Golden Heart (The Lazarus Longman Chronicles) by P. J. Thorndyke Read Free Book Online Page B

make ready with your firearms,” he cautioned.
    A passageway led off from the tunnel, and Lazarus realized that most of it must have been hollowed out by the hands of natives centuries ago.
    “Stop,” Vasquez commanded. He knelt down and began sweeping the dusty floor with one hand. “Pass me the shovel, Hok’ee.”
    The shovel was passed—a simple folding one instantly recognizable to the military man—and Vasquez began to dig, churning up dirt and loose rubble. He appeared to strike something that brought him immense pleasure, for he flung aside his shovel and began digging with his hands. He eventually removed a tin ammunition box from the ground—rusted, dented and scarred.
    “Let’s see it, then,” said Lazarus.
    Vasquez bundled it under his arm. “Not so keen, limey. Let’s get out of this cave first and into daylight. Then I’ll say what happens next.”
    They made their way out, and Lazarus was just assessing the best way down the cliff face when a shot rang out and flaked off a chunk of rock by his feet with a loud ‘ping!’
    They all hit the dirt, and Lazarus drew his Starblazer. He could see men moving about down in the valley, and his first thought was that they had walked into a trap planned by Vasquez. But then he saw their uniforms. They were blue. Long dusters with stars and stripes on the arms. Some wore hats with crossed sabers. Yankees .
    “We got you surrounded, Vasquez!” somebody cried out.
    Hok’ee flipped open the carousel magazine in his Jericho and fed in a band of ammunition.
    “No!” said Lazarus. “There’s too many!”
    “Boy, you never seen Hok’ee and his Jericho in action!” said Vasquez. “He can wipe out a squad in ten seconds flat!”
    “They have snipers concealed in the bushes,” Lazarus insisted. “He’ll be killed before he pulls the trigger.”
    Vasquez poked his head above cover, then ducked immediately as a bullet ricocheted near his ear. “Alright, Hok’ee. Cool it while we think this over.”
    “This is the Unionist Partisan Rangers!” called up the voice again. “Come down with your guns holstered!”
    “Rebels! How the hell did they find us?” Vasquez demanded.
    “Let’s do as they say and see what they want,” said Katarina. She stood up slowly and slid her long pistol back into its holster, concealing it with her dress. Lazarus watched her, half expecting her head to get blown off at any second. She raised her arms and called down, “We surrender!”
    “Woman’s not as tough as she puts on,” Vasquez mumbled. “But she has a point. I don’t see any other way out of this.”
    “Maybe we can bargain with them,” Lazarus suggested.
    “Maybe. But you keep your yap shut about what I’ve got in this here box. I didn’t dig it up for these blue boys to get hold of.”
    They stood up together. After much encouragement, the reluctant Hok’ee joined them and they made their way down the cliff towards the partisans.
    They were a rag-tag group. Uniform was only adhered to in the navy blue of their garments and a few Union insignias, for they wore a variety of dusters, cavalry trousers and tatty coats. Their leader, a tall, thin black man stepped forward. “My name is Lieutenant Clay Thompson of the Unionist Partisan Rangers,” he said. “You are hereby under arrest in the name of the United States of America. Please hand over your firearms.”
    Lazarus and Vasquez reluctantly let the rebels seize their guns, although nobody thought to check their boots. Lazarus afforded himself an inward smile.
    “Christ, how do we get this thing off?” one of the rebels exclaimed, pointing at Hok’ee’s right arm.
    “You prize it loose from my dead body,” Hok’ee replied through a snarl.
    “If you insist,” said Lieutenant Thompson. “But I’d rather keep you all alive. For the time being.”
    After much coaxing from Vasquez and Lazarus, Hok’ee was finally convinced to unhinge the mighty Jericho gun. It took two men to lift it off his