The Adventures of Gravedigger, Volume 2

  GRAVEDIGGER, VOLUME 2:

  The Silver Skull

  by Barry Reese

  Published by Pro Se Press

  Part of the Reese Unlimited imprint

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters in this publication are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part or whole of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.

  Gravedigger, Volume 2

  Copyright © 2014 Barry Reese

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter I: Voyagers on the Sea of Death

  Sovereign City Harbor, 1937

  Bulky and foreboding in the thick night fog, the steamship Geischler loomed over the pier to which she was moored, where busy ship hands were loading the last pieces of cargo into her hold.

  The dim lights cast from the pier were kind to the Geischler, hiding the scratched and unpainted hull of the ship. In fact, the lighting combined with the fog to give the false impression of grandeur to the steamship, making it appear to be a mammoth, proud vessel, when in fact it was rated at only eight thousand tons.

  Though a freighter, the Geischler carried passengers, sometimes as many as two dozen. One of those passengers was standing on the main deck watching the men work. Dressed in an Oriental wrap-style dress, Li Yuchun was lovely enough to prove a distraction to the stevedores who were hurrying to finish their tasks.

  Li was a young Chinese-American girl with raven-black hair and almond-shaped eyes. In her twenties, she radiated a youthfulness that made her especially enticing to the opposite sex.

  What none of those would-be suitors knew was that Li had recently been saved from a life on the streets. Now employed as an agent of a dark vigilante, Li had found her perpetual curiosity and fearlessness put to the test again and again. To date, she had never been found wanting.

  Li served The Gravedigger and she eagerly assisted in the investigation of crimes both great and small. Gravedigger was actually Li’s old friend Charity Grace, a common street thief who had made the mistake of robbing the wrong house on the wrong night. Killed in the attempted burglary, Charity had been revived by a mysterious entity known as The Voice, who offered her a perverse chance at redemption: become The Voice’s servant on Earth, slaying all those who worked to harm the innocent, and Charity would be given a second chance. In three years’ time, however, The Voice would stand in judgment of Charity’s soul… if she was still heavily tainted by sin, then Hell would be the woman’s final destination. But if Charity had redeemed herself, then the slate would be wiped clean for all time.

  Li wasn’t sure how much of the mystical mumbo-jumbo she believed but it didn’t matter. She relished danger and enjoyed the opportunity to match wits with the seedier side of humanity. It was that sort of work that had led her to book passage on the Geischler.

  Watching closely, Li observed a shadowy figure moving along the pier. Recognizing the silhouette, she knew that Gravedigger was making her way towards the ship.

  At that moment, her attention was attracted by the arrival of an armored truck. It came to a rolling stop alongside the freighter, blanketed by four motorcycle police. The officers remained where they were as the rear of the truck was opened, keeping a watch to ensure that nothing threatened the delivery. A massive strongbox, borne by rollers, appeared as it was pushed from the back of the truck. The thing almost filled the truck and Li guessed that it measured close to eight feet in each direction.

  Two large doors formed the front of the giant steel cube and she could see a complicated combination lock that would have looked right at home on a bank vault. For added security, the entire thing was girded with padlocked chains.

  Attached to the front of the double doors was a plate that read:

  Property of The Sovereign Museum

  On Loan

  The strongbox was led out of the truck and wheeled into position, where the hooks of a derrick were attached. The big box was lifted up into the air and it swung delicately for a moment before it was lifted up and onto the Geischler. When it settled down with a clank, Li thought she felt the entire deck rumble with the force of the impact. She hadn’t been told what was inside the box but she knew it was the reason why Gravedigger was so interested in this particular excursion.

  Li sensed a presence beside her and she turned her head to see another of the ship’s passengers, resting his elbows on the railing. She’d noticed him before, having taken note of his strong cleft chin, well-coiffed hair and expensive suit. He didn’t look like the sort of man who’d be traveling on a freighter. He seemed more like the yachting type.

  He flashed her a confident smile. “What do you think’s in that thing?” he asked, gesturing with his head towards the steel box. “I’m betting bars of gold or silver.”

  “Why would the Museum be shipping anything like that?” she asked, batting her eyelashes and deliberating seeming a lot more dense than she was. Men had a habit of underestimating her and she often used that to her advantage.

  “That plate on the front’s just a red herring,” he explained. “So nobody aims to break into it. If you think it’s just a box full of museum pieces, you’re not going to waste time hiring goons to try and steal it.”

  “You seem very clever, Mister…?”

  “Whitman. Donald Whitman.” He held out a hand and she accepted it lightly, a false blush reaching her cheeks as he lifted her wrist. His lips brushed ever so gently across the surface of her hand and he held on to it for a moment before releasing his grip. “And your name, Miss?”

  “Li Yuchun.”

  “Chinese?”

  “My father was Chinese, my mother American.”

  “How exotic!”

  Li giggled, continuing to play the part of a naïve young woman. “And where are you from, Mr. Whitman?”

