying Aaron curiously and intently as well. She looked over at Dude and nodded. "He'll do."
Dude shook his head, and said, "Oh? And I suppose that you have the Sight, in addition to being just awfully quiet and awfully sharp of hearing, huh?"
"Well, yeah," Heidi blinked at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "Doesn't everyone?"
Heidi was saved from whatever Dude's rejoinder was going to be when Reginald opened the large, leather box type case he'd brought in with them. Both Dude and Chance looked down into it and whistled, John T. pushing his hat back on his head.
Xander stood and leaned forward a bit to get a look. He whistled also, as did Vince.
"As I mentioned to Deputy Harris, if I had time, I would attempt to come up with something that might make this task a bit easier as well as give us an edge," Giles said, smiling a bit grimly. "As you can see, I was able to do so."
"Dynamite?" Dude said.
"And nitroglycerine compound in the flat metal flasks," Giles said, nodding. "Timed devices."
Everyone backed away, hastily.
Giles frowned, and Xander did his best to hide a grin. Nitro was dangerous, but it wasn't nearly as volatile as a lot of people thought, nor as prone to going off unexpectedly as movies and TV and novels had given generations of people the idea it did. You just had to be real careful, was all.
"Please, it's not that touchy a substance," Giles said, still frowning slightly. "Perfectly safe as long as it's handled carefully and not subjected to any sharp shocks." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Besides, it's not actually nitroglycerine per se. It's a nitro derivative compound of my own devising that's actually more effective, and more stable. Err... Generally."
Everyone backed even farther away. Giles began to look highly affronted.
"It's the unexpected sharp shocks that worry me," Dude said. Glenn and Kevin nodded enthusiastically at that.
"I've worked with it before," Chance said. "And he's right."
Vince pursed his lips, and said, "Me too."
"Don't tell me, let me guess," Xander said, his voice dry, "You get by with explosive ordnance, too."
"Been known to," Vince said, smiling slightly.
"Anything you don't get by at?" Dude said.
"Well, like I told the kid here," Vince said, looking thoughtful, "I've never ridden a bicycle. And I'm not too sure about these horseless carriages."
"How are they timed," Xander asked, looking to Giles curiously. "Electric?"
"Ah. No. Mechanical chronometer and clockwork with an impact trigger for the blasting caps. And a secondary as a backup," Giles said. "Since I haven't been able to concoct a small and portable enough battery as of yet, and no one else seems to have, either."
"And don't tell me that you get by with explosives, son," Chance said, looking at Xander.
"Well, no, not exactly. But Cordy and I stole a bunch of them once. Kinda."
Young Maitland swallowed hard, staring at them, and said, "You can't do that. It's murder."
They'd had to bring him in once the layout and situation became clear, and Giles explained one of the ideas he had... Needless to say, the concept wasn't going over well.
Xander glanced over, his eyes hard. He didn't say anything, just continued readying his rifles, set them aside, and started working on the edge of Jack's long, ebony handled Arkansas toothpick. He still hadn't decided what to do with the thing, yet. On the one hand, Heidi had confirmed it was used on Jesse, way back when.
On the other, Jesse would be the first to tell him not to be an idiot, and not throw a perfectly good weapon away because of sentiment. So he was of two minds on it, as of yet.
Father Joseph Montoya winced. "I'm afraid I must agree," he said. He glanced a bit nervously at Xander. For some reason, Xander seemed to disconcert him a bit. So did Heidi.
Father Jon nodded. "And the Mission... "
Xander shook his head. "Excuse me, Padre. Padres," he said, his voice sounding a bit cold to his own ears. "Meaning no disrespect, except that maybe I do – but, the hell you say. Wilkins has Cordelia. And Ampata – sorry, Ianara, and intends to use them for some sort of sacrifice to the things you're supposed to be fighting. That I've been fighting since I was sixteen. Fuck the Mission. And fuck Blake Maitland."
Both priests and the two brothers winced at his phrasing.
Xander continued, scowling. "Odin's Teeth. I'll kill anyone, walk over or through anyone or anything that gets between me and Cordy. Blow up anyone or anything that tries to stop me. Little property damage isn't going to bother me." He paused, and said, "I'll burn that entire mission, raze it to the ground, and see this entire town burn – and salt what's left and piss on the ashes before I'll see Cordy hurt. Lead, follow, or get the fuck out of my way."
