The Martian Pendant (32 page)

She grabbed her
attaché case from its compartment, and both ran deeper into the tunnel. It was cold there, but not freezing, and as they reached the mid-part where the track seemed to level off, showers of icy water from above threatened to soak them. Luckily, their heavy flight clothing warded off much of the water. After running almost a mile, breathless in the thin air, a light could be seen ahead.

“Does that mean the end of the tunnel, Mum, or is it the headlight of an approaching train?”

“It looks like snow-reflected daylight to me. I don’t see the usual flashing that American locomotive headlights make. In this instance, the light at the end of the tunnel is, in fact, good news indeed.”

When
they emerged, it was snowing, and a raw wind was blowing. Nevertheless, the cold mountain air was like a tonic in contrast to the oily humidity of the run they had just endured.

“Look for some type of shelter, Bobby. If we can’t find anything, we’ll have to consider using the parachute for a tent, but in this wind
, that could prove difficult indeed. We can’t stay in the tunnel because a train could enter whilst we sleep. And keep dry! Despite this being April, it will be freezing at night, and no telling how long it will be before we can get back to civilization.”

“Mum, what if a train comes
? Won’t it run into the plane at the other end?”

“Without some sort of warning
, that certainly could happen.  We shall have to do something to avert a possible train wreck if we can.” But something told Diana that caution came first. Instead, she took Bobby’s hand and scrambled up the hill to one side of the right of way. “Let’s find some shelter away from the tunnel while we gather our wits. With the way our pursuers have dogged our tracks, we may not be clear of them even now.”

Diana’s intuition had not deserted her. As they gained a little height, they heard a faint rumbling sound from farther up the rail line. “If that’s the train we were concerned with, it’s just coasting along. But trains don’t do that. Even on an easy downgrade, they have to use their power for braking purposes,
so they make much more noise than that.”

“I know, mum. And look! You can see some sort of rail
car just coming around the bend up there. It’s a little two-man handcar. I’ve read about them. The motive power is two men pumping a double lever, making it an easy go up the slight inclines to which trains are confined.”

“You’re right, Bobby
. They may be coming to inspect the tunnel, warned by their signal system somehow of the plane wreck. But we can’t be too careful. We shan’t show ourselves just yet.”

“I don’t like it,”
he said, as the two-man crew stopped the handcar at the mouth of the tunnel. “They don’t appear to be railroad workers to me. And see, those are rifles, not shovels!”

“Good God, keep your head down, Bobby, we can’t allow them to see us,”
Diana whispered as she pulled him up the hill. To their relief, after some hesitation, the men resumed pumping and the handcar disappeared into the entrance.

As they hid quietly behind a fallen tree, rapidly being covered with snow, they heard several shots
faintly. Bobby laughed. “I can just see them fighting it out amongst themselves. The riflemen who just passed and the other chaps, friends of that fighter pilot, coming up the line after us.”

“That’s quite an imagination you have, son. More than likely they were shooting at my parachute, flying helmet and goggles that I stacked up on the headrest. Apparently that made it look as if a pilot was still in the cockpit. And others coming up the line? Didn’t you see the flames at the entry to the tunnel? The Devil himself would have difficulty negotiating that inferno.”

Twenty minutes later, the two men re-emerged. Dismounting from the handcar, they spent some time looking for tracks, but snow had covered everything. Correctly guessing that their quarry had headed uphill, they slowly approached the hiding place.

“This looks like the end.
We’ve nothing to defend ourselves against those two.”

“Mu
m, I brought the plane’s survival kit with the parachute, and it contains a knife and a flare pistol.”

Grabbing the olive-colored canvas bag from Bobby,
she tore it open. “Keep your head down, lad, but hold this spare flare cartridge ready. I’m going to target the one in the lead. It’s our only chance!”

Taking careful aim, she waited until the man was almost upon them. When she fired the
Very
pistol, the flare hit him squarely in the belly, knocking the wind out of him, and causing him to fall into his accomplice, the two of them tumbling down the hill in the snow as far as the railroad tracks.

“Look, mu
m! He dropped his rifle. Let's get it!”

Warily, after loading the second flare, Diana retrieved the weapon, a Soviet bolt-action Kalashnikov. Aiming it at the men just then emerging from the snow, she called
out, “Put your hands in the air or I’ll shoot your bloody heads off!”