  “Donald. Just call me Donald.” Whitman waved a hand towards the city. He did it in the same way that a man might point out a car or an animal that belonged to him. “Born and bred right here in Sovereign.”

  “A local boy,” she teased. She jumped as the freighter’s horn filled the night air.

  Whitman moved closer, taking on the demeanor of the protector. “Just their way of letting us know we’re on the move. Is this your first voyage?”

  “It is.” Li gave a little shiver. “I think I might retire to my room. It’s starting to get a bit chilly out here.”

  “Want me to walk you there?”

  “I appreciate the offer, Donald, but I think I can find my way. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “You can count on it,” he said. Li could feel his eyes upon her as she vanished into the ship’s interior.

  BECAUSE OF THE fog, the Geischler made slow progress in pulling away from Sovereign City. Li took her time in making it to her cramped cabin, enjoying the novelty of being onboard a ship for the first time in her life. Being an agent of Gravedigger’s meant that she was constantly being exposed to new things, which helped satisfy the urgent need she felt for different experiences.

  When she stepped into the darkened room where she’d be sleeping, some form of female intuition gave her pause. Though the shadows were too thick for her to see anything of substance, she knew immediately that she was not alone. Nonetheless, she closed the door before her, a smile dancing across her full lips. When given the chance to face potential death or the warm security of safety, she always chose the former. It would be the end of her
eventually but until then, she had no regrets.

  Her hand reached out for the light switch but a strong grip seized her wrist and a familiar voice said, “You look ravishing tonight.”

  Li gasped as the unseen figure pulled her close and kissed her upon the lips. For a long moment, she allowed his hands to explore her back and hips but then she playfully pushed him away. “You’re lucky I didn’t bash your head in.”

  He flipped on the light switch, revealing his handsome face at last. With dark hair, deep-set eyes and a square jaw, Cedric Hendry had originally been a businessman from Pittsburgh. But after meeting Li and Gravedigger, he had become yet another recruit in their war on crime.

  “I’ve felt lucky ever since the day I met you,” he said and the sincerity in his expression stopped her from responding in a teasing manner.

  “You take me too seriously, Cedric,” she said, turning away from him. She liked men and loved attention from them but Cedric’s intentions were a little too earnest for her tastes and they scared her.

  “Love is a very serious thing – or, at least, it should be.”

  Li sat down on the hard mattress and crossed her legs. “Gravedigger’s onboard.”

  “Did you see her?”

  “I’m positive that I did, before we left. I’m sure she must have gotten on while I was talking to a man up on deck.”

  “A man? Who was he?”

  Noticing the jealous tone in Cedrick’s voice, Li shrugged noncommittally. “Donald something,” she said, pretending not to remember. “Wiltmore or something?”

  “Whitman,” Cedric whispered. “Donald Whitman. He’s trouble and nothing but.”

  “You know him?”

  “Of him,” he corrected. “He runs a couple of nightclubs that aren’t the sort of places a good girl would frequent… if you get my drift.”

  Li wondered if Cedric considered her a ‘good girl’ and if he did, what put that notion in his head. “He doesn’t look the sort to be onboard this kind of cruise.”

  “Who does?” Cedric answered with a laugh. “Haven’t you noticed? The entire ship is filled with strange types.”

  Li pondered his words. She knew that Mitchell, the brown-skinned Brit who rounded out their little squad, had infiltrated the crew, taking a job working in the bowels of the ship. But of the others… she had noticed that the crew seemed comprised of some rather dangerous types but she’d always suspected that sailors were a rough crowd. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” she admitted.

  “Well, I have. While all the men onboard have been ogling you, that freed me to study them.”

  “Was I being ogled?”

  “You don’t have to sound so pleased,” Cedric huffed.

  Switching topics, Li asked, “Why are we here? Do you have any clue?”

  Cedric considered his words before responding. He had been in a business office when a message had arrived telling him to book passage on the Geischler. He didn’t receive any other instructions except that he was to keep his eyes and ears open for anything unusual. “I have to assume it’s about that giant crate they loaded onboard.”

  “It did seem rather noticeable. Even Donald mentioned it. He thinks it’s filled with gold and silver.”

  “From the museum?”

  “The sign’s a red herring – or so he says.”

  Cedric shook his head. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was getting late. “I suppose I better find my own room. It’s just down the hall so if you need anything, just give me a call.” He lingered a moment longer, giving her ample opportunity to invite him to stay, but he finally mumbled good night and left, closing the door behind him.

  Li ran her hands through her hair and smiled. She had thought about taking him to her bed but she was tired… and his earnestness was somewhat off-putting. She had lived a life where leading men on had become almost second nature but Cedric was different.

  Unusually troubled, Li began to undress for bed but sleep would be a long time in coming.

  DEEP IN THE dark, dank belly of the ship, something was stirring – several somethings, to be exact.

