Zorro and the Little Devil Read online

  Slowly he made his way through the hallways, closer to the sounds of people at work that were drawing him there. Soon he realized they were directly around the corner from where he was standing. He darted around it, remaining in the shadows. He needn’t have worried because Diabolito and Maria were so hard at work they were paying no mind to what was happening in their vicinity.

  Oh God, father is not going to like that, Senor Zorro thought bleakly.

  The chopping was happening squarely in the middle of the sitting room. The beautiful wooden floor had been thoroughly shredded, pieces everywhere. There were a couple of pick axes lying nearby, but they had been put aside since they had already done their job of demolishing the flooring. They had now switched to shovels and they were digging away. Three pirates had already shown up to provide assistance, and Maria was seated on a nearby chair, looking exhausted. There was perspiration on her face and her hands were covered with dirt.

  The hole they had dug was already quite deep. Diabolito and the three pirates were standing at the bottom of the hole, bringing up more dirt with their shovels. They were only visible from the shoulders up and they were still digging and heaving.

  “It’s not there,” Maria finally groaned.

  That was clearly not news Diabolito wanted to hear. He slammed his shovel into the ground and snapped at her, “I told you you could stop! But perhaps we need the return of your feminine hand!”

  She stood and there was fury in her expression. “Damn it, Matias, it’s not there!”

  So that’s his true name. Not very threatening. “Diabolito” was a much better name for a pirate.

  “It has to be!” Diabolito said with a snarl. He was clambering out of the hole and walked over to a satchel. He reached into it and drew out what seemed to be a cylinder of paper. He unrolled it on a nearby table and pointed at it. “These are the coordinates! I’m positive of it!”

  Maria climbed out of the chair and walked over to her lover. She leaned over his shoulder and then she pointed at a notation that was in the lower right. “What does this mean? Minus five hundred?”

  Diabolito shrugged. “Some sort of notation he made. Never really understood it. Doesn’t seem to matter. The rest of the map makes it clear that — ”

  “You idiot!” Maria said and she slapped him in the back of the head.

  That was exactly the wrong move. With a howl of fury, Diabolito spun and yanked a pistol out of his belt. He shoved it under Maria’s chest. “You dare!” he shouted.

  It was all Zorro could do to fight down an impulse to leap out and save her. The chances were extraordinarily good that she would turn on him immediately, perhaps yank out her own weapon and put a bullet or knife into her rescuer.

  As it turned out, she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the threat of immediate death. She pointed at the map. “Minus five hundred feet. It’s five hundred feet down from where the map says that it’s buried.”

  Diabolito stood there for a moment, his hand shaking with barely controlled fury. Then, slowly, he managed to pull himself together and slowly lowered his weapon. “Five hundred feet below ground?”

  “Yes! Obviously!”

  One of the other pirates moaned and threw down his shovel. “We can’t dig up five hundred feet! The whole crew could assemble to do it and it would still take days!”

  “Days we don’t have,” said a second pirate. He didn’t throw down his shovel, but instead shoved the blade into the ground and let it stand. “There are mines at five hundred feet.”

  “Mines,” Maria whispered and her eyes widened. “Or a cave.”

  “A cave?” Diabolito had now put his gun down on the table. “You think there is a cave beneath us?”

  “That would answer it. The coordinates mean that it could be directly below us. So all we have to do is find an entrance to it. If Calico Jack could locate it, so can we.”

  “Cave.” Diabolito was considering it. “Cave. I’ve seen no entrances anywhere near here, but … ” He paused and then moved toward the window. He was standing ten feet away from Zorro, who had brought up his cape to obscure the lower half of his face. The pirate pushed aside the large drapery that hung in front of the window and gazed out into the evening. “There is a cliff side behind the house. Some manner of drop. It’s possible the cave entrance is in the side of the precipice that is behind this house. And if that’s the case, we can find our way down there.”

