All Pietro knew was that he was on his feet and being forcibly shoved along. With the darkness of the train's interior and the speed everything was going by him, nothing was coming clear. There might as well have been a blindfold over his eyes to match the gag in his mouth. The frightened fugitive had only an impression of being shuffled briefly outside between the carriages. He made no attempt to fight back against his kidnapper. Too much had happened to him recently to offer even token resistance anyway.
Instead he surrendered himself into the hands of God.
Pushed roughly down dark and intimidating passages, Pietro sought to find an appropriate verse to guide him. And immediately, as if heaven-sent, one came. It made his heart swell at the feeling of having been touched by the divine hand, and so he recited it to himself.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you are the light of the world…
No, wait, that's not right. I will fear no evil, for thou art like unto a summer's day, so lovely and so temperate …
Wait. Hold on.
I lost it.
"Don't slow down!" the person behind him hissed. "Keep moving, Sanchez!"
All his hopes drained away in mere moments. Pietro knew this must be the same shadowy villain that had come bursting into his cabin and proceeded to abduct him. He realized now, without a doubt, that he was not at the tender mercies of any angel, but a prisoner of the devil.
The most important rule when engaging in any dangerous enterprise was to never assume things would just work out in your favor. That sort of thinking might succeed when you're in the gambling houses or looking to buy a horse. But when trying to cross a busy intersection or, say, looking to hijack a murderer away from a circus of cutthroats, it pays to go into the situation as well-prepared as you possibly can be.
The second most important rule is to adapt when your preparations fall through.
Zorro had hoped to rely on speed and surprise to get him and Sanchez off the train before anyone could mount an effective resistance against him. Now it looked as though he may have to come to grips with however many dangerous people might be in this crew. To top it all off, the dashing daredevil was in a somewhat less than enviable position, seeing as he was now on the roof of a train at night with nothing between him and a lot of broken bones but air.
"Could things get any worse?" he wondered aloud.
Zorro braced himself for an attack. To his surprise, no such thing materialized.
Well, I'm not a magician, after all. I can't just summon peril at a whim. Besides, peril seems to require no assistance in finding me.
Case in point: did I just see someone climb up here with me?
Something went whizzing by his head, and Zorro ducked down as well as he was able behind the protruding spine of the sleeper car.
Father, you always told me to take what we do more seriously. Admittedly, I never paid much heed to your warnings. But maybe someone else is about to give me a more abject lesson than you ever dared.
Horses.
That was the first thing that leapt out at Pietro about the place they finally drew to a halt in. It was undoubtedly a stable for horses. The lighting was still bad, but that didn't keep him from hearing the animals stamping and whinnying in their corrals, nor could it prevent his experienced nose from picking up the smell of manure and straw, mixed with the scent of the animals themselves.
So they were in the car reserved for stabling the horses used in the troupe's performance. But why had his abductor brought them here?
"Hold on a moment."
There was some fumbling in the dark, and then came the snap of a match. This brief spark soon blossomed into full-blown light that illuminated their surroundings. Pietro blinked against the glare. The glow of a lamp allowed him to make out their surroundings. A dozen white horses nickered in their pens on either side of him. Seeing them all there, he was seized by the desire to leap atop one and ride off. Anywhere would do, as long as he had a mount beneath him and could fight for his own life. Like this, though, bound and gagged, what could he…?
"Now then…"
He flinched, but before the despondent teen could react, he felt the gag being loosened to fall away. Licking his lips, the next realization was that the ties around his arms were being undone. Just as he was about to ask what was going on, they came free. Now rubbing his chafed wrists, Pietro at last turned to face his tormentor.
To his surprise, he once more found himself recognizing the person across from him. Standing there smiling broadly was the other man who had been present upon his removal from the snake's belly. This one had curly ginger hair and smooth features. A crinkly black gaze with virtually no eyebrows peered at him. His smile was boasting two golden teeth, and his broad shoulders sported a heavy leather coat.
"You doing all right there?" the man asked him, patting a shoulder solicitously. "Not hurt, are you?"
"No," Pietro responded warily. "What… what is happening? And who are you?"
"Name's Luis." He gave a thump of his broad chest. "But everybody around here calls me 'The Alcalde'. I'm the company stage manager and the propmaster, in charge of all the equipment and such. Hope I didn't scare you back there with that little bit of smoke-and-mirrors, but it seemed like a good time to get you safely elsewhere, what with all that ruckus. No need to worry, you're safe now!"
Pietro glanced around and rubbed his arms uncomfortably. Their current predicament was leaving him less inclined to feel assured of that statement. "What is going on around here?" he repeated.
"Got me," Luis beckoned him over to a corner, where two boxes were propped. Carrying the kerosene lamp, he set it carefully between them and indicated for Pietro to have a seat. "But whatever it was, seemed like a good time to make oneself scarce, eh? Maybe you could let me in on what happened?"
The boy shivered. "A stranger broke into my compartment. He was dressed all in black, and he tied me up. Belasco and… the big man were there, and they tried to fight him off. I'm sorry… I don't know precisely what happened. Everything was a blur, it all went by so fast, I never…"
"S'all right, don't trouble yourself." The propmaster gave him another friendly pat on the shoulder. He then turned and picked up a saddle blanket that was resting on one of the stalls. Luis then entered the pen and draped it over one of the horse's back, giving it a soothing rub before lifting up a saddle. "Could be somebody managed to sneak on board looking to nab you. Or this might be some cockamamie plan that Belasco set up, who knows? Anyway, it don't mean no mind to you now. You're about to make another break for freedom yourself."