  James Pelvin cut off a ragged piece of tobacco from a plug and jammed it into his cheek, chewing methodically. Four other men were with him, one of them a Negro with a funny accent. All of them had the kind of money-hungry look in their eyes that Pelvin himself possessed. That’s why he had picked them for this job. “Get the cutters and open this damned thing up.”

  The black stood staring at the large armored box and shook his head. When he spoke, he sounded almost like one of those English actors that sometimes played in the movies. It struck Pelvin as strange – he hadn’t realized they had Negroes in England. “Excuse me for asking,” the dark-skinned fellow said, “But even if we cut through these bloody chains, it’s not going to do us much good unless you know how to get past the lock.”

  “You let me deal with that,” Pelvin replied. He shivered a bit, having never gotten used to how cold it was in the cargo hold. He’d been serving onboard the Geischler for almost three years and during that time, he’d become intimate with every nook and cranny the old ship possessed. The hold was a place that he generally avoided, however – it was dimly lit and freezing, especially at night.

  The men worked quickly, exerting their strength to cut through the heavy chains. The restraints fell to the floor with a loud clatter and several of the goons jumped in fear, hoping that they wouldn’t attract attention.

  “Don’t act like a bunch’a dames,” Pelvin chided. “The Captain’s probably on his second bottle by now and nobody else is gonna come down here.” He approached the box, doing more grinding than chewing with the tobacco in his mouth. He was in his early fifties, unmarried and with no kids. His hard living had taken its toll on his face, meaning that it was unlikely that he’d snag a good woman at this point in his life, either.

  So he’d jumped at the chance to score in the only way left to him: money. He was being paid enough to let him retire from life on the seas and set himself up comfortably in Sovereign. He’d go through enough booze and women to fill up the hole inside him or he’d die trying.

  And all he had to do was open up this box and then load its cargo into a boat that he’d escort back to land.

  Easy as pie, he believed.

  Pelvin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper that he’d folded up as small as it could be. He flattened it out and read the numbers that were written there. He licked his fingertips before reaching out and taking hold of the combination lock, flicking it right and left as the notes directed.

  “What do you think’s in there?” Pelvin heard someone ask.

  The Negro responded, “Probably some old vases or pottery. Things like that sell for a lot on the black market.”

  Pelvin hissed, “Shut up, all of you! This is complicated.” He resumed his work, wishing again that he could have done all this on his own. The problem was, he didn’t know what was in the box, either. That meant that if it were heavy or cumbersome to move, he’d need help. Given how hard the crane had to work to lift the box onto the boat he had to assume that whatever was in here was not only valuable but also big.

  The snap of the lock indicated that he’d finally gotten the code correct. With a low chuckle, Pelvin yanked the restraint away and tossed the lock to the floor. He hesitated before opening the doors, however, wondering if he should peek inside in private before sharing the secret with the other men in the room. After all, if the box contained a large number of small objects, he might want to pocket one or two of them to boost his take on this deal.

  The fact was, he wasn’t sure how dangerous the people he was dealing with really were. They had contacted him via a letter, offering him the deal in exchange for his cooperation and silence. All he had to do was drop a reply off at a local hotel’s front desk, with a single word written on a piece of paper: Yes. He’d mulled it over for a day or two, wondering if it was some sort of elaborate prank… but in the end, his
own desperation had led him to agree.

  Who the people were who wanted the box’s contents, he didn’t know. Nor did he know what they intended to do with it.

  “None of my business,” he muttered.

  Throwing caution to the wind, Pelvin threw open the doors. Thick clouds of smoke came pouring out, making everyone back away and cough. It smelled dry and dusty, making Pelvin think of his grandfather’s home not long before the old man had finally kicked the bucket.

  The thick smoke made the already dim lighting even worse but Pelvin thought he saw some sort of figure within the box. A statue of some kind, he reasoned, which lessened his excitement. He couldn’t fit a statue into his back pocket, after all.

  “What is that bloody thing?”

  Pelvin realized that the Negro with the British accent was standing at his side. Most of the other guys had moved back against the walls, unnerved by the smoke and odor. “How the hell would I know?” Pelvin snapped.

  “I didn’t think you’d have sold yourself down the river without a bit of information, mate.”

  Pelvin turned towards the other man, planning to put the uppity fool in his proper place but he was greeted by a powerful punch to the nose. He hit the deck, blood flowing freely from his nostrils. Before he could even ask what had happened, a second punch put him out cold.

  Mitchell Williams heard a commotion from behind him but he didn’t bother turning to see what was happening. He had a pretty good idea already – and from the startled grunts of the other men, followed quickly by the sounds of their bodies hitting the floor, he knew that Gravedigger had decided now was the time to emerge from the shadows.

  Charity Grace was the second Gravedigger that Mitchell had served. During his youth, he’d fallen in with a rough crowd – but his life had changed for the better when he’d been caught committing a crime by Josef Goldstein, the man who had preceded Charity in this costumed role. Goldstein had spared his life and taught him to be something better. For that, he would always be grateful.