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3

Nightfall found Slim and Alamo picking their way cautiously through the same trees into which Jess had crashed less than twenty four hours ago. It was important to avoid leaving tracks and part of their progress was along the bed of a gorge, in which the stream still had a reasonable depth of water.

As darkness closed in, Slim mentally ran through the surprising events of a long day: In the small hours, he'd brought their horses up the same way, only to find Jess looking predictably battered after an uncontrolled descent from the stockade. He'd been trying unsuccessfully to bind the ragged cut on his upper arm, which was bleeding freely. They'd managed to make it back to the dilapidated hotel without anyone spotting them together. Jess had used the front entrance, since he was the official occupant of the room. When Slim joined him, sneaking in up the back stairs, both of them got a considerable shock to find the room already had another unofficial occupant - Chantal was peacefully curled up on the bed, reading an out-of-date newspaper she had purloined from the lobby. It was probably the same shock which enabled her insist on sewing up Jess's cut before he had even had time to draw breath and protest. In any case, as she pointed out smartly, it was his own fault for teaching her how to pick locks!

Tonight Slim was aiming to make the risky ascent into the stockade on the bluff, using the rope which Jess had fixed and down which he had descended with rather less control than he would have had with two good arms. The rope was thin, but very tough, and, being grey, it was virtually invisible against the rough pales of the stockade and the cliff-face itself. Slim was an excellent climber with a good head for heights, tempered by a fine sense of caution.

He tethered Alamo some way below under the trees and made his approach with the uttermost stealth. Listening, he could hear the occasional movements of the guards as they patrolled but, as Jess had noted, they did not bother much with the perimeter on the cliff-edge, for obvious reasons. The only danger was that Slim would be spotted as he actually surmounted the stockade itself, but the waning moon and the bright stars were obscured by clouds, and if he took it real slow, he had a good chance of escaping observation. The best time would be the changeover of the guard, around midnight, when they would be paying attention to each other, not the fence. Slim hunkered down behind a convenient rock and waited.

He had no idea what he would find inside. The previous evening, Jess had managed to gain access by getting involved in a poker school which the off-duty guards had started in the town below and continued in their own quarters when they had to return to the fort. Since he had taken care to lose enough money to appear an easy and not too bright victim, greed made them overlook the rules and bring him along too. Slim was willing to bet the guards would suffer hell if Carlin really was in charge and found out about this. Riding up in the wagon with them, Jess's view of the compound had been restricted, although he was able to find out valuable information about their duties and routines. The fight which broke out provided him with an ideal opportunity and he had managed to slip away, saying he'd rather walk home than face another broken glass. Since everyone else was spectating enthusiastically, he was able to climb onto on the walkway inside the stockade undetected. But he had been too busy fixing the rope, which he had concealed beneath his shirt, and preventing his dripping blood from giving him away to get a detailed idea of the layout. Slim would just have to take a chance on what was behind the walls. He could make a grim guess about what to expect, but he would have to improvise once he found out what the inside of the fort was actually like.

The night was cold, but a low, hot fury burned in Slim because of the mysterious crime they were investigating. His caring heart found it hard to endure that anyone could act in such callous and cruel way towards the weak and helpless, although his well-grounded realism and experience knew it was more than possible. He resolutely controlled his feelings, resolved to act with his head, not his heart – unlike Jess …

This thought brought him back to Chantal's reaction when he had explained to her how the disappearance of two local orphans and the attempted kidnapping of Mike had set them on this trail.

"Not Mike!" Chantal had been horrified. Although she had not yet met him, she knew how much the orphaned little boy meant to Slim and to Andy and to Jonesy, but most of all, she knew Jess's feelings. And for the child to be almost torn away from his new-found security was too horrible!

"Mike's tough and quick," Slim had hastened to assured her and added with a smile: "and when he wants to hide, he's a little devil to find – as we all well know from bath-time! He hid until they gave up. He saw enough to identify one man for us and we got the information out of him which led us here."

"And you got the information without Jess actually killing him?" Chantal definitely knew his reactions too well.

"Yes, but it was a near thing," Slim admitted.

"Of course it was!" she had retorted. "Jess would kill anyone who hurt Mike or Andy. Or you or Jonesy, for that matter." She was unconsciously rubbing the long, thin scar which ran across the palm of her left hand. "It's a good job you're in charge!"

