The Governor's Gun Page 9

  “What about your chief?”

  “I’m sure he’ll think the same thing.”

  “How are you doing with finding Eve?” Clint asked.

  “I have a few leads,” Taylor said. “How about you? Find out anything?”

  Clint wondered if he should give the detective his leads, or keep them to himself. It was more than likely this attempt on his life was connected to Eve. After all, she was a prostitute, and the woman who tried to kill him was a known prostitute. Although it looked to Clint like Leah was an assassin who used the life of a prostitute as a cover.

  No, he decided, for the time being he should keep all his information to himself.

  “No,” he said. “I haven’t found out anything.”

  “Which makes it odd that someone sent Leah after you,” Taylor said. “That is, if this attempt on your life is connected to Miss Hancock’s disappearance.”

  “Well,” I said, “maybe one of us will be able to find the answer.”

  There was another policeman there, and people in the hall, so Taylor said, “Get these people back inside.” He turned to Clint. “We’ll talk again.”

  “I’ll walk down with you,” Clint said, “and arrange for another room.”

  They went down to the lobby together.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Clint spent a remarkably restful night in his new suite. He doubted another attempt would be made on his life that night, not until the word got out about Leah’s death.

  When he had invited Leah to his room, he hadn’t expected that they would have sex. From the moment he felt the weight of the gun in her bag, he knew what she was there for. He thought to disarm her, and then find out who sent her. But she was possibly one of the sexiest women he’d ever been in a room with, and he hadn’t been able to help himself. He thought she might have suffered the same feelings. In the end it had led to her death. He remembered the tears in her eyes just before she grabbed her gun. She might have been sad about what she had to do, but she was still going to do it. He suspected that—other than falling into bed with him—she had been a thoroughly professional assassin. Especially if the law had no idea she was plying that trade in Austin.

  Clint met Danny in the lobby and they went into breakfast together.

  “How was your night?” Danny asked, once they’d ordered.

  “You had to ask,” Clint said.

  “Bad?”

  “The worst.”

  Clint found it odd that his only confidant in Austin was this young cab driver. He simply told Danny that someone had tried to kill him, and had failed.

  “You killed them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow,” Danny said. “What was that about?”

  “One of two things, and I don’t think anyone would try to kill me because I’m building a gun for the governor.”

  “What are you gonna tell Miss Adrienne?” Danny asked.

  “Nothing, yet,” Clint said. “I’ve still got a man to talk to.”

  “So let’s go do that?”

  “Not so easy,” Clint said.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, he’s a man of some influence here in town,” Clint said. “I could be asking for trouble by accusing him of something.”

  “Are you afraid of him?” Danny asked.

  Clint smiled.

  “No, I’m not afraid, Danny,” he said. “But I have to be . . . wise about it. And cautious.”

  “Jesus,” Danny said, “it ain’t the governor, is it?”

  “No,” Clint said. “It’s not the governor . . . but you’re close.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  When the man heard about the incident involving Clint Adams, he called for Harold Wheeler. Wheeler came in and presented himself in front of the man’s desk.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Adams killed Leah.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” the man said. “I just got the word. I thought she was good.”

  “She’s the best—at least, she was the best,” Wheeler said. “She never failed at a job before. Then again, she never went up against somebody like the Gunsmith before.”

  “Stupid damn idea to try and kill him,” the man said. “After all we went through to get him here.”

  “Well, he started looking for that girl—”

  “We’re going to have to go back to the original plan,” the man said, cutting him off.

  Wheeler thought that was a good idea. He hadn’t liked the idea of killing Clint Adams—not when they had brought him all this way.

  “All right.”

  “But we’re going to need to replace Leah,” the man said. “Get to work on that.”

  “Yessir.”

  “And get a man this time!” the man said. “Crazy idea anyway, hiring a woman to kill a man like Clint Adams. Goddamnit!”

  “It was just a thought—”

  “Get out, Wheeler!”

  Wheeler got out.

  * * *

  The man sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. Goddamn Adams anyway for meeting that woman on the train. They sure didn’t need a coincidence like that to get in the way.

  Back to the original plan.

  * * *

  Outside the building, Wheeler thought that when he’d hired Leah, he was The Man. But when he was inside this building, he wasn’t anybody. It was only outside that he was. Somehow he was going to have to change that, but for now, he had to do what he was told.

  He thought about Jake Kendall.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Clint decided his best option was the most direct. He also had to accept the coincidence behind the whole thing. After all, he had been on the same train with Adrienne, and he was never one to ignore a beautiful woman. Maybe it was inevitable that they’d meet, and he’d become involved in the search for her missing sister.

  “Okay, Danny,” he said as they rose from the breakfast table.

  “You make your decision, boss?”

