The Paladin (15 page)

Upon the simple podium sat a decanter and matching glass. Mills paused and poured the glass full and took a small sip.

"I hope you will pardon my shiner," he said with a smile. "Sometimes when me and Jesus are struggling with Satan, the old boy gets a lucky punch in."

His calculated words were met with a smattering of laughter and a few amens.

"We are gathered here in the Lord's house to remember one of our fallen brothers. This loss is especially painful to me as I always thought of Will as a son…"

Oh please, give me a break,
Zack thought as his mind wandered from the nonsense Mills was dishing out.

Zack looked at Brenda and squeezed her hand. She didn't look at him or respond to his gesture, but sat with her head down, silently weeping.

Mills's sermon was unusually short, but to Zack, it seemed to take an eternity. Mills ended his eulogy with a prayer before he introduced John Beck.

Stoically, Jeffery Cody wheeled the frail man to the side of the podium and took a step back.

"Brothers and sisters in Christ, I must admit that I didn't know poor Will as well as most of you. I would have liked to. He seemed to be a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future. Had the world by the tail, you might say. Oh, I know, he had hit a rough patch in the road, but don't we all from time to time? Nietzsche once said, 'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.' I believe that young Mr. Carlson would have made valuable contributions to this old world had it not been for one mistake. It's not what you think. No, I am not speaking of his ill-fated journey and supposed run-in with a pair of brigands. I speak instead of his foolishness in thinking that he could make friends with a Cole."

"What?"
Zack said.

"As most of you are well aware, I have some experience with the Cole family, and the acorn doesn't fall far from tree if you know what I mean."

Red-faced with fury, Zack stood to his feet and said, "If you got something say, old man, then spit it out."

Cody stepped protectively to John Beck's side and unbuttoned his coat.

"What I am saying, my young friend, in terms that even you can understand, is that you had Will murdered."

"Are you insane, old man?"

"As I recall, you fought over the affections of the lovely young woman to your right. The one with whom you have spent so much time with of late?"

"I killed Will to get Brenda?"

"So, you confess your sins," Beck said with a smile.

"Wait just a minute, Mr. Beck, how dare you accuse Zack of killing Will," Brenda said rising to her feet, "and how dare you accuse me of being part of it, when we both know that it was you that—" Brenda stopped herself before she accused him of kidnapping.

"That what?" asked Beck.

"Nothing," she said dropping her head.

"Now, now, Miss Mills, if I were you I would separate myself from this man beside you before you come to regret it."

"The only thing I regret is that dear old Silas wasn't a better shot," said Zack. "Instead of making you a bitter cripple, he should have killed you when he took down your bitch of a wife!"

The congregation gasped in shock at Zack's outrageous words.

Beck's watery eyes flared wide with anger.

"Keep talking, old man, and I'll finish the job Silas started!"

***

Maggie peeked over the windowsill at the incredible scene that played out below her. Slowly and deliberately, she brought the rifle up and braced it on the sill. Holding her breath, she set the simple iron sights on the back of Zack's head.

***

Movement in the projection room window drew Mr. Cody's eye. Glancing up from the bickering pair, he spied the unmistakable outline of a gun barrel swinging in his direction.

"Shit." he said. "Gun!"

The memorial service ended in bedlam and the roar of Cody's semiautomatic as he sprayed the projection-room-turned-sniper's-nest with bullets.

Zack knocked Sara down and fell on her, trying to protect her with his body.

Maggie, dodging fire, jerked the trigger and the shot went wide of her intended target. The .22 bullet missed the back of Zack's head by inches, instead shattering the crystal water decanter that sat upon the podium.

Water and shards of glass covered the now cowering Beck. One glass splinter gashed his sunken right cheek.

Dodging bullets, Maggie abandoned her weapon in the air vent before running from the room and down the steps. With blood pounding in her ears, Maggie dashed through the empty section of the church.

I had him, dead to rights and boom, some psycho with a gun had to spoil everything.