Slim had been caught by surprise once more. The girl was a realist, whatever she did or didn't feel about Jess. She'd laughed heartily when he explained how he had forced Jess to stay in the barn while he carried out the interrogation himself, by the simple expedient of getting the man drunk and talkative. Since he hadn't actually committed a crime, there was no reason for him to be locked up, but at least only one of them would be known to the gang when he rejoined them. It meant Slim had to keep out of sight now, but that could work to their advantage, not least because Jess could pose as a lone and reckless gambler.

Now he was glad he'd left the pair of them peacefully playing cards in the hotel room. Jess was probably teaching Chantal to deal off the bottom of the pack, but at least it would keep them both out of trouble … maybe …

# # # # #

Jess was peacefully demonstrating how to deal off the bottom of the pack. Chantal was paying close attention.

Jess was only doing it because everyone else was: it was an unwritten rule in this game. Well, maybe not a rule exactly, but everyone was out to cheat everyone else. Chantal was paying close attention while giving an excellent impersonation of a rich, spoilt, bored and irritated young woman. Well, maybe it wasn't all an impersonation.

They were in one of several saloons in the town. All the saloons were almost equally disreputable. Slim would certainly not have countenanced taking a young woman into any of them, not matter how good her self-defence skills. Jess figured she'd probably be less of a liability if she was with him rather than let loose on her own. Besides, he'd lost quite a bit of money the previous night and he had every intention of recouping it: having a beautiful female at his side was a definite distraction for the other players. And anyway, it helped to pass the time. And it might produce some useful information. Somewhere at the back of his mind, however, he was conscious that Slim would probably have a fit. This awareness was pushed even further into the back of his mind as it didn't help him concentrate on the cards.

Chantal, leaning against the arm of his chair, was watching the leisurely and slightly arrogant way his lean, brown hands moved the cards and making an absent-minded note that, for once, the battered black gloves were missing. She would have thought being quick would have concealed the sleight of hand better. True, Jess could deal the cards in a vision-defying blur, but tonight it suited him to look casual and innocent and quite unconcerned about losing or winning. Nor did he pay the slightest attention to Chantal. So she continued to play the role they'd agreed upon – looking spoilt and bored and as if gambling in a saloon was a new experience, but not nearly exciting enough.

Presently she saw him flick two cards out of the hand and snap them back, as if by accident. She leaned over and said in a whisper intended to be overheard: "Are you going to play all night?"

Jess gave her a dismissive scowl. "Y' wanted t' see life. This is better'n the inside of a hotel room."

"Not if you're losing my father's money!" she hissed in reply. "He may forgive you for disobeying his orders, but never for wasting his profits!"

Jess grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. "Y'know perfectly well I'm only doin' my job – keepin' you safe! That's all I was hired for."

"Then you can keep me safe somewhere else!" She flounced away in the direction of the door, adding as a parting shot over her shoulder, "And don't expect me to pick up your debts!"

"No such chance!" Jess muttered as he gleefully raked in his winnings and quit the table. He caught up with Chantal on the sidewalk.

"Slow down, lady!" He grabbed her by the arm. "If you've got an escort, stick with him!"

Chantal stuck her nose in the air and shrugged off his restraining hand. "Keep your hands to yourself and keep out of my way!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Jess followed her in silence until they got back to the hotel room. Once he was through the door, he tossed his hat onto the back of the chair, ran his hands through his hair and stretched mightily. He made no comment on their brisk exit from the poker game.

"That was right, wasn't it?" Chantal sounded uncharacteristically nervous. She was sure she'd picked up Jess's signal and she hoped she'd followed through with the correct response, but it would be good to know for certain.

A mischievous grin flashed swiftly across Jess's face and was equally swiftly erased, as he said dead-pan: "Thought you'd just decided it would be more exciting to have me all to yourself?"

"Why, you -!" Chantal flew at him, but Jess grabbed her by the wrist and a handful of wildly swirling hair and neatly hauled her into an inescapable embrace.

"Quédate quieto!" he told her laughingly. "Hold still! Can't you tell yet when I'm jokin'?"