The man's Spanish was good, but still Pietro had a hard time understanding that last bit.
"How do you mean?"
Luis cinched the saddle securely, then cast a glance down the lane as if in search of something. His face looked anxious for a moment. And then he looked over and grinned once more.
"What I mean is, your father sends his love."
Surprise, followed by hope. Pietro came immediately to his feet. "My father sent you?"
His rescuer nodded as he moved into another stall and repeated the procedure from before. "Seems he never took a shine to Belasco's way of operating. Can't really blame him. We've been pulling this stunt coming on ten years, and let me tell you, it didn't always turn out so pretty. Used to be we just got a man out of one territory to the next. Now we're an international affair! Belasco's got connections up in Canada, he lived there back when he was a kid. The Mounties never caught on once, mind you, but that didn't mean our cargo always got where it was going, if you know what I mean."
"No, I don't." A chill went up his spine all the same. "What are you telling me?"
"Well," Luis said with a drawl as he saddled another horse, "Don't mean to scare you more than you already are, but back before we recruited Anatolia and her big lizard, it wasn't always a sure bet nobody would catch on. If David ever thought somebody was getting wise, he'd just kick our poor client off the train. Imagine that; stuck out in the wilderness, no horse, no food or water, sometimes not even shoes on your feet in some cases. You wouldn't want to be all alone in this wild country, believe me."
"I see. It sounds awful." Pietro shuddered.
"Yes, that's just what your father said when I spoke to him." The technician's voice was muffled as he bent and continued to work assuredly. His audience was hanging off every word. "And that's not the worst of it, no sirree! The worst things happened when we got where we were going, no problem, and the rider couldn't pay his fare. Oh, you don't want to cross Belasco when it comes to money, my son, no you certainly don't! He's crazy, and that's a fact. Hides it by putting on an act that would make them roar at Carnegie Hall, but truth is his brain just doesn't work like a normal person's. And that means when he loses his temper, it's all the worse!"
Luis draped his arms over the front of the stall and licked his lips, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Never gets his own hands dirty, uh-uh, not him. He's got a pet Chinese on this train, greasy little snake called 'Lady Hwa-Rang', if you can believe it. She's who he goes to whenever something really dirty needs to be done. You don't wanna cross those sneaky yellow devils, they'll smile and bow to your face, but the second you turn your back out come the knives! Believe me, lad," and he gave a sad shake of his head, "It's a dirty business we're all involved in. I've had to clean up messes that would give you nightmares for life if you only saw them. Ain't no fit life for a human being. And that's why I'm getting out!"
"This is why you went to my father?" Pietro pressed him, looking decidedly unnerved by this recitation.
"Yeah. He was worried about your safety, and with good cause! Even more so once I told him a few of the things I knew about this venture. At the end of the day, he asked me to make sure you not only made it out of Nuevo Laredo, but also got away from Belasco before any harm could come to you." He nodded back the way they came. "What we needed was a way to keep Belasco from following us right away once he learned you were gone. The plan was that after we got near Houston, we'd start a fire in one of the rear passenger compartments. These old boxcars are like tinder, really, just waiting to have a match set to them. That's why you need to have plans in case something like that happens. Should a car catch fire and they can't put it out, we're supposed to uncouple it from the rest of the train. All the ones behind it also get cut off, of course, and anyone left behind, it's their job to get the burning one disconnected from the rest until we can come back for them."
"But then, as you know, this mess here happened. I didn't know what was going on, but it seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity. So I got up and set off to find out what the fuss was about. As soon as it looked like you were in trouble, I got you out of there quick. As for that fella in black, I figure he's a good enough excuse to skip the fire altogether. We can just make it look like the train coming apart was his doing. Belasco won't even think about anyone else being involved, I'll bet. That way we can make our getaway before he figures out what really happened. Once the train comes to a halt, we'll use these horses to get us to Houston ahead of everyone else. They'll have to stop and come back for the others, so we'll have ourselves a big lead. Your father's friend Captain Toblar has a ship waiting there all ready to take you to Spain where you'll be safe. "
"But…"
Pietro looked around them. His expression let it be known that something more immediate than this future plan was bothering him.
"If we're going to be riding these horses, why are you saddling three of them?"
And the stagehand winked.
"Well, for the same reason I've been talking to you instead of getting started on our getaway. Because we've got to wait for my partner to show up."
Zorro wasn't certain who he was up against, and he didn't really want to waste time finding out. Unfortunately, his options at the moment were limited. A flash bomb would require he close his eyes for several seconds, a dangerous thing to do while atop a speeding train even if someone wasn't shooting at him. And he only had one left, best not to waste it. All the wind would render a smoke bomb meaningless, and throwing a knife at them, assuming he actually managed to connect in the dark, almost assured the target would fall to their death.
With all this in mind, he did the only thing that made any sense.
He threw himself from the train.
Perhaps it wasn't the most sensible move, but it did get him out of his attacker's sightline. And with some luck they might just assume he really had fallen off.
It certainly might have looked that way. Instead Zorro found himself in the unenviable position of dangling from the side of a moving passenger car, clutching the roof's overhang with his fingers. Years of training allowed him to keep from losing his grip, and actually permitted the daring soul to scoot over inch by inch until he came at last to one of the windows. Still, even he couldn't hold like this for very long. Judging his angle, he tensed his forearms and prepared to break his way in.
A feeling of the roof shifting slightly under his fingers alerted him in time to look up and see the figure standing above. They were aiming what looked suspiciously like a bow. No further confirmation was needed, and he drove his legs into the window, pulling on the roof to send himself crashing through.