Within minutes, Maggie was out of the church and had gained her car. She was on the verge of a breakdown; however, she took a few precious moments and calmed herself before she drove away.

Take it easy.
She commanded her overworked nerves.
Smoking the tires and laying rubber away from the scene of the crime is a sure give away. Drive slowly and be a normal girl out for a drive. The police will be looking for a wild-eyed chain smoker spraying bullets and spouting the Koran.

Maggie drove past a pair of speeding police cruisers, their sirens blaring and blue lights flashing. With iron control, she continued to drive down the street at a frustratingly slow pace until she turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

***

People spilled from the emergency exits of the church and into the parking lot. Several tried to flee from the mayhem; one car collided with a responding police cruiser.

Soon, the parking lot was a loud, hopelessly clogged morass as the panicked congregation sought to escape.

Zack, wasting no time, hustled Brenda and Sara out of the deathtrap. Bundling them into his truck, he drove quickly from the church.

"You OK, Sara?" asked Zack.

"I'm fine, but what the hell was all that about?"

"I don't know, but I would bet dollars to doughnuts it was the kidnappers," he said.

Brenda sat beside Sara, silently staring at the floorboard.

"Shouldn't we have stopped and talked to the police?" asked Sara.

"Why? We didn't do it and we didn't see anything," said Zack.

"Are you going after the jar?" asked Brenda, not looking up.

"Soon as I change my clothes and pick up a few items. Don't worry, Brenda. We'll have your mom back in no time."

"I know you will, Zack," she said softly.

18

Brenda pulled Zack's truck into the parking space and killed the engine.

"Why can't I come with you? You might need me."

"I had better do this myself," Zack said checking his knapsack. "I know that you and the outdoors are a bad mix. Remember Cades Cove? Who brings makeup and high heels on a camping trip for crying out loud? No. Just come and pick me up when I call."

"The park closes the gate at sundown."

"I hope that it won't take that long, but if it does, meet me out front by Panther Creek Road.

"Zack, I really appreciate you helping me."

"I'm just a heck of a swell guy," he said with a grin.

Brenda leaned over and kissed him.

"Please, be careful."

"Don't worry, it's just a walk in the park," he said with a grin.

Zack opened the door and, slinging the pack over his shoulder, headed into the woods.

Brenda looked up at the rearview mirror at her reflection. Her own eyes seem to accuse her.

"Who are you looking at?" she snapped.

***

Following the judge's map, in an hour Zack found himself standing before an old, rusty barbed wire fence.

"Well, that wasn't so hard," he thought. "Just over the fence and I'm home free."

Looking around the trail and the surrounding woods, Zack made sure no one was around. Positive he was alone, Zack swung over fence and disappeared into the tangle of tall undergrowth.

***

"Damn, what a mess," Zack exclaimed as he struggled over the uneven rocky ground. "Judge Smith wasn't exaggerating about the frigging snakes. The little mothers seem to be everywhere."

Zack picked up a long, crooked stick and used it like a staff, probing the low brush before him, and doing his best to avoid a nasty snakebite.

"This is just great," he said to no one in particular. "All I know is Brenda had better be very grateful for all the crap I've had to put up with. Kidnapping plots, church shootings, crazy-ass journals, now cottonmouths. I'm going well beyond the call of duty, if yah ask me."

Zack stopped at a small knoll and pulled out the map drawn on the program. He compared it to the handwritten plot map that belonged to Silas. Peering about the worthless land, Zack suddenly felt sick.

"Ah, crap, don't do this to me!" he said as he started walking toward the lake.

"Figures," he thought, staring into the lake. "The damn cave is underwater!"

Zack took out his frustration by swinging his stick at—and missing—a snake emerging from a thorn bush.

"Wait a minute," he said turning and re-examining the land plot, searching for another opening.

Zack walked in a straight line away from the water until he came to an ancient, gnarled hickory growing at the edge of a large, crater-like depression. The crater stretched fifty yards across and sloped down sharply thirty feet to the dark opening of a cave.