Chantal glared at him, struggling without result against his encircling arms. "This is a time for joking? I thought you said it was really important?"

Jess's expression instantly became totally serious. "Yes, it is. Y' did good." But he did not relax his firm hold on her. Instead he assumed that disarming look of innocent appeal and reverted to his previous comment: "You mean you don't want me to yourself?"

"As if I have any option!" Chantal snapped. "We're sharing a hotel room, aren't we? And I suppose we haven't been followed here by any company?" She considered for a moment exploiting the girl's best friend, the high heel, in order to inflict some punishment for his presumption. Jess obviously read her mind, because he tightened his grip, lifted her off her feet and deposited her abruptly in the armchair.

"Quédate tranquillo!" He repeated his previous instruction, adding: "It's safe enough now. You got us out of there very neatly and I don't think he spotted me."

"Which one is he?" Chantal demanded, once she had recovered her dignity and her breath.

"Sandy-haired fella in a light hat, smart jacket with dark lapels. Broad face, broad smile, looks as if he's real good-humoured until you see his eyes. Had three or four others with him, followin' his lead, of course." Jess looked positively venomous, but then his memories of Carlin were not good.

"I'd never have guessed," Chantal admitted with unusual humility. "He looks just like everyone's favourite uncle."

"Yeah, very useful to look like that," Jess pointed out. "He has a nice line in jovial chat and jokes too. Whatever you do, don't forget he's clever and ruthless as well."

Chantal nodded, taking the warning seriously, but she couldn't resist adding solemnly: "I'll be really careful how I flutter my eyelashes at him."

To her surprise, Jess took this tease at its face value. "It may come to that. We need to know what he's up to and Carlin's not goin' to forget Slim giving him a thrashing and me encouragin' him to do it." It was another good reason for concealing Slim's presence.

"Good for Slim – if Carlin's as evil as you both seem to think."

"He is! But what about good for me?" Jess objected.

"You'd just stir up trouble for the sheer hell of it!" Chantal pointed out shrewdly. "So what now?"

"For tonight, nothing. Except tryin' to catch up on some sleep." When she raised her eyebrows at this, Jess scowled and grumbled: "How come every time I'm in the same hotel as you, I end up sleepin' in a chair?"

"Last time was entirely your own fault for getting mixed up with a married woman," Chantal reminded him. "Anyway, you won't tonight," she continued with a smirk and a gleam in the jade-green eyes beneath those raised brows.

"I won't?" An answering gleam shone from Jess's blue gaze, but, at the same time, he didn't sound at all convinced.

"No, you won't. Because, if I know you, you aren't going to be in the hotel at all. You're going to be spending the night at the bottom of that rope, making sure Slim doesn't run into trouble!"

"I sure as hell hate it when you're right!" Jess admitted as he leaned over her and grabbed his hat from the back of the chair. There was a brief, silent pause, a sigh from someone, and then the door closed stealthily behind him.

# # # # #

Slim too was employing all the stealth he could. What little light there was, from the old moon and the stars, was hidden by thick cloud and he doubted very much if anyone on the stockade could see more than a few feet. They would be relying on noise and movement to alert them to any attack. Since he was not going to attack, he stood a good chance of surmounting the fence without being detected. But Slim was naturally cautious and left nothing to chance, hence his stealthiness.

A few moments after midnight, he was crouching in the dense shadows on the inside of the stockade. No-one had spotted him or heard so much as a rustle as he slipped over the top. Now he needed to accustom himself to the layout of the place and try to find out if their guesses were right. Certainly, from what Jess had been able to ascertain, there was something to be concealed. And, judging by the number of men employed there, something to be guarded. It remained for him to find out what.

A careful survey of the enclosure within the stockade revealed the living quarters and bunk house to the right of the gate, where Jess had had his close encounter with a flying beer glass. He had insisted it had been purely accidental, the result of someone else's fight, which no-one even noticed. Slim was just grateful that it told him which area to avoid. There were various lean-to sheds around the inner wall and over in the far corner, to the left, the bulk of two tall, three-storey stone buildings. One was obviously a house, but the other seemed to be a store or possibly a defensive structure of some sort. It had no windows: only narrow slits in the walls admitted air but precious little light. Slim gave a nod of satisfaction. This was what he had come to find.

