“Boy Howdy!” Mike yelled. “That was close, huh? Took heavy casualties, but we kinda expected that goin’ in, right? The main thing is we got the Sword. Got the Sword and saved the world, not bad for a night’s work, huh?”
I leaned back, the Sword against my chest, still breathing heavily.
Mike said, “Pretty quick thinking back there, Al. You and Benny plan it that way, or was it all your idea?”
I didn’t say anything. That didn’t seem to matter to Mike. He kept talking.
“Darn it, dropped my cell back there in the fight. Well, everybody’s on standby anyway. Me and Jeff have been together since Cairo—that wacky death-cult thing in the Valley of Kings. But, oh, jeez, enough about that, that’s all classified. Anyway, I’m gonna miss that son of a gun and what a dingy-darn shame about Benny, huh? Heck of a guy. Heck of a guy. If I had my cell I’d call in a couple of Stealths and knock the living you-know-what out of that medieval madman, take out those thousand-year-old rocks with him. Small price to pay, don’t ya think?”
“Did you kill him?” I asked.
He laughed. “What do you think, Al?”
“I don’t think you did.” I sat up and pressed the tip of the blade against Mike’s neck.
He didn’t react, except his hands tightened slightly on the wheel.
“Stop the car, Mike.”
“Hey, Al. Ally boy. What the heck are you doing?”
“Stop the car, Mike.”
He slowed down and pulled to the side of the road.
“Okay, now what? Talk to me, Al. What’s this all about?”
I wasn’t sure. I was making this up as I went along. “Give me your gun. No, Mike, with your left hand. Keep the right on the wheel. Slowly, Mike.” I took the gun from over his left shoulder and slipped it under my belt.
“Okay,” I said. “Now put your left hand back on the wheel.”
“Al, I’m one of the good guys, remember?” His voice was calm enough, but he was working the gum hard. “Look, nobody’s sorrier about Benny than me. That was a damn shame, but you were there, you saw—what did you want me to do about it?”
“You set him up.”
“Ah, come on, Al!”
“You planned it from the beginning. Mogart didn’t want just the money. He wanted Bennacio too.”
Mike didn’t have anything to say to that. He was watching me in the rearview mirror. I knew I was right when he didn’t say anything.
“And you set up Mr. Samson and the rest of the knights in Spain. You tipped off Mogart they were coming.”
He shook his head, smiling now. “Why would I do that, Alfred?”
“Because you both knew the same thing: As long as the knights lived, they were the only hope of ever keeping the Sword safe. You both needed them out of the way. So you made them part of the deal.”
“Man, that’s a pretty interesting theory, Al.”
“Mr. Samson trusted you to do the right thing,” I said. “He didn’t have to tell you about the Sword and you double-crossed him. Bennacio knew you were double-crossing us tonight, but he didn’t see how he had a choice. He took a vow, see . . . he gave his word . . .”
“Look, Al, no offense, I know you mean well and everything, but you’re in this thing way over your head. Put down the Sword, pal. We’ll talk about this on the plane, okay? Don’t you want to go home?”
“I don’t have a home anymore.”
“Really?” He whistled. “That’s gotta be tough. I’m truly sorry to hear that, Al. Well, we could take you anywhere you want to go. Natalia is still at the château. You wanna see her? You got kind of a thing for her, don’t you?”
I didn’t say anything, but I could feel my face get hot. Mike Arnold noticed me blushing and smiled.
“Get out of the car,” I said.
“Al . . .”
I pushed on his neck with the tip of the Sword.
“Okay, I’m getting out.”
He opened his door and stepped onto the road. I got out and pointed the gun at his head.
“Get down on your stomach and fold your hands on the back of your head.”
“You’re making a huge mistake here, Al. A heck of a boner . . .”
“Lay down, Mike. I’ll shoot if you don’t.”
“You think so? I’m sorry, Al, but I really don’t think you can.”
He took a step toward me and the gun went off. We both jumped. Neither of us was expecting that. I couldn’t even remember pulling the trigger.
“All righty then,” Mike said softly. He lay down.
“Hands on the back of your head,” I told him.
He laced his fingers behind his head.
“Where do you think you’re gonna go, Alfred? You can’t get out of the country, and what are you goin’ to do with the Sword? Take over the world? Donate it to the Smithsonian? You’re not thinking this through, kid.”
“Good-bye, Mike,” I said, and I climbed into the car and drove off. I kept looking in the rearview mirror, but I never saw Mike get up.
44
The steering wheel was on the wrong side and I had trouble keeping the car on the road; the right wheels kept dropping off the road until I remembered I was supposed to be driving on the left side. That made it a little better, but it still felt funny. I knew I needed to ditch the car as soon as possible: A Bentley’s a little too conspicuous for a getaway car.
I drove aimlessly through the English countryside, not even knowing what direction I was heading. I kept going until I came to a road that looked bigger and kept taking bigger roads until I came to a highway or whatever they’re called in England, and after a few miles passed a sign that read: “London 40 miles.”
The traffic began to pick up as I got closer to the city. I drove with both hands on the wheel, my knuckles bone white, the Sword lying on the seat beside me. I couldn’t stop yawning, and all I wanted to do was pull to the side of the road and go to sleep, but I kept driving.
The sun was rising by the time I reached the outskirts of London. I was definitely not driving into the heart of the city in a hot Bentley, so I pulled into the first hotel I saw in a place called Slough. I took off my jacket and wrapped the Sword in it, but that left the butt of the gun sticking up from my waistband in full view. I worried what to do about this and if the clerk would wonder why this fifteen-year-old kid was checking in without any bags or parents, and why I had a jacket in the shape of a large sword. But some things you can’t do anything about, so I pushed the gun all the way down, into my underwear. The cold metal of the barrel pressed against my groin.