Page 98
Reggie returned inside, eyeing me, squinting as he examined the rope at my feet and hands. “How’d you loosen that?”
I forced myself not to look behind me. “What? Reggie—”
My cousin held the lantern aloft, his expression scathing. “Reginald—I’ve always hated the name Reggie.”
“Please. You’re not like this. Think of your wife. Your son.”
“That’s exactly who I’m thinking of.” He straightened, looked behind him, the Grey Ghost now on the bed of the lorry. “Eddie, Mac, leave the car and get rid of my cousin. Make it look like an accident. Finlay, take the reins. Time to go.”
“Reg— Reginald! Don’t do this. Please!”
Reggie ignored me as Eddie jumped down from the back of the lorry, drawing a knife from his waistband as he stalked in my direction. Mac joined him, while Reggie held the lantern aloft. Eddie lifted the blade, the flickering lantern flame reflecting on the cold steel.
“Two against one?” came a voice from behind
me. “That’s hardly fair.”
Mac and Eddie stopped in their tracks, both men looking around, trying to find the source of the voice.
“Who’s there?” Reggie asked, holding the lantern higher as he searched the warehouse.
“The name’s Isaac Bell.” Mr. Bell stepped out into the light, walking toward us, until he stood between me and my would-be murderers. Dressed all in white, he held my father’s brass-handled cane, the hidden blade returned to its sheath. He looked at Reggie, then turned his attention toward Mac and Eddie. “And the lot of you are under arrest for train robbery.”
The shock on Eddie and Mac’s faces lasted a few seconds before both burst out laughing.
Eddie pointed his dagger toward Mr. Bell. “Followed us all the way from New York, did you? By yourself? Aren’t you the funny bloke.” He took a step forward.
Isaac Bell blocked his path with my father’s cane. “Sorry. I can’t let you do that.”
Eddie, knife in one hand, grabbed the cane with the other, using it to pull Isaac toward him. His leer twisted the scar on his cheek as he glared at Mr. Bell. “I’ll slit your throat and shove your fancy stick in after it.”
“Will you, now?” Isaac said, taking a half step back.
Eddie held tight to the cane.
As Isaac ran his left hand down the cane’s shaft, gripping the handle with his right, I thought he’d pull out the blade. But, no. He leaned in, drove the cane forward, rammed the man with his shoulder. Eddie’s dagger flew from his hand, sliding across the wood-plank floor. As Eddie staggered back, Isaac swung the cane around, striking Mac in the chest with the heavy handle, bringing him to his knees.
Reggie aimed his gun at the detective. Isaac pivoted, swinging the cane again, knocking the pistol from his hand.
Reggie started to reach for it, but Isaac kicked the pistol away, swung the cane against Eddie’s spine, knocking him into Mac.
Even then the three men sought to attack. But Isaac pressed the cane’s catch, drawing the hidden dagger from the handle. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough,” Isaac said, as he shoved the point toward Mac’s throat, stopping just as it drew blood. “You’re under arrest.” The sound of an approaching horseman caught their attention. Isaac was the only one who didn’t look, his attention on the three men. “Get the gun, Payton!”
The moment I grabbed the pistol and pointed it at them, my cousin ran out the door.
“I say . . . Reggie?” I recognized my friend Byron’s voice. He’d gotten my message. “Where’s Payton?”
Reggie raced past, climbing up onto the lorry. “Go! Go!”
Finlay shook the reins.
The lorry lurched forward, the wheels squeaking beneath the weight of its load.
“They’re getting away,” I called out, as Byron dismounted, clearly not understanding.
Isaac quickly assessed the situation. “Watch these two, Payton. Shoot if you have to.” Isaac ran out, grabbed the reins of Byron’s horse, mounted, and raced off after the lorry.
I held the gun pointed at the two, my fears of being left in charge, turning my stomach. This was not me. I was the last person meant to be a hero. Even so, I realized that if either of these two men tried to escape, I would have to shoot them or let them go. Not wanting anyone’s death on my conscience, I saw the rope. “Byron. We need to tie these two. Quick. Now!”
