I cried out, “Cyrus!” and rushed at the Duster-but I knew it was too late. The wood was about to come down, and the crazed, bloodthirsty cackle that came out of the kid indicated how bad the hit would be. But then, in a flash what was barely comprehendible-
All the madness went out of the Duster’s face, and his eyes went round. He paused, arms high in the air, and then his jaw dropped into an expression of complete confusion. He managed to yell “Ding Dong?”-just that way, like a question-before he crumpled to the ground.
It was such a queer thing that everyone stopped for a few seconds to watch-except for me. Alone out of the group I had a view beyond the falling Duster, and I used it to quickly take in the street around us. My head moved just in time to see a little black kid-maybe ten years old, from the size of him, bushy-haired and dressed in clothes what were too big for him-running around the corner.
Ding Dong bolted over to his fallen boy, who by now was out cold. Miss Howard got her Duster to back off, finally, with the derringer, while Cyrus made ready to let Jimmy have another quick shot with the knuckles, one what Jimmy had the sense to run from. Ding Dong rolled the unconscious Duster over, and pulled something out of the back of his leg. “What the hell …?” he mumbled; then he looked up at me.
He was holding a plain, straight stick about ten inches long-and it was clear he figured I’d stuck his boy with it. “What the hell did you do to him, Stevie, you miserable-”
He made a run for me, but then Miss Howard fired the derringer into the air. That was enough for the Dusters, who’d rightly figured that she was mad enough by now to let one of them have her next bullet, what she quickly chambered. Like the miserable pack of crazed dogs they were, they all moved as one to pick up their unconscious pal, and then Ding Dong threw the stick down in front of me.
“I’ll remember this, Stevie,” he said quietly, without any grin now. “I’ll remember it when I’m giving Kat a good fuck tonight!”
With those words it was my turn to make a mad rush at him; but Cyrus got his big arms around me and I couldn’t do anything except watch Ding Dong laugh and disappear around the corner of Greenwich Street with his boys.
“And remember!” I heard him call from half a block away. “Stay away from that house-and that woman!”
The gunshot had brought the Isaacsons, the Doctor, and Mr. Moore out onto the street, while Nurse Hunter stood in her doorway, making like she was shocked and horrified by what was going on. We all managed to get ourselves calmed down, though in my case it was tough, and when the Doctor asked Miss Howard what had happened, she only said quietly, “Later, Doctor. I assume the child isn’t inside?”
The Doctor looked at her in a little surprise. “You assume correctly. But how?”
“This whole thing’s more complicated than it looks,” she answered, as she directed me to pick up the stick what’d struck the Duster. “And we need to get out of here. Now.”
The Doctor nodded, and then the four men re-approached Nurse Hunter, who’d come out onto the curb. “Were any of your people hurt, Doctor?” she asked, still seeming very concerned. “Can I help? I have some bandaging inside-”
“No, Mrs. Hunter,” he said, pretty sternly.
“There are some very dangerous types in this neighborhood, I’m afraid.” Nurse Hunter’s golden eyes locked onto the Doctor’s for just long enough to reveal that she meant her next words sincerely. “Perhaps you should go, before they come back with friends.”
The Doctor paused, studying her. “Yes,” he said. “Perhaps we should.”
“Let’s go, everybody, now!”Marcus called to the rest of us. “If I know the Dusters, they will be back, and there’ll be plenty of them.”
We all started to pile back onto and into the calash-all, that is, except for the Doctor. He stood looking at Nurse Hunter, waiting for her to say something more. She never broke under his gaze; and after a few seconds she just arched one eyebrow, smiled a bit, and said:
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be any help with your investigation.”
The Doctor paused a second before answering. “Oh, but you have been, Mrs. Hunter. You have been.” He took a step toward her-and she took a step back, for the first time looking like she wasn’t in complete control of the situation. “Our visit has been very illuminating. And we shall continue our work. Rest-no-be assured of that.”
Finally he turned and got back into the calash. As he did, I saw Nurse Hunter spin on her heel, a lethal look coming into her face, and then charge through her front door, which she closed with a slam.
Frederick was by now fairly calm, but it wouldn’t have taken much to set him off again; so I didn’t give him the reins as a way of telling him to move, just clicked my tongue and let him set a pace of his own choosing, knowing that such freedom would work the last of the spook out of him. For the rest of us, however, that job would be a good piece more difficult. In the space of maybe ten minutes, an awful lot had happened, though none of us yet knew just how much; nor was any of us in a condition to launch into anything more than a brief recounting of the facts, so harrowing had our various sets of experiences been.
The first real order of business, as we crossed over Hudson Street and out of Duster territory, was a more practical affair: to make sure that the blows Cyrus had taken were not serious. Because of the great affection everyone had for the man, this turned out to be an effective and calming distraction. Cyrus and Mr. Moore switched places in the carriage-Mr. Moore joining me up top-so that the Doctor could give Cyrus’s ribs and chest a quick examination while the others anxiously asked him how he felt. He was bruised, all right, but unbroken, thanks to the enormous amounts of muscle that protected his bones. He’d been damned lucky-all of us out on the street had been, really, given who we’d been dealing with. As for what possible interest Ding Dong and the Hudson Dusters could have had in Elspeth Hunter or her house, that was, of course, only one of the hundred questions what had appeared unexpectedly, like ghouls, during our brief stop at Bethune Street; and it was quickly decided by the adults that they needed strong drink and perhaps some food in order to start sifting through it all. The pleasant morning had turned into a fine afternoon, with a cool north wind keeping temperatures in the low seventies. Given these conditions, we determined to make once again for the safe, inviting atmosphere of the outdoor terrace at the Café Lafayette, in order to digest some lunch along with our exploits.
CHAPTER 18
By the time we entered the Lafayette and got to our table on the greenery-covered terrace, we’d all recovered enough to start smiling and even laughing a little at what we’d been through.
“Well!” Miss Howard said with a big, astonished sigh, as she sat and took a menu from our waiter. “I hate to be the one to start asking stupid questions, but if Ana Linares isn’t in Nurse Hunter’s house, where in the world is she?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus answered, “but between us we covered every inch of every floor of that place-”
“Including the basement,” Lucius threw in, scanning his menu.
“-and there was no sign of a baby.” Marcus let his head rest on one hand in bewildered weariness. “No sign at all.”
“The only thing I can suggest,” Mr. Moore said, grabbing at the wine list, “given what happened to the three of you on the street, is that the Dusters are in on it, and they’ve got her somewhere.”
I’d sat down on the floor and started to crawl in amongst some bushy greenery what ran along the iron rail at the edge of the terrace (the good-natured waiters generally let me do that); but Mr. Moore’s words made me pause. “The Dusters?” I said. “In on this kind of thing?”