It felt like the edge of the thin glass might have cut him briefly, but at least there was no cloth-yard shaft punching through his skull. Instead Zorro wound up tumbling into the lightless cabin, to the accompaniment of a pair of screams.
Lying on the floor for a moment, stunned and grateful at having narrowly escaped death once more, a candle was lit. Two women who appeared to be twins were staring at him, clad only in their nightgowns with long dark curls streaming down their backs.
"Che sucede?" one of them cried.
A situation like this could only be handled in one possible way.
"Ah, me!" he exclaimed suddenly in Italian, "I completely forgot to put a rose between my teeth! Stupido!" Bounding up, Zorro doffed his hat to the dumbfounded damsels and smiled with easy charm. "Forgive my incompetence, I shall visit a florist and return straight away. Someone will be along to clean up the glass. Buona notte, bellas!"
While they looked to one another in bewilderment, he moved to the door and casually let himself out, blowing them a kiss as he closed it behind him.
Once more in the cabin's hallway, he took a moment to consider. If a member of Belasco's crew had gotten their hands on Pietro, the odds were good that he had once again been stashed somewhere. This could require searching through every compartment, a prospect he did not relish. On the other hand, if as he suspected a third party was active here, their only goal would be escaping off the train. And since that was Zorro's plan to begin with, he had a good idea how they intended to accomplish this feat.
Best to first take care of the option that required the least amount of time. There were two passenger cars and four boxcars between here and the end of the train. Six places to check, but one in particular held great promise. The horse stable. His instincts told him he was right, and without further ado, the masked avenger set off quickly down the aisle.
Upon reaching the door leading to the next car, Zorro paused, considering. Perhaps now would be a good time to play it smart.
So resolved, he flung a flash bomb through the door's window and watched it land on the deck of the trailing car. As expected, a projectile of some kind caromed off the metal immediately afterwards, but by this time, Zorro had already ducked down to shield himself from the blast, gripping the door handle in preparation.
There was a dull 'woomph', followed by a cry from overhead. Cursing in a foreign language reached his ears. Well, at least they didn't fall off. And with that he burst through the door and dashed over the space between the cars, still expecting to be shot at any moment. Instead Zorro cleared the distance and made it into the next car unharmed, slamming the portal shut behind him with a relieved gasp. Most likely he was dealing with the Oriental archer he had witnessed performing two nights past. Since it was a lady, his upbringing did not allow him to deal with her in a more bellicose fashion like all the rest. Hopefully she would be sufficiently immobilized to keep from injuring him or anyone else in the immediate future.
One down, several more to go. He proceeded towards the rear.
No further attacks manifested. He kept a wary eye out for the knife-thrower, but saw no further signs of him. The rest of the doors along this way remained closed, with no indication of the occupants being awake. Less than five minutes had passed since he lost sight of Pietro Sanchez. In that time many things could have happened. He might not even be on the train anymore. The only solution now was to continue as planned, eliminating possibilities and staying alive until an opportunity presented itself.
At last he came upon the door leading to the animal wagons. Oddly, Zorro felt himself rather preoccupied. If his previous guess was incorrect and Pietro was still in Belasco's clutches, then that would mean he was somewhere in the rooms he had just passed. His current suspicion couldn't afford to waste time checking all of them on the way in, because that would give his competition the time they needed to escape. On the other hand, by the time he made his way back here, there could conceivably be a much larger force of people arrayed against him. Still, the risk of losing his target altogether was simply too great. This nagging worry had to be resolved prior to making any further decisions.
With that, he stepped outside, carefully grasped the door-handle and whipped the blank wooden façade open, hiding behind the frame. No knives came whizzing out to greet him. Of course there might be other perils lying in wait. Nothing left to do but trust in his own abilities, and whatever blessings he might have earned.
Zorro then dove through the opening, flattening himself to one side as he did. All was dark. He felt the wire cage which separated the pens, and heard the monkeys snuffling sleepily.
Rolling upright, he saw a shape loom before him, and a fist crashed into his face.
Hernando hurried as swift as he could away from the sight of his humiliation. Anger made his face burn, while his nose still stung from that craven shoving a firecracker up it. When he caught up with that black dog, it wouldn't be simply a matter of throwing him out a window. This time, he would tie a rope around the man's feet and drag him along behind the train until there was nothing left but a bloody cape.
The invader had gone out the window and up on the roof. He might still be up there, or he could be hiding back down in the cars. Apparently none of the other performers had been disturbed by the fight in the other car. But even though he was angry enough to punch through a wall, the former wrestler recognized the benefits of allies at this time.
Ari was already ahead of him, where he didn't know. Maybe up top right now. Or maybe not. It would be best to have someone searching inside and out. Hernando didn't fancy the thought of getting a knife stuck in him, so he opted to remain down here. Still, someone really should be up there.
Preferably, someone he would rather have nowhere near him, just to be on the safe side.
Having reached this decision, Hernando located another of their cabal's doors and knocked on it, softly and urgently. "Bong Cha!" he hissed.
No answer. It really should be Belasco doing this, he actually spoke the woman's tongue.
A little louder. "Bong Cha!"
Still nothing.
Cursing, he gave up and went back to his pursuit. Let David inform that one of their problems, she'd probably feather anyone else who came to her door. Striving to make as little noise as possible, he at last reached the final cabin. Anatolia's apartment was here, along with Luis'. The Snake Queen wouldn't be of much use in a fight, but the propmaster might just have a few tricks up his sleeve. May as well recruit one extra set of eyes and hands.
As this idea was occurring to him, a bit of movement through the glass at the far end of the car caught his eye.
