Fire in the Stars (26 page)

Driving up the Croque road, he found the ATV trail without difficulty. A hundred feet in, still hidden by the screen of trees, was the captain's truck, looking exactly as Chris and Jason had left it. The captain's cab door was still unlocked and the keys still in the ignition. At a quick glance, nothing appeared to be disturbed, as if the captain had not returned.

Chris took the keys, locked the truck, and then left his own truck at the entrance to the trail, facing out to facilitate a quick departure while at the same time blocking the exit of the other truck. After updating Noseworthy and giving her the coordinates of the truck, he stood on the trail to consider his next move. Restlessness and unease thrummed through him. As he weighed the wisdom of violating more orders, he noticed that the trail looked more trampled than before. A new set of fat, wide tire tracks had churned up the mud and crushed the small shrubs in two lines leading down the trail into the bush beyond the point of the Captain's truck.

Someone had driven a larger vehicle along this road after the ATV. Jason? If so, how far would he go? It was a challenging road for any vehicle, overhung with branches and littered with rocks and holes. Chris had no intention of subjecting his brand-new truck's undercarriage and suspension to such a punishing ride, but perhaps Jason had less attachment to his own older truck.

Or more at stake.

After retrieving his hunting rifle from his truck, he began to walk along the track, keeping to the side in order to preserve the tread marks. He had gone less than a kilometre when he rounded a curve and came face to face with Jason's truck, facing toward him, but half off the road and mired deep in a mud hole. It was abandoned. He felt the hood, which was cold. Dew lay heavy on the windshield, suggesting the truck hadn't been driven since at least the dead of night.

Looking down the track ahead, he noticed that the wide tire treads continued, trampling the grass and digging into the soft soil. It looked as if Jason had driven the truck even farther into the bush and was on his way out when he got stuck in the mud. If so, where was he? Why hadn't Chris come across him already?

His scalp prickled with unease. He listened to the woods, which were eerily silent for this time of year, when the distant clamour of chainsaws, axes, and ATVs usually filled the air. Where was Jason, and what was he doing? Playing Lone Ranger to the rescue, against an unknown and unseen enemy?

He debated the wisdom of shouting Jason's name, but he didn't know where Amanda and her captors were, or indeed where the captain was. He didn't want to give away his position or alert them to his presence. Instead, he crept forward along the logging road, trying to keep out of sight under cover of the shrubs along the edge.

Steep bluffs rose on either side, blocking out all radio and satellite signals. The logging road twisted and turned as it snaked deeper into the bush.
This is folly
, he thought as he panted his way up yet another steep rise. Cresting the top, he startled a magnificent cow moose and her calf, who were grazing on the tender shoots in the middle of the road. He froze, as did they, their heads raised and their eyes riveted on him. He edged carefully behind a tree to wait. The mother twitched, flattened her ears, and stared at him in challenge for a long moment. Neither moved, until abruptly she wheeled around and bolted into the trees on the other side. Her calf scrambled to follow.

Chris waited for his nerves to settle, for a cow moose protecting her young could be a formidable enemy. He wondered whether he should return to Croque to wait for ERT. As he was debating, he saw what had spooked the moose.

A dishevelled, mud-caked apparition was coming down the middle of the road toward him, staggering and weaving like a man long past the legal limit. Chris registered the bloody hair and face before he recognized the RCMP field jacket. He rushed forward.

“Jesus H! Jason!”

The man sagged into his arms and Chris eased him down against a tree trunk. “I'm all right,” Jason muttered, struggling to rise. “I'm all right.”

“Hold still, for Pete's sake! Let me look at you!” He bent over to probe Jason's body. Blood was thick and sticky from an open wound on his crown, and Jason jerked away with a curse when Chris touched it.

“Are you hurt anywhere else besides your head?”

“I don't think so.”

“Do you know where you are? Who I am?”

“Don't play fucking doctor, Tymko. I'm all right. It's him you should be going after!”

“Who? What the hell happened?”

“I don't know. It was dark, and I couldn't see a thing in the fog. Whoever it was sneaked up on my truck. All I remember is the door opening. When I came to, my truck was gone and I was face down on the road, feeling like I'd gone ten rounds with Mohammed Ali.”

“Did you get any description at all? Tall, short, skin colour?”

Jason was shaking his head. “Strong. In shape.”

“He knew exactly where to hit you too. Did he say anything?”

Jason groaned. “Not a word. He appeared out of nowhere like a stealth bomber and dragged me out of the truck.” He began to shiver.

“Here.” Chris took off his jacket and draped it around the man's shoulders. He offered him water, which Jason drank eagerly. “It looks like he was trying to escape in your truck, but it got stuck. We'll need to go back to my truck.”

Jason shook his head back and forth before yelping aloud in pain. “No! I'm all right! I can make it back on my own. You go after him. You have to stop him!”

“Stop him from what?”

“How the hell should I know? But the bastard took my radio and my 9mm, so I'm betting he's up to something bad.”

Chris took out his own radio. “You need help and we need backup.”

“You forget the fucking radios don't work around here. You got your sat phone? I'll phone once I get out to the main road. I'm good to go that far.”

Chris sat back on his heels, trying to decide the best course. Jason looked as if he'd been through a wheat combine. Beneath the blood and dirt, his face was ghostly pale and he was shivering. The first rule of policing was to ensure the safety of yourself and your fellow officers before all else. On the other hand, at least one dangerous assailant, whose identity and motives were unknown, was wandering around the woods armed with a police radio as well as a service pistol. Jason was coherent and he had proved he could walk. Even superficial head wounds bled like a bitch.

