Longarm and the Voodoo Queen (20 page)

"Who else could have done it?"

"Somebody else who don't trust you, maybe?"

Longarm frowned. She was right, of course. He had just assumed that Royale had sent the would-be killers after him.

But maybe Millard had grown too suspicious after finding Longarm in his office and decided that it would be easier all around to get rid of his new employee--permanently.

"I reckon that'll all get sorted out too," said Longarm. "But I'll be careful, you can count on that."

"You had better, or I come after you. I guarantee."

They left the carriage in the courtyard behind the St. Charles and went in the way they had left, through the back door. There were no guns pointed at them this time, of course, and Longarm was thankful for that. Marie Laveau's men drove off with the carriage, and if he never saw them again, that would be perfectly all right with Longarm. He had had enough of snakes and zombies and voodoo. All that was left now was rounding up some good, old-fashioned crooks and killers.

Claudette sat down on the bed as Longarm buckled on his gunbelt. The mattress bounced a little underneath her, and the sound made Longarm think wistfully of what they had shared earlier. There was no time for a return engagement now.

But once Millard and Paul Clement were either behind bars or dead--depending on how they took to being arrested--then there would be plenty of time for Claudette.

He shrugged into his coat, bent over, and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised.

"Be careful," she said again. Her expression was taut with anxiety.

Longarm nodded, gave her a reassuring smile, and left the room. It had been a long time since he had slept or eaten anything, but he wasn't particularly tired or hungry. The anticipation of justice about to be served was its own fuel, he supposed, at least in his case. He walked quickly through the lobby and stepped out through the ornate front entrance onto the short flight of stairs that led down to the street.

A woman had just gotten out of a cab that was pulled up in front of the hotel, and as she hurriedly turned and started up the stairs, she stopped short. So did Longarm.

Annie Clement was staring up at him, and she looked scared to death.

CHAPTER 14

"Custis!" Annie exclaimed in a ragged voice. Then she rushed up the stairs toward him.

He caught hold of her arms and looked at her. She was wearing the same gown she had been wearing the night before at the Brass Pelican and the Mardi Gras parade. A small bruise discolored her left cheekbone, and her jaw had been scraped on that side as well. Someone had hit her.

Longarm led her along the steps well away from the doorman before he asked grimly, "What happened?"

"P-Paul," she gasped out. "He... he lost his temper with me... because I saw what he did last night."

"What do you mean?"

"At the Mardi Gras parade... I saw him point to you, and then a minute later, those men tried to kill you! I... I could not believe it. Paul grabbed my arm and took me away from there. I struggled against him, but it was no use." She leaned her head against Longarm's chest as a shudder went through her. "He... he took me back to the mansion, and when I demanded to know why those men tried to hurt you, he... he hit me."

"You didn't go back to the Brass Pelican after the ruckus at the parade?"

She shook her head. "No, we went straight to the house.

So Millard had lied to him, thought Longarm. That was yet another indication that Millard and Clement were the ones who had tried to have him killed. And it indicated as well how ruthless they were about not having their slave-smuggling scheme exposed. They had been willing to murder Longarm just on the off chance that he wasn't who he appeared to be.

"Did Paul tell you anything about why he wanted me dead?" he asked tautly.

Again Annie shook her head. "Only that it had to do with a business arrangement he has with Jasper Millard, and that I shouldn't ask any more questions."

"You don't know anything about that so-called business arrangement?"

"No. I swear, Custis, I don't. I... I thought they were just friends."

Longarm's expression was bleak as he asked, "What happened after Paul hit you?"

"He..." Annie swallowed hard. "He threw me on the bed in my room and... and took me."

Longarm's teeth grated together. "Your own brother?" he asked, horrified and furious.

She looked down and wouldn't meet his eyes. "He has been doing it for years."

Paul Clement was going to be damned lucky if he just wound up behind bars, thought Longarm. He wanted very much at that moment to put a bullet through the head of the sick, murderous son of a bitch and be done with it.

But as long as he was working for Uncle Sam he wasn't judge, jury, or executioner. He drew a tight rein on his emotions and said, "And after that?"

"He locked me in my room, as he often does. I finally managed to get out a window and reach a branch of the magnolia tree on that side of the house, so that I could climb down. I knew I had to find you, so I could warn you that Paul was trying to have you killed."

"I'm obliged, but I already figured that out," he told her. "Your brother and Millard are partners in a smuggling ring, but it's not so much what they're bringing into the country that's got 'em worried about me. It's what they're shipping out."

"What?" asked Annie, a quaver of dread and apprehension in her voice.

Before Longarm could tell her, he heard rapid footsteps and the sound of a gun being cocked somewhere behind him.

He shoved Annie to the side as he whipped around, hoping that the push would send her out of the line of fire. A man in a tweed suit was standing behind one of the pillars that supported the hotel's second-floor balcony, using the pillar for cover as he aimed a Smith & Wesson revolver at Longarm. The weapon geysered flame and lead as an ugly whip-crack of sound split the early morning air. Longarm's gun was in his hand by now, and he heard the whine of the slug past his ear as he triggered his Colt.

Instinct and luck guided his shot. His bullet smashed the shoulder of the bushwhacker, knocking the man backward. The Smith & Wesson went flying.

That gunman wasn't the only threat, however, as Longarm saw right away. More men with drawn guns were darting from pillar to pillar, closing in on him and beginning to fire. At the same time, another cab drew up at the curb and several men leaped out of it, also with guns drawn. Clement must have discovered that Annie had escaped from the mansion and figured she would come looking for Longarm, and now he and Millard were desperate to get rid of both of them at the same time.

