Spoils of the Game (27 page)

“A lot.”

Suddenly a rock fell from somewhere above, missing Austin by about a foot. A stream of water entered the well and descended onto Austin’s head. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the bulge in the side of the well now looked bigger. If he were to get both the gold and himself out of the well, then he had to stop and reinforce the bulge. Carefully he climbed up the rope ladder and emerged, wet and covered with dirt.

“What’s the problem?” asked Madeline, concerned.

“Madeline, after five hundred years, this old well is thinking about collapsing. If I do not stop it, both the gold and something much more valuable might be lost.”

“Is there something move valuable than gold in the well?” said Madeline, thinking that Austin might have found diamonds or other treasure.

“Madeline, that something of great value is me! Please go to the car and get me the saw and two pieces of the lumber we bought.”

The rain was now pouring down in torrents. Even though she was wearing the rain jacket that Austin had bought her, Madeline was soaked. Austin made some rough guesses on lumber dimensions, made the cuts, and then descended into the well again. Madeline carefully lowered the cut pieces of lumber down into the well, following Austin’s direction. The walls were now slippery, and placing the lumber in the right locations was proving difficult. Austin had cut one length of lumber a little longer than the diameter of the well at the bulge. He’d made a good guess at the size, and he positioned the lumber between a shorter piece he had placed against the bulge and a large rock on the opposite side. Using the hammer, he pounded the cross brace into position. It wasn’t perfect, but it should work. He gave the hammer back to Madeline and continued to descend into the well. There was now about a foot of water in the bottom, and the flow from the sides of the well was increasing. Austin was now working by feel. The biggest problem was to free the first pot, and then the rest would be easier. Over the years, the pots had been encased in mud that now held them securely. Within about fifteen minutes the first pot was free and Madeline had pulled it to the surface. Within the same fifteen minutes, the water had risen three inches. With the first pot out, the remaining pots were freed in an orderly fashion, but Austin took his time and was very careful not to break any pots, carefully placing each one in a cloth shopping bag. Madeline lifted them one by one using the rope and pulley, which was no simple task, since each pot weighted about thirty pounds. Perhaps it was adrenalin, but Madeline did fine.

Austin shouted instructions to Madeline. “When a bag comes up, put it right into the car! And make sure to spread them around, with some in the trunk and some in the back seat, and maybe some in the front! Okay?”

“Okay.”

The water was now up to two feet and rising quickly. Austin’s environment was now full of floating bottles, with broken glass in the bottom of the well. There had been twenty pots, and by his count, he had four more to go, but now the water was pouring in. He shined the light upward and saw two things. The first was Madeline’s face and her yellow helmet at the edge of the well, and the second was the water flowing around his bracing, possibly eroding the tight fit he had made.

Without hesitation, he put the next pot into the canvas bag attached to Madeline’s rope and gave the signal. As jug nineteen headed skyward, suddenly rocks started to head down into the well, again missing Austin by inches. He looked up to see where the rocks were coming from, but it could have been anywhere, because water was pouring in everywhere. For a second he laughed.
Perhaps when I bought the tools, I should have purchased a second helmet and a life jacket,
he thought to himself. Madeline lowered the rope again, and soon the last pot was headed up. It was four-thirty in the morning.

“Madeline, that was the last pot!” Austin shouted.

Austin waited for an answer, but there was none.

“Madeline! Madeline!”

Austin was sure she was busy arranging the pots or putting the tools back into the car. There was nothing more to be done at the bottom of the well, but he did not want to leave anything behind, including the lights. Madeline still had not appeared at the top of the well, and now Austin was getting concerned. As he climbed up the wet rope ladder, a thought entered his mind:
The bitch has skipped with the gold.
It was a thought that he would not let himself believe, but it was his thought. He continued to climb, with the extra weight of the two lights and the shovel attached to his belt. As he passed the brace, he was careful not to disturb the lumber. It did not matter much now, but he didn’t need any more excitement.

“Madeline!” Austin shouted. “Madeline!” he repeated, but no one answered.

Then suddenly Austin heard a voice.

“Monsieur Clay, so nice to see you.”

It was Simon!

