The Loner: Crossfire (17 page)

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Authors: J.A. Johnstone

BOOK: The Loner: Crossfire
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“So they got away.” Conrad tasted sour defeat in his mouth.
“But we know where they’re headed, more than likely,” Frank said. “That hunting lodge in the mountains. How do they get there?”
Ling Yuan’s head came up. “The ferry across the bay. That would be the fastest route.”
“Then let’s get to that ferry. Maybe we can still stop them.”
The three men ran toward the spot where they had left Claudius Turnbuckle and Arturo. Turnbuckle had come to the rendezvous in a buggy, and Conrad and Frank would use it.
Turnbuckle and Arturo emerged from the shadows under the trees. “Good Lord, what happened up there?” Turnbuckle asked anxiously. “We heard all the shooting and didn’t know if you three were dead or alive!”
“We’re alive,” Conrad said, “but Lannigan got away with his wife and the twins.”
“Blast it! What now?”
Conrad and Frank exchanged a glance. “Frank and I are going after them. We think they’re going to take the ferry over to the other side of the bay. Lannigan’s bound to be headed for that lodge of his.”
“How do we get to the ferry landing from here?” Frank asked.
Quickly, Turnbuckle gave them directions. Conrad remembered enough about San Francisco to be fairly certain he could follow them without any trouble.
“Ling Yuan’s wounded. Take care of that while Frank and I go after Lannigan.”
“It is nothing,” Ling Yuan insisted, but Conrad and Frank were already running toward the parked buggy half a block away. Conrad called over his shoulder, “We’ll meet you at your office later, Claudius.”
It was a wild ride up and down the hilly streets and across town toward the bay. Conrad handled the reins, and Frank hung on for dear life.
Through the fog, Conrad saw the lights on the clock tower of the Ferry Building at the Embarcadero and steered toward them. The wharf used by the big ferryboats that plied the waters of San Francisco Bay was lit up, too. During the day, several ferries steamed back and forth almost constantly between San Francisco and Oakland, but at night there was only one boat in use.
“I don’t see the carriage,” Conrad said as he wheeled the buggy onto the wharf.
“Maybe they didn’t come here after all,” Frank suggested.
“Where else could they go? Lannigan’s on the run. He’s not going to stay here in San Francisco.”
Conrad brought the buggy to a lurching halt in front of a small building on the wharf where a light was burning. He jumped down and ran to the door. Frank was right behind him.
The building housed the small office of the wharfmaster. The main offices of the ferry company were in the big building behind them. The man on duty was middle-aged and had a drooping mustache. He looked up from the paperwork spread out on his desk as Conrad and Frank burst into the little office.
“When’s the next ferry?” Conrad demanded.
“Forty-five minutes from now.”
Conrad couldn’t suppress a groan of despair. “One just left, didn’t it?”
“Ten minutes ago,” the man confirmed. “You and your friend want tickets on the next one?”
“Was there a fancy carriage on board the one that just left?”
The man frowned. “Say, how’d you know that? Friends of yours? Sorry you missed ’em, if they were.”
“No, not friends,” Conrad choked out. “Family. Some of them, anyway.” He slumped into an empty chair just inside the door, trying not to give in to the feelings that gripped him. If the ferry wouldn’t be back for its next run for forty-five minutes, that meant it would be well over an hour before he and Frank could reach Oakland to pick up the trail, giving Lannigan plenty of time to make his getaway.
A glimmer of hope came to Conrad. He stood up and said to Frank, “Let’s go.”
“You don’t want them tickets?” the mustachioed man asked.
Conrad stalked out without answering.
“Where are we headed?” Frank asked once they were outside.
“Back to Claudius’s office. We have preparations to make.”
A grin stretched across Frank’s rugged face. “That fella Diamond Jack knows where Lannigan’s lodge is, I’ll bet. I reckon we’re going hunting, aren’t we?”