They chose instead to dive into the snow on the other side of the tracks, disappearing down the mountain in a head
-over-heels plunge. She didn’t have the heart to shoot. She was not prepared to kill a man in front of her young son, but she had to marvel at what he said next.

“Mum, you let them go.
I would have finished them off!”

“Perhaps I would have too, were you not here. But as you can see, it wasn’t necessary. Now we’re rid of them and
we have their handcar to make our way up the line. There must be a town not far from here. Perhaps a ski resort. I understand Colorado features many such establishments.”

It seemed like hours, but after thirty minutes of laborious uphill pumping, the incline leveled off and they began to descend. At the same time the mist and falling snow thinned, allowing an occasional glimpse into the valley below.

“Keep your eyes open, Bobby. We don’t want to meet an approaching train or snowplow. But keep pumping. There must be a village in that valley, and that would mean food and shelter.”

“Food! Oh
, mum, that sounds so good. It may be cold outside in the snow, but inside, my stomach is outvoting shelter.”

Diana had to laug
h at that. Just like a teenage boy, she thought, with food foremost, and the more, the better. Before long, they came upon a small railroad station, a tiny, faded yellow clapboard building, with a plain sign heralding their mountain village, “Dillon.”

“Colorado is a large state, Bobby. This must be right in the middle of it. Let’s pop off this car, and find a pub or café, where we can get something to eat and arrange for a room for the night.”

“I’m all for that, mum, but what do we do with this car? We can’t leave it on the tracks, can we?”

“Good thinking, young man. Let’s see if we can get it off the rails. It’s not the heaviest conveyance we’ve used.”

They tried to lift it, but in the snow a firm footing was impossible, and they had to leave it on the tracks.

“Drop the rifle and flare pistol into the snow,” she ordered, “Where they’ll not be found until the snow melts. We’ll relay word to the authorities about the handcar obstructing the right-of-way.”

As they left the deserted station, they could see the red glow of neon lights up the hill, indicating the location of Dillon’s small cluster of businesses. The little town’s only café, the Rocky Mountain Grill, was still open, and they were served a hearty dinner. Diana told the waitress about the handcar, and a quick phone call took care of that. When she returned, she announced, “Seems a couple of planes crashed into the railroad tunnel on the other side of the pass, and no trains will be through here for some time. So, how about dessert? We have the best apple pie west of the Mississippi!”

Bobby hungr
ily encouraged that, saying, “Mum, order a portion for yourself, too. I can finish anything you don’t want.” Ordering two slices of pie, she enquired about lodgings.

“Well ma’am, the only place we have is the ‘Heart of the Rockies Cabins’ just down the hill from here. They’re not much, but they’re at least clean and warm. People have nice
places up the road outside that leads to our ski resort, Arapaho Basin, but there’s nothing to rent up that way.”

At the cabins’ office, the manager eyed them suspiciously, because of their accents and rumpled appearance,
not the fact that their flight coveralls resembled the army surplus gear that many still wore on the ski slopes.

Studying Bobby suspiciously,
the manager asked, “Will it be a double bed?”

Diana
was often mistaken for a woman in her early twenties. Realizing that Bobby, taller than she, and looking more mature in his outfit, might be the reason for the question, she laughed and coolly replied, “This is my son. He’s much too old to sleep with his mother, wouldn’t you agree?  We’ll need two beds, but just for the night. I’ll pay now, since we’ll be up and away rather early.”

The café waitress was right. The cabins were definitely not much. Tired as they were, and despite the uncomfortable beds, they did sleep well, although the oil heater kept the one
-room cabin much too warm. Early in the morning when they left, the sky was clear and just beginning to take on color with the dawn. Two feet of new snow covered the ground, and burdened the evergreens to the point of their giving off tiny avalanches with the slightest breeze. As they hurried along toward the café, their shoes crunching in the snow, Bobby began to shiver.

“Isn’t it beautiful, lad? This is indeed Father Christmas country, don’t you agree?”

“It’s like the North Pole, if that’s what you mean. I’m freezing! Let’s just get to the café for some hot breakfast. I don’t want to hear about Christmas. Besides, it’s April, long past the holidays.”

“Young man, you have to learn to stop and smell the roses from time to time. Just look at that sunrise! Doesn’t that warm your inner poet?”

“The only thing that will do that right now is a stomach full of hot breakfast. Poetry can wait.”

Scraping the snow from
their boots, they entered the café. It too, was warmer than necessary, they both agreed, forcing them to remove their torn and scruffy flying suits, leaving them in their street clothes.