"Halleluiah!" Zack shouted as he bounded down the slope, unmindful of the thorny, snake-infested underbrush.

Standing at the lip of the jagged opening, Zack grabbed a bundle of climbing rope, climbed the slope, and made his line fast to the tree. Trailing the rope back to the cave, he dropped the remainder of the rope into the darkness.

Zack took out a three-pack of glow sticks from his pack. After a quick read of the instructions on the package, he activated two of them and dropped them after the rope. After a descent of just over twenty feet, Zack settled into the thick mud covering the cave floor. Once he had a firm footing, he produced his flashlight and illuminated the dank, creepy cavern.

The room was surprisingly large, and he could make out three tunnels branching off. The largest drove to his right, toward the lake, and was big enough to walk through without stooping. The other two ran roughly south, but were of a much smaller diameter.

"Well, I don't think I want to crawl through the mud just yet, so let's check out door number one."

Gingerly, he made his way through the sucking mud toward the larger tunnel. Zack's foot caught on something unyielding and he pitched face first into the mud.

"Aw, man," he exclaimed, grabbing his fallen light. On his hands and knees, he wiped the mud from the lens and shined the beam into the tunnel. The light showed the tunnel to be completely blocked with fallen rock.

"Well, so much for door number one," he said. "What did I trip on?"

Zack tugged at his foot and felt something pull free. Zack stuck his hand into the mud and his hand closed around an object.

He pulled the object from the mud, and to his surprise, it proved to be a boot. A big slimy boot with the moldy remains of a leg still attached.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he leaped to his feet, throwing the boot against a wall. "Ahhhg," he reiterated as he wiped his muddy hands on his equally muddy jeans.

Gritting his teeth, Zack scraped away the mud with his hands and soon he uncovered what was left of Silas Cole's body.

The remains of his great grandfather lay crumpled on its left side. Still clutched in his right hand was a rusted hunk of metal that had once been a revolver. In Silas's right temple was a neat round hole.

"Took the easy way out, didn't you, you sorry bastard," said Zack. "Now, where is that damn jar?"

Before the echo of his words had died Zack saw it. Silas lay curled around the vessel almost as if he was trying to protect it.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he said as he reached under the body and freed the vessel.

"Wow, Sara was right. This thing is cold. Feels like it
is
filled with ice."

Zack examined the muddy stone jar and tried to pry the lid off, but it refused to budge.

"Must be pretty valuable, but it ain't worth a life. Not by a long shot."

Tucking the big jar into his pack, he attached it to the end of the dangling rope.

"Well, Great Granddaddy, our little reunion has been touching, but I got to go. I'll tell Sara you said hey."

Zack thought a moment then he gave the corpse several savage kicks to the head.

"That's for all the trouble you have caused, you son of a bitch!"

Wiping his hands on a handkerchief, Zack took hold of the rope and began to clamber up.

Bet I'll make the papers, maybe even the networks.
Silas Cole's own great grandson, finally solving the mystery of the Butcher of Bryson City.

As Zack gripped the sharp lip of the cave, he was seized by two sets of hands and yanked out into the waning sunlight.

"What the—"

Jeff Cody was standing a few feet away while his two associates, Don Countess and Albert Pope, held a struggling Zack.

"Let me go, you assholes!"

"Where is the jar, boy?" said Cody.

Zack stopped his struggles.

"Wait a minute; you work for old man Beck. You’re the one who shot up the church today."

"If you mean that I was the one who saved your ass today," said Cody, "guilty as charged."

"My ass? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Wasn't for me, the memorial would have turned into a double service for you and your buddy, Will."

"That's crazy!" said Zack. "Why would anybody want to kill me?"

"To keep you from finding the jar, stupid," said Cody. "Now where is it, boy? We're wasting time."

"So you're the ones who snatched Brenda's mom?"

Beck's men looked at each other.

"What you talking 'bout?" asked Pope. "We ain't kidnapped nobody."

"Yeah, ain't our style," said Don.

Zack looked up at the big redheaded man that had his arm locked painfully behind his back.