In the Shadow of Death (26 page)

“Where the hell are you, Nordstrom?” he yelled, his voice receding as he and Kate went further into the mine.

“Maggie!” She whirled at the familiar voice. “Over here.”

She glanced up the track, hoping Guthrie hadn't heard, then pushed her way through the shrubbery to where Nat was stretched out behind a slab of stone.

“How the hell did you get here?” he whispered.

“You're hurt,” she whispered back, kneeling down beside him.

“Fell down the shaft.” He pointed to his right foot. “Can't get my boot back on.”

“But the blood?”

“Nordstrom got nasty.”

As if on cue, they heard Guthrie calling from inside the mine. “Southby!”

“Go for help,” Nat said. “He knows I'm out here someplace. And he must've discovered what I did to Nordstrom.”

“But what about you?”

“Go,” he insisted. “There's got to be someone with a radiophone in this Godforsaken place.”

“I passed a marina on my way in,” she whispered.

Nat urged her toward the track. “Go.”

She nodded miserably, pushed her way through the bushes and started to run back down the trail.

Above her, the Gurthries emerged from the mine, Kate in the lead, her flashlight under her arm so that she could lug the feet of the unconscious Nordstrom, while her husband followed, taking most of the man's weight by holding him under his armpits. They reached the entrance just in time to see Maggie fleeing down the track.

“Shit!” Guthrie exploded, dropping his end of their burden. “Hold it right there!” he bellowed.

But Maggie ran on down the track, past the red flatbed, headed straight for the Jeep, and Guthrie was powerless to stop her because he had put his rifle down in the tunnel in order to carry out his accomplice. Cursing, he snatched Kate's flashlight and ran into the mine again. Within minutes he was out, carrying his rifle at the ready and leaping down the path after Maggie.

Nat lay absolutely still as Guthrie passed.
Go, Maggie, go!
And he was rewarded moments later with the roar of the Jeep's engine starting up far below him and the grinding of gears as Maggie turned it to race down the hill.

“I'll get you, you bitch!” Guthrie shouted, but it was several more minutes before the truck's engine wheezed into life, and Nat began to breathe again.

• • •

BY THAT TIME
, Sawasky and Brossard had arrived at the head of the lake. “Which way?” Sawasky asked. “North or south?”

“North,” Brossard answered, tapping the map he was holding. “According to Jerry Harkness, Nordstrom's cottage is the last one on the north road.”

“When did you find that out?” Sawasky asked in surprise.

“I called the Harkness ranch after seeing Guthrie's son yesterday. I knew Guthrie and Harkness were friends.” He paused and hung onto the door handle while Sawasky negotiated another pothole. “So I reasoned he would know of someplace the bugger could've been hiding all these weeks.”

“Is that what you think? That he's been in hiding?”

The other man was silent for a moment. “Yes,” he said abruptly. “I figure Chandler had something on him.” He gazed steadily ahead. “I just resented Southby and Spencer coming up here and trying to teach me my job.”

Sawasky opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it and concentrated on keeping the car on the road as it careened close to the unprotected edge of the lake. “There's a marina up ahead,” he said, pointing to the signpost. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” Brossard replied. “According to this map, we should see the road to the mine on our left soon.”

“Wow!” Suddenly, another vehicle was racing toward them, and he pulled to the side as it came to a skidding halt beside them. The driver sprang out. “My God! It's Maggie.”

“George! Oh, George, it's Nat . . . ” The words came tumbling out as she began to cry.

Climbing out of the car, he pulled her roughly to him. “Maggie, what's happened?”

“Nat's hurt and Guthrie's up there with a gun,” she wailed.

“Guthrie!” Brossard said.

“Get back in your Jeep,” Sawasky barked. “We'll follow you.”

Maggie drove as if possessed, but halfway back to the mine she turned a sharp bend in the road and saw the red truck hurtling toward her. She slammed on her brakes, and the Jeep slewed at an angle across the road. She just had time to duck as Guthrie sprang from the truck and aimed his rifle at her. The first shot ripped through the windshield as Sawasky's car swerved around the bend and came to a grinding halt. Both policemen sprang out of the car, drawing their guns.