The waitress, showing them to their table, cheerily asked, “What’ll it be this morning?” Not the same woman as the night before, she was
young and quite pretty.
That quickly started Bobby thinking about his inner poet and more, despite his empty stomach.
“Hello,” he said, a little too enthusiastically, “Where were you last night at supper time?”

The waitress, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, giggled at his obvious interest, putting him off by responding, “Home with my ski instructor husband and our twins. A girl’s gotta have a life besides waiting tables.”

Diana laughed, saying, “We both will have breakfast number three, and make that with American bacon, the eggs over easy. Oh, and coffee for me and milk for my son here.”

Embarrassed,
he whispered, “Mum, couldn’t you at least have ordered two coffees? Now she’ll think I’m just a child, drinking milk.”

“Bobby, you may be bigger and taller than the average thirteen
-year-old, but you’re still a child to most people, even though you’ve been quite a man during our current odyssey. Do you think that pretty waitress thinks otherwise? For now, you should confine your attention to girls of your own age.”

The food arrived just then, taking
Bobby's interest elsewhere temporarily, but not until the waitress, her hips swinging teasingly as she walked, disappeared into the kitchen. When Diana had eaten her fill, she called for the check, as Bobby polished off the last of both breakfasts.

Even before the gratuity changed hands, the waitress smiled and said, “You have a handsome boy there, ma’am. If he was my age, it would be hard to ignore him.”

Diana thanked her for the compliment, and, after donning their flight coveralls for warmth, she asked about a clothing store and transportation.

“We don’t
have a dry goods store in town. Parkas and ski stuff can be had at Arapaho, but that’s miles up the road outside. With the railroad tunnel blocked, the only transportation, aside from private cars, is the Greyhound bus between Denver and Grand Junction. That is, if the snowplows have gotten through. Just wait at the drugstore down on the main highway.”

TWENTY-THREE

Confiscation

It didn’t take long for the gray, blue, and white bus to arrive from the east, the driver throwing off a bundle of the
Denver Post
for the pharmacy. Trumpeting the crash of the two planes, the headlines read: “DOGFIGHT OVER FRONT RANGE. RR TUNNEL BLOCKED BY WRECKAGE.” Diana was unable to read anything more except for the subhead, “Parts of one plane bear Soviet markings.”

When
they boarded and Diana handed Bobby money for their fare, the driver seemed focused on their appearance but said nothing, aside from asking their destination. As the bus sped west in the melting snow and bright sunshine, Diana looked at Bobby’s face as he slept. Her emotions a mixture of love and not a little regret, she asked herself,
Where had all the years of his childhood gone?
Now he was on the cusp of manhood, and she’d missed so much. First, it was her absorption in her studies at Cambridge, and then, her work in America and Africa. She looked at him proudly. Her parents had done a marvelous job with him; he was ready now for higher schooling. She recalled when she and her father had decided on that elite university preparatory school attended by many of Britain’s upper class. Bobby had rebelled then.

“Mother, grandfather,
” he had said, “I realize you want the best for me, but I must tell you that my heart is set on school in the U.S. I’m three-fourths American anyway, you know, and I can live with my father’s family, either in Chicago or Los Angeles. Both cities have excellent universities where I could study for a career.”

Then her thoughts turned to their driver, and his regarding her somewhat oddly when they had boarded. At first, in her hurry, she had thought the once-over he gave her was merely male behavior. She had always been given appreciative looks by men, and she had learned that her cool beauty would almost always keep them at a distance. That day, her hair was unkempt, and
, wearing a rumpled and dirty flight suit, she fancied she looked the part of a vagabond. Reflecting on that, she began to re-examine the driver’s interest in her. He had, after all, delivered the Denver paper to the chemist’s in Dillon, and could easily have connected the news of the two plane crashes with their attire. During the Cold War, anything Soviet or Russian always aroused suspicion.

It was hard for her to believe that he might be part of her pursuit, with his open American face and crisp Greyhound uniform. But then, as she absently held her pendant, it occurred to her.
Somehow the idea that her adversaries would now be Americans began to dominate her every thought.
She had learned to heed such cues, experience having shown her intuition seldom to be wrong. That convinced her. An interest by the U.S. was to be expected, a case of supply and demand. What she carried was the only accessible thing of possible military value left of Martian technology!

