Page 32 of The Last Kingdom

Cassiopeia’s.

Telling him to wake up.

He opened his eyes to a throbbing ache in his head and the acridity of a strong disinfectant in his nostrils.

Chloroform.

He hated the stuff.

It caused depression of the central nervous system, producing a deep coma and respiratory failure. The mean lethal oral dose for an adult was only 1.6 ounces. Medicine quit using it as an anesthetic because it killed too many people. Even worse, it induced tumors in rats and mice. And the person who’d accosted him felt compelled to use that crap?

He stood from a chilly tile floor, blew the fog out of his mind, and surveyed his surroundings. He was alone inside some sort of cellar, illuminated by several overhead incandescent lights. The space was a large rectangle with a center aisle dividing racked wine bottles on one side from casks and jugs on the other. Most of the bottles were crusted with dust. At the far end a litter of discarded casks, rotted out, perfumed the air with a heavy vinous smell.

Where was he?

He checked his watch. 10:20P.M.

He’d been out about ninety minutes. Plenty of time to take him to God knows where.

He stood and settled his wobbly legs.

An aching knot at the back of his neck reached all the way to his shoulders, tightening with every breath. He’d been chloroformed a couple of times back in his Magellan Billet days. But that had been a lifetime ago. When he was younger and could take it. He shook more cobwebs from his brain and grabbed control of his senses. He checked his pockets. His wallet and passport were still there, but the envelope he’d found in the desk was gone.

No big surprise.

Thankfully, he still wore his coat, gloves, and scarf. This trip to Bavaria had certainly turned interesting. Nothing was ever simple. Not his career. His marriage. Fatherhood. All of them came riddled with issues. He was concerned about Luke and, considering what was happening to him, he hoped Frat Boy wasn’t in over his head. But Luke had to take care of himself. And Stephanie? She was a big girl too. He couldn’t save everyone and everything.

But he sure as hell could try.

He stepped down the center aisle to a short set of wooden steps that led to a wooden door. He was about to head up when he heard a sound from the other side of the door.

Clicks.

Like a key in a lock.

Somebody was coming.

He rushed back to where he’d been laid and stretched back out, his right cheek pressed tightly to the chilly tile floor. From that vantage point he was able to squint his left eye open enough to see a man enter the chamber and bound down the steps.

He lay still.

When the legs came within range he lunged with his outstretched right arm and swept the man’s feet out from under him. Then he jabbed the heel of his right hand into the face. His glove cushioned the impact, but a snap signaled a broken nose. Blood poured out. The man clamped a free hand across the flow. Cotton rolled to his feet and sent a kick to the head that ended all resistance. He quickly checked the pockets and found nothing other than a key.

He was on full alert.

What was the old saying?

I was young and foolish then. Now I’m old and foolisher.

Not tonight.

He headed for the exit and stepped out into the cold, locking the door with the key. He gazed up into the black dome of a marvelous near-winter sky and caught the scent of mountain pine in the air. Trees surrounded him, as did snow. He’d definitely climbed in altitude. A cleared path led away from the door, winding upward. The wine cellar had apparently been built from some sort of natural cave. Darkness surrounded him, except for a flickering glow off through the trees.

A fire?

He headed for it.

Chapter 18