Hernando felt his heart beat double-time. Forgetting the notion of getting help, he raced swiftly on bare feet and yanked open the door.
Ari jumped and spun, brandishing a knife as he did. When he caught sight of Hernando, he breathed a sigh and glowered at the big man. "Dammit, don't startle me! I almost stabbed you!"
"Forget that! Where is he?"
"I don't know." The knife-juggler peered around his ally's frame. "Didn't Luis get him out? I thought he'd put him up in his cabin, but they're not there. Maybe Anatolia, but I got the impression she didn't like the kid that mu…"
"Not Sanchez!" Hernando snapped, baring his teeth in a frightful snarl. "The black bastard! Did you see him come down?"
"So he is on the roof. I was just about to go and check there, since I hadn't run into him yet." Ahriman indicated towards the front of the car. "You wait down here. I'll head up top and scout for him. If he tries to get back inside, we'll catch him between us."
Just as he was about to climb the ladder leading to the roof, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Wait," Hernando spoke. "If he is there, force him down to me. I'll be in the snake car. Fewer people around that way."
"What has that got to do with…?"
Even as he spoke, Ari paused upon seeing the frightful look on his partner's face. He swallowed and gave a hasty nod of confirmation.
Hernando released him, and the marksman scampered up the metal rails and out of sight. With a final look back, he then entered the first boxcar and closed the door behind him.
Waiting alone in the pitch-black cabin, he could smell the monkeys' refuse mixed with the reptile's scent. It seemed as though his senses sharpened without any light. There was a dry rustling that could have been the python rubbing over its scales. At the same time, he thought he could detect the sound of Ari's feet overhead. The creak and groan of the wood combined with rattling metal and the far-off locomotive's steady pulse served to fill the rest of his hearing.
He estimated less than two minutes when the sound of movement came from outside. Then the door swung back, but there was no one to be seen. Hernando remained patient, resisting the urge to rush out and engage his foe. Instead he waited for him to come.
A flash of movement, and then he was no longer alone. The sight of a cape billowing let him know this was the right man, and as his enemy came up silhouetted against the open door, Hernando hauled off and delivered a solid punch right in his face.
The door cracked open, and a sleepy face peered out. "David? Do you have any idea what time it is?"
He wasted no time with explanation. "Felix, there's a dangerous stowaway on the train. Lock yourself in and don't come out until I tell you."
Normally there would have been questions asked, but the mention of peril got the thespian motivated to obey without the usual backtalk one could expect from his breed. Felix slammed the door shut without another word.
Well, that was a useful lesson. Perhaps threat of physical harm could conceivably be used to compel his actors not to challenge his directorial decisions onstage. Something good ought to come out of this mess, at least.
Belasco worked his way methodically down the line. He informed the rest of them an edited version of what was happening. His extended family obeyed his warning and barricaded themselves in their quarters. Keep your lies simple, that's the first rule of successful showmanship. Omitting the truth sometimes worked just as well. It also gave him the opportunity to verify there was no one else to be found in any of their rooms.
There was no way that Zorro character could have gotten both himself and Sanchez out that window. How he made it out on his own was a mystery. Belasco certainly couldn't imagine scaling up the side of a moving train. That could mean either Zorro broke the window to make them think he went out that way and then just took Pietro into the next car under cover of the smoke, or he did practice defenestration and the boy chose to make a break for it on his own.
But if that was the case, why hadn't Pietro come back to them? Perhaps he had been afraid of further violence. There had been knives flying through the air, after all. And that's another thing: Ahriman went into the smoke almost immediately. Why didn't he catch Pietro then? One could hardly imagine a wasted stick like Sanchez outrunning a man of Ari's vigor, desperate or not. And it was a straight line. Could they have struggled outdoors and fallen off the train? No, they would have definitely heard a commotion then, almost certainly a scream. So what was going on?
Could there be another factor at work here against him?
Well, we'll just see about that.
By now, he had reached Bong Cha's room. It was surprising she hadn't roused already, considering what a light sleeper she was. Moving up ready to call out to her, David paused as something caught his eye. Frowning, he bent down to inspect it closer.
Yes, he had been right. There was a small triangular wedge shoved into the crack under her door. This piece of wood effectively served to jam it shut. Someone had gone to the trouble of specifically trapping Bong Cha. Could it have been Zorro? But how could he have known she was involved? Was it simply a precaution? None of the others had been the victim of such a tactic. So why here?
Suddenly a suspicion grew in Belasco's mind. Could one of his own men be involved in this, looking to cheat him?
Without further ado, he yanked the piece of wood out and tried the door handle. As expected, it had already been unlocked from the inside, and so he yanked it open.
"Bong Ch-!"
A breeze from the open window caused the blind to flutter. Other than this, the room was empty.
Considering the force of the blow, a lesser man might have called it a day and passed out. Zorro didn't let either the pain or the surprise get the best of him. Instead he braced his palms against the floor and kicked out at where he reasoned his opponent's knees must be.
Whether or not he connected turned out to be moot. It was like kicking steel. This left little doubt that the giant from before had roused and stolen ahead to lay an ambush for him. Other than stabbing the man, something he really didn't want to have to do, previous experience and even closer quarters than before let him know he might be at a disadvantage.
This opinion was further strengthened when a fist the size of a summer melon grabbed hold of his shirt and yanked him upright. Before Zorro could fight back, he was spun around and crushed back against the ogre's chest. One great hairy arm wrapped around him, pinning his arms. The other encircled his windpipe, and without further ado, he was being strangled.