“Bobby,
” she whispered, “Wake up. We must exit this bus at our first opportunity. I’m now certain that the American authorities themselves are our greatest danger. Be ready when next we stop, probably for dinner. We’ll slip away and rent another car.”

When the bus pulled into the terminal at Grand Junction, the driver announced a one- hour stop for rest and dinner, with the information that their belongings would be safe, since the bus would be locked. As the other passengers filed down the steps past
the driver, Diana took down her case from the overhead under his suspicious eye.

“Come on, Bobby,” she whispered, taking his arm, “We must get out of here now. After
using the facilities, we’ll meet in the coffee shop, and then slip out through the kitchen.”

After locking the bus, the driver hurried to a nearby telephone booth and made a call.
While he waited in front of the coffee shop, they slipped out the back, raising only a giggle from a waitress in the kitchen. Bobby, hungry as usual, had grabbed a dinner roll from her tray. As they passed, she laughed, calling after him, “You want butter with that?”

They fled down an alley and into the main street a block away. Diana had no idea where an auto rental agency might be, or if Grand Junction even had one. As they headed for the entrance of a hardware store, hoping to obtain directions inside, a police car pulled up alongside, and a burly patrolman got out.

“Ma’am, stop where you are. I have to take the two of you in for questioning.”

Diana caught Bobby’s hand, as she sensed he was ready to bolt. “We’ll do as the man says, lad. We haven’t done anything wrong.” And then
, turning to their captor, she asked, “On what grounds are we being arrested, officer?”

“All I have are my orders to take you in. They’ll answer your questions then.” As he said that, he looked at her in surprise. “You sure don’t sound like a Russki, but that’s for the investigators to decide. I imagine it’s some sort of Federal charge, since we have instructions to hold you for the FBI. I’ll take that case now. That may be what they’re after.”

She objected more vehemently then. “Why, this in fact holds only archaeological material, and is my own private property. Here, I’ll show you,”

Seizing her hand in a vi
se-like grip, he ordered firmly, “Don’t open it, ma’am.” With that, he tore it from her grasp. “Into the back seat, both of you, and if there’s any further resistance, I’ll have to cuff you.”

They would have to wait, according to the desk sergeant, a portly man in his forties. It seems it would take time for the FBI
agent to fly in from Denver. When Bobby complained that there had been almost nothing to eat since breakfast, the sergeant chuckled. “I have two teenagers, and they’re always hungry, even
with
lunch. I’ll see what we can drum up.”

After stepping into the next room for a couple of minutes, he reappeared with a ham sand
wich and two Cokes. “I’m sorry there’s so little to eat. The sandwich people come only twice a week, and this is our refrigerator’s last. We have more Cokes if you want, though.”

Bobby eagerly took the cold packet, and tore it open. Diana couldn’t help but smile as he offered it to her. “No
, love, you take it.” Laughing, she added, “You need it more than I. A Coke would be nice, however.”

The sergeant handed her an opener with the two cans. When Diana looked at the opener dubiously, it was Bobby’s turn to laugh. “Here
, mum, give that to me. This is how you do it.” Deftly punching triangular holes on opposite sides of the top of each can, he handed one to her.

“Son,” the sergeant told Bobby, “I’ll have that church key. I’d be put on report if I left you with such a weapon.” All three laughed at that.

They had run out of reading material by the time the FBI man arrived. Wearing a three-piece gray flannel suit, and athletically built, he looked the part of the typical Hollywood detective of the cinema to Diana. His manner, on the contrary, was apologetic, and not just to the sergeant.

“Weather delayed our takeoff for an hour
, can you beat that? Even in April.”

Then, appraising the two detainees, he turned to the sergeant to show his credentials.

“I have the official account of the problem here. My task is to interrogate these two, and to confiscate that attaché case and its contents. It seems the Pentagon thinks it contains data valuable to our enemies.”

Diana stood then, indignantly facing him. “This is a treasure, something like the Rosetta
Stone, and while not as yet deciphered, will prove to be of immense value to our civilization. As with the wheel, it could have some military use, but its potential worth is primarily archaeological. And I must strenuously object to our being held here, threatened with what appears to be illegal search and seizure. Doesn’t your Constitution prohibit that?”

The
agent, regarding Diana with new respect, introduced himself as FBI agent William Bates, and then asked her to please sit down. “Be assured, Miss Howard, that these legal documents fulfill the requirements of our Constitution. I’m sure you understand that there’s more than the wheel in there, and if it were of no military value, why would so many go to such extremes either to possess it or to destroy it?”