John T. looked at him sharply, "Easy, kid."
Vince shrugged, and lit the cigarette he'd been rolling. "Sorry, Maitland. Guess you lose."
"Easy hell, John T.," Xander said. "I'm done with easy. I'm all out of easy."
Chance looked at him hard. "You sure that a lot of this isn't coming from you blaming yourself for bringing her into this? And maybe for getting her taken?"
Xander opened his mouth, glaring, and then stopped. Shut it, looking ruefully at John T. "I don't have an answer for that. At least not one that won't come out as something that can't be taken back between us."
John T. stared back at him, and then nodded sharply, and smiled. "It happens. And you didn't cause it," he said, "But that doesn't mean you don't think you might have." Xander nodded back, carefully.
Father Joseph holds up hands, trying to placate. "Believe me, son. I don't believe that Father Jon meant that the way you were taking it." Father Jon shook his head, looking somewhat shaken. "I'll raze the Mission myself before I'll see those girls harmed. But there's an old saying... He who would hunt monsters – "
Giles nodded, and said, "Should take care lest he become a monster himself. Yes."
Xander nodded as well. "I heard it as: Don't gaze too deep into the abyss, for the abyss is gazing back into you." He paused, and added, "Wilkins created the monster when he stuck a derringer under Cordy's chin, and he and that thing next to him decided to use her as a bargaining chip. Time for him to look into the abyss and see what looks back. It'll be me."
"You'll have to beg my pardon, Mr. Maitland, good Fathers." Giles removed his glasses and began cleaning them, smiling tightly. "I'm given to understand that this young fellow and his friends were party to the death of a young woman, merely because he was a drunken fool, and his friend was drunken and careless." He looked directly at Maitland, "Forgive me if I am lacking in sympathy for you," he said.
Xander nodded. That's Giles for you. This or any other universe, Ripper is still in there somewhere...
Aaron adjusted his glasses nervously. "I just want Ianara back. A-and to stop Wilkins from activating that thing under the mission. Reginald says that will be bad. Very bad."
Xander nodded, and looked at Father Joseph and Brother David. Ah. So that's what 'askance' feels like, he thought.
"Can't believe you guys built a mission over an inactive Hellmouth, for Hecate's sake," Xander said. "Of course, I can't believe they built a high school over the active one, either."
Dude looked at him sharply at that, then frowned. "What'll this thing do, if Wilkins gets his way?"
Xander cut over Giles as he started to speak. "End the world, maybe. Give things like Trick a way to end it." He paused, looking at Chance, and said, "Hell, he'll turn this town into a feeding and partying ground for things like Trick and the Gorch brothers, like I said before. A bit of why 'easy' isn't on my menu."
Giles nodded, and explained in a bit more detail. "It will, err, activate a latent rift in the, err, dimensional fabric, for lack of a better term. The barriers between here, and the nether regions," he said. He replaced his glasses, and added, "And it will, once active, make it possible for people or various beings to open that rift and let loose the forces of those regions upon this world."
"Hell on Earth," Xander said. "Not just an expression, any more. And I never thought I'd ever have to learn the plural of Apocalypse, but there you go."
Chance scowled and looked away, his expression troubled.
"I don't really understand this 'active' and 'inactive' thing, though," Xander said. "I thought there was just one kind: active."
"Ah." Giles shook his head, and said, "There is more than one Hellmouth, nine of them, to be exact. But only one is ever fully active at a time. The others are latent, or sometimes nascent rifts that may become a Hellmouth at some time. I believe the current active one is just outside of Calcutta in India. And there is a partially active one in Cleveland. But the fully active one will shift to here, if Wilkins is successful."
"I don't know about this," Dude said, also scowling. He gestured at the explosive devices, including the one with the straps. "I'll bow to no man for my ability to do what's needed, cold or not. But that just doesn't set well with me for some reason."
Blake Maitland spoke for the first time since his initial outburst, looking pale and nervous. "I-I'll do it."
Everyone looked at him.
Maitland gestured. "Wear that thing. I'll do it."
Dude looked sharply at him, and said, "You know what you're saying?"
Maitland nodded, drawing in a deep breath. "Pretty sure, sir. Marshall." he let out the deep breath, sounding ragged. "I'll hang in Sacramento, won't I. When the State and Federal Marshalls get here."
