I kept away from the squires or handlers—or whatever the hell they were called. As I smoked, I wondered idly if my client was somewhere among them.
I next turned my attention to a big rig that had just entered. As it came to a stop next to me, I flicked away my cigarette and climbed into the rig’s passenger seat before the driver got out.
“What the hell do you want?” He was a large guy with a graying ponytail and a handlebar mustache.
“Sorry to barge in,” I said nicely enough. “I just wanted to know if you could use some help unloading a little of that hay.” I held out a fifty.
Handlebar regarded me with some suspicion, and I didn’t blame him.
“You don’t need to know,” I answered in advance. I pushed the fifty into his hand. He shrugged and took it.
The bales were deceivingly heavy. We worked silently, stacking them onto wooden slats. I studied the entrance as I unloaded the large, fresh-smelling rectangular bundles. Most of the squires had left by now, but there were a few hanging out by the entrance. I watched them watch who entered.
Guards, I thought.
I thanked the truck driver for letting me pay to help him—and approached the entrance. No one questioned me. Having observed me stack the hay, they assumed I was there on business. I entered, followed the aroma of horse, and soon found myself at the stables.
The black stallion’s stall was the very last. As I approached him, I once again saw that he was no ordinary steed. He regarded me with an intelligence I didn’t think horses possessed. Hell, few humans possessed it. I heard footsteps and voices. The great black beast instinctively backed up. Equally instinctively, I jumped into his stall. I crouched in the front corner as the footsteps came nearer. Black Beauty ignored me and came forward nonchalantly. I could hear two men, apparently making their rounds for the night, talking together. They checked the padlocks on each of the stalls. When they came to ours, the horse didn’t so much as glance at me.
“I’ll take care of it, no problem,” the first guy said. “The woman, now...you mentioned she’s becoming more of a problem?”
“She is.” The second guy’s tone implied he had a little authority.
Apparently they’d decided to chat just outside Black Beauty’s stall. Lucky me.
“She’s attracting attention. People are beginning to wonder. Like that squire the other night. He said he was just curious, but I’m not so sure.”
“And he’s one of us supposedly,” the first man said. “If so, why would he be asking so many questions?”
“Damn good question,” said the second guy. “It may be too risky to keep him around, too.”
The horse snorted next to me and moved a little closer in my direction. From my crouched position, the great beast looked, exactly, ten stories high.
Anyway, the second guy continued. “We’ve kept her here as long as we could. But it may be time to get rid of her. After all, we don’t really need her, right?”
“Right, although it’s been damn interesting.”
At this, my stablemate neighed viciously and pawed his giant hooves. Something was spooking him, and that something was, undoubtedly, a smallish detective squatting nervously in the front corner of the stall.
But the two men ignored the noise.
“It has been,” the first guy agreed, “but what are you going to do?”
“I’ll bring it up with the others.”
“Will we all be able to be there? Whatever the decision is?”
Black Beauty suddenly bucked, making contact with the back wall. I crouched further into my front corner. The two men were walking away now, their voices fading.
“...it will be a joint decision, I’m sure...” said the first, and then they were gone, their voices fading with them.
I quietly stood up and faced the huge animal. We observed each other for a moment, each unable to communicate except with our eyes. His belied trust. My gut told me they were talking about the woman I’d been hired to help. And perhaps my client. All the more reason to get to her—and the sooner the better. Even if I couldn’t free her tonight, I had to at least find out where and how she was being detained. Then I could form a plan.
I waited a few minutes. I patted the horse’s great neck and pretended I knew what I was doing. He just stood there. He could have easily trampled me to death. Part of me wished he would.
But he didn’t, so I hauled myself back out of the stall. I walked quietly, listening hard, and systematically searched for a way to the basement. Shortly, I found the service elevator—and a stairway down.
The elevator wouldn’t do. Not at this time of night. Too much noise. No cover. My every instinct told me to take the stairs, which I did.
The basement was dimly lit, and something told me there was danger here. That something came in the form of the hair standing on end at the back of my neck. I pushed forward, alert.
Empty rooms, one after another. No storage or equipment down here. What the hell was this place? My defenses were up. Way up.
I rounded a corner and stopped abruptly. Here, was a door with a padlock. Across the way, two men sat in another room, talking quietly and playing cards. I knew this was the room, but how to...
Suddenly I heard a great ruckus from above. A horse stomping and whinnying. I knew it was Black Beauty. How I knew this, I didn’t know. But I was sure of it. I stepped deeper into the shadows as the men threw down their cards and raced past me. Soon, I heard their boots pounding up the stairs.
I had no time to lose. I silently thanked the horse and pulled out my set of lock picks. Every competent detective has one. Thirty seconds later—an eternity in my mind—I slipped off the lock and opened the door.
I was almost sorry I did.
Chapter Six
She was lying in the far corner.
A shaft of light from the hallway behind me cast a rectangle of yellow into the room. If not for that, the woman had been lying in complete darkness.
I stared, trying to process what I was seeing, until I realized there was no processing any of this.
This...this was unimaginable.
She was propped against the far wall, arms suspended from chains. No, not any chains. Silver chains. They sparkled and caught the ambient light. Correction...barbed silver chains, digging deeply into her skin. Next to her was an empty plastic cup, with a little blood still in it. Her mask was indeed iron, but had been welded down the middle with molten silver.
Jesus.
The room was filthy, reminding me of a true medieval dungeon. The stone room was a perfect box. Ten by ten and humid as hell. A torture chamber, if I’d ever seen one. A place to be forgotten, where screams would never, ever be heard.