Guthrie swung to face them. “Put 'em down,” he screamed, “or she gets it!” And he edged around to the front of the Jeep in order to train his gun on them, too.

• • •

FURIOUS THAT ONCE AGAIN
the man had the upper hand, Maggie sat up, rammed the Jeep into gear, and, hitting the gas, aimed the vehicle squarely at him. Guthrie, taken by surprise, was sent flying into the bushes at the side of the road. She slammed on the brakes, but was too late to stop the Jeep from careening onward straight into the flatbed, smashing the radiator and sending a spume of hot water and steam shooting into the air. Then, appalled at what she had done, she rested her head on the steering wheel.

George Sawasky leaned in the window. “Maggie! You okay?”

“I think so,” she answered shakily. “I didn't kill him, did I?”

“He's a bit damaged,” he answered her, smiling. “Brossard's taking care of him.”

“We've got to help Nat!” And she began backing the Jeep up so that she could detour around the truck.

“Wait!” Sawasky yelled. He pulled open the driver's door, motioned for her to move over, then leapt into the driver's seat. “Okay, let's go and find the boss.”

Brossard was left to deal with Guthrie.

• • •

NAT, MEANWHILE
, was succumbing to shock as he lay in the bushes, drifting slowly into unconsciousness, but he was suddenly wide awake at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Over-impetuous, I see,” the voice drawled. “Couldn't wait for the cavalry to turn up.”

“George, is that you? How the blazes did you get here?” Nat said, trying to sit up. Then he saw Maggie and his face lit up. “What's happening?” he continued.

“First things first,” George answered. “Let's look at the damage.” Taking a pen knife out of his pocket, he slit Nat's blood-caked trouser leg to reveal the wound. “Bullet?” he asked and Nat nodded. “It seems to have stopped bleeding, but we need to get you to a doctor.”

“Where's Douglas?” Kate, running down from the mine entrance, burst into the bushes. “What's happened to him?”

Maggie stood up. “I'm sorry, Kate” she said as gently as she could, “but he's been hurt, too.”

“He's hurt?” Kate repeated, her voice breaking.

“He was going to shoot me. There was nothing else I could do.” When Kate still stared at her uncomprehendingly, Maggie realized she would have to come clean. “I ran him down . . . with the Jeep.”

Kate continued to stare, obviously not taking it in. “Is he badly hurt?” she asked again.

Maggie shook her head. “I don't know. He's with Brossard.”

Sawasky had meanwhile climbed up to the mine and discovered Nordstrom. “You did a good job on him,” he said to Nat when he returned. “He's still out cold.” He looked down at Nat. “If Maggie and I can support you, do you think you could make it down to the Jeep?”

Nat nodded wearily. “I'll try. But what about Nordstrom?”

“I'll come back and keep an eye on him,” Maggie replied. “But,” she said to George, “you'd better bring some help to move him.”

“I'm going with you,” Kate said. “I want to see Douglas.”

Nat's face was as white as a sheet by the time they managed to get him down the hill and into the Jeep. As Maggie leaned over and shifted the picnic basket to make room for Kate, Nat asked, “What's in there?”

“Food.”

“Food!” Nat exclaimed. “There wouldn't be coffee in there, by any chance?”

Maggie nodded and opened the basket, then passed him a packet of sandwiches. “Dig into those while I pour you some coffee from the Thermos.”

“Maggie, my love,” Nat said, grinning and taking a huge bite of a cheese sandwich, “you've come through again.”

After they had gone, Maggie walked back up to the mine entrance, and after feeling for Nordstrom's pulse, she sat down beside him.

“It's getting stronger,” she said. “I hope George returns soon, because I think you're coming around.” The man's eyes began to flicker. She stood up and peered down the hill, but it seemed an eternity before Sawasky, accompanied by three other men, climbed the hill to the mine.

“They're from the marina,” Sawasky said. “We've brought a chunk of plywood and the marina's pickup to cart Nordstrom back.”

“How's Nat?”

“Brossard's patched him up as best he can,” he replied. “It looks as if his ankle is broken. I left Brossard radioing for help. Now all we've got to do is get this bugger down the hill. I see he's beginning to come around.”

