Wolfe held his right hand aloft. “Enough!” he bellowed. “Control them or else!” He motioned at one of the guards. “Take him to the cells as I ordered!” he snapped, pointing to Hickok.
A pair of guards gripped the gunman under the arms and hauled him from the audience chamber.
“And you,” the Mole leader said, leering at Sherry, “will provide me with hours of amusement. I’m not afraid of your claws, witch! I like it when a woman fights me.”
Goldman, his left hand pressed over his left eye, blood seeping between his fingers, moaned.
Wolfe glanced at his injured subject. “Take the woman to my private chambers,” he ordered.
Goldman glared at Sherry with his good eye. “Get going, you bitch!” He pushed her so hard she stumbled and nearly fell.
“Goldman!” Wolfe barked.
Goldman looked up.
“If one hair on her beautiful head is damaged,” Wolfe warned, “that little scratch will be the very least of your worries.”
Goldman, furious, his face livid, bowed and nodded at three of the guards. Two fell in on either side of Sherry and one brought up the rear as Goldman led them from the audience room.
Sherry searched for the men carrying Hickok, but they were out of sight and she had no idea which direction they’d taken.
Goldman turned at the intersection, his hand still over his eye. “You may be under Wolfe’s protection now,” he snarled. “But he’ll tire of you soon enough, and then any man can bid for you. I intend to make sure I’m the one who gets you, and when I do, bitch, I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done to me!”
Sherry, taking her cue from Hickok’s example, mocked Goldman by saying sarcastically, “Should I tremble now or later?”
Chapter Sixteen
Cindy and Tyson located the one they sought after the Family’s evening meal. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone.
“What do we do?” Tyson queried his sister as they paused twenty yards from the four people resting under a pine tree.
“We don’t have any choice,” Cindy replied. “We have to tell him now.”
“But Plato, Jenny, and Joshua are with him,” Tyson objected. “Should we involve them?”
“They’re already involved,” Cindy declared, “whether they know it or not.”
“I hope we’re doing the right thing,” Tyson said apprehensively.
“Only one way to find out.” Cindy mentally calmed her jittery nerves and boldly walked toward the seated quartet. How would they take the news of Napoleon’s treachery? Would they even believe her? After all, she wasn’t a legitimate Family member. Tyson and she were orphans, taken into the fold and, in a sense, adopted. They had only been in the Home several months. Would the others believe them?
Plato was leaning against the trunk of the tree, resting his head against the bark. His long gray hair and beard enhanced his aged appearance. He was talking to the trio encircling him, his features animated and his gentle blue eyes lively. His frail frame was attired in a brown shirt and pants.
Joshua, the youngest Family Empath, a devoutly spiritual man, wore a large Latin cross draped around his neck. His lengthy brown hair swayed in the cool breeze. He was leaning back on his elbows, heedless of the dirt smudging his faded green pants and blue shirt.
Jenny, Blade’s intended, casually ran her right hand across her forehead, sweeping her blonde bangs aside. She was one of the Family Healers, and this evening she was wearing a yellow blouse and patched jeans.
It was the fourth person who spotted the approaching brother and sister first. A smallish, wiry man with black hair and dark, penetrating eyes, he wore baggy black pants and a loose-fitting blue shirt. Clutched in his right hand was a long black scabbard.
“He’s seen us,” Tyson stated.
“I know,” Cindy confirmed.
Plato ceased talking as the duo joined his group. “Well, we have company,” he announced. “Hello, Cindy. And Tyson.”
Cindy couldn’t take her eyes off the Warrior with the sword.
“Hi, Plato,” Tyson said, returning his greeting. “Everybody.” He nodded at the others.
“If you don’t mind my saying so,” Plato astutely observed, “I can’t help but notice you both seem somewhat… troubled. Is anything wrong?”
“We came to talk to Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,” Cindy explained.
“Oh? Would you prefer it if we leave you alone?” Plato asked.
Tyson looked at Cindy, letting her take the lead.
“No,” Cindy responded. “That’s not necessary. What we have to say concerns all of you too.”
Jenny was smiling. “You make it sound so serious.”
“It is,” Cindy affirmed gravely. “We have…” she began, then stopped as Tyson jerked her blouse. “What is it?” she demanded, annoyed at the interruption.
Tyson, his face pale, was pointing to their right.
“What…” Cindy followed the direction his finger indicated, her eyes widening in alarm.
“It’s Napoleon!” Tyson whispered, frightened.
“Is something wrong?” Plato questioned them.
Napoleon was strolling toward them, his hand idly resting on the butt of his revolver.
“He knows!” Tyson, horrified, exclaimed. “He knows!”
“Look at me!”
Cindy and Tyson, openly stunned by Napoleon’s appearance, turned at the command of the low, forceful voice.
“Close your eyes,” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi calmly directed. “Now!”
They both hastily complied.
“Take deep breaths,” Rikki advised. “Slowly. Relax. He is still a ways off. Don’t open your eyes!” he ordered Tyson. “Slowly breathe in and out. Restore your balance. Good. Now open your eyes and smile.”
Cindy and Tyson obeyed.
“Now act like nothing is the matter,” Rikki said.
“What’s going on?” Jenny asked, confused, glancing over her shoulder.
“It’s only Napoleon.”
Plato, his brow furrowed, looked at Joshua. “Will you do something for me?”
Joshua eagerly nodded. “Anything. You know that.”
“Devise a pretext and take Napoleon away from here.”
“Why…” Joshua started to speak.
“There isn’t time for explanations,” Plato stated hastily. “Please do as I ask and I will reveal my motives later.”
They fell silent and a few moments later Napoleon reached them. “Mind if I join yon?” he inquired, standing next to Cindy. “I have some time to kill before my next shift. A Warrior’s work is never done,” he joked, grinning.
“Whose is?” Plato rejoined in a friendly tone. “Why don’t you have a seat. I’m attempting to elucidate the historical importance of philosophy in human culture.”
“Oh, really?”
Joshua rose to his feet, dusting his clothes with his hands. “I’ve already heard Plato’s views on the subject a dozen times. If you don’t mind,” he said, glancing at Napoleon, “I’d like to have some words with you.”
“What about?” Napoleon asked defensively.
Joshua walked to Napoleon and placed his left arm around the Gamma Triad leader’s shoulders. “As you well know, I make it my business to cultivate spiritual awareness in all of our brothers and sisters. I try to spend time with each of our brethren on a regular basis, answering questions and assisting them where necessary. More often than not, I learn more than I teach.” He beamed at Napoleon. “And guess who I haven’t talked with in quite a while?”
Napoleon, knowing the answer, shook his head. “There’s no need to…”
“Ah!” Joshua cut him off. “But there is. Inner spiritual harmony, knowing we are sons or daughters of a Cosmic Creator, is essential to mental peace and physical well-being. Would you begrudge me the time until your shift, Napoleon?”