Timeline - Crichton Michael - Страница 59

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"It won't do any good," the Professor said from the other cell.

"Why not?"

He came forward into the light and looked through the bars. "Because he doesn't have the key."

"Doesn't have the key? Where is it?"

"Hanging on the wall," Johnston said, pointing down the corridor.

"Oh shit," Chris said.

On the floor, the guard's hand twitched. One leg kicked spasmodically. He was waking up.

Panicked, Chris said, "What do we do now?"

Marek said, "Kate, are you there?"

"I'm here."

"Where?"

"Just down the corridor. I came back because I figured they'd never look for me here."

"Kate," Marek said, "come here. Quickly."

Marek heard her footsteps as she ran toward them.

The guard coughed, rolled onto his back, then propped himself up on one elbow. He looked down the corridor and hastily began to get to his feet.

He was on his hands and knees when Kate kicked him, snapping his head back, and he fell onto the floor again. But he wasn't unconscious, only dazed. He started to get up, shaking his head to clear it.

"Kate," Marek said, "the keys…"

"Where?"

"On the wall."

She backed away from the guard, got the keys on a heavy ring, and brought them to Marek's cell. She put one key in the lock and tried to turn it, but it didn't turn.

With a grunt, the guard threw himself at her, knocking her away from the cell, into the center of the room. They grappled, rolling on the floor. She was much smaller than he was. He held her down easily.

Marek was reaching through the bars with both hands, pulling the key out of the lock, trying another. It didn't fit, either.

Now the guard was straddling Kate, both hands around her neck, strangling her.

Marek tried another key. No luck. There were six more keys on the ring.

Kate was turning blue. She made rasping, choking sounds. She pounded her fists on the guard's arms, but her blows were ineffectual. She punched at his groin, but his surcoat protected him.

Marek shouted, "Knife! Knife!" but she didn't seem to understand. Marek tried another key. Still no success. From the opposite cell, Johnston yelled something in French to the guard.

The guard looked up and snarled a reply, and in that moment Kate brought her dagger out and slammed it into the guard's shoulder with all her strength. The blade didn't penetrate the chain mail. She tried again, and again. Furious, the guard began to pound her head against the stone floor to make her drop the knife.

Marek tried another key.

It turned with a loud creak.

The Professor was shouting, Chris was shouting, and Marek flung the door open. The guard turned to face him, getting to his feet, releasing Kate. Coughing, she swung the knife at his unprotected legs, and he yelled in pain. Marek hit him twice in the head, very hard. The guard fell on the floor, not moving.

Chris unlocked the door for the Professor. Kate got to her feet, color slowly returning to her face.

Marek had pulled out the white wafer and had his thumb on the button. "Okay. We're finally all together." He was looking at the space between the cells. "Is this big enough? Can we call the machine right here?"

"No," Chris said. "It has to be six feet on each side, remember?"

"We need a bigger space." The Professor turned to Kate. "You know how to get out of here?"

She nodded. They started down the corridor.

She led them quickly up the first flight of spiral stairs, feeling a new confidence. The fight with the guard had somehow freed her; the worst had happened, and she had survived. Now, even though her head was throbbing, she felt calmer and clearer than before. And her research had all come back to her: she could remember where the passages were.

They came to the ground floor and looked out into the courtyard. It was even busier than she had expected. There were many soldiers, as well as knights in armor and courtiers in fine clothes, all returning from the tournament. She guessed it was about three in the afternoon; the courtyard was bathed in afternoon light, but shadows had begun to lengthen.

"We can't go out there," Marek said, shaking his head.

"Don't worry." She led them upstairs to the second floor, then quickly down a stone passageway with doors opening to the inside, windows on the outer side. She knew that behind the doors were a series of small apartments for family or guests.

Behind her, Chris said, "I've been here." He pointed to one of the doors. "Claire is in that room there."

Marek snorted. Kate continued on. At the far end of the corridor, a tapestry covered the left wall. She lifted the tapestry - it was surprisingly heavy - and then began to move along the wall, pressing the stones. "I'm pretty sure it's here," she said.

"Pretty sure?" Chris said.

"The passage to take us to the rear courtyard."

She reached the end of the wall. She didn't find a door. And she had to admit, looking back along the wall, that it didn't appear as if there was a doorway anywhere in this wall. The stones were smoothly and evenly mortared. The wall was flat, with no bulges or indentations. There was no sign of any additional or recent work. When she put her cheek against the wall and squinted along the length, it seemed all of a piece.

Was she wrong?

Was this the wrong place?

She couldn't be wrong. The door was here somewhere. She went back, pressing again. Nothing. When she finally discovered it, it was by pure accident. They heard voices from the other end of the corridor - voices coming up the stairwell. When she turned to look, her foot scraped against the stone at the base of the wall.

She felt the stone move.

With a soft metallic clink, a door appeared directly in front of her. It only opened a few inches. But she could see that the masonry had concealed the crack with cunning skill.

She pushed the door open. They all went through. Marek came last, dropping the tapestry as he closed the door.

They were in a dark, narrow passageway. Small holes in the wall every few yards allowed faint light to enter, so torches were not necessary.

When she had first mapped this passage, among the ruins of Castelgard, Kate had wondered why it existed. It seemed to make no sense. But now that she was here, she immediately understood its purpose.

This wasn't a passage to get from one place to another. It was a secret corridor to spy into the apartments on the second floor.

They moved forward quietly. From the adjacent room, Kate heard voices: a woman's and a man's. As they came to the small holes, they all paused, peered through.

She heard Chris give a sigh that was almost a groan.

At first, Chris saw only a man and woman silhouetted against a bright window. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare. Then he realized that it was Lady Claire and Sir Guy. They were holding hands, touching each other intimately. Sir Guy kissed her passionately, and she returned his kiss with equal fervor, her arms around his neck.

Chris just stared.

Now the lovers broke, and Sir Guy was speaking to her as she stared intently into his eyes. "My Lady," he was saying, "your public manner and sharp discourtesy provoke many to laugh behind my back, and talk of my unmanliness, that I should tolerate such abuse."

"It must be so," she said. "For both our sakes. This you know full well."

"Yet I would you were not quite so strong in your manner."

"Oh so? And how, then? Would you chance the fortune we both desire? There is other talk, good knight, as you know full well. So long as I oppose marriage, I share those suspicions that many harbor: that you had a black hand in my husband's death. Yet if Lord Oliver forces this marriage upon me, despite all my efforts, then no one can complain of my regard. `Tis true?"

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