Conrad nodded as he took up the reins. “Yes. We’re about to do some hunting.”
Chapter 29
 
The Diablo Mountains, one of the Coastal Ranges, rose on the eastern side of San Francisco Bay, behind the settlements of Oakland and Berkeley. As mountains go, they weren’t particularly tall or rugged, but their wooded slopes provided a haven for some of San Francisco’s wealthiest citizens who wanted a place to get away from the city.
It was certainly appropriate they were named after the Devil, Conrad thought the next morning as he watched the far side of the bay come closer from the railing of the boat Claudius Turnbuckle had chartered. Dex Lannigan might not be the Devil himself, but he had made a diabolical deal with Pamela Tarleton.
Since they were leaving the city, Conrad was dressed for more rugged surroundings. He wore boots, jeans, and a buckskin shirt without any fancy fringe on it. A broad-brimmed brown Stetson was on his head. He had the Colt on his right hip, and the Smith & Wesson .38 tucked away in a holster at the small of his back. He had a Bowie knife sheathed on his left hip, and cradled a Winchester in his left arm.
Frank came up to the railing beside him. “Lannigan’s liable to have the local law up there on his side. Remember, he has the San Francisco police convinced you’re loco ... and dangerous.”
Conrad nodded. “I know.” Claudius Turnbuckle had warned them about that earlier.
“Don’t tell me where you’re going,” the lawyer had said. “I don’t want to have to lie to the police if they question me again ... and it’s likely they will. The captain of the boat doesn’t need to know, either. It’s bad enough he can tell the authorities that he dropped you on the other side of the bay.”
“Don’t worry, Claudius,” Conrad had assured him. “As far as you’re concerned, you don’t know a thing about what we’re going to do.”
“I’m not worried about myself. I just don’t want to have to tell the police anything that will hurt your chances of getting those children away from Lannigan. For what it’s worth, I’ll be filing suit this morning seeking to have the adoption set aside as being illegal because of fraud, and asking that custody of the twins be awarded to you.”
“How long will that take?” Conrad had asked.
Turnbuckle’s silent shrug had been answer enough.
Frank said quietly, “If you get your hands on those kids, you aren’t going back, are you?”
“To put them through a long, drawn-out court case where they might be considered wards of the state and forced to live in an orphanage until things were decided?” Conrad shook his head. “No. Claudius can fight it out in the courts. Little Frank and Vivian and I will be somewhere nobody can find us.”
“You’ll be making a fugitive out of yourself, and them, too,” Frank pointed out.
“Do you think I should do things differently?” Conrad asked sharply.
“Don’t go by me. I’ve been a fugitive plenty of times in my life. Just because the law is the law doesn’t mean it’s always right. But it
is
still the law, and it’s not a good thing to have it after you.”
“I’ll risk it,” Conrad said. “For the sake of those two youngsters, I’ll risk anything.”
Frank nodded. “Reckon I know how you feel.” He had risked his own life for Conrad on numerous occasions.
The boat belonged to a fisherman Turnbuckle had represented in a court case. The man wasn’t wealthy like most of Turnbuckle’s clients, but the lawyer took cases like that from time to time. He had prevailed in court, and the fisherman owed him a favor. He had agreed to ferry Conrad and Frank across the bay and drop them off in a secluded cove south of Oakland. A pair of horses would be waiting there, also arranged by Turnbuckle.
There had been no sign of Ling Yuan or any of Diamond Jack’s other men. Conrad figured the tong leader was sitting back and waiting to see what was going to happen.
The fishing boat chugged into the cove, close enough for the captain to run a board to the shore. He shook hands with Conrad and Frank. “I don’t know what you fellas are up to, but I’ve got a hunch it’s somethin’ pretty important. Best of luck to you.”
Conrad nodded. “Thanks, Captain.”
Trees grew almost to the edge of the water. The pair of horses were tied up about twenty yards into the woods, as Turnbuckle had promised. Frank took the big bay, Conrad the thick-chested dun.
