she could not tell what it was, but then she saw that it was a large length of pipe, about four feet in diameter. Moving with extreme caution, she brought the boat up alongside it.
There was some rust upon the pipe, but it could not have been in place for very long. One end of it went into the water and, feeling with her oar, she could tell that it ended perhaps two or three feet below the surface of the moat. The other end of it was butted up against a small window in the wall just above her, level with the top of her head. It covered the window entirely, but it was not quite flush and as she examined it, a faint line of light appeared around it.
She drew back, instinctively, then balancing carefully, she stood up in the boat, steadying herself with one hand on the iron pipe. She heard voices, but she could not make out what was being said. Shielding her laser with her body, she carefully burned a small hole into the iron pipe, dipped her hand into the water, sprinkled it, then put her ear up against it.
“-should eat more, Sire. You haven’t touched your food.”
“I am not hungry, Detchard. Tell my brother to have done with it and kill me. I am dying by inches here.”
“The duke does not desire your death, Your Majesty,” Detchard said. “At least, not yet. When he does, behold your path to heaven.”
A moment later, Andre heard the scraping sound of metal hinges, quite close by, followed by two taps upon the inside of the pipe. The sounds rang in her ear and she pulled her head away, briefly. When she put her ear back up against the pipe, she heard part of what Detchard was saying.
“ — restful at the bottom of the moat, Your Majesty. Your grave and our escape route, should they be so foolhardy as to attempt a rescue. However, rest assured. We shall not leave you to drown. Drowning is an unpleasant death, I’m told. We shall be sure to kill you first before we place your weighted body in the pipe. We would not wish for you to suffer greatly.”
“How very kind of you,” the king said, flatly.
“I’m sorry,” said Detchard. “I, for one, have nothing against you. You’re not a bad sort of fellow. I’ve tried not to treat you ill, insofar as Michael would allow. I give you my word that when the time comes, your end shall be swift and as painless as possible.”
“Most considerate of you,” the king said. “When do you think that will be? I grow weary of waiting.”
“Not too much longer, I should think,” Detchard said. “I would not dwell on it, if I were you. You need your rest.”
“For what?” said Rudolf.
“Yes, well, I see your point. Good night, Your Majesty.” She heard the sound of a heavy door opening and closing and the faint crack of light around the pipe disappeared. A moment later, she heard the sounds of the king sobbing softly. Bastards, she thought. Prisoner or not, it was no way to treat a man. Why torture him with explanations of how they would dispose of him? She sat down in the boat. From Michael’s point of view, she had to admit that it was a simple and effective plan. If anyone tried to take the castle, they would kill the king, weight his corpse, then lift it up and slide it into the pipe. It would sink to the bottom of the moat in some twenty feet of water and be buried in the mud. if necessary, they could then slide down the pipe themselves and swim the moat to safety. Otherwise, they could release the pipe, it would sink into the moat, then they could close the iron grate over the window and who would ever know that the king had been held prisoner there?
She examined the pipe to see how it was fastened over the window. She could not tell. She tried a gentle shove at it, then she tried again, more firmly. It would not move. It had to be attached somehow from inside. It would be a simple matter to cut through it with her laser. The grate across the window could be taken care of in the same way. She licked her lips anxiously. The thought of that poor man sobbing in the darkness made her want to do it at once, but she steeled herself against the temptation. Now was not the time and she was not the one to do it. Besides, getting the king out of the castle would be the very least of their problems. At any rate, now Finn would know where Rudolf was being held.
She looked all around her carefully, noting every detail of her surroundings. Immediately on the other side of the pipe, there was a section of protruding stone wall. Beyond it, an expanse of moat and the drawbridge. There was a lighted window some fifteen to twenty feet above her. She looked still higher. The wall was straight and smooth all the way up to the tower until, near the top, a small turret stuck out from it. No, not a turret, but a balcony of sorts, shaped like a turret, but open on the front and sides. She breathed in sharply as she saw that someone was standing on the balcony, looking down at her.
She heard a soft, coughing sound and in the next instant, felt a tremendous blow to her left shoulder. It knocked her to her knees and almost over the side of the small boat. She dropped the oar. She clapped a hand to her shoulder and felt the flow of blood. She also felt the blunt end of a nysteel dart, the tip of which had penetrated through her skin and deep into the bone. There was a line attached to it.
She cried out as she was yanked out of the boat to rise quickly through the air as the nysteel line retracted with a soft whirring sound. She was being reeled in like a fish. The moat seemed to drop away beneath her and in the next moment, she felt a strong arm encircling her neck, dragging her over the side of the balcony. She lost consciousness.
Forrester shook Lucas hard. “Take it easy! Lucas, damn it, relax!”
“I can’t believe it! I just can’t fucking believe it! They got her and I just stood here and watched!”
“I was here, too, remember? There was nothing we could do. We didn’t even have a shot. She went up so fast that if we tried to burn the line, we might’ve burned her, instead.”
Lucas gritted his teeth. “Christ! They just harpooned her! What if she’s dead? What if that rappelling dart severed an artery?”
“Then she’s dead,” said Forrester. “Stop blaming yourself. There was nothing you could do.”
Lucas clenched his fists. “She must have broken a beam or something. I was a fool not to consider that. Dammit! Now what do we do?”
“We wait. If she isn’t dead, it’ll be in their interest to keep her alive. They’ll want to question her. And they’ll want to keep her alive to make sure we try to get her back. If we’re lucky, she’ll have a chance to drop the remote somewhere before they discover it on her.”
“And if we’re not lucky, then they’ll be smart enough to search her first and then we’ll be clocking right into a trap.”
“So we take the chance,” said Forrester. “That’s what we’re paid for.”
Lucas shook his head, calming himself down with an effort. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” said Forrester. “Damn it, Lucas-”
“Are you taking over command of the adjustment?” Lucas said, in a level tone.