"Got you, little blackbird!" his attacker hissed in relish. "Sleep tight, and I promise, when you awake it'll be in a way that makes you wish you were already dead!"
There was no air coming in. A backwards kick to the groin failed to connect as the blow was anticipated and countered with a deft twist. Zorro tried to reach the strongman's eyes, but couldn't make it that far. No way to put any real power behind a punch either. Instead his clawing fingers caught hold of the handlebar moustache, and without consideration for the childish aspects of it, he yanked hard.
To his dismay, there was no yowl of pain. Indeed, there was no resistance at all, as the whole thing came off in his hand. A wax moustache. Wonderful. Just what you'd expect to find amongst a group of professional actors. And while he was figuring that out, the bald behemoth was continuing to choke him.
Monkeys screeched and rattled the wall of their pen. A chest like an ironsmith's bellows expanded and contracted behind his head, as if mocking his inability to do the same. The blood roaring in his ears told him the worst was happening. He was about to lose consciousness. His bag of tricks wouldn't work here. With his arms trapped at his sides, the sword couldn't be drawn, so that left only the knife in his boot. He didn't like the thought of potentially maiming a man, even if they did seem dead-set on killing him, but in a situation like this one could only be noble for so lo…
"What the devil is happening in here?"
They both jerked around. Light blossomed with the creak of hinges, and a woman Zorro recognized as Anatolia the Python Princess now stood in the room with them. She was in a silk night-robe not three feet away, holding an oil lamp and staring in total amazement at this display.
The flickering light of the wick filled his attention, and the Fox kicked out, knocking the lamp from her grasp. It flew up high, then came crashing down to shatter against the floorboards. Immediately the pool of oil ignited in a burst of blue, and moments later yellow fire spread across the floor, flowing under the wire cages in no time.
The screams of the woman mingled with those of the panicked animals now rushing frantically about their den and clamoring to get away. Even the python was surging frantically to put distance between itself and the flames. But still the giant did not let go. He seemed intent on crushing Zorro's throat regardless of whether or not they both burned. Well, maybe a lesson on how a sensible creature would react in such a situation was needed.
With that, he hooked out a leg and booted the latch on the monkey cage. The door sprang open, and seeing only a chance to escape the blaze, the frantic beasts launched themselves outside.
They came shrieking furiously, and the closest target of their primitive terror was the two men. Driven wild, the hairy creatures flung themselves biting and clawing at them. Bare-chested, Hernando took the worst of it. He bellowed himself in pain and anger as their sharp fangs pierced his skin. Forgetting his grudge, he let go of Zorro, who gratefully gasped in a lungful of air and threw off a pair of slavering monkeys before moving to address the immediate peril.
Anatolia had ripped open a ten-pound bag of sand kept in a stack near the doorway and was spilling the contents over the blaze in an effort to smother it before it could reach her cold-blooded partner. Noticing another such emergency pile on the opposite end of the corridor, Zorro raced over and yanked up a few more bags. He came swiftly back and tore one open, fighting the fire from the other side. Fortunately the lamp hadn't been full, and between the two of them, they managed to extinguish the blaze before anyone could be harmed.
For a moment they stood across from another, panting and gasping. Anatolia held a limp sack between her fingers, eyes scanning their environment for further signs of fire. When none came, she looked at Zorro, regarding him with about as much concern as she had the flames. Somewhat winded, the dashing swordsman could not even find it in himself to make a clever remark.
But when the colossus roared behind him, he wasted no time and dropped down. A pair of hands rushed overhead. Zorro pivoted and drove his elbow back, landing it squarely in the solar plexus.
Hernando bent double with a gasp, eyes going wide. A monkey blinked and chattered on his smooth pate. Zorro bounded up, now grasping with both hands another heavy bag of sand which he swung upward with all his strength to catch his stunned enemy on the chin. The impact sent his head snapping back and dislodged the irate primate, which landed on the floor and scampered away moments before Hernando too came crashing down like a tumbled redwood to lie senseless for the third time that night.
The monkeys had retreated back into their enclosure, which they now deemed safe once more. The masked man swiftly closed the door behind them before turning to regard the trembling lady once again.
He took note of the small derringer pistol she now pointed at him.
"Who are you? Why are you here?" she demanded.
In return, he leveled a stare devoid of frippery at her.
"You know why, Señora."
Anatolia blinked her red-rimmed eyes. There were tears in them, whether from the smoke or for other reasons. "Pietro Sanchez?"
"And Belasco."
This seemed to surprise her, and then the woman's face grew cold. "How do you mean?"
Zorro studied her for a brief while. He then ducked his head and spoke quietly.
"Whether you shoot me or no, this travesty you took part in is done for good. Belasco has profited from defying the law for the last time. I have already seen to that. You should look to your own welfare now, for he is finished."
Anatolia's eyes grew wide. Still holding him at gunpoint, she took a step backwards from that dark figure of legend.
"I couldn't stand… begging for scraps day to day anymore," she whispered. "I was always dependent on the whims of others. The wealthy, and the vicious. Men treated me like I was no better than a monkey made for their amusement. When Belasco came and offered a chance to gain my own wealth…"
Her face was fierce, but the tears still fell. "I hated what we were doing, giving freedom to the same kind of filth who took advantage of me before! But if it meant never having to degrade myself or my body again, I chose to still do it! Who are you to stand there and accuse me with eyes hidden behind a mask?"
"I am justice," Zorro responded calmly.
"BAH!" she sneered in return. "Tell me, what is this 'justice' men like you claim to uphold only for those you deem worthy?"
Black eyes continued to regard her. So intense were they that she actually felt fear at what they might represent. When he spoke next, she almost didn't hear him over the beating of her own frantic heart.