He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled slowly and unobtrusively along the inside of the stockade until he was next to the stone building. Interestingly, there were no guards. Presumably whoever was in charge thought the guard on the stockade gate was enough both to prevent escape and deter rescue. Because rescue was obviously needed. Slim's ears were alert to the slightest sound. Even outside the building, he could detect the subtle rustle of bodies moving in the dark and the subdued sound of stifled sobs and groans. His nostrils were assaulted by the unmistakable stench of a prison. He could see nothing, but he did not need to in order to imagine the conditions inside the building.

Quickly and silently, he slid down the ladder at the end of the walkway and found himself close to the only door into this prison. The door was barred in a way which suggested that there was no great expectation of the prisoners being able to escape. Admittedly there was a strong bar dropped into sockets at either side, but there was no lock or chain. From inside there was no way to break out. But outside there were no guards in the immediate vicinity and, more important, the bar did little to impede a determined rescue.

There was nothing Slim desired more at that moment than to carry out such a rescue. The sounds he could hear faintly on the still night air were cutting into his heart and filling him with a righteous anger which urged him to take action straightaway to right this terrible injustice. But he knew he could do nothing. Not now. Not until the rescue could be accomplished with enough support to prevent any possibility of failure. He knew they could call on the Ranulfiar to organise that support: his immediate responsibility was to gather enough information to make an effective rescue possible.

He had to make sure accurate information was conveyed and find a messenger he could rely on, perhaps by using Chantal's contact with the organisation which had sent her to them. Perhaps Chantal could be persuaded to carry the message and take herself out of danger at the same time? A moment's consideration put paid to this idea. She was, as Jess put it, 'not exactly inconspicuous' and she had already been seen around the town with him. Given the cover story the pair of them had concocted, a sudden exit might cause exactly the kind of attention they wanted at all costs to avoid. No, it would have to be someone with a perfectly normal reason for leaving town – like the man who had driven the wagon which had brought Chantal there in the first place.

Having decided this, Slim set about exploring as much as he could of the inside of the fortress without being caught. This was less difficult than one might have supposed: the location of the place on top of a steep bluff obviously gave its occupants a false sense of security and made them guard the single outward approach, rather than the inside. In particular, he noted the possibility of blocking or barricading the outward-opening doors to the guards' quarters, so reducing their number and effectiveness. The store-sheds contained useful materials for doing just that. One also contained supplies of weapons and ammunition, and would have to be secured as soon as any rescue was launched.

He climbed silently back up the ladder and lay down at the top, gazing across the enclosure and committing its exact layout and proportions to memory. He worked out various means of gaining access and also the best way they could evacuate a number of rescued prisoners. The big, double-opening main gate was really to only means to do this, especially if the prisoners were dazed and confused, so it was essential that they also secured command of it immediately.

And then he notice the other gate. It was almost totally hidden in the shadow filling the narrow gap between the two stone buildings. Slim immediately slid back down the ladder. He needed to know for certain if this one would be of any use to the rescuers and if it could be used to bring in reinforcements.

The first thing he found was that it was heavily bolted and chained, reinforced with padlocks. This was puzzling, as not even the main gate was so well secured. The earth in front of the gate was considerably scuffed up as if many feet had passed through it, both in and out. On the edge of the tracks, he could distinguish the footprint of a small child, no bigger than Mike.

If nothing else, this reinforced the suspicions already raised by the prison itself. Slim drew a deep breath and forced himself to keep calm. That little footprint made him want to break down the prison door and smash anyone who tried to stop him. But, opposing this impulse, his natural common sense told him he would achieve nothing single-handed, except perhaps to get himself locked up or even killed. If that happened, no-one would know how the place might be attacked and the prisoners liberated.

Resolutely and silently, Slim climbed the ladder once more, waited for the right moment and swung himself over the stockade. He slid equally silently down the rope, which seemed to be much tauter than he anticipated. He was sliding much faster than he had expected too: his descent was careening into the uncontrollable and he looked fair to hit the ground with damaging force. Fortunately, at the bottom, his impetus was broken by the sudden impact of a resilient body and he was seized and steadied in a pair of strong arms.

"I thought you were good at ropes!" Jess rebuked him irritably. "What the hell were you doin'? Tryin' to break your neck?"