  “Yeah,” Clint said. “Take me to the Capitol.”

  “Get ya there in a flash,” Danny said excitedly.

  * * *

  Danny was true to his word. Before he knew it, they had pulled up in front of the Capitol Building.

  “Okay, Danny,” Clint said, stepping down, “you just wait here.”

  “Why don’t I come in with you, and watch your back?” Danny suggested.

  Clint walked up to the front door and presented himself to the two armed soldiers.

  “I’d like to see Mr. Wheeler,” he said.

  “Mr. Wheeler is not in the Capitol Building at this time, sir,” one guard said.

  “Can you tell me where he is?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Can you tell me where his office is? Is it in this building?”

  “No, sir,” the other soldier said. “Mr. Wheeler has an office in a building a few blocks from here.” The soldier pointed to his own right. “That way.”

  “Do you know the address?”

  “No, sir,” one soldier said.

  “But it’s a big rust-colored brick building,” the other one said.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Clint walked back to the cab and climbed aboard, told Danny what the soldiers had said.

  “We’ll find it, boss,” Danny assured him, flicking the reins at his horse.

  They drove several blocks before they finally saw a building that matched the description given by the soldier.

  “This looks like it,” Danny said, pulling to a stop in front.

  Clint stepped down and looked at Danny, who said, “I know, wait here.”

  “Good man.”

  The building reminded Clint of the one where h
e had found Van Eyck. This one, however, had four floors, and an elevator. Luckily, the board in the lobby told him that Wheeler’s office was on the second floor. There was nothing on the board but the man’s name, Harold Wheeler, and the room number of the office he was in.

  Clint took the stairs to the second floor and found Wheeler’s office. He opened the door and entered. There was an outer office with a desk, but no girl sitting there. The door to Wheeler’s office was closed. Clint tried it, found it unlocked. He opened the door and went in, found it empty. Aside from the desk, there were two chairs—one in front and one behind—and a file cabinet. He opened the drawers of the cabinet. They were empty.

  He was going through the desk when he heard the outer door open and close. Expecting it to be Wheeler, he sat back in the man’s chair and folded his hands. Only the man who appeared in the doorway wasn’t Wheeler. He was tall, rangy, in his thirties, wearing a gun and holster. His hat and clothing were clean, but what a man would wear on the trail.

  “Oh,” he said, “I thought you were Wheeler.”

  “That’s funny,” Clint said. “I thought you were Wheeler.”

  “Who are you?” the man asked.

  “You first,” Clint said. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Jake Kendall. Now you.”

  “Clint Adams.”

  If Kendall recognized his name, he didn’t show it.

  “You lookin’ for Wheeler?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Whataya want with him?”

  “Just some questions.”

  Kendall looked undecided about what to say or do.

  “Do you know where he us?” Clint asked.

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be here lookin’ for him, would I?” the man said.

  “Good point,” Clint said. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “Nope,” Kendall said.

  “Then I guess we’re both out of luck,” Clint said.

  “Looks like it.”

  The two men stared at each other.

  “I guess I’ll be goin’,” Kendall said.

  “I’ll stay around for a while,” Clint said. “Anything you’d like me to tell him if he shows up?”

  “No,” Kendall said, “that’s okay. I’ll catch up with him.”

  “Suit yourself,” Clint said.

  The man withdrew. Clint heard the outer door open and close. He wondered if he should follow the man, but Kendall had made a good point. If he had any idea where Wheeler was, he wouldn’t be there looking for him.

  He started looking through the desk again . . .

  * * *

  Clint spent a good twenty minutes searching the desk and the office. By the time he was done, he was convinced this wasn’t really Wheeler’s office, just a place he used as a “drop.” That was what his friend Secret Service Agent Jim West would have called it.

  He left the building, found that Danny was gone. He was standing there, trying to decide what to do, when Danny came down the street ad pulled up.

  “What happened?” Clint asked.

  “I saw a man go in and come out pretty quick,” Danny said.

  “And?”

  “I had a feeling I should follow him, so I did.”

  “That was a pretty weird feeling to get.”

  “Was I wrong? You and him didn’t talk?”

  “No, no,” Clint said, “you were right. I’m just saying it’s . . . weird.”

  Clint climbed into the cab.

  “Take me to wherever he went.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Danny drove a few streets, then started to slow down.

  Clint leaned forward and said, “Don’t stop right in front of where he went.”

  Danny nodded, shook his reins at his horse to get him going again, then reined him in.

  “It’s back a ways, a few storefronts,” he told Clint. “A small saloon.”

  “Okay,” Clint said. “I’ll have a look. You stay here.”

  “What do I do if I see him again?” Danny asked. “What if he comes out before you?”

  “That’s okay,” Clint said. “Just let him go. If that happens.”

