Page 107
Story: Pirate (Fargo Adventures 8)
Sam used the weight of the backpack, ramming it into the door. Ivan stumbled back as Sam leaned against the door, holding him tight. The entry to the room was a four-foot hallway. Remi scrambled past Sam, keeping tight to the wall, before running into the room.
Ivan leaned into the door, trying to push Sam out. Sam braced one foot on the doorframe, but Ivan, using his heavier weight, managed to push back. Sam slipped past just as the door slammed shut. He pivoted, kicking out, sending Ivan back into the corner. When Ivan tried to raise the gun, Sam swung the backpack up, slamming it against Ivan’s hand. The gun flew from Ivan’s grasp as Sam rushed him, using the advantage of his weight and strength in the close quarters of the entry. Ivan swung, hit him in the ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. Sam was ready. He purposefully fell back against the wall while at the same time bringing his pack up, slamming Ivan in the face.
He ducked as Ivan swung. Ivan’s fist smashed through the plaster, his knuckles bloody. He swore, then turned slightly, drawing back, telegraphing his move.
Sam dropped, then darted to the side, as Ivan slammed his shoulder into the wall. The maneuver trapped Sam in the corner by the door. Ivan turned like a mad bull, his eyes narrowed, his mouth grimacing. “I’ll kill you.”
Before Sam could make a move, Remi cracked the full bottle of champagne on Ivan’s head. He hung there a moment, stunned, and Sam slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.
Remi stood there, holding the champagne bottle, a slight smile on her face. “You looked like you could use a hand.”
“Where’s Nigel?” he asked.
“Good question.”
Except for Ivan, the room was empty.
Remi spied his cell phone on the chair and held it up. “This explains things. They knew we were coming.”
“All the more reason to get out of here.” Ivan started to stir. Sam grabbed his backpack and Ivan’s gun. Sam helped Remi out the window before jumping down after her. They moved around toward the north end.
Sam heard the sound of someone running on gravel. He and Remi ran toward the front of the inn as Ivan jumped into the waiting car. The engine revved and tires screeched as Jak sped out of the car park.
Sam saw four people in the car as it drove off, one of them was Nigel.
He and Remi ran to their car, but by the time they pulled out, the BMW was long gone.
“On the one hand,” Remi said, “it was a good rescue operation.”
“Too bad Nigel wasn’t there.”
“We shouldn’t have put him in that position in the first place. At the castle . . . with all those people—I never thought they’d kidnap him in broad daylight.”
“What’s done is done.”
She turned toward Sam, saying, “It was about the translation. They were talking about it when Fisk arrived. Something about a letter missing.”
“You remember what they said?”
She nodded, her gaze fixed out the windshield. “At least we know where they’re going. Once they figure things out, that is.”
“Where?” Sam asked.
“Nottingham.”
He looked over at her. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“From the words they asked Nigel to translate,” she said. “Wolf’s den and wolf’s head. Or, more accurately, head of an outlaw wolf.”
“How’d you get Nottingham from that?”
“Because wolf’s head happens to be another name for Robin Hood. So it stands to reason that the other words they were asking about, wolf’s den, would be his home.”
“Guess we’re going to Nottingham,” Sam said.
Forty-eight
Remi is absolutely correct,” Lazlo told them the following morning in a Skype call. Outside, the dark gray sky let loose with a sudden downpour, rain beating against the windows. Remi turned up the volume on her tablet, trying to hear what Lazlo was saying. After they’d fled the inn last night, Sam and Remi had driven straight to Nottingham, gotten a hotel suite under a new assumed name, and managed to get a few hours of sleep before making the early-morning call. “Wolf’s Head,” Lazlo continued, “is a name that Robin Hood has been known by. At least in the very early legends. And the missing f fits perfect. Had it been there to begin with, I might have been able to save you the trouble.”
Ivan leaned into the door, trying to push Sam out. Sam braced one foot on the doorframe, but Ivan, using his heavier weight, managed to push back. Sam slipped past just as the door slammed shut. He pivoted, kicking out, sending Ivan back into the corner. When Ivan tried to raise the gun, Sam swung the backpack up, slamming it against Ivan’s hand. The gun flew from Ivan’s grasp as Sam rushed him, using the advantage of his weight and strength in the close quarters of the entry. Ivan swung, hit him in the ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. Sam was ready. He purposefully fell back against the wall while at the same time bringing his pack up, slamming Ivan in the face.
He ducked as Ivan swung. Ivan’s fist smashed through the plaster, his knuckles bloody. He swore, then turned slightly, drawing back, telegraphing his move.
Sam dropped, then darted to the side, as Ivan slammed his shoulder into the wall. The maneuver trapped Sam in the corner by the door. Ivan turned like a mad bull, his eyes narrowed, his mouth grimacing. “I’ll kill you.”
Before Sam could make a move, Remi cracked the full bottle of champagne on Ivan’s head. He hung there a moment, stunned, and Sam slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.
Remi stood there, holding the champagne bottle, a slight smile on her face. “You looked like you could use a hand.”
“Where’s Nigel?” he asked.
“Good question.”
Except for Ivan, the room was empty.
Remi spied his cell phone on the chair and held it up. “This explains things. They knew we were coming.”
“All the more reason to get out of here.” Ivan started to stir. Sam grabbed his backpack and Ivan’s gun. Sam helped Remi out the window before jumping down after her. They moved around toward the north end.
Sam heard the sound of someone running on gravel. He and Remi ran toward the front of the inn as Ivan jumped into the waiting car. The engine revved and tires screeched as Jak sped out of the car park.
Sam saw four people in the car as it drove off, one of them was Nigel.
He and Remi ran to their car, but by the time they pulled out, the BMW was long gone.
“On the one hand,” Remi said, “it was a good rescue operation.”
“Too bad Nigel wasn’t there.”
“We shouldn’t have put him in that position in the first place. At the castle . . . with all those people—I never thought they’d kidnap him in broad daylight.”
“What’s done is done.”
She turned toward Sam, saying, “It was about the translation. They were talking about it when Fisk arrived. Something about a letter missing.”
“You remember what they said?”
She nodded, her gaze fixed out the windshield. “At least we know where they’re going. Once they figure things out, that is.”
“Where?” Sam asked.
“Nottingham.”
He looked over at her. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“From the words they asked Nigel to translate,” she said. “Wolf’s den and wolf’s head. Or, more accurately, head of an outlaw wolf.”
“How’d you get Nottingham from that?”
“Because wolf’s head happens to be another name for Robin Hood. So it stands to reason that the other words they were asking about, wolf’s den, would be his home.”
“Guess we’re going to Nottingham,” Sam said.
Forty-eight
Remi is absolutely correct,” Lazlo told them the following morning in a Skype call. Outside, the dark gray sky let loose with a sudden downpour, rain beating against the windows. Remi turned up the volume on her tablet, trying to hear what Lazlo was saying. After they’d fled the inn last night, Sam and Remi had driven straight to Nottingham, gotten a hotel suite under a new assumed name, and managed to get a few hours of sleep before making the early-morning call. “Wolf’s Head,” Lazlo continued, “is a name that Robin Hood has been known by. At least in the very early legends. And the missing f fits perfect. Had it been there to begin with, I might have been able to save you the trouble.”
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