“I am sorry to say that we are now in a hurry, and we must go. I hope that you do not catch a chill.”

“Where is Madeline?” Austin shouted as he hung onto the rope ladder.

“Oh, she is currently taking a little nap. Austin, unfortunately we do not have the time to talk with you any more. Have a nice day.” And with that, Simon took out a large folding knife with a brass and wood handle and began to cut the heavy rope ladder.

Austin looked down; he had only a second or two to find a landing spot. Suddenly one side of the rope ladder was cut, and the ladder became a single strand of folded steps. Austin quickly lowered himself to the cross brace, carefully placing his feet on the higher side. The rope ladder fell free, and Austin caught it as it fell, but the light on his head fell off and landed at the bottom of the well, where it floated in the rising water. In the darkness of the well, with Austin positioned under one of the large metal plates that formed the top of the well, it appeared that he had fallen. Simon reappeared at the top of the well and started to drop large rocks into the well, aiming for the light in the bottom. The fourth rock hit the light, and it was safe to assume that it had hit Austin’s skull. If any of the large rocks had hit the wooden brace, Austin would have fallen to the bottom. Simon closed the metal lid.

Austin’s position was precarious, and he was very much in the dark. He was standing on a wet piece of lumber that was wedged between two sides of the well, his hands on a moss-covered wall; he wondered what had happened to Madeline. He reached for the light on his belt and turned it on to better see his predicament. The light was dim and fading quickly. With the metal handle of the light in his mouth, he spotted one of the bolts that had been used to install the now-rotted wooden ring that kept the walls from collapsing. One of his hands was up against the wall, holding the rope ladder. He took the belt from his pants and put it through the top of the rope ladder, making a leather loop. Looking upward, he hooked the ladder to the bolt and then prayed. Slowly he transferred his weight to the ladder, and the bolt held, at least for now. He climbed up to just under the heavy metal cover.

* * *

In the dim light of the coming dawn, Simon approached Madeline, who was recovering from the punch that he had delivered. Badeau and Bertrand stood nearby. Simon took the large folding knife and plunged it through the bright yellow rain jacket, in the direction of Madeline’s heart. The force of the stab pushed Madeline back against the white van. For a split second she was aware of what Simon had done, and she accepted the inevitable. She would not feel any more pain, because she fainted.

Unhappy with the way the blade had entered her body, Simon withdrew it and prepared to thrust again. Suddenly Badeau, who had seen enough, grabbed his arm. Badeau knew Madeline was an innocent and did not deserve to die because a group of old men was chasing a dream for riches.

“She’s a witness. I never leave witnesses!” screamed Simon.

“Bertrand and I are witnesses. Are you going to kill us?”

“My dear Badeau, you are not a witness.—you are now a criminal. I’m sure you can keep your mouth shut.”

Badeau maintained his grip on Simon’s arm, and the two men stared into each other’s eyes in a war of wills.

“Okay, put her in the van, and I will deal with her later,” said Simon.

* * *

From his damp location Austin could hear the doors of a van close, the engine start, and then pull away. He pushed, and the cover moved, but it took most of his strength to move it, and the more he pushed, the more force he put on the single rusted metal bolt that held the ladder. Austin was frustrated and almost panicked, but not for himself. He was panicked for Madeline. He confirmed that his belt was still in place, holding the ladder; the bolt showed no signs of failure.

Austin had to move—he had to get the cover open and get out of the well. He positioned his hand to get the best mechanical advantage and pushed again. He had nothing to lose, and with his second effort the cover moved again, making a small gap. He moved up the ladder and continued pushing. Eventually the opening was big enough for his body, and he wriggled between the top of the well and the cover. Suddenly his foot slipped off the rope ladder, and his legs hung in mid-air. He had to get out of the well now or be caught between the cover and the inside of the well, perhaps forever. His shoe caught a rotten portion of the wooden ring, which gave him a small but fragile foothold. Within seconds he was falling out of the well and onto the pile of rocks that surrounded it. It was still raining, but the sky was getting brighter. Simon was gone, the van was gone and more importantly, Madeline was gone. Austin panicked. Whichever way Simon had gone, he had to catch him.