"Justice is the human conscience, written into law."
Anatolia's lips parted with a quick gasp.
Zorro smiled, not unkindly. "And money will be of no help in reclaiming your own conscience. I hope you realize that, Señora Anatolia."
It took her a while to realize the gun was hanging limply from her grasp, now pointed at the floor. And just then the train gave a sharp jerk. Anatolia stumbled forward with a cry, the pistol flying. Before she could fall, Zorro stepped forward and caught her.
"Damn!" he swore. Guiding her down until she knelt by the unconscious Hernando, her rescuer turned and ran to the end of the carriage. Flinging open the door, he saw his suspicions confirmed.
Before him hung an empty stretch of railroad tracks only a few feet across. Receding away was the next car, unfastened from the one he was on still bound to the locomotive pulling them. The cars after his own had been uncoupled. They and their cargo slowly began to pull away.
He knew that somewhere on those receding boxes was Pietro Sanchez.
The gap was only ten feet but widening every second. There was not a moment to lose. Zorro sped back to where Anatolia crouched. He had to clear as much room as possible. He couldn't afford to jump over them both, which meant that between the unconscious giant and the back door there was perhaps thirty feet at most to run down. In terms of building up speed, that was not very significant. Work with what you're given, however.
Without any further preparation, Zorro turned from the pair of performers and sprinted down the length of the car fast as he possibly could. Judging his stride and the remaining room, he picked his moment and propelled himself off the very lip of the edge, leaping into the night in an effort to cross the gap.
Perhaps twenty feet of distance separated the two cars now, not a record attempt in any competition he knew of. He had been making jumps like this since he was ten years old, even before he learned of his family history. The difference lay in that this target was actually moving farther away while he was in flight. An awkward landing could still spell his end. He would also be completely exposed to attack even if he did make it.
There was simply no other means available to fulfill his mission. Trust in fate again, Diego.
Flying through the air, he caught sight of a figure on the opposite roof raising a knife on high. And then a scream tore the night.
Ari scrambled up the ladder, leaving Hernando behind him. The force of the wind as he rose over the lip of the roof was almost enough to knock him flat. Carefully examining his surroundings, he determined that he was alone up here.
Luck was on his side.
Wasting no time, the circus star cautiously moved down the length of the car, keeping low so as to stabilize his center of gravity. Up here one wrong move would mean more than falling off the tightrope back in the circus. At the very least he had some training in navigating precarious perches like this. Thus it was that he soon found himself safely climbing down into the next gap between cabins.
He was now between the snake/monkey car and the one where they kept the horses. It would be the easiest thing in the world to disconnect the couplers now and cut the tail end of the train loose. But first he had to make certain his prize was really here as he had thought. With that, he opened the door to the horse pens and stepped inside, a knife at the ready.
Luis looked up from a seated position. The propmaster's eyes flickered to the naked blade in his hand, and gave a weak smile. "Isn't that a little overdramatic?" he asked.
Ari returned a much nastier grin. "Just making sure I wouldn't be taken by surprise, eh?" His eyes scanned the room, noting that indeed three horses had been saddled and readied. "Where's the boy?"
"Pietro, it's all right!" Luis called over his shoulder. "You can come out."
A pair of nervous eyes emerged over the lip of a stall. When he caught sight of Ari, they widened further. "You? I thought… perhaps it might be…"
"Who, Anatolia?" And the daredevil gave a laugh. "Dream on, boy. No, ours are the only pretty faces you're bound to see for a little while. Besides…" he nodded over to his partner, "A two-way split means more to go around."
"Split? What do you mean?"
About to return back outside, Ari paused. "What, you think we're doing this out of the kindness of our hearts?" He chuckled scornfully. "Didn't Luis tell you? Your old man's paying us. Five hundred thousand dollars was what Belasco demanded of him. The two of us, we only asked for three hundred. Split between us, that's almost twice the share of a fortune we would have got if we stuck around with this lot. And Don Sanchez certainly liked the numbers better. Maybe it doesn't say much that he bargained over his own son's welfare, but I certainly can't complain."
It was disgusting how wounded the rich boy appeared upon hearing this. Had he really not considered the money angle in all this? Well, even if he hadn't, others most certainly had. And while Ahriman couldn't argue with how much he and the rest had made throughout the years as a result of Belasco's delivery service, the risks were getting too great. Every desperate criminal they hauled around was one more loose mouth flapping about his daring escape. They even had a name for it now among the bawdyhouses and gentlemen's clubs: 'The Conjuror's Trick', they called it. A means of safe passage out of a town, a state, or even a country if need be.
There were simply to many people who knew about them. But Belasco didn't see it that way. As far as he was concerned, what Ari considered a risk was nothing more than another form of 'advertising'. While their clients were sworn to secrecy, there was no guarantee they would consider such an oath truly important. And now criminals knew there was a friend for them if they ever found themselves on the run. Before too long, the authorities would hear of it as well. And that would be the end for this company.
So when the opportunity to get out on a big score came, Ari took it. By striking out on his own this once, he could make himself a very rich man. He had brought Luis in because the stage director was afraid of him and could be controlled. The allure of wealth did the rest. And having an extra set of hands meant there was not only less work for him to do, but also someone to blame in case things went wrong. When this unexpected hitch came up in the form of that masked bandit, Ari had seen Luis throw the smoke bombs and recognized what he was doing. Fortunately he had been able to take his own time getting back here, allowing him to work this new player into his plans. Now Belasco would just assume that some of the masked bandit's accomplices had spirited Pietro off the train. By then, the Sanchez whelp would be on a ship out of the hemisphere and Ari would be close behind, three hundred thousand dollars richer.
