The Mission War (2 page)

“Welcome, friends,” he said with a mock bow. “Carlos, relieve the lady of her guns. Not the man. He carries no firearms, is this not so, Ki? All the same, Carlos, search the Chinaman. I am told he carries unique and deadly weapons.”

Carlos was a nervous, narrow man with long yellow teeth and a huge sombrero. He didn't look sane. He moved to Jessica and slipped the Winchester repeater she carried from its boot. Then he reached for her holstered handgun, the custom .38 Colt. It had a slate-gray finish and polished peachwood grips.

Carlos wasn't looking at the gun much. His hands slid up Jessie's thigh as he reached for her holster. His dark eyes gleamed as he raked her curved, compelling body with his hungry gaze. He stroked her thigh, his fingers creeping higher.

Jessica slipped her boot from the right stirrup and slammed her knee upward into the bandit's face. Teeth cracked and blood spewed from his mouth as his head snapped back.

Carlos staggered backward and then stood rubbing his jaw. A dirty little smile creased his jaundiced face and he drew a long knife from the sheath behind his back. He had started forward when a voice halted him in his tracks.

“Carlos, don't be a fool.”

Ki who had been tensed, ready for the fight if it had to come and ready to die to protect Jessica Starbuck, looked to his right to see a tall, sleek Mexican dressed in black come forward three steps. He was in his early thirties, handsome, and well-built. His clothing was clean unlike the rest of the bandits‘, and his stride was smooth and purposeful.

“You saw what she did, Diego,” Carlos said.

“Put the knife away,” the tall bandit said. His words were spoken softly, but there was a tone of command in them as well. “Put it away, Carlos.”

Carlos glanced at the huge bearded man who shrugged. Slowly the knife was sheathed.

“Now,” Diego said, “relieve the woman of her weapons as a gentleman would.”

Carlos, eyes dark, moved again to Jessica Starbuck and slid her pistol from its holster. He backed away with the Colt in hand and then moved to Ki.

“He has no gun, no knife,” Carlos said.

“Search him,” the vast bandit with the beard commanded.

“But, Mono—”

“Search him, you fool!”

Carlos did so, his hands cautiously moving over Ki's body. “I can find nothing, Mono.”

“Have him get down,” Mono said impatiently.

Ki sat his horse a moment longer, staring at the bandit leader and at the other one, Diego, who stood leaning casually against the shoulder of a black horse. Then he swung down lithely and stood submitting to Carlos' search.

“Look in the vest,” Mono said. “That's where he's supposed to carry them.”

Carlos gingerly looked into the leather vest Ki wore, finding the hidden pockets there. He frowned, turned, and opened his palm to show Mono what he had found.

“These?” the bandit asked in wonder.

“Those. Get them all.”

“But ...” They were nothing but star-shaped pieces of steel, razor sharp to be sure, but how could these be weapons? How were they used?

“The Chinaman kills with those. Don't you, Chinaman?

“I am not Chinese,” Ki said.

“Oh, yes.” Mono laughed. “I forget. Japanese, is it not?”

Ki shrugged. “You know so much about me, I am sure that you know that.”

“Yes, I know. It is just that there is no difference, is there?”

Again Ki shrugged. Carlos had taken his
shuriken
to the bearded leader who examined them briefly, nodded, and tucked them in his saddlebags.

“May I ask how you know who we are?” Jessica Starbuck inquired.

“You cannot guess?” Mono asked in surprise.

“Yes, I can. Kurt Brecht told you.”

“Did he?” Mono appeared surprised. “And who is that?”

Jessica didn't answer. She looked around her at the circle of grinning bandits, at the tall lean man who was smoking a thin cigar, watching her with frank enjoyment.

“It was a good plan, was it not?” Squirrel asked. The Indian was pleased with himself, with the trap he had triggered. “I brought them to you as I said I would.”

“Yes,” Mono said without enthusiasm.

“I, Squirrel, brought them to you. I fooled them. And now you will reward me, will you not?”

“Yes,” Mono said, “now,” and he carelessly drew his revolver and shot Squirrel in the face. The bullet emptied the Indian's right eye socket and the back of his skull exploded. Squirrel was hurled back and lay twisted and bloody in the brush.

“Stupid
indio,
” Mono said. He looked at Ki and then at Jessica Starbuck. Whatever he saw in their eyes apparently satisfied him, so he holstered his Colt.

“What are you going to do with us?” Jessica asked. Her voice was tight, her green eyes angry.

“Do?” Mono laughed. “Fulfill your wishes, Senorita Starbuck. You came here hoping to find the man who pays us, did you not?”

“You're taking us to Brecht?” Ki asked.

“Brecht? Again that unfamiliar name. I am taking you to the man who pays us for our labors.”

“I could pay you more not to take us,” Jessica said. “My father was a wealthy man. I'm a wealthy woman.”

Mono seemed to think that over, stroking his thick beard. “I do not think there is enough gold to pay me to go against this man. I would only end up like the stupid
indio.”
He inclined his head toward Squirrel. “And if you and this Japanese man do not cooperate with us, it may very well be that we shall simply kill you and take your heads with us as proof you have been eliminated.”

“He
wants them alive,” Diego said quietly.

“He said only that he would prefer to have them alive, Diego Cardero,” Mono said. His eyes flashed in a way that let Jessica know there was contention between the bearded Mono—whose name meant ape in Spanish—and the lean, handsome bandit in black.

“As you say, Mono. But I would not harm the woman if I were you.” Diego Cardero's eyes were capable of reflecting menace, too. They did that now and Mono, his lip curled back, watched him. Ki noticed the brief duel of wills, the watchful expressions of the other
bandidos.
Something violent, threatening, passed between the two bandit leaders and then dissipated like smoke.

