Bone Key Read Free Page A

drenched his face and chest. Ben lay at the foot of the stairs, his head twisted oddly, his eyes sightless. Richard lay slumped halfway up the steps where he’d been working, and Marcus’ body had tumbled to a step just above. He could hear the storm pounding up there now, and could hear the big double doors crashing free once more.
    Ainsley felt his legs weaken, his breathing gone wild. He heard scuffing noises at the head of the steps and stared in disbelief as the body of one of the senator’s drivers tumbled through the portal, followed quickly by the second. Five men dead in moments, he thought, his mind a mad whirl. He heard an odd clinking sound, then saw what might have been brass pebbles dancing down the steps. Shell casings, he realized, and heard the click of a revolver’s cylinder settling back into place.
    “Let’s don’t make this difficult,” Ainsley heard a familiar voice call, then saw the thick black oxfords of the man who’d had them blindfolded descend onto the first of the rough-hewn steps. There was a crashing noise from somewhere, and a fine, salt-laden spray rolled down the narrow staircase along with it.
    The roof, Ainsley thought. With the doors blown open and the storm roaring inside after them, all that wind had to go somewhere. A roof, built to ward off forces from above, was not nearly so strong when a giant force was shoving from below.
    “Come on now, boy,” the man called down. He descended to the second step and bent to peer into the misted cellar, his revolver raised. “We’ll make this quick and clean.”
    Ainsley, still holding his lantern, realized he was a framed target in the little cove he’d left for himself at the foot of the steps. He tried to backpedal into the darkness, but the man had seen him and was already swinging his weapon about. There was an explosion that seemed deafening in the confined space and the sound of splintering glass at Ainsley’s side. Instinctively, he flung the lantern up the stairwell.
    The glass chimney shattered against the coral, and flaming kerosene splashed upward. Ainsley saw one leg of the man’s trousers burst into flame and heard a cry as the man retreated up the steps.
    It was altogether dark in the cellar now, a dim glow marking the portal where the heavy grate had been, a glowing square cloud in a stony sky. Ainsley heard curses and scuffing noises from above. Had it been gasoline, he thought, the bursting lantern might have done the job. But kerosene was not much better than crude oil for burning, and the man’s clothing had been soaked through as well.
    No, Ainsley thought, he’d likely done little more than prolong the inevitable. His right hand went to the knife he kept sheathed at his belt—a seafaring man would sooner go out without britches than leave his knife behind—thinking that he might have a chance if he could only manage to lure the man down here with him in the dark.
    Scarcely had the thought come to him than he heard a tremendous crashing from above and felt a fine rain of rock fragments shower onto his head and shoulders. When he glanced up, he saw that a vague crosshatching now obscured the portal at the top of the stairs. A shadow flashed across the grid, and there came the sound of a bolt slamming home.
    An involuntary shudder ran through Ainsley, as he realized. The man who’d shot at him would not be coming down those steps again, not anytime soon. He stared up glumly at the heavy grate that now blocked the portal and understood that he had become a prisoner, that this room where he now stood might well have been intended for such a purpose.
    “You’ll die the hard way, then,” came the voice from above, over the roar of the wind and the sound of roofing planks being wrenched away. Rain pelted down through the bars above him now, and a stream of water was splashing down the steps.
    “The senator wouldn’t do this,” Ainsley shouted back, not sure if it was a threat or a prayer.
    He heard a barking