The doorman had ducked into the hotel for cover as shots rang out, but he was blowing his whistle frantically, the shrill sound keening through the air. That would summon the police, thought Longarm--but by the time help arrived, he and Annie would be dead, both of them shot full of holes.

Unless he did the unexpected.

Annie had slumped to the granite steps when Longarm shoved her, and so far she seemed to be unhit by the flying slugs. Longarm reached her side in a single bound and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. He couldn't leave her behind. He snapped his last two shots at the men who had just emerged from the cab. The vehicle's driver, realizing how much danger he had innocently gotten mixed up in, was already whipping his horses into a run. As the gunmen ducked aside from Longarm's shots, the big lawman leaped down the steps toward the cab, hauling Annie with him.

He threw her bodily at the door of the cab, which was still flapping open as the driver pulled away from the curb. With a startled cry, Annie grabbed the door and pulled herself inside. Longarm leaped right behind her, but the door was already out of reach. The best he could do was catch onto the back of the cab with one hand while the other still held his Colt.

His arm felt as if it was nearly jerked out of its socket, but he managed to hang on. As he pulled his feet up, his body was thrown against the rear of the cab. The impact knocked the breath from his body, but still he held on. He jammed the empty Colt back in its holster, taking only a couple of tries to do so, then began clambering up the body of the cab.

Behind him, more shots blasted. Bullets thudded into the cab only inches from him. Longarm hoped the driver had the sense to swing around a corner as soon as they reached the end of the block. That would put them out of reach of the gunmen.

"Custis!"

The shout made him look up. Annie was hanging over the rear seat of the open-topped cab, extending a hand toward him. "Get down!" he called to her, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"Let me help you!" she cried over the rattle of the cab's wheels.

Figuring that it would be better not to waste time arguing, Longarm grasped her hand. At the same moment, he managed to finally get a foothold on the cab's body, and in a matter of seconds he pulled himself up and sprawled over the back of the seat, knocking Annie to the floor of the cab. Her face was white with fear, but she laughed hollowly at the awkwardness of it. Longarm was lying half on top of her. "This would be more enjoyable under other circumstances, Custis!" she said.

That was sure enough true. Longarm started to push himself up, then had to grab the side of the cab to catch his balance as the vehicle swayed at high speed around a corner. That was just what Longarm had hoped the driver would do. He raised his head for a last glance down the street in front of the hotel.

"Damn it!"

That glimpse had been enough to tell him that the men who were out for his scalp were piling into another cab, one they had stopped on the street at gunpoint. Longarm saw them jerking the cab's previous occupants and the driver out of the vehicle. One of the killers was going to handle the reins himself, more than likely. Then Longarm couldn't see any more, because the corner of the hotel cut off his view.

The gunmen weren't going to give up as easily as he had hoped. Longarm reached up and tapped the driver on the shoulder. The man cast a glance that was wide-eyed with fear at his unexpected passengers.

"Keep going as fast as you can!" shouted Longarm. "Head for the city hall! I'm a lawman!"

The driver bobbed his head and whipped the horses that much harder. Longarm was thrown against the rear seat as the cab lurched forward.

A bullet spanged off the metalwork beside him. "Look out, Custis!" screamed Annie.

Longarm swiveled his head and looked behind them. The other cab had taken the corner even tighter, and was now racing after them. He saw muzzle flashes from the guns of the men who worked for Clement and Millard. Since Annie was already sitting on the floorboard, he told her, "Stay down there!"

Looking forward again, he saw that the cab was approaching the riverfront. If the driver took a left when he reached the docks, that would bring them back to Decatur Street in a few blocks, and then they would reach the city hall within minutes. Longarm wanted to get Annie into the safety of the building and find that special prosecutor's office. There would be plenty of work for the man once Longarm laid out the story.

In the meantime, as he crouched on the floor of the cab next to Annie, he shucked the spent shells from his Colt and thumbed in fresh ones. Maybe he could slow down the pursuit, although he would have to be careful not to hit any pedestrians or other innocent bystanders along the street. Longarm raised himself up and lined the Colt's sights on the cab that was chasing them.

Before he could fire, a bullet sang past his ear, and he heard a grunt of pain. Annie screamed. Longarm jerked around, afraid that she had been hit. Instead, he saw that the driver of the cab was half-standing, clawing at his back where the bullet had caught him. With a groan, he toppled backward, landing upside down on the floorboards next to Annie. He was either unconscious or dead.

Longarm didn't have time to find out which, because the team pulling the cab was still running flat out--straight toward the Mississippi River.

Biting back a curse, Longarm clambered over the driver's body and scrambled over the front seat toward the driver's box. He looked desperately for the reins and saw them dangling over the front of the box. He made a frantic grab for them, but they slid out of his reach, falling under the hooves of the racing horses.

If someone didn't stop those animals or turn them aside, Longarm realized, they were going to run right into the river in about thirty seconds. He threw a glance back at the pursuers. They were still there, only they had closed the gap a little. Bullets were still thudding into the cab.

There was only one thing to do, Longarm told himself as the runaway cab crossed the street that ran alongside the river. The hooves of the horses thundered on the planks of a short dock as Longarm balanced himself and then leaped forward, intending to land on the back of one of the leaders so that he could at least use the harness to pull the team to a stop before the cab plunged into the river.

He was in midair before he realized that the attempt had come just a little too late.

Then they were at the end of the dock and the horses and the cab were falling out from underneath him and he was falling too, and Annie was screaming and the waters of the mighty Mississippi came up and slammed into him, wrapping around him and pulling him down into the deepest darkness he had ever known in his life.