Ling Yuan had drawn them a map to Lannigan’s hunting lodge. “You’ve been there before, spying on him, haven’t you?” Conrad had asked.
“Wong Duck says one of the keys to defeating an enemy is first observing him.”
Conrad wondered why Diamond Jack hadn’t had Lannigan killed before now. He supposed it was because such an assassination might trigger an all-out war between the tongs and the white underworld of the Barbary Coast.
If, on the other hand, Lannigan were to be killed by a couple white men, because of something that had nothing to do with the saloon owner’s rivalry with the tongs, then Diamond Jack could claim he’d had nothing to do with it. That might be enough to avoid an orgy of bloodshed that could seriously cripple both factions.
They came to a narrow trail that Ling Yuan had marked on the map. “Lannigan’s place is about five miles up in the mountains,” Conrad said. “This trail is supposed to lead us around behind it. According to Ling Yuan, Lannigan doesn’t know it exists.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Frank cautioned. “Lannigan struck me as being pretty sharp. I’m not sure he’d have a back door into his place that wasn’t protected.”
“We’ll just have to be careful. This won’t be the first time I’ve snuck into somewhere that was guarded, and I’ll bet it won’t be for you, either.”
Frank smiled in the shadows underneath the trees. “You’d win that bet.”
They rode on, following the trail that was so faint, sometimes it was hard to see, even for a veteran frontiersman like Frank. They didn’t lose it, though, and their route gradually took them upward, higher into the mountains. The trees thinned out some but were still thick enough to provide cover. Because the route twisted back and forth to avoid natural obstacles, they wound up traveling much farther than five miles. Hours passed as they climbed toward their destination.
Eventually Conrad came out on a shoulder that curved around the mountainside. He reached a spot where he could dismount and crawl forward to look over the edge of a bluff. The roof of a sprawling, two-story log building nestled in the trees was visible below. That would be Lannigan’s lodge, according to Ling Yuan’s map. The place matched the hatchet man’s description, right down to the small barn and corral off to one side. Several horses were in that corral, including the six matched blacks that made up the team for Lannigan’s carriage. Conrad had no trouble recognizing the horses. They had almost trampled him the night before.
Two men armed with shotguns stood near the lodge’s rear door. Conrad spotted two more roaming through the trees. He figured there would be more guards in front of the lodge, and maybe on the sides of the sprawling building. There were bound to be gunmen inside the lodge, too, along with Lannigan, Winifred, and the twins.
Conrad heard a footstep behind him. A harsh voice said, “I don’t know who you are, mister, but if you move I’ll blow your brains out. You work for that Browning bastard?”
“No, I
am
that Browning bastard.”
The man behind him let out a startled curse. Over the sound of it, Conrad heard a sudden rush of footsteps, then the solid thud of gun butt striking skull. He rolled over and saw Frank lowering the limp body of an unconscious man to the ground. The man’s rifle lay where it had fallen.
“Figured there would be somebody keeping an eye on this spot,” Frank said. “You drew him out just like we thought you would. That was quite a risk you ran, though. He could’ve just shot you in the back.”
Conrad stood up and shook his head. “No, I figured he’d be curious about who I was and try to take me prisoner. Are you sure there was just one guard?”
“Pretty sure. After we split up, I circled higher and got above this shoulder. Had a pretty good view of the hombre sneaking up on you. He appeared to be alone.”
“All right.” Conrad glanced at the sky. It had taken them most of the day to climb to the lodge, and night would be falling soon. “Once it’s dark, we can climb down that bluff and try to make it into the house.”
“Those shotgun-toters will probably have something to say about that.”
Conrad grunted. “So will we.”
Frank grinned and slapped Conrad on the shoulder. “It’s good working with you again, son.”
“Likewise.” Conrad paused. “Just don’t expect me to start calling you Pa.”