Mono shrugged. “We will discuss it later. My advice to you, Jessica Starbuck and Ki, is to come without struggle, to do exactly as you are told to do. Otherwise—” He shrugged meaningfully.

“We will do exactly as you wish,” Ki said, though he had no intention of doing that, had no intention at all of letting the cartel get its hands on Jessica Starbuck. Mono was watching him dubiously.

The huge bandit leader nodded at length.
“Bueno.
Just so you understand.”

“I understand,” Ki said, hoping the man did not understand that he would kill before he would allow anything to happen to Jessica Starbuck.

But there was nothing Ki could do just then as he was placed back on his horse and, along with Jessica Starbuck, led out of the dusk shadowed canyon. There was nothing anyone could do—not Ki or Jessie, not the lone figure who still followed them along the rim of the canyon bluff.

Chapter 2

Night settled quickly and in a vast silver spray the stars seemed to shower out of the darkness. The bandits made their camp on a low, eroded mesa three miles south of the Canon del Dios. Jessie and Ki were fed beef and beans and then tied up again before the circulation had even had a chance to return to their numb feet and hands.

Jessica Starbuck was thrown a blanket into which she managed to roll clumsily. She lay there then listening to the muffled Spanish voices, watching the figures around the campfire pass bottles of tequila from hand to hand.

Ki was sleeping or pretending to sleep. They kept the two of them separated, just as they had during the short ride from the canyon. Jessie tried working her hands, attempting to loosen the bonds, but she had no luck at all.

If she had gotten free, where would she go? What would she do? They were a hundred miles from help and the bandits would simply ride them down again. Still, it wasn't in Jessica's nature to give up. She had been through too much, fought too long, to give in.

She watched and waited. The voices from around the campfire droned on for a long while as the stars shifted. One man rose, yawned and stretched, and went to his blankets, and then another did likewise. They staggered as they walked, and when they rolled into bed, they snored almost immediately. The tequila was doing its work.

Mono was asleep now as was Carlos. Soon the fire had burned to embers and the night went darker still. No one moved in the outlaw camp and Jessica slowly stretched her arms toward her boot. They hadn't found the slender knife she had taken to carrying there. Now her grasping fingers found the handle of the little knife and slowly she withdrew it.

Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps as she sawed through the bonds around her ankles, feeling the rawhide ties fall free, feeling the rush of blood to her feet.

She looked at Ki, who seemed to be sleeping. How in hell was she going to cross the camp to reach him?

Jessica's knife cut through the ties on her wrists and she lay there, trying to still her breathing. She rubbed her hands, bringing back sensation.

If she could get into the brush behind her and circle to Ki's position, silently cut him free ... It was dangerous, very dangerous, but what other chance did they have?

The horses were up a narrow draw behind the camp. If she and Ki could reach them, there was a possibility they could escape.

Slowly now she rolled over and worked her way across the hard earth, feeling the bristle of dry grass and small stones beneath her hands and knees. A bandit stirred; she froze, her hand clenching the knife. He simply shifted position, grunted, and resumed his snoring.

Jessica went on, reaching the sumac and sagebrush beyond the camp. Her heart was hammering as she moved silently through the brush, gently turning aside branches as she worked her way toward Ki.

A tall man stepped out of the high brush and grabbed her wrist. The silver blade of the knife flashed toward Diego Cardero's face and Jessica saw that—how infuriating! —the Mexican was smiling. He caught her arm as the knife descended, twisted her wrist, and removed the knife from her angry, clutching fingers.

“Damn you!” she said. Cardero had turned her, drawing her near. Now he pressed his lean body against her and kissed her. Jessica tried to fight free, but Cardero had her blond hair in his hand and he held her head still, kissing her again. Finally he let her go.

“You shouldn't wander around in the night alone,” Diego Cardero said. “It is very dangerous, Miss Starbuck.”

He was smiling still.

“Bastard,” she said sharply and Cardero smiled again, his face starlit and darkly handsome in the night.

“We can be friends,” Diego told her.

“With someone like you? With someone who wants to make a slave out of me—or deliver me to Brecht, which would be worse? Why are you doing this anyway? Money, I presume.”

“Money.” Diego Cardero nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, money. There is a bounty on your head and Ki's. A huge bounty.”

“Blood money. Not a legal bounty. Do we look like criminals?” she asked.

“No. But what you are is of no concern to me.”

“Only the money concerns you,” Jessica Starbuck said bitterly.

“Only the money.”

He was still close and holding her wrist. He was a dark and evil thing, Jessie decided. He was also something else, something that she couldn't banish from her mind—something that was in his kiss, the kiss that still lingered on her lips, causing them to tingle; something that had sent little fingers of excitement creeping down her spine.

“What are you doing?” Jessie asked. He had turned with her, taking her with him along a narrow path toward a low knoll where a twisted, broken oak grew.

“Come with me,” was all Diego said.

They walked to the top of the knoll, and when Jessica refused to sit, Diego plopped her down. Jessie sat glowering, angry and frustrated.

Diego stood over her with the small knife in his hand. His feet were spread widely, one hand was on his hip. He held the knife out toward Jessie.

“This,” he said, “was a bad idea, very bad.”

Before Jessie could move, Diego brought the knife forward and down. The point of the knife imbedded itself in the oak tree and with a twist of the wrist Diego snapped the blade off. He tossed the handle away casually.

“Don't you know what Mono would do if you tried to escape, Miss Starbuck?” Diego took a thin cigar from a narrow silver case and struck a match with his thumb-nail. He cupped the match flame and lit the cigar.