In the Shadow of Death (20 page)

Knowing there was nowhere to hide if one of the men came back to the aircraft, he made up for walking slowly along the dock by running up the wooden steps toward the cottage above, and by the time he reached the top, he was panting so hard that he was sure someone would hear his rasping breath. But his luck held, and he sank into the shadows of the surrounding brush, taking great gulps of air before looking for a better hiding place.

“We'll only be a few minutes.” The door of the cabin opened, and Nat caught a glimpse of Kate before it was shut again. He held his breath as the two men passed within feet of where he crouched, but he waited until they had descended to the dock before slipping over to peer through the cabin window. Kate, still huddled in her coat, was filling a big enamel coffee percolator with water. He was considering tapping on the window to attract her attention, but realized the two men were returning, with Nordstrom leading the way, carrying a box of groceries while the other man lugged Kate's suitcase in one hand and a roll of bedding under his other arm.

“You couldn't have put them in,” the other man said. Nat managed to catch a glimpse of the man as he passed close to his hiding place. He was a good head taller and slimmer than Nordstrom, and by the way he had bounded up the stairs carrying the suitcase and bedding, in better physical condition.

“I already told you I didn't,” Nordstrom answered testily. “I gave them to Jerry's ranch hand to stow.” Nordstrom put the box on the ground while he opened the door.

“They couldn't have walked off by themselves,” the other man said angrily. The door closed with a bang behind them.

Nat couldn't help smiling.
No. Those cylinders are swimming in the lake near the Harkness dock!

• • •

AFTER WATCHING THE PLANE
disappear, Maggie waited to be sure the fourth person had really gone before she started to move stealthily through the bushes to where they had left the Jeep. Once, the eerie cry of a loon split the silence and she paused momentarily, her heart pounding. When she reached the Jeep, she climbed in, so tense that even the sharp barking of one of the ranch dogs made her jump.
If I can hear that dog, they can hear me from the ranch when I start the motor.
Twice her hand reached for the ignition key and both times she pulled it back. Then the air was suddenly rent with the high-volumed, gloriously exuberant tones of Glen Miller's
In the Mood.
Someone in the ranch house had turned on the hi-fi and was playing it full blast with the windows wide open, and under cover of the music, Maggie started the Jeep. Although it was now dusk, she resisted using her headlights as she drove back to the Guthries' ranch, relying instead on the light of the watery moon, which made occasional appearances amid the increasing cloud cover.

Nat's cabin was just as he had left it, unlocked and with the drapes wide open. After closing them, she walked to the table.
Where the heck have they taken you?
She stared down at the map that he had left spread out and ran her finger first south and then north from Wild Rose Lake.
Shadow Lake, of course!
Her finger moved back to Wild Rose Lake, then followed the road north. It was a lot more than eighty miles by road, she decided. After refolding the map, she slipped it into her jacket pocket.

At the house, the dogs greeted her ecstatically, and after giving each of them a biscuit from the crock on the counter, she shut them in the kitchen and made her way to the second floor. The four upstairs bedrooms were joined by an open balcony that overlooked the living area. Kate's room was at the opposite end to Maggie's, with two guest rooms and a bathroom in between. Pushing Kate's bedroom door open, she saw clothes closets wide open, drawers spilling undergarments, and discarded items flung across the bed and chair. The look of a hasty departure and the silence of the house suddenly got to her, and she ran out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen, where the dogs thudded their tails in greeting.
What am I going to do? Call the police?
But Nat hadn't been kidnapped. In fact, he was a stowaway, an illegal and unwanted passenger on the plane. Brossard would probably brush her off, since he had warned them not to meddle. No, she had to take care of this alone, and as far as she could see, there was absolutely nothing she could do until the morning, when she would at least have an even chance of not getting lost on the unmarked dirt roads.
What I really need right now is a stiff drink, but I'll settle for hot chocolate.
“And you two beauties,” she said to the Labs as she waited for the kettle to boil, “are going to sleep with me upstairs tonight.” But although a comfort, the dogs took up too much room on the bed, and she only managed to doze off now and again as she worried about her boss.

