Of course it was dark and foggy and I was in a strange country, but as I stumbled along I thought I’d try to make it to the forest we had driven through. The back of my neck tingled and my hair stood up, waiting for Mike’s bullet. He wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Mogart for the Sword and I didn’t think he’d hesitate to kill me for it either.
I’m not a fast runner to begin with, and hefting the Sword didn’t make me any faster. The long wet grass pulled at my feet and I might have just gone in circles in the dark, but the floodlights helped; I kept looking over my shoulder and they kept getting smaller as I ran. I listened for the sound of Mogart’s army coming after me, but there was no sound at all except my huffing and puffing and the swish-swish of the grass rubbing against the soles of my shoes as I ran.
I stumbled onto the edge of the paved road. If this was the same road we drove in on, then following it would take me back into the woods. I still couldn’t hear any sound of pursuit and I was too tired to run any more, so I started walking. Fog and sweat flattened my hair and I kept having to wipe the moisture off my face. My shirt clung to my chest and I shivered. I could feel a bad cold coming on. For some reason, the scar on my thumb was throbbing to beat the band. Maybe because the Sword was near it.
I was still walking with no woods in sight, just rolling hills that disappeared into the fog, when I heard the car coming up the road behind me.
I ran to the side of the road and threw myself onto the ground, making myself as flat as a fat, bumbling simpleton can get. But I didn’t get flat enough, because the car stopped and a voice called out softly, “Alfred! Alfred Kropp, get over here!”
I lifted my head. Mike was sitting behind the wheel, smiling, smacking, waving his hand urgently at me.
“Come on! We don’t have much time . . .”
He was probably right about that and I didn’t have much of a choice. I scrambled up the embankment to the car and dived into the backseat. Mike hit the gas and the Bentley’s back wheels spun out, screeching on the wet pavement like a wounded animal.
“Boy Howdy!” Mike yelled. “That was close, huh? Took heavy casualties, but we kinda expected that goin’ in, right? The main thing is we got the Sword. Got the Sword and saved the world, not bad for a night’s work, huh?”
I leaned back, the Sword against my chest, still breathing heavily.
Mike said, “Pretty quick thinking back there, Al. You and Benny plan it that way, or was it all your idea?”
I didn’t say anything. That didn’t seem to matter to Mike. He kept talking.
“Darn it, dropped my cell back there in the fight. Well, everybody’s on standby anyway. Me and Jeff have been together since Cairo—that wacky death-cult thing in the Valley of Kings. But, oh, jeez, enough about that, that’s all classified. Anyway, I’m gonna miss that son of a gun and what a dingy-darn shame about Benny, huh? Heck of a guy. Heck of a guy. If I had my cell I’d call in a couple of Stealths and knock the living you-know-what out of that medieval madman, take out those thousand-year-old rocks with him. Small price to pay, don’t ya think?”
“Did you kill him?” I asked.
He laughed. “What do you think, Al?”
“I don’t think you did.” I sat up and pressed the tip of the blade against Mike’s neck.
He didn’t react, except his hands tightened slightly on the wheel.
“Stop the car, Mike.”
“Hey, Al. Ally boy. What the heck are you doing?”
“Stop the car, Mike.”
He slowed down and pulled to the side of the road.
“Okay, now what? Talk to me, Al. What’s this all about?”
I wasn’t sure. I was making this up as I went along. “Give me your gun. No, Mike, with your left hand. Keep the right on the wheel. Slowly, Mike.” I took the gun from over his left shoulder and slipped it under my belt.
“Okay,” I said. “Now put your left hand back on the wheel.”
“Al, I’m one of the good guys, remember?” His voice was calm enough, but he was working the gum hard. “Look, nobody’s sorrier about Benny than me. That was a damn shame, but you were there, you saw—what did you want me to do about it?”
“You set him up.”
“Ah, come on, Al!”
“You planned it from the beginning. Mogart didn’t want just the money. He wanted Bennacio too.”
Mike didn’t have anything to say to that. He was watching me in the rearview mirror. I knew I was right when he didn’t say anything.
“And you set up Mr. Samson and the rest of the knights in Spain. You tipped off Mogart they were coming.”
He shook his head, smiling now. “Why would I do that, Alfred?”
“Because you both knew the same thing: As long as the knights lived, they were the only hope of ever keeping the Sword safe. You both needed them out of the way. So you made them part of the deal.”
“Man, that’s a pretty interesting theory, Al.”
“Mr. Samson trusted you to do the right thing,” I said. “He didn’t have to tell you about the Sword and you double-crossed him. Bennacio knew you were double-crossing us tonight, but he didn’t see how he had a choice. He took a vow, see . . . he gave his word . . .”
“Look, Al, no offense, I know you mean well and everything, but you’re in this thing way over your head. Put down the Sword, pal. We’ll talk about this on the plane, okay? Don’t you want to go home?”
“I don’t have a home anymore.”
“Really?” He whistled. “That’s gotta be tough. I’m truly sorry to hear that, Al. Well, we could take you anywhere you want to go. Natalia is still at the château. You wanna see her? You got kind of a thing for her, don’t you?”
I didn’t say anything, but I could feel my face get hot. Mike Arnold noticed me blushing and smiled.
“Get out of the car,” I said.
“Al . . .”
I pushed on his neck with the tip of the Sword.
“Okay, I’m getting out.”
He opened his door and stepped onto the road. I got out and pointed the gun at his head.
“Get down on your stomach and fold your hands on the back of your head.”
“You’re making a huge mistake here, Al. A heck of a boner . . .”
“Lay down, Mike. I’ll shoot if you don’t.”
“You think so? I’m sorry, Al, but I really don’t think you can.”
He took a step toward me and the gun went off. We both jumped. Neither of us was expecting that. I couldn’t even remember pulling the trigger.
“All righty then,” Mike said softly. He lay down.
“Hands on the back of your head,” I told him.
He laced his fingers behind his head.
“Where do you think you’re gonna go, Alfred? You can’t get out of the country, and what are you goin’ to do with the Sword? Take over the world? Donate it to the Smithsonian? You’re not thinking this through, kid.”
“Good-bye, Mike,” I said, and I climbed into the car and drove off. I kept looking in the rearview mirror, but I never saw Mike get up.