After all, why take half a loaf of bread when you could get the whole thing?
His disappearance might not even be noticed for a while. In fact, the fire he intended to set in the cabin later would go a long way towards erasing any evidence. That is, when they found Luis' remains mixed in with the remaining dead horses. A burnt skeleton could be either one of them. Belasco couldn't know for sure who if anyone had betrayed him, and Ari had known Luis wouldn't try to leave him behind because he didn't know knew where in Houston the money Don Sanchez had agreed to pay them could be found. Only Ari did. It was all perfectly planned.
"Ari, listen," Luis chose to pipe up then. "There wasn't time to drug Bong Cha like we planned, so I just stuck a jamb in her door. That should buy us a little time, but Hernando is still somewhere around. Shouldn't we get going before him or that black bastard show up?"
The head of this plot broke off his reverie. "Actually, the bald galoot is just one car up, lying in wait for our new friend. Still, there's no sense hanging around for the show. If Black Cape has friends waiting to help him, we might be in for a real race. Best to get a head start, then."
Ari opened the door and went back outside. He hadn't been lying about that last part. Who could say how many people were now after Pietro's head? There would be no reward unless he brought the boy along with him, his father had been certain he understood that. Now it was time to get things started.
The knife-thrower closed the door and stood out on the windy platform. Bending down, he carefully pulled the locking pin from the couplers holding the cars together. Then he grasped the cut lever and began to pull back on it. This second part of detaching cars was much harder than the first, requiring him to exert far more strength. Still, the lever slowly began to move, and Ari strained harder to overcome the force holding those two steel hands cupped together. The whole time, he couldn't help but fear the door across from him would come open and he would find himself dealing with a furious Hernando.
This did not occur. Instead the protesting lever sank into its open position, and beneath him, the coupler came undone. There was a hiss as the air brake tube was separated. Then the two cars drifted a few inches apart. That was a relief. You were supposed to pull the cut lever on each side to be certain, but one proved enough in this case. The momentum meant they were still fairly close. Still, it wouldn't be long before the locomotive pulled the rest of the train far ahead, leaving him to continue his business uninterrupted.
Satisfied, Ari began to scale the up ladder. For some strange reason, he could have sworn he smelled smoke. Pausing to check, the sensation died. Perhaps just his nose getting ahead of him. Still, now was no time for such things. He had to reach the brake and stop this line of cars.
Reaching the top, he peered over to make certain no one was there. Black Cape or someone else might have gotten past Hernando simply by using the roof. Considering that he was supposed to be guarding that route, it would have been a bit too much irony for him to stomach. Fortunately, the view stretching back to the caboose was clear of any lurking shadows. Time to get to work.
Two years back Belasco had invested in the new Westinghouse air brakes which allowed the conductor in the locomotive to flip a lever and bring the entire train to a stop, making their traveling company much safer in the long run. It had been a well-appreciated gesture. Fortunately, the old-fashioned brake wheels atop every car were still functional, if somewhat out of use. One had only to turn it and you could apply the brakes that way. In the past this had been a time-consuming process, requiring someone to jump from one roof to another and ensure each set was tripped individually all the way down the line. They had lost quite a few brakemen that way. Some part of him suspected David bought the Westinghouse models simply to avoid having to hire another one.
Still, this was exactly the job he now found himself doing. Kneeling down behind the wheel, Ari took hold and began to twist it round and round. It felt slightly stuck from years of disuse. Sweat poured down his face from the effort, and at last it began to budge. Looking up, he could now make out a significant space between him and the departing train. Excellent. All that remained was…
And then he saw it. The back of the other car opened, and there stood Black Cape. For a moment Ari froze, disbelieving. Had the man actually overcome Hernando? It didn't seem possible. But there he stood all the same. And there was a chance he might be able to jump the divide between them. Best take care of this before it became a real problem.
Withdrawing a knife, the eagle-eyed entertainer crept forward a few paces, crouching low to stay out of sight. Black Cape disappeared back inside before he could take a shot, but that probably meant he was looking to get a running start. No problem. It would be child's play to pick him off right after he landed. Just have to wait for the right moment.
Ari steadied himself, arm raised in anticipation and taking careful aim.
Movement in the darkened portal alerted him, and as his target came running back into view he prepared to throw.
As he did, something impacted hard with the back of his knees, causing him to collapse forward.
An instant later he was in more pain than he could ever remember having been in, and the only thing to do was scream.
Flopping on his stomach, Ahriman shrieked at the top of his lungs from the agony pouring into his legs. Desperate to find out what was wrong and put a stop to it, he turned his head and immediately regretted having done so.
It wasn't so much the sight of two arrows protruding out of the back of his knees. Rather it had to do with the fact that two more were being aimed right at him.
After the assassin almost blinded her, Bong Cha took a while to get her bearings. Even as she had fired, it became clear that her target was only a stick of some sort. Suspicion caused her to glance swiftly behind just in case someone might be creeping up on her. Then the flash of light came. Thankfully she had caught it only on the periphery of her vision, enough to inconvenience but not incapacitate.
Furious, she had heard someone moving by beneath her position. And that settled it for her. Somebody was going to get shot.
The archer had been woken that night by a shuffling at her door. Years of mistrust meant she was a very light sleeper. Grasping her dagger, she had hidden behind the frame in case they tried to break in. But instead, the intruder simply moved on down the hall. Wary, Bong Cha tried to open her door, only to find that it wouldn't budge. She had been locked in.