Chance rumbled, "Maybe not. But it don't look good for you. California law right now don't draw much of a line between murder and accessory to." He paused, then added, "And any deaths caused in the commission of a felony are murder."
Maitland nodded, taking another deep breath, "That thing will be quicker than hanging. Especially if it doesn't go right, like I've seen it not do, sir."
Xander felt slightly impressed, and hid it behind a show of disgust. He glanced at Heidi, and saw something similar in her eyes. "Hell. I liked him better when he was pale and shaking instead of pale and noble."
Heidi flashed a quick sympathetic grin at Xander, then looked at Maitland, and said, "Well, not if your daddy gets his way. He's trying to make sure you don't hang."
Maitland grimaced. "My father doesn't really care. It's just a matter of principle to him. All he cares about is becoming the biggest and most powerful man in the state. Bigger than Chase – and able to control men like Wilkins, and governors, and senators. Money and power." He turned to face Xander, and said, "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean for Brett to get shot. I didn't mean for Melody to die. Or for your girl, or Aaron's to be taken. I didn't mean for any of this."
Xander shook his head, looking and feeling disgusted, "Oh, hell. We can't blow him up now. He's turning into an actual human being on us. Dammit."
"Hate it when that happens." Vince smiled.
Brother David was wearing a slight frown. "How will Wilkins go about activating this... thing, Mr. Giles?" he said.
Giles said, removing his glasses again. "By my calculations, the full dark of the moon is in just under a week, now. And at least one more mystical conjunction as well, coincidentally. He has a virgin sacrifice, and he can sacrifice Miss Chase, as well, using her blood to appease one of his greater patrons, perhaps an Arch Demon or some such. And then draw upon that power to funnel into the activation ritual." He paused, shaking his head, looking grim, and said, "And once the Marshall, myself, Mr. Chance, and Mr. Harris are dead, there won't be anyone with the ability to prevent him from doing so."
"Good God, this is like something from a Dime Novel horror story," Maitland said, turning even paler. "And my father wants to help him do this?"
Giles frowned. "Yes, well. I don't quite understand it, but for some reason... all of my calculation and my consultation with the Spirit Guides indicate that, ah, for some reason, the reason that young Master Harris and young Miss Chase are even here is to prevent him from doing so."
"He prevented himself. Minute he put a gun to Cordy's head, he became a walking corpse. He just hasn't lain down yet," Xander said. He shrugged.
Heidi looked at Dude. "Dude, if you knew some of the things that go on behind the scenes here, you'd have already burned this town to the ground," she said. "There's things under the homes and lands and grounds of people like Wilkins, Maitland, and Stillwell that you don't want to know about."
Dude scowled at her, shaking his head. "And if that's right: you were a party to it, Barrie."
Heidi shrugged. "Things we didn't want to know either. And for a long time, we were able to fool ourselves we weren't a party to them."
Xander picked up his Winchester '85 and worked the lever, dropping the block and opening the breech. "I'll take down Lazenby, Sharps, and McKay. And any other sharpshooters he has that can stop us. Levinson?" He gave Aaron a skeptical look. Not that he didn't trust Heidi's senses by now, but... this was Cordy they were discussing.
Aaron swallowed hard, nodded. "It doesn't take much to kill. Just a fraction of an inch, and a few ounces of pressure. I'll do my part."
"Well, hell," Dude was quiet for some time, then he shook his head again. He looked at Maitland, and said, again, "Well, hell. We have to get those gates open, take down at least some of that wall, and eliminate a lot of those guns in a hurry. Or we're dead. So, if you really are stupid enough to be willing, it looks like you're nominated."
"And elected," Vince said.
Wilkins had left open the little peep window in the door after looking in on them personally. Cordelia knew it was to disconcert her... and it was working. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of glancing up to see her looking out at what he was doing –
She just couldn't help it.
"What's he doing?" Ianara asked as Cordelia turned away from the door, again. And swearing, again, that it would be the last time she'd look out.
"Drawing some sort of sacrificial ritual thing on the floor," Cordelia said. Blunt... but no one was sugar coating life for her, and she wasn't going to start doing so for other people.
Ianara nodded. "He's not planning to let you go, is he," she said, disconcertingly perceptive. "Or me, either."
"He's not planning to do anything of the kind," Cordelia said, huffing angrily. "Our job is to make sure our plans interfere with his."