  For the first time in his career, Zorro felt a brief trill of panic. He had been overmatched or trapped any number of times, but had always managed to find a way out of it. This time, though, he was in deep, deep trouble. If the pirates managed to make their way down to the cave, they would be wandering straight into Zorro’s lair. There was every possibility that they might figure out that Don Diego de la Vega was actually the fabled Curse of Capistrano.

  What to do, what to do?

  He could, of course, leap out of hiding and engage them in sword play. That might well be the way to go. Except that Diabolito had a loaded gun on the table right next to him, and he could put a bullet into Zorro before Zorro could draw close enough with his blade. Of course, Zorro had his own gun as well. He could pick off the pirate and take the intervening seconds to engage with the others. That was certainly a viable option except that he would then be dealing with the three remaining pirates in the room, plus Maria …

  Plus even more. He heard the noises and arriving bootfalls that told him the rest of the pirate crew had arrived. Now he was hopelessly outnumbered.

  That was when he figured out a plan.

  He slid aside the wall next to which he was standing and darted down toward his cave. He was there within minutes and knew exactly what he had to do.

  The first thing he did was set free the horse that was stabled there As soon as he heard the horse depart, he went to the closet. It was the only furniture standing there, and he had to make the cave appear empty. He dared not allow them to see it. He shouldered the small closet and dragged it over to the opening and then, with one powerful thrust, shoved it outward. He listened with satisfaction as the closet crashed out of the cave, rebounded off the path outside, and tumbled downward, out of sight.

  Next he extinguished all the torches. Within seconds he had sent the cave plunging into darkness.

  Then he made his way over to a corner.

  And he sat and waited.

  Chapter Seven

  Miguel’s Meeting Goes Wrong

  As Miguel galloped toward the pueblo, his common sense was howling at him that he was making a horrific mistake. There was no reason for him to risk himself by going straight to Captain Quintero and tell him about the trouble up at the de la Vega household. Zorro had freed him and it was insane to do anything to risk that freedom, much less present himself to a man who could throw him into a cell and dispose of the key.

  But even as his intelligence was warning him of his impending error, the other part of Miguel’s brain was kicking in. Because the truth was that somewhere deep in Miguel, there was a decent man dwelling there.

  The truth about Miguel was that once upon a time, he had been an honest sailor. When pirates had captured his ship, he had managed to convince the captain his real desire was to be a buccaneer and so was able to talk himself onto the raiding crew. He had then spent the next years of his life trying to fit in with his new crewmates, but inside him an honest man had been pleading for deliverance. So it was that he had finally seized an opportunity to abandon the ship and embarked on his own life, while keeping a constant watch over his shoulder should his captain decide to take up pursuit of him.

  And then he had encountered Senor Zorro, the man who had taken him at his word and didn’t capture him. Zorro, a stranger, had let him go. After that Miguel had been foolish enough to allow himself to be captured, and Zorro had come through for him a second time. The facts before him were simple: he owed both his freedom and his life to Senor Zorro, and he was therefore morally obligated to try to return the favo
r.

  Morals. What a concern to be rattling around inside the poor man’s skull.

  I have to be a better person. I have to be a better person. I must do this for Senor Zorro.

  With that decision firmly implanted, he spurred the horse on faster. It was not an easy endeavor; the horse was hardly a stripling. It was getting up in years and was customarily employed for towing vehicles such as wagons or carriages. Being asked to gallop all the way to the pueblo was asking a good deal of it. But the animal was determined to live up to the demands upon it, and so it redoubled its efforts to maintain its gallop.

  By the time Miguel reached the pueblo, however, the poor creature was just about done in. The gates were closed since the evening had fallen, but that did not deter Miguel. He dismounted from the back of the beast and the exhausted creature leaned against the gates to steady itself. Meanwhile Miguel began pounding furiously on the large main gates. “Open up! I have business!”

  The gate opened a minuscule amount and a soldier stuck his head out. “What business could you possibly have in here?”