• • •

NAT, IN THE MEANTIME
, had waited until the soft glow of an oil lamp was shining from the kitchen window before he began looking for a place to sleep. He moved stealthily up the hill, past the side of the cabin and around to the back of it, where the shape of a shed loomed out of the dark.
Just what I'm looking for!
But the sound of the back door opening and the wavering beam of a flashlight made him freeze in his tracks, then melt into the shadows as the carrier of the light reached the shed and lifted the wooden peg out of the hasp on the door. Moments later, Nat scuttled further back into the trees as the ear-splitting noise of a generator filled the air.
Bloody hell! That was a bit too close for comfort.

Waiting a good five minutes after the man emerged again from the shed and re-entered the house, Nat slipped over to it and, quietly removing the peg, sneaked inside, immediately colliding with a pile of small logs that had been stacked under the window. The noise as the top row tumbled down onto the earth floor made him freeze again. But nobody came rushing out to confront him. It was at that moment that a watery moon, peeping through the overcast sky, shed its dim light through the window and onto the contents of the cluttered shed. Knowing the moonlight would go as quickly as it had come, he quickly restacked the wood, then stumbled over to where a small, wooden, squareended dinghy was leaning against the back wall and slipped in behind it. As he leaned back, his thoughts went to Maggie, and he wondered what she'd done after seeing him disappear into the Otter. There was no way for her to know where the plane had flown to. Would she go to Brossard?
Somehow, I don't think so.
Then, even though the generator was extremely noisy, he found himself nodding off.

The sound of the door being opened and the beam of the flashlight bouncing on the walls of the shed brought him to. Holding his breath and hoping that no part of his body was visible, he listened as the generator was turned off and the man departed. Crawling out of his hiding place, he stretched his cramped legs and then scuttled back to spend the long, uncomfortable night dozing and worrying about Maggie.

I
t was the sound of heavy rain on the shed roof just before dawn that wakened Nat.
Where the hell am I?
The dinghy extending over him brought it all back. He squinted at his watch in the faint light.
Nearly four thirty.
Struggling to his knees, he crawled out from behind the boat.
Let's hope they're all late sleepers and don't want to start up that blasted generator again.
“I'm meant for comfort,” he muttered, as he reached out to the generator to assist him onto his feet. Once upright, he stretched his sore and aching limbs
.
“And I need my morning coffee!” Luckily for Nat, the door hadn't been refastened by the unknown man the night before, so he was able to push it open a crack. He was met by a curtain of rain. Confident that he was the only early riser, he turned up his jacket collar and made a dash for the protection of the overhanging eaves on the blind side of the cottage, then moved around the corner and peeked through the kitchen window.
No sign of anyone up yet.

Although the cottage had been built on a flat shelf overlooking the lake, the tree-covered land behind it sloped sharply upward. Wishing he had Chandler's map with him, Nat tried to remember the Shadow Lake Mine area on it.
I'm sure it showed a road on the north side of the lake, with a side road leading to the mine. There must be other cottages along the lake, and I can catch a lift back to civilization.
There was no way he was going to risk his neck by hiding in the plane for a return journey.

He retraced his steps to his final hiding spot of the night before and found that the gravel path continued up the hill. Padding quietly up the narrow path, he cursed the persistent rain trickling down from his bare head and inside his upturned collar each time he had to push his way through the overhanging branches of dripping firs and cedars. Out of breath, he reached the top of the property to find the path had widened into a driveway, and just as he had hoped, straight ahead was a gravel road.
So this cottage is the end of the road.
To his left was a ramshackle garage, looking as if the next gust of wind would topple it. When he attempted to open one of the double doors, it scraped on the earth floor, but inside he found a red flatbed truck with makeshift plywood sides. Walking around the vehicle, he gave each tire a kick. A couple needed air, but apart from that, the truck looked serviceable. Climbing into the cab, he saw the key was still in the ignition and there were two rifles fastened behind the driver's seat. “Wow! How about that!” he said out loud. “I wonder if I've found Maggie's sniper.” The distant hum of the generator starting up made him pause.
Nat old son, you got out of there just in time. Now, do I get this thing going and get out of here or stick around and see what that trio's up to?
He decided on the latter. Using the trees as cover, he was making his way back toward the cabin when he heard voices. Two men were now standing by the shed.