Diana had no response to that, reflecting on the fate of the
Ancona
, the
American Traveler
, the hulk in Africa, and the material stolen from Caltech and Buell.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, I’m just doing my job.”

Diana smiled wryly at that, thinking,
The refuge of the lower echelons when faced with an unpleasant task.
The interrogation took an hour, with the agent recording the details on a small electronic device. He examined her British passport, which included Bobby’s photo, taken a few years prior. Looking at Bobby, he asked if he was English too.

“I was born in London, but my father was American, as are three of my grandparents. Until now I had intended to become an American citizen. But if this is what it’s like in the land of the free, I may have to change my plans.”

As his mother looked on proudly, the FBI man replied, “Young fella, these are tough times. Our countries won the war, but winning the peace is still in doubt. Britain is in this with us too. We can’t let our enemies, especially the communist governments, gain from the material your mother here has found. Look at this confiscation as for the good of the free world. And when we finally win the peace, work on this will again be possible.”

The agent then produced further documents from his breast pocket. One he gave to the sergeant, and the other to Diana. “Ma’am, this is your receipt for your case and its contents. Hang on to it
; no telling when it will be released by the Pentagon. Sensitive information from the Second World War is mostly still classified, and will be, for top secrets, for possibly fifty or more years. Your property will be no exception, except that they could lock it away from public scrutiny for a century.”

The sergeant acknowledged the paper, saying, “It looks to be in order, Agent Bates. Take the case, and let me r
elease these two people. They’ve been detained much too long.” The agent nodded, taking it from him.

“Wait one moment,” Diana said, “
some of my makeup and other belongings are in that. Surely the U.S. Government wouldn’t classify a lady’s personal items, would they?” Then, under the watchful eye of the FBI man, she opened it and produced her make-up kit and a small bag of toiletries.

Bobby observed, “With the clothes we have on, I doubt that make-up and toothpaste will make any difference. What we need are dollars!”

Regarding her son with affection, Diana replied, “When you are older, my boy, you will find that ladies require as much of these things as money. Father wired funds more than sufficient to make it all the way to the West Coast, and to secure an apartment there as well.”  She couldn’t tell him then that the vial of fossil mandible drillings was also in the kit.

As they left the police station, Diana asked where they could find a car rental agency.

“You’ll find one in the hotel next to the bus station,” the sergeant replied.

“Mum
,” Bobby said, “That’s where that coffee shop is!”

Diana was not one to worry about how things might have been, but reflected,
Had we known, we’d be nearly across Nevada by now
. She said out loud, “We need some new clothes, Bobby. We’ll stop at a clothier after securing an auto.”

Retracing their steps, they found the rental office on the hotel mezzanine. Again more than the usual red tape had to be endured, but by early afternoon, they were on their way, each in new clothes, plus overnight bags with changes.

The drive across Nevada was uneventful, although they remained alert to the possibility of being followed. Their stay in Las Vegas overnight was enough to alienate them permanently from such glitz and neon, resulting in an early start the next morning. After their desert crossing of Southern California, nearing the Los Angeles basin, they were greeted by the cool marine layer, the low clouds common in the late spring and summer.

“Look at the mist, pouring over the hills,” she exclaimed. “It looks just like a colossal gray cataract. Isn’t it beautiful, Bobby?”

But her son was sound asleep, the angelic look on his face bringing again those mixed emotions. Too soon he’ll be a man. Will he then be lost to me? She couldn’t help think then of having lost Bobby’s father in the war over Germany. As her eyes moistened with the recollection, she recalled something her mother had once told her. “A properly raised child is never actually lost by a parent. Only old priorities.”

How true
, she thought.
Now, I’m number one, but one day he’ll find the love of his life. To be hoped is that as full as his heart may become, he’ll save some room in it
for me
. But as those thoughts occurred, she knew her duty to her son was to assure that he ultimately would find his way without her. And she had a duty to herself--and to him. Something she had neglected too long. He needed a father as he grew into manhood, and her needs included such a man. Thinking of Dan brought another smile to her face. She said to herself,
Why not? We most certainly love each other, and we hit it off famously from the very beginning. It was just that I wasn’t ready then for another love such as I enjoyed with Bobby’s father during the war
. But Danny was like her lost leftenant in so many ways. Would he constantly remind her of that wartime romance, or would their being together spur her love to attain new heights? She resolved then that she would marry him.