  “I must see Captain Quintero immediately! There is a situation that requires his attention.”

  The soldier’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What manner of situation?”

  “God’s blood, man,” Miguel shouted in frustration. “Are you interested in stopping pirates, or do you desire to waste both our time with endless questions?”

  That was enough to get the soldier’s attention. “Pirates, did you say?”

  “Yes! Now let me enter!”

  The gate swung wide and immediately Miguel was within, dragging his poor horse with him. Several soldiers were lined up, and while none of them were wielding their weapons, they all seemed suspicious.

  “Would one of you kindly tend to my horse?” said Miguel. The soldiers exchanged looks and then one of them stepped forward and took the beast’s reins in his hand. Meanwhile Miguel turned to the others and said, “Where is Captain Quintero?”

  “In his office,” said one of soldiers. “The man is always in his office.”

  “Bring me then.” Miguel was so convinced of the rightness of his decisions that he was not hesitating to bark orders at whoever would listen to him.

  Unsurprisingly the soldiers, who were conditioned to obey orders that were thrown at them, instantly did as he said. They marched him across the pueblo, standing on either side of him, and shortly he was heading up the stairs to Quintero’s office. One of the soldiers went ahead of him and said, “Captain. A man has come who claims he has information about pirates.”

  “Send him in,” came Quintero’s voice.

  Miguel took joy in Quintero’s matter-of-fact attitude. Perhaps he wouldn’t even ask the source of Miguel’s information, and instead simply accept it as fact. He quickly marched into Quintero’s office and there was the captain, seated behind his desk. Quintero gestured toward a chair that was situated facing him on the other side of his desk and Miguel immediately took a seat.

  “So you are the gentleman who knows about pirates?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Miguel’s head bobbed up and down.

  “So where are they?”

  Miguel pointed in the general direction from which he had come. “At the large hacienda about eight miles up the road, sir.”

  Quintero was immediately on his feet, his face becoming pale in concern. “The de la Vega hacienda?”

  Once more Miguel’s head nodded.

  The captain came around his desk and stood mere inches from Miguel. “You are telling me that a pirate has captured Lieutenant Commander del Riego?”

  Now Miguel looked confused. “What? No! I’m not telling you that!”

  The sudden shift in Miguel’s attitude and story were confusing to Quintero. “Well, then what are you saying?”

  “Del Riego is the pirate!”

  Slowly the blood returned to Quintero’s face. It was hard to determine if it was anger or relief that was causing his cheeks to turn pink again. “Del Riego is the pirate.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “You are saying,” Quintero said slowly as he circled Miguel, “that I, the captain of this district, was tricked by a pirate into believing that he was a Spanish officer.”

  Miguel definitely did not like the way things were suddenly going, but he steeled his determination. “I am afraid so, Captain.”

  Quintero folded his arms across his chest. “Would you mind telling me what is the source of your information?”

  Miguel licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. What was he to say? That he recognized Diabolito because he served as part of his crew? Quintero would immediately take an admitted pirate and string him up.

  What was it Zorro had told him? Miguel knew that he had had an entire plan to deal with this possible stage of the interrogation, but now that he was faced with it, the specifics had darted clean out of his head. The more Quintero frowned, the more panicked Miguel became. What was he supposed to say? What maneuver was he supposed to use to vault him past Quintero’s suspicions and get the soldiers to ride to the de la Vega hacienda to the rescue?

  Suddenly Quintero grabbed him by the front of his shirt and snarled into his face, “Who sent you to me?!”

  “Zorro!” Miguel cried out. “Senor Zorro!”

  “You dare!” Quintero looked as if he was ready to explode. “You bring me information, the source of which is the man who lives to see me embarrassed every given day!” He shoved Miguel away from him and stalked the office. “Of course Zorro would send me that message! He wants me to bring a squad of men to the hacienda and accused a Spanish gentleman of being a pirate! I’ve never heard of a more obvious trick!”