Breaking it down wasn't very likely. And calling for help never even crossed her mind. Instead she got dressed, slung her bow and quiver on her back and climbed through the window.
Once outside, she had caught sight of the person sneaking along the rooftops towards her. It was no one she recognized, and that made them fair game. Their brief encounter left her even more certain of this, and after recovering her untrammeled vision, she set off along the top of the train in pursuit.
Having not encountered him since, Bong Cha resolved to go back inside to continue her hunt. The place to start seemed obvious, because from her position, she could see that one of the boxcars had a light on at this hour. That was unusual in and of itself, and so the huntress went straight to learn what was going on.
Bong Cha chose not to reveal herself to the occupants, preferring to listen in from outside. Guessing that other members of her band were coming down the train towards her in search of the stranger, she took up position on the ladder at the car's far back end in order to ambush anyone who might try to escape this way. From here she could shoot them no matter which route they chose. Unfortunately, nothing she overheard from that point led to understanding. They were speaking a language that wasn't English, which itself she was only marginally familiar with at best. One of them was a member of their group, however, and the other she failed to recognize. It could be the assassin, or not. Since Mr. Belasco had insisted she not feather his people prematurely, Bong Cha had decided to wait.
Ahriman the Turk joined them indoors soon afterwards. More conversations took place. And then the whole train shook violently around her, almost causing Bong Cha to lose her grip and fall onto the tracks. A slight feeling of deceleration came with it. Peering around the edge of the car, she could make out the next cabin now moving away from them.
The lines had been disconnected. Someone had cut them off from the rest of the train. No good could result from this. Having drawn that conclusion, she resolved to express her dissatisfaction with the person responsible.
A noise overhead gave her an indication of where to start. Craning her neck up cautiously, she spotted Ahriman making his way over to the brake. Once his back was turned and he was busy turning the wheel, she climbed up and strung two arrows. Then the sharpshooter crept towards this admittedly dangerous opponent without making a sound.
His attempts to stop their travel could have indicated guilt or innocence. She heavily favored the former. As if to confirm this, of a sudden he drew one of the knives from his bandolier. Now both her shafts were trained upon him and ready to fly at a moment's notice. But instead of having noticed her, he moved forward and seemed to be preparing to throw at someone.
There was no way to know who Ahriman was aiming at. However, Bong Cha was of the opinion that if anyone was qualified to decide who should live or die, it was herself. Leaving it up to amateurs ran the risk of mistakes being made.
So without further ado, she spitted the man's kneecaps like two apples.
A great deal of screaming was the result. For good measure, she withdrew two more arrows and trained them on him. Her prey turned to see her coming and began babbling at lightning speed, too fast for Bong Cha to pick out more than a few words she recognized.
"babble-babble DON'T SHOOT! babble OH-GOD babble-babble MONEY! babble YOU MONEY babble-babble PIETRO SANCHEZ! PLEASE DON'T SHOOT babble!"
She didn't shoot. Clearly this had something to do with their latest fare. It could very well be Sanchez was the third person inside the cabin. She had never met him, after all. It now seemed very likely that at least one of their number had attempted to betray them, whether with the help of that man in black or not. Regardless, she chose not to kill the traitor at this time. He had mentioned money, after all, and that could very well work in her favor. Instead she contented herself with stripping him of his knife belt. Ahriman made no resistance, only cried out with every single little movement.
There would be time for discussing the reward he mentioned later. With that the Korean grabbed Ahriman by his collar and dragged him over to the front ladder. Descending a few rungs, she then pulled the heavier man down so that he fell in a heap on the platform. His shrieking renewed briefly, after which he appeared to pass out. All the better. He'd made enough noise for one night.
Flinging open the cabin door, Bong Cha crouched low with an arrow aimed within. Smoke was drifting through the air, enough to hinder visibility if not obliterate it. There was no indication of fire, however. A light from a lamp still shone, but other than horses, nothing alive was moving. Cautiously she entered, weapon ready and eyes raking the room for any indication of an enemy. Up, down, left, right…
Well. There's something, at least.
Through the diminishing smoke, the archer picked out what she recognized as Luis off to one side. He was lying flat on his stomach with hands and ankles bound tightly together behind his back. Judging by the limp condition of his limbs, he clearly wasn't conscious. Still breathing, however. Whoever did this had done so in just under a minute, she estimated. And he could still be here. Now to find the owner of the third voice she remembered hearing.
The lady moved in a low crouch down the row of stables. The horses were agitated by the smoke and the sudden shifts in motion they had experienced. Three of them were ready to be ridden out of here. Nothing else seemed off. Every pen she came to Bong Cha peered up over the side quickly, then ducked back down again. So far no one had been hiding within. Alert for any movement, she proceeded to investigate. It would do no good to leave an interloper at her back.
Soon, however, she had made it to the end of the line without having encountered another living soul. Now to proceed to the next car. Satisfied that nothing had escaped her notice, she grabbed the door handle and flung it wide, bringing up her bow to shoot.
Expecting to see another train car, Bong Cha was surprised to find herself looking at an empty stretch of track beneath a moonless sky.
The shock didn't last long. It was obvious what this meant. While she had been busy bringing down Ahriman, no doubt someone had come in down below, subdued Luis, and moved into the next boxcar, which he then loosed from her own. And sure enough, far back down the tracks she could just barely make out a dark blob that might have been the missing train segment.
There could be no doubt as to who was responsible. The man in black. She didn't know his name, his face, or anything about what might have brought him here. All Bong Cha knew was that he was interfering with her livelihood.
And that meant he was as good as dead.
To be continued…