Austin took the poker from her hand. 'Insurance,' he said.
He went into the bathroom and came out a minute later.
'Do you smoke?' Austin said.
'Not for many years. Why?'
'You were right to worry.' He produced a cigarette butt. 'I found a pile of these in the bathtub. Someone was waiting for you to come home.'
Skye shuddered. 'Why did he leave?'
'Whatever the reason, it was lucky for you that he did. Tell me about Renaud.'
They cleared off the sofa and Skye recounted the details of her visit to the university office building. 'Am I crazy connecting this disaster and the search of my office to Renaud's murder?'
'You'd be crazy not to make the connection. Is there anything missing from your apartment?'
She looked around the living room and shook her head. 'It's impossible to tell.' Her eye fell on the telephone answering machine.
'Strange,' she said. 'When I left the apartment, there were only two messages on the machine. Now there are four.' 'One is from me. I called as soon as I got into Paris.' 'Someone must have listened to the last two messages, because the light isn't blinking.'
Austin hit the play button and heard his recorded voice saying that he couldn't reach her at her office, and was going to drop by her apartment on the chance she might be between home and work. He hit the play button again. Darnay's voice came on.
'Skye. It's Charles. I was wondering if I could take the helmet with me to my villa. It's proving more challenging than I anticipated.'
'Dear God,' she said, her face waxen. 'Whoever was waiting for me must have heard the message.' 'Who is Charles?' Austin said.
'A friend. He is a dealer in rare arms and armor. I left the helmet with him to examine. Wait ' She salvaged her address book from a pile of papers and looked under the Ds. A page was torn out. She showed the book to Austin. 'Whoever was here has tracked down Darnay.'
'Try to warn him.'
She picked up the telephone, dialed a number and listened for several moments. 'No one is answering. What should we do?' 'The smart thing would be to call the police.' She frowned. 'Charles wouldn't like that. He operates his business on the fringes of the law and sometimes beyond that. He'd never forgive me if the police descended on his place and started poking around.'
'What if his life depended on it?'
'He didn't answer the phone. Maybe he's not even there. Maybe we're worrying for nothing.'
Austin was less optimistic, but he didn't want to waste precious time in a fruitless argument. 'How far is the shop from here?'
'On the Right Bank. Ten minutes by taxi.'
'I've got a car outside. We'll do it in five.'
They ran for the stairs.
THE A N TIQU E SHOP window was dark and the door was locked. Skye produced one of the few keys Darnay had entrusted to outsiders, and opened the door. A line of light seeped out from under the office curtains.
Austin cautiously pushed the curtain aside. The bizarre scene that greeted him looked like an exhibition in a wax museum. A kneeling gray-haired man had his chin resting on a wooden shipping container, like a condemned man with his head on the chopping block. His hair was disheveled; he was bound hand and foot, his mouth gagged with duct tape.
A big man stood over him like an executioner, leaning on a long two-handed broadsword, a black mask covering the upper part of his face. The executioner looked up and smiled at Austin. He pulled the mask off, threw it aside and raised the sword over Darnay's neck. The light gleamed wickedly on the double-edged blade.
'Please stay,' he said in a voice that was surprisingly high-pitched for his size. 'Your friend here would simply lose his head if you left.'
Skye dug her fingers into Austin's arm, but he hardly noticed. Austin remembered the descriptions he had heard and knew that he was looking at the fake reporter who had flooded the glacial tunnel.
'Why would we leave?' Austin said nonchalantly. 'We just got here.'
The dough-faced man smiled, but his sword remained poised over Darnay's neck.
'This man has been very foolish,' he said. He glanced at a shelf lined with old helmets. 'He refuses to tell me which of these head pots is the one I'm looking for.'
Darnay's stubbornness had probably saved his life, Austin thought. The old man must have known he'd be killed as soon as his assailant got what he came for.
'I'm sure any one of them would fit you,' Austin said helpfully. The man ignored the suggestion and fastened his gaze on Skye. 'You'll tell me, won't you? You're the expert on these things.' 'You killed Renaud, didn't you?' Skye said. 'Don't shed any tears for Renaud. He told me where to find you,' the man said. The sword elevated a few inches. 'Show me the helmet you removed from the glacier and I'll let you all go.'
Not lively, Austin thought. Once Renaud's killer had the helmet, he would dispatch all three of them. Austin decided to make a move even though it meant gambling with Darnay's life. He'd been eyeing a battle-ax on a wall a few feet away. He stepped over and snatched the weapon off its hooks.
'I'd suggest you put that sword down,' he said, his voice low and cool.
'Would you like me to put it down on Monsieur Darnay's neck?' 'You could do that,' Austin said, his eyes locked on the man's face so there would be no miscalculation. 'But then your fat bald head would be rolling on the floor next to his.'
He hefted the ax for emphasis. The weapon was primitive but fearsome. The carbon steel head was elongated and designed so it could be used as a spear. A spike stuck out from behind the ax head like the sharp beak of a stork. Metal lange lets extended from the ax head to protect the hardwood shaft.
The man pondered Austin's taunt. He knew from the uncompromising tone of Austin's voice that if he killed Darnay or Skye, he'd be a dead man. He would have to take care of Austin first, and then deal with the others. Austin had anticipated the move, actually welcomed it. In his experience, big men sometimes underestimated lesser human beings.
The man took a step toward Austin, raised the sword high and quickly brought it down in a blurry arc. Austin was unprepared for the move and realized it was he who had underestimated his opponent. Despite his large physical bulk, the man moved with feline quickness. Austin's reflexes took hold before his mind had time to process the metallic blur. His arms came up, holding the ax levelly in front of him.
The sword blade clanged against the ax shaft's protective sheathing. Shards of pain stabbed Austin's arms from the shock of the powerful blow and the blade stopped mere inches above his head, but he pushed the sword off, slid his hand down the shaft and swung the ax like a Louisville Slugger. It was an aggressive move fueled in part by the urgent need to defend his life. There was another reason; he simply didn't like this guy.
The deadly ax blade would have eviscerated the big man had he not seen the windup and leaned back at the waist. Austin was learning the hard way that there was more to medieval arm-to-arm combat than sheer muscle. The weight of the ax head whipped him around like a centrifuge. He spun in a full circle before he was able to check his swing.
Doughboy was driven back by the unexpected ferocity of the attack, but he recovered quickly. Seeing that Austin's wild swing had thrown him off balance, he changed tactics. He held the sword straight out in front of him and lunged.
It was a clever move. The sword point only needed to penetrate Austin's defense by a few inches to kill him. Austin sucked his chest in and sprang back, turning his side to his attacker. He evaded the
main thrust, which slipped past the upraised ax, but the sword tip punched a hole in his shirt and drew blood. Austin whacked the sword aside and responded with a jabbing attack of his own.
Austin was starting to get the feel of the ax. The weapon was the M-16 rifle of its day. With it, an infantryman could hook a knight off his horse, hack through his armor and stab him to death. The long shaft gave Austin an edge and he found that short swings and jabs were the deadliest way to use the weapon.
Doughboy was learning as well. He slashed ineffectively at the sharp tip as he backed up in the face of Austin's resolute advance. He stopped with his back to the table that was piled high with helmets. Unable to retreat
