The man let go of his whistle.
“How many are in there with him?” he asked.
“He’s alone. He went in alone,” the man said, his voice trembling.
“Good.” And with that Fielding slammed the butt of his gun against the man’s temple.
“We can hold them,” Max said.
“Go,” Nick urged.
“Let’s go find the Raven,” Fielding said as he held his hand out to Esme.
Before they left the courtyard, Esme turned to look at the moon, slowly climbing the night sky.
“Come, Esme.”
She nodded and together they slid into the Jewel House. They stood still a moment, allowing their eyes to adjust to the limited light. Someone had taken the torches out of the hallway, shrouding it in near darkness. Thin shafts of light from the moon slipped in through the narrow slits in the wall and gave them a small measure of visibility.
“Do you know where they are?” Esme whispered. “The jewels, I mean.”
“We have to get down to the lowest spot in this tower. There is a room at the end of a long hallway. They should be in there.”
Together Esme and Fielding wound down the spiral stone steps, keeping close to the wall until they came to the hallway at the bottom. The cold stone acted as an anchor, like a shrubbery wall in a garden maze. They followed the hall to the right and there found a relatively well-lit corridor. Two wall torches remained in their sconces.
Esme nearly screamed when they came across a guard who had met an untimely demise. There was a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead; blood pooled beneath his lifeless body.
Fielding pulled her tighter to him and ran his hand across her back in a vain attempt to soothe her. “Shhh,” he whispered.
The familiar scent of the Raven’s tobacco filled the air.
They were getting close.
Farther down the hall, glass shattered. One of the display cases, Fielding guessed. They quickened their pace. Then he held out his hand, stopping just short of the passageway that led to the room where the jewels were stored.
“Stay behind me,” Fielding said. “And try to hold your pistol steady.”
She nodded.
Meeting her eyes, he leaned in for a quick kiss. “Be safe,” he told her.
He held up his own pistol, and together they stepped into the room.
The Raven stood amid broken glass cases, holding a large sack already half full of the royal jewels. A large sapphire necklace dangled from his hand. Behind him another guard lay slumped against the wall, two bullet wounds in his chest.
“You know I’m not going to let you out of here with that,” Fielding said as he pointed the gun at his uncle.
They had him trapped; there was no way out of the room except around them.
The Raven tilted his head back and laughed. “Fielding, my boy, you always did know precisely how to ruin my fun.”
“We’ll take the box now.” Fielding said, moving toward the golden artifact lying by the Raven’s boot. Along with Thatcher’s hand. He took three steps forward, aiming his gun right at the Raven’s heart.
“What are you going to do, Fielding? Shoot me?” the Raven asked.
It was a fair question, one he’d been asking himself all day. If given the chance, would he be able to do it? Perhaps he might have been prepared to kill the Raven, but his own father? He wasn’t certain he’d be able to pull the trigger.
The Raven took a step forward, and in doing so stepped right up to the gun so that it pressed into his shirt. “One shot, that’s all it would take.”