"And you have a plan?" Ianara's lips twitched, not quite a smile.
"No." Cordelia admitted. "But I'm not letting that stop me." She only wished she felt as confident as she sounded in her own ears.
Ianara did laugh at that, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not brave like you are."
"You're brave enough," Cordelia said. "And I'm not as brave as I'd like to be."
They sat in silence for a while. Nothing to do but wait, anyway. No idea what time it was, or how close to the exchange.
Wilkins came to the little window, looking in, and Cordelia went to see what he wanted, tossing her hair angrily.
"Well, it's almost time now," he said, cheerfully. "Are you excited? I know I am."
"What do you want, Wilkins," Cordelia said. She examined his face as if it were something stuck to her shoe.
"Oh, just to see how you're holding up," Wilkins said, smiling. "And to let you know that I have big plans. Big plans, and you're an integral part of them now. You should feel honored."
"You really are completely and absolutely insane, aren't you," Cordelia said, still studying him.
"Now now. There is no need for that, young lady," Wilkins said, still smiling genially at her through the window. "And you won't feel much like being insulting later. You'll be too busy pleading and wishing you'd been nicer."
"Yup. Completely and absolutely batshit insane. Bonkers. Thirty bricks shy of a wall. Elevator's not going all the way up," Cordelia said, her voice and her smile just as cheerful as his. "A few French fries short of a Happy Meal, not that that one will mean anything to you."
"My. What a vituperative little thing." Wilkins shook his head, making a tsking sound. He jerked his head towards the diagram, and said, "It's a little bit early for this, really, but Belfagorius won't really care. And power keeps really well in places like this. You'd be surprised."
Cordelia tilted her head. "I thought you were exchanging me for Maitland's kid," she said.
"Oh, I am. I am," Wilkins said. "But there's nothing that says that trade will go the way that your young paramour and your friends think it will."
Cordelia nodded. "You're going to die. And I'm going to be there."
"An admirable sentiment. I wholly approve," he said. "But I'm afraid that that's not how it is going to work."
"All right," Xander said. Again. He checked his revolvers one more time. One more time couldn't hurt, right?
Heidi shook her head. "Oh, for... settle down, Boss. You'd think you'd never done this before."
"I know. I have," Xander said. "It's just... "
"I know. This is your girl," Vince said. "And that means it's for all the marbles."
"Right." Xander sighed. Closed his eyes, and took in a deep, raggedy breath. Let it out slowly...
He spun the five-and-half inch Hamilton-Grover into its holster, his hand suddenly smooth and sure. "Right, then." He picked the long target revolver from the table, and slid it away, doing the same with Jack's two revolvers, one by one.
"Better," Heidi said. She nodded approvingly, after cocking her head and giving him a critical once over.
"No nerves at all, yourself, huh?" Vince asked her.
"Had nerves once," Heidi said. "Got rid of them. They only got in the way."
Xander frowned at Vince as the other was putting on a worn shoulder rig with a satin chromed four and three-quarter inch Colt Bisley. "Thought I distinctly heard you say in the pistol shoot that you'd 'been needing a new six-gun'."
Vince gave him a sharp look and a puzzled frown. "Did. Didn't say I didn't already have an old one." He checked over his grand prize Hamilton-Grover, the one Deke Matthews had contributed to the cause, spun the cylinder along his arm to check the loads, and holstered it.
Xander shook his head, bemused. "So you didn't," he said. "So you didn't."
Simple plan. Kind of like the old slogan: be kind, be courteous, and have a plan for killing everyone you meet. He and Vin and Heidi were going to go up to the highest vantage point in town, the upper floors of the Sunnydale Arms, and make sure there weren't any nasty surprises on rooftops or in windows. Or in church steeples and bell towers. And clear them with rifle fire as needed, if so.
And then signal, come back for their horses, and find a good vantage point or two along the planned route to the exchange to set up and make sure that the little group made it without interference from upstairs.
Not God upstairs upstairs. No, no interference from the firm of Lazenby, Sharp, and McKay.
And then go in the back way while Dude, John T. and the others went in through the blasted out front. Simple.
One last check through, anyway. But not compulsively neurotic this time. Just... professionalism.