I forced myself not to look behind me. “What? Reggie—”
My cousin held the lantern aloft, his expression scathing. “Reginald—I’ve always hated the name Reggie.”
“Please. You’re not like this. Think of your wife. Your son.”
“That’s exactly who I’m thinking of.” He straightened, looked behind him, the Grey Ghost now on the bed of the lorry. “Eddie, Mac, leave the car and get rid of my cousin. Make it look like an accident. Finlay, take the reins. Time to go.”
“Reg— Reginald! Don’t do this. Please!”
Reggie ignored me as Eddie jumped down from the back of the lorry, drawing a knife from his waistband as he stalked in my direction. Mac joined him, while Reggie held the lantern aloft. Eddie lifted the blade, the flickering lantern flame reflecting on the cold steel.
“Two against one?” came a voice from behind
me. “That’s hardly fair.”
Mac and Eddie stopped in their tracks, both men looking around, trying to find the source of the voice.
“Who’s there?” Reggie asked, holding the lantern higher as he searched the warehouse.
“The name’s Isaac Bell.” Mr. Bell stepped out into the light, walking toward us, until he stood between me and my would-be murderers. Dressed all in white, he held my father’s brass-handled cane, the hidden blade returned to its sheath. He looked at Reggie, then turned his attention toward Mac and Eddie. “And the lot of you are under arrest for train robbery.”
The shock on Eddie and Mac’s faces lasted a few seconds before both burst out laughing.
Eddie pointed his dagger toward Mr. Bell. “Followed us all the way from New York, did you? By yourself? Aren’t you the funny bloke.” He took a step forward.
Isaac Bell blocked his path with my father’s cane. “Sorry. I can’t let you do that.”
Eddie, knife in one hand, grabbed the cane with the other, using it to pull Isaac toward him. His leer twisted the scar on his cheek as he glared at Mr. Bell. “I’ll slit your throat and shove your fancy stick in after it.”
“Will you, now?” Isaac said, taking a half step back.
Eddie held tight to the cane.
As Isaac ran his left hand down the cane’s shaft, gripping the handle with his right, I thought he’d pull out the blade. But, no. He leaned in, drove the cane forward, rammed the man with his shoulder. Eddie’s dagger flew from his hand, sliding across the wood-plank floor. As Eddie staggered back, Isaac swung the cane around, striking Mac in the chest with the heavy handle, bringing him to his knees.
Reggie aimed his gun at the detective. Isaac pivoted, swinging the cane again, knocking the pistol from his hand.
Reggie started to reach for it, but Isaac kicked the pistol away, swung the cane against Eddie’s spine, knocking him into Mac.
Even then the three men sought to attack. But Isaac pressed the cane’s catch, drawing the hidden dagger from the handle. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough,” Isaac said, as he shoved the point toward Mac’s throat, stopping just as it drew blood. “You’re under arrest.” The sound of an approaching horseman caught their attention. Isaac was the only one who didn’t look, his attention on the three men. “Get the gun, Payton!”
The moment I grabbed the pistol and pointed it at them, my cousin ran out the door.
“I say . . . Reggie?” I recognized my friend Byron’s voice. He’d gotten my message. “Where’s Payton?”
Reggie raced past, climbing up onto the lorry. “Go! Go!”
Finlay shook the reins.
The lorry lurched forward, the wheels squeaking beneath the weight of its load.
“They’re getting away,” I called out, as Byron dismounted, clearly not understanding.
Isaac quickly assessed the situation. “Watch these two, Payton. Shoot if you have to.” Isaac ran out, grabbed the reins of Byron’s horse, mounted, and raced off after the lorry.
I held the gun pointed at the two, my fears of being left in charge, turning my stomach. This was not me. I was the last person meant to be a hero. Even so, I realized that if either of these two men tried to escape, I would have to shoot them or let them go. Not wanting anyone’s death on my conscience, I saw the rope. “Byron. We need to tie these two. Quick. Now!”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137