  “No! No, it is not obvious at all!”

  “You clearly think that I am as great a fool as Zorro considers me. You actually want me to have my men threaten a Spanish gentleman so that word can be returned to the governor … blazes, to the king … that the captain of Los Angeles is a blind idiot!”

  Miguel dropped his voice to a pleading, supplicating tone. “Captain, you don’t understand … ”

  “Oh, I understand all too well. I am not going to send any of my soldiers on this ill-fated raid. But you are going to go directly into a cell, and there you will remain until I have decided what to do with you!”

  Miguel immediately tried to run from the Captain, but he had no luck at all. The two soldiers who had guided him in there were still standing directly behind him, and each grabbed one of his arms, immobilizing him. He struggled but was overwhelmed by their superior strength. “Wait! Stop! Listen to me —“

  “Get him out of here,” said Quintero dismissively, and a howling, protesting Miguel was dragged out of his office and down the stairs.

  Quintero was left alone in his office.

  His mind raced as the inanities of what Miguel had told him resounded through his head.

  Del Riego a pirate? That simply could not have been true. Quintero prided himself on his ability to judge people, and he had spent enough time in del Riego’s presence to know beyond question that he was a true Spanish gentleman. He had no beard stubble, his teeth were in excellent condition, he was lively and intelligent. There was no way that a man that talented and educated could possibly be some scurvy pirate. No one was that good an actor.

  But still …

  If he was a pirate, then that meant that Maria was alone with him in a vacant house …

  But he wasn’t a pirate. Quintero was positive of it.

  Still … maybe it wouldn’t hurt …

  “Lieutenant!” Quintero bellowed.

  The lieutenant was at his door in an instant. He tossed off a salute. “Yes, my Captain.”

  “Ready my horse. I am heading out to the de la Vega hacienda.”

  “Do you require an escort, sir?”

  Quintero considered the question and dismissed it. He was positive that all this was some sort of trick on Zorro’s part to make him appear foolish to del Riego. The way to
thwart that was to simply show up on his own. If he had his men with him, then it was all part of some official operation, and he would seem the fool for being deceived by an outlaw’s gambit. If he was on his own, then it was simply the local captain double checking to make certain that an esteemed visitor was comfortable and making sure that he did not require anything for his comfort.

  “No, that will be fine, lieutenant. I am just going to inform del Riego of an insane rumor that is being spread. I am sure he will find it … amusing.”

  “What rumor, Captain, if I may ask.”

  “That he is actually a pirate named Diabolito.”

  The lieutenant looked stunned. “Is there any chance it is true, Captain?”

  Quintero snorted in derision. “No man is that good an actor, lieutenant. Why, if del Riego is actually Diabolito, than Don Diego de la Vega is Zorro.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Battle at the Cave

  It did not take long for Diabolito and his crew to find a path that would lead them along the face of the cliffside. Before they approached it, however, Diabolito raised a hand for them not to move as he studied the path in front of him. He was holding a blazing torch, as were several of his men to provide further illumination. The moon that hung in the sky was only a quarter full and thus there was not much aid from nature for them.

  “What is it, my love?” said Maria in a low voice. She was standing right next to him, endeavoring to discern what he was reacting to.

  “Look at the dirt, and the scattered bits of rock,” he said. “A horse came through here.”

  “A horse? Up here?” There was uncertainty on her face. “Why would a horse come up here?”

  “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “But we must be cautious. There is no telling what surprises might be waiting for us.”

  With that comment floating in the air, Diabolito began to make his way down the path. It was not an especially problematic journey, because there was sufficient width on the ledge to prevent him from falling. Nevertheless, caution was required because a wrong step could very easily end in disaster. Maria and the rest of the crew followed him, and they were carrying shovels and pick axes in order to try and dig wherever Diabolito told them to do so. His cutlass slapped reassuringly against his leg, hanging there as a reminder that if he required it for a battle, it was there to serve him.