“You couldn't have shut the door last night,” Nordstrom said.

“I did, I tell you,” the other man answered. “I remember distinctly. Anyhow, you're getting paranoid. Who would break in here?”

“You never know,” Nordstrom said edgily.

“Here? Come off it.”

“Fine for you to say. But too many things have gone wrong lately,” Nordstrom answered. “Is the truck ready to go?”

“I think we've got slow leaks in a couple of the tires. Wish you hadn't forgotten those air tanks. Now we'll have to use that damned hand pump.”

“I didn't forget them,” Nordstrom snarled. “Anyhow, I wanted them to make a dive to repair the dock floats, not fill flat tires. The point is, will the damned truck get us to the mine?”

“Oh sure. Anyhow, we'll take the pump with us. And we've got the spare.”

The mine! I wonder if that's where they've got Guthrie?

Although it was July, the rain had penetrated right through Nat's jacket, and he had begun to shiver violently with the cold when around him wafted the delicious smell of frying bacon. What with the dampness seeping into his bones, and his stomach craving hot food and that wonderful first cup of morning coffee, he began to feel it might be worth his while to knock on the door and ask for a handout. He couldn't help smiling when he pictured the look on their faces if he did just that. Instead, he retreated further up the path, melting into the brush before the smell of the food made him do something rash.

A half-hour passed before the door opened again, and he heard Nordstrom call out, “Hurry up, Kate. Don't take all day.” Minutes later, the three of them emerged from the cottage, Nordstrom leading, Kate in the middle and the other man bringing up the rear.

“Why do I have to come?” Kate said.

“You said you wanted to see the mine,” Nordstrom answered. “Now's your chance.”

“But I . . . ”

“Stop whining, Kate, and get a move on.” The man in the rear gave her a little push up the path, then suddenly came to a standstill. “You two carry on,” he said suddenly. “I've left the flashlight on the table.”

Nordstrom went on up the path, but Kate stopped and turned to watch the man go back to the cottage before slowly continuing after Nordstrom. Taking a chance, Nat moved out from behind a large cedar. “Kate,” he whispered, as she drew level. “Kate.” But her startled expression made him quickly put his finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

“Wha . . . ”

“You say something, Kate?” Nordstrom turned to look back at her.

“No . . . a . . . a branch hit me.”

Nat heard the sound of the cottage door banging shut and slipped behind the tree. “What's up?” The other man had caught up with Kate. “Why did you stop?”

“I walked into a branch.”

“Is that all? Move it, then. We can't take all day.”

There was something ominous about the studied calmness of the two men that disturbed Nat. And then it hit him.
Oh my God, what if they've tricked her into going to the mine so they can kill her?
Impulsively, he stepped out onto the path, then stopped.
The guns!
He slipped back into the bushes.
They can blow me away in a second!
Feeling helpless, Nat watched them through the trees as they disappeared into the garage. It was at least twenty minutes before he heard the cough of the truck's engine and knew that they were finally on their way.
Dry clothes and something to eat. Then I can decide what to do.

To his relief, the cottage door was unlocked. He had no problem finding a sweater and a rain slicker, but locating a pair of pants to fit turned out to be impossible. One pair of jeans, which he took to be Nordstrom's, were huge, while the only other pair in the place wouldn't meet around his middle. He'd have to settle for a dry top and damp bottom. Finding food was easier. Quickly, he made two sandwiches of thick slices of bread and cheese, one to eat then and one to take with him, and drank a mug of the tepid coffee left in the big enamel percolator.