The Rising Sea (NUMA Files 15)
As Kenzo waited for an answer, a deep, somber bell started ringing somewhere high in the castle. The sorrowful tone echoed repeatedly.
“What’s that?”
“Our alarm,” Kenzo said.
Glass shattered in the atrium behind them. Kurt spun and saw an object crashing through one of the windows and tumbling across the room toward them.
8
AS THE GLASS SHATTERED, Kurt lunged forward, tackling Kenzo over the back of the heavy desk. From the corner of his eye he noticed Paul and Gamay diving for cover. He never saw Joe, who’d stepped in front of the bouncing projectile, caught it bare-handed like a second baseman and hurled it back in the direction it had come.
The grenade made a second hole in the glass and exploded on the far side. An incendiary device, it was powerful enough to kill anyone in close proximity but designed primarily to spread fire and jellified gasoline. It flared like the sun, shattering every window in the atrium and unleashing a rain of molten liquid and broken glass.
As the crystal tones of falling glass subsided, they heard the roar of motorboats on the lake. Almost immediately, sporadic gunshots were fired.
Kurt helped their host to a sitting position. “Your castle is under siege, Master Kenzo.”
“Why?” Kenzo blurted out. “By whom?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“My acolytes will defend us,” Kenzo said proudly.
The gunfire told Kurt they were going to face a stiff challenge. “Only if they’ve got something better than swords and catapults to fight with.”
“What about this?” Joe said, standing by the old Gatling gun. “Do you have ammunition for it?”
“A few boxes.”
Joe released the brake, put his shoulder into the frame and wheeled the old weapon toward the window.
“Anything else?” Kurt asked.
“We have a cannon in the tower.”
“That won’t be much use against speedboats,” Kurt said. Looking around, he spied a crossbow and a flight of iron-tipped darts sitting on a shelf. “Get Joe the ammunition,” he told Kenzo. “And keep your head down.”
Kurt went to the wall, switched off the lights and grabbed the crossbow from the shelf. By now, Paul and Gamay had reappeared. Paul had a spear in his hand. Gamay was holding a mace. There was something wrapped around the handle, but Kurt didn’t have time to ask.
“You two stay here,” he said. “If things get out of control, make your way to the garage, but don’t lower the drawbridge unless you have no other choice.”
“Where are you going?” Gamay asked.
Kurt slung the quiver of darts over his back. “To the tower,” he said. “Someone needs to take the high ground.”
* * *
• • •
AS KURT rushed out of the room, Kenzo arrived beside Joe with two boxes of ammunition. Taking cover as random potshots hit around them, Joe opened the boxes. He was happy to see that the shells were modern loads and not the same vintage as the gun.
“Where did you get these?”
“We had them made by an old gunsmith.”
“Let’s hope he does quality work.”
Joe emptied the box of shells into the hopper, grabbed the crank and angled the gun downward.