 
 
Conrad and Frank kept a close watch all around them as they waited for night to fall. It was possible another guard might come to change places with the man Frank had knocked out and tied up. No one else showed up, though, so Conrad suspected the shift change had taken place not long before he and Frank had sprung their trap on the luckless gunman.
They were up high enough on the western slope of the mountain that the sea was visible in the distance. Finally the sun sank into the Pacific, turning everything green and gold for a brief moment of beauty and tranquility.
That couldn’t last. It would be a night of blood and death, Conrad sensed. But as long as his children wound up safe, that was all that really mattered.
He checked his Colt and slid the revolver back in its holster, then did likewise with the .38. Frank did the same thing. They left their Winchesters with the horses. Whatever happened in the lodge would be close work.
“I didn’t see any badges or uniforms on those men standing guard,” Conrad said. “I think we can assume they’re all hired guns working for Lannigan.”
Frank nodded in agreement. “There’s bound to be a trail leading a long way around. That’ll be how the guards get up here. Once things have settled down, one of us can come back up and get the horses. Then we’ll ride out on that road we spotted leading through the trees to the lodge.”
Conrad nodded. His father was assuming both of them would live through what was about to happen, and he hoped that turned out to be the case. But if it didn’t ...
“Frank, if I don’t make it out of here—”
Frank held up a hand to stop him. “I’ll see that those youngsters are taken care of. You don’t even have to ask.”
“I know.”
“Same goes for me.” Frank chuckled. “Just don’t tell them too many wild stories about their gunslinging granddad.”
“I’ll keep ’em away from those dime novels,” Conrad said with a laugh of his own.
Frank’s tone was a lot more serious as he went on. “We may have to kill Lannigan and the rest of those varmints. I reckon you can live with that, though, the way you went after the men responsible for Rebel’s death.”
“Yeah. This is the last hand, Frank. Pamela’s down to her last card.”
“You realize you’re talking about gambling with a dead woman.”
“That’s the way it’s been all along. Pamela’s twisted game. I just didn’t realize it soon enough.”
“If we get those kids back safe and sound, it’s soon enough.”
Conrad couldn’t argue with that. He went to the edge of the bluff, which was steep but rugged enough a man could climb down it if he was careful, even in the dark. Brush grew here and there, which helped provide handholds.
The bluff was about fifty feet high. Conrad and Frank took their time descending it. They didn’t want to dislodge any rocks and send them clattering down the slope to warn the guards. Stealth was more important than speed. They had all night to make their approach to the lodge.
When they reached the bottom at last, Conrad put his mouth next to Frank’s ear and whispered, “We’ll take the guards who are patrolling first. You go left, I’ll go right.”
“Got it,” Frank whispered back. He had been good about letting the younger, less experienced man call the shots, Conrad thought. At the same time, he knew if he was about to do anything really stupid, Frank would stop him.
Maybe it was just a matter of great minds thinking alike, Conrad told himself with a faint smile as he catfooted through the darkness.
As he made his way through the trees toward the lodge, he paused every few feet to listen. After several minutes he heard the soft rustle of feet on pine needles. Standing stock-still, he waited until he was sure which direction the roaming guard was moving, then he slipped to the side so his path would intercept that of the gunman.
Drawing his Bowie knife from its sheath, Conrad stopped and pressed his back against the trunk of a tree. A moment later the guard walked past him, unaware that he was there.
That was bad luck for the guard. Conrad struck without warning, looping his left arm around the man’s neck and jerking him backward. At the same time he drove the big knife into the guard’s back. The deadly keen blade slid easily through flesh, slipped between the ribs, and into the guard’s heart. Conrad’s arm was clamped across the man’s throat like a bar of iron. No sound could escape from the dying man’s mouth. He crossed the divide in silence except for the thud of his shotgun hitting the ground when he dropped it, and that was muffled by the carpet of pine needles.

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