A soft calfskin shirt in brown, with a black leather vest over that. And the shoulder holster, Jack's seven and a half inch Lone Star Arms .44, cartridge carrier, and knife rig with his bowie, over that. Black jeans, with copper rivets. Two-tone brown stovepipe chaps over those, and the gunbelt over that, low on the hips, with both Hamilton-Grovers and a full load of thirty-six .44 Special semi-wadcutters in the belt loops. Jack's bowie knife – he'd decided to keep that – and a pair of six round carriers of long .40-140-3 1/2" at the front, for a total of twelve.
The casual carry belt and rig at the waist, over the pants belt and chaps waistband, with Jack's bird's head gripped .44 in the concealment holster. Four six round carriers of .40-82 Winchester flat-point at the back, and two more at the front. Total of 36 rounds. Twelve more in the butt carrier on the '86, seven in the stock's cartridge trap, and twelve in the sling cartridge loops. Can't get it done with sixty-seven rounds, it's just not doable, at least not by you.
You're usually just too long dead to get 'er done by then.
Bottom of the chaps unsnapped at right and left, left for access to the horn gripped hunting knife in the inside boot sheath, right to give access to the eight inch stag handled Tanto style knife in its sheath in the outside boot top. Horn gripped skinning knife in the right inside boot sheath.
Dark brown duster over all of that, with Jesse's battered, rolled and flat brimmed Aussie hat on top.
And a full load of .40-140-3 1/2": twelve in the cartridge carrier around the stock, twelve more in the cartridge loops in the broad leather sling, eight in the cartridge trap. And a bandolier cartridge belt with an additional fifty looped over his shoulder –
– Sure, and if you couldn't get 'er done with sixty-seven, you couldn't do 'er... but there was gonna be a lot of rifle work tonight. No sense in being chintzy with ammo. Not so much for Cordy's Winchester and drilling, but he wasn't planning to fight with those, much. If at all. Most all of her ammo was on her horse.
So she'd have it handy when he got her back.
Heh. He'd feel like Matthew Quigley, except he couldn't match Tom Selleck's six-four or six-five of height, and his mustache. And Xander didn't mind using a handgun. Damned good thing that he here was in good shape, or he'd be bowed down from all the weight...
He grinned. Heidi looked like a female mini-him, in doeskin shirt, brown leather jeans, black chaps, and a black leather vest. Just with a black denim jacket and a black Stetson instead. Oh, and a much shorter rifle, of course.
Xander looked around. Dude, John T., Vince, Heidi, Glenn, Kevin, Chollo, and him... something familiar about all of this, and then it hit him, suddenly.
"Heh. Feel like I'm in the Magnificent Seven, here." Plus Giles and Aaron, of course, but hey – The Seven had extras, too.
There were raised eyebrows all around.
Dude asked, "Yeah? And what might that be, kid?"
Xander smiled. "Oh, just a story I... read once," he said. "By a man named Kurosawa. 'Bout a group of samurai going to face impossible odds against a group of serious villains, for a village that barely wanted them there doing it."
Heidi frowned. "Isn't that the Japanese guys with the swords? We're not samurai, Xan."
Xander smiled a bit broader and crookeder, and shook his head. "Hell we're not, Didi. Or, ronin, anyway. This?" He waved his hand at their little main team, "Is what being Samurai is all about. I get it now."
Chance looked at him, and said, gruffly, "Get what, kid?"
Xander shook head, wonderingly, his gaze suddenly distant. "What Cordy was trying to tell me. She just didn't have the words... " He said, and paused. "Not about being a bad ass, or a hard case. It's about being Samurai."
Vince adjusted his hat, pursed his lips, and shrugged. "Hell. You say so." He drew the mare's leg, checked and re-holstered it. Picked up his 1876 and worked the lever to chamber a round, then topped off the magazine.
Xander shrugged, "Then again, the hell do I know?" He picked up his long rifle and slung it, and picked up the Model '86. Made sure he had plenty of cartridges. He slipped a pair of boxes of rifle rounds into one duster pocket, and two boxes of .44 Special in the other. Good enough. He thought about the message he'd sent, and Uncle Rory's reply. Oh well. It'd either all come together, or it wouldn't.
Either way, he was going in to get his girl back.
Heidi picked up the two lariats she'd pulled from the storeroom, and slung them cross body like bandoliers, and picked up her new Winchester. "All right. Time to clear a few rooftops."
"Yup." Vince smiled tightly. "Like the man keeps saying: Let's go get dangerous."
.