  Danny frowned but said, “You’re the boss.”

  Clint got out of the cab and walked back to the small saloon Danny had indicated. There was a sign above the door that just said SALOON, and one window in the front. Clint carefully peered in the window, careful not to be visible from inside. He saw Jake Kendall standing at the bar, talking to the bartender and having a beer. There seemed to be only one or two other men in the place.

  Clint wasn’t quite sure why Danny had followed the man, and why he was here now, looking through the window. He should have been looking for Harold Wheeler. He would probably be better off going back to the Capitol and asking the lieutenant governor where his aide was.

  At that moment, as he was about to leave, he saw Kendall push away from the bar, walk to the back of the room and through a door. Abruptly, Clint decided to go inside.

  He entered the saloon and walked to the bar. The other two customers did not pay any attention to him. The bartender watched him approach, a beefy man with hairy arms.

  And a tuft of black hair peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

  “Whataya have?”

  “I’m looking for Jake Kendall,” Clint said. “I was supposed to meet him here.”

  “Don’t know ’im,” the bartender said. “Whataya have, friend?”

  “Really? He told me to meet him here, that everybody who works here knows him.”

  “Well, I own the place and I don’t know him,” the bartender said.

  Clint studied the man for a few moments, then realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of him. This was a hard man who was not in the habit of talking, and Clint didn’t want to make a fuss at the moment.

  “Okay, my mistake,” he said, and left.

  * * *

  The bartender’s name was Ollie. As soon as Clint walked out, Ollie left the bar and went to the same door Clint had seen Kendall go through.

  “What?” Kendall asked as he entered.

  “A man was just here lookin’ for ya,” Ollie told him. “He said you told him to meet you here.”

  “I didn’t tell nobody nothin’,” Kendall said. “What’d he look like?”

  Ollie described Clint, and Kendall’s eyes widened.

  “That’s the man I saw in Wheeler’s office.”

  “He musta followed you here,” Ollie said.

  “Jesus Christ!” Kendall said. He pointed at the woman in the room, who was tied up and lying on a small bed. “What should we do with her?”

  “All I gotta tell ya is,” Ollie said, “get her outta my place!”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Clint went out the front door, looked both ways, and spotted what he wanted. An alley. He wanted to get around behind the building to find a door or a window. He wanted to know what was going on inside.

  He walked to the alley, saw that it was used for garbage. There was a pile of it outside a side door, but that didn’t help him. He walked past the garbage to the back of the cobblestoned alley, which curved around behind the building.

  He found what he wanted. Not only a back door, but two windows. He went to one window, found it completely blacked out from the inside. He moved to the second window. It was also blacked out, but there were a few small patches where whatever had been used to blacken it had fallen off. He put his eye to one of those and was able to see inside.

  He saw a small room with Jake Kendall talking to the bartender. There were some bare furnishings in the room, but he couldn’t see anything else—until Kendall moved. That was when he saw the trussed-up woman on the bed. She had red hair, and if
he didn’t know better, he would have thought it was Adrienne tied up in that room.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was Eve.

  * * *

  “What am I supposed to do with her?” Kendall asked.

  “Ask your boss.”

  “I would if I knew where he was!” Kendall complained.

  “Look,” Ollie said, “this ain’t my problem. I never agreed to have a kidnapped whore in my place. Get her out of here!”

  * * *

  Clint became aware of raised voices in the room, saw that the big bartender was getting red-faced. Kendall began to wave his arms, also becoming agitated. This did not bode well for the tied-up girl. Clint couldn’t tell whether she was awake, or asleep, but he figured, now that he had found her, he had to do something. He didn’t have time to go for the police.

  He figured out that the back door did not lead directly into the room. Instead, it probably led to a hallway. If he kicked the door in, they’d hear it. Maybe he could force it open quietly.

  He went to the door and tried it. It was locked, and solid. It would take a good kick to open it.

  He went back to the window, pressed his ear to it, trying to hear what the men were saying.

  * * *

  “Take her out the back door,” Ollie said loudly. “I don’t care what you do with her after that.”

  “I can’t go walkin’ around with a tied-up girl over my shoulder, Ollie,” Kendall said. “And I shouldn’t move her without talkin’ to Wheeler.”

  “If that politician has a problem, you tell him to come see me,” Ollie said. “I’ll straighten him out. I ain’t on his payroll!”

  “Yer takin’ my money, which comes from him,” Kendall argued.

  “I don’t care,” Ollie said angrily. “Get her outta here!”

  “Okay, okay,” Kendall said. “Lemme think. I gotta get a wagon or a buckboard and bring it around back.”

  “Go to the livery stable down the street,” Ollie said, “and tell Ted to let you have a buckboard. Tell ’im I sent you. That’s as involved as I’m gonna get.”