As Sawasky prepared to follow the men carrying Nordstrom down the hill, Maggie took his arm. “Wait,” she said. “I've got a hunch this is where they stashed the ransom money,” she told him. She waved Guthrie's flashlight at the blackness of the tunnel, then walked deliberately into the darkness. Sawasky hesitated a moment, then called to the others to go on without him, and followed Maggie into the mine.

She almost turned back when she rounded the bend and the entrance light was cut off, but keeping close to the wall and shining the beam on the rubble, she felt her way cautiously along. Sawasky caught up to her just as her light revealed the narrow ledge in the shaft. “That's how Nat broke his ankle,” she told him, but she realized how lucky Nat had been to have survived his fall at all. Then, raising the flashlight, she played it slowly over the walls, pausing when it shone on an opening to their left. Climbing over the small pile of rubble that partially blocked it, they found themselves standing upright in a secondary tunnel.

Walking warily, they advanced down the passageway for close to twenty feet before the beam of her flashlight showed a blank wall in front of them. It was when Maggie was turning to retrace her steps that she stepped on something soft and yielding in the dark. She pointed the light downwards. She had stepped on a piece of clothing. Kneeling to get a closer look, she stopped, frozen, her face close to the skull that lay beside the clothes. “Oh Jesus!” Stifling a scream, she sat back on her heels. Sawasky took the flashlight from her, and, kneeling, shone the light over the rest of the skeleton. It was slumped onto its side. A decaying tweed jacket and some bits of tattered grey cloth, which had once been trousers, were all that remained of the clothes the man had once worn. Beside the skeleton was an initialled briefcase with the letters LS in gold. “We've found Leonard Smith,” Maggie said in a shaky voice. “And that's the briefcase I saw in the other mine!”

Sawasky nodded. “Poor old man. What a terrible ending for him, but at least his widow can give him a proper funeral now.” Taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, he carefully picked up the briefcase. “I'll need this for evidence,” he said. He swung his flashlight over the rest of the cavern. “No sign of the money.”

“No,” Maggie answered. “Perhaps they stashed it in the cottage.”

“Worth a look, anyway,” Sawasky agreed, leading the way out.

They arrived at the marina in time to see Brossard and the three injured men safely aboard the seaplane that had arrived in response to the RCMP's message, and Maggie, George and Kate watched with mixed emotions as it taxied to the middle of the lake and took off. “They should be in the Williams Lake hospital within a couple of hours,” George said as they retraced their steps to where they had left the Jeep and his car.

“You might as well all come back with me,” Sawasky said. “I've a feeling that Jeep's not going anywhere for now.”

Kate nodded. “Can I collect my things from the cottage first?”

“Nat asked me to pick up his tweed jacket, too,” Maggie said. “He said he left it in the shed.”

“Nordstrom found it,” Kate stated miserably. “That's how he knew Nat was here.”

“And I want to see if that ransom money has been stashed there.” But although the three of them searched the place from top to bottom, the only things they found were Nat's jacket and shirt. They set out soon after.

“Kate, do you want to call into the ranch before going on to Williams Lake?” Maggie asked after they had gassed up in Horsefly.

“I'd rather go straight to the hospital,” she answered. “I managed to put a call through to Hendrix from the marina. He told me that Jamie had arrived and that he'd meet me there.”

She paused. “The line was so terrible that I had a job understanding him. He said somebody else had turned up, but I couldn't catch the name.”

• • •

IT WAS LATE
and they were thoroughly exhausted when they eventually parked George's car in front of the hospital. The three of them stumbled into the emergency entrance and confronted the nurse manning the desk.

“How's Mr. Southby?” Maggie asked.

“How is my husband?” Kate asked over Maggie's voice.

“Not more of you!” the stern-faced nurse said. “You'll have to wait with the others over there.” She pointed to a line of chairs.

“Others?” Maggie looked to where she had pointed. She could see Jamie Guthrie, his head leaning against the wall, apparently asleep. Next to him was a blond man dressed impeccably in a pearl grey suit, pale lemon shirt and matching grey and lemon silk tie. He was talking to Jerry Harkness, who was seated beside him in his wheelchair.