Austin ran to the car but realized that he did not have the car keys; Madeline had them. When Simon had taken Madeline, he’d taken the keys, or so Austin thought. Then he saw that the trunk was open and the keys were in its lock. If he could get the car started, the race would be on. As he got into the vehicle, he grabbed one of the iron bars he had used to pry open the lock. Simon still had his knife, and Austin needed something to make things even. Starting the car, he put it in reverse to give himself room to turn around and then shifted into first gear to manage the muddy area around the well. Getting stuck was not an option. Heading down the dirt road to the highway, he turned on the headlights to see his way. Suddenly he remembered to go to the left of the tree to avoid the metal spikes, and he scraped the car door on the tree as he passed, removing the side mirror. As he approached the highway he could see muddy tracks turn to the left: they were not going back to Bergamo. He dropped the car into second gear and accelerated in the dawn light, in wild pursuit.

It was one thing to steal the gold, and it was another to steal Madeline. The road south was a country road, and Austin had to make up for lost time. He figured they had perhaps a ten-minute head start, and that was a lot. As he rounded a slight bend, Austin was amazed to see the white van on the side of the road. Two men held umbrellas while a third was trying to change a rear tire in the dawn light. Behind the van was Badeau’s car.

Austin jammed on the brakes and his car slid past the van on the wet gravel. He emerged from his car and opened the rear door. Slowly and deliberately he put on his work gloves and removed the three-foot-long piece of wrought-iron rod he had remembered to bring. He walked toward the three men in the style of a locomotive. Keeping his eyes on the surprised three, he took the rod and stabbed the radiator of the van, causing a burst of hot coolant to spray onto the ground. He did not know what the result of this confrontation might be, but he was making sure that the van would not move. Austin withdrew the metal rod from the radiator as if it were a sword and paused before his first potential victim.

“Hey, it looks like you have more problems than a bad tire,” said Austin. “I think someone just poked a hole in your fuckin’ radiator. You better make sure that gets cleaned up. I also want to apologize for not telling you to go to the left of the tree back at the monastery so that you would not get a hole in your tire, but you left too quickly. Now tell me, you little son of a bitch—where is Madeline?”

Simon stood up and gestured with his knife threateningly. Without speaking Austin took a posture that suggested that he might swing the rod at Simon, but instead he turned the rod quickly and jabbed it into Simon’s stomach. The two-bit crook from Marseille folded like a wet paper bag and fell to his knees. Austin swung the rod like a Louisville Slugger, landing it on Simon’s right arm. Without question, this broke Simon’s arm; he screamed in pain, and his knife flew under the van. Austin, the former linebacker, grabbed Simon by his jacket and slammed him against the van, knocking it off the jack.

“You’re frickin’ dead,” announced Austin. He lifted Simon over his head and tossed him onto the road. Simon screamed in pain; his head and face were bleeding.

“Now, where is Madeline?”

Badeau was quick to speak up. “She is in the van, Monsieur Clay. We tried to protect her.”

Austin opened the rear door of the van and found Madeline lying on the floor, wet and unconscious. He carefully lifted her head, and her eyes opened and stared toward the dawn light. Then she looked up and saw Austin and grabbed his arm in fear. Carefully he picked her up, carried her to his car, and placed her in the front seat.

“That Simon man tried to kill me,” said Madeline, looking at the puncture in her yellow jacket. Austin carefully opened the jacket and found the paperback book she had been reading; the knife had entered at the front cover and proceeded to page 156. With Madeline safely in his car, he returned to the van and caught a smug expression on the face of Andre Bertrand, the art dealer.

Suddenly Bertrand understood that he might be next on Austin’s campaign of revenge. He let out a squeal and tried to run. Austin caught him by his jacket and turned him around.

“I do not like the idea of men hitting girls, but in your case I will make an exception.” With that, Austin punched Bertrand so hard that he broke his cheekbone, and Bertrand fell to the ground with a feminine scream.

Badeau stood by his car, frozen by the events that had taken place in the last few seconds. Austin walked up to him and said, clearly and firmly, “Put the gold into my car, and do it now.”