“What the hell were you doing out here, Jason?”

“Same as you. Trying to find Tyler. And Amanda.”

“But on your own? Leaving your post?”

Jason thrust out his chin stubbornly. “I had a lead. I followed it.”

“Does this have anything to do with Sheri?”

Jason jerked away.

“I know you were talking to her yesterday. Noseworthy knows too.”

“About what?”

Chris didn't answer.

“Fuck,” Jason muttered. He glared at the ground. “This isn't just a missing-persons case for me, you know. So back off.”

“I know,” Chris said softly. “It isn't for me, either.” He handed over his phone along with the keys to his truck. “Get yourself warm and don't try any heroics. Watch that head wound.”

Afterward, he stood in the road worrying while Jason limped down the hill out of sight. He wondered why Jason had come out here all by himself. Feeling guilty for pushing Phil over the edge? Wanting to play hero in Sheri's eyes?

Or trying to cover his tracks.

T
hey heard the sound of an engine long before the road was in sight. They were scrabbling up a steep slope strewn with boulders. Amanda's head was spinning. Fazil had made it sound so simple. Just over the hill, he'd said. In their eagerness, they had foregone breakfast and headed straight for what they hoped was imminent rescue.

To call it a hill was a cruel tease. More like a cliff, soaring out of the bog at an impossible angle. How Fazil had navigated it in the darkness and fog, she couldn't imagine.

They were all struggling, each within their own cocoon of pain, hunger, and fatigue, focusing only on the next rocky foothold and the next branch to hang on to. Amanda was listening to her own panting when a distant whine caught her ear. Kaylee too seemed to hear it, for she leaped nimbly over a boulder and bounded up the slope.

“Kaylee!” Amanda shouted. The dog glanced back and tilted her head to sniff the air before turning to continue her ascent. Within seconds, she had vanished. “If I ever get out of this alive,” Amanda muttered to herself, “remind me to get that dog some obedience training.”

The distant drone grew louder, rising and falling as the engine revved. It was too loud for a truck, even an old local jalopy, and too even in pitch for a chainsaw. An ATV! Her heart leaped. She glanced up the hill, which still loomed high above her.
We'll never make it in time
, she thought.
The search party will pass us by, never knowing that we are just on the other side of the ridge
.

She looked back at the others trailing behind. Mahmoud was carrying Tyler on his back, and he had to pause frequently to shift his weight and navigate the next step. Fazil brought up the rear, scanning the woods warily and making no offer to share the burden.

With a rush of adrenaline she shrugged off her backpack and began to race straight up the hill. Grabbing at branches, hauling herself over rocks, slipping and scrabbling on the mossy ground. “Don't you fucking drive on by!” she swore through gritted teeth.

The roar of the engine filled the air now. So close! “Help!” she screamed. “Help us!”

You're an idiot
, she thought as the engine droned on.
No one can hear anything over that racket
. She remembered Kaylee. Perhaps the dog would alert them. Amanda hurled herself forward, up over the rise and across to the other side, where she skidded to a stop. Below her, the ground fell away again in another steep, impossible drop.
Fucking country
, she thought furiously.

At the bottom, nestled in a lush, overgrown valley between the hills, ran a thin, wavering track. On that track and crawling slowly out of sight, was an ATV.

“Help!” she shrieked, flailing her arms and plunging headlong down the ridge. As she ran, she picked up a rock and threw it into the abyss. Another and another. The ATV continued on. Amanda reached for another rock, lost her footing, and pitched forward. Tumbling and crashing, she grabbed for anything to break her fall. Pain shot through her as branches stabbed her and rocks scraped her limbs. All the while she screamed and screamed.

She jolted to a stop finally against a boulder near the bottom of the ridge, smacking her head so hard that stars burst in her eyes. She gasped, groped for balance, and staggered to her feet, ignoring the throbbing and the fire exploding in her head. Dragging a deep breath into her lungs, she summoned every shred of her remaining strength.

“Help!”

The ATV stopped. The driver turned. She stumbled into the middle of the track. Warm liquid poured into her eyes, blinding her. She blinked to clear them and wiped them with fingers that came away sticky and red.

What a sight
, she thought irrationally as the ATV turned around and came toward her. Above her, she heard the others descending the hill. As the vehicle came close, she heard Mahmoud's strident, panicked voice.

“
Na! Na, na!
” He swung around to Fazil and the two shouted back and forth in Kurdish. Mahmoud set Tyler on the ground at the edge of the road and turned to flee back up the hill.

“Stop right there!”

Amanda looked around in surprise to see the man standing by his ATV with a rifle trained on them. He was an ugly toad of a man dressed head to toe in camouflage gear, with a week's growth of coarse black beard and a filthy ball cap pulled low over his eyes. “You are not going anywhere.”

“What are you doing?” Amanda cried. “They are not criminals. We're lost!”

“This is not rescue people,” Mahmoud said. “This is the captain of ship.”

Amanda struggled to absorb this new twist. It felt as if reality had shifted into another dimension. “That captain? The one you paid to come to Canada?”

“Yes. The one who kill my brother.”

“I didn't kill your brother, Mahmoud,” said the captain. “He died of seasickness. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

“And now you want kill us.”

“No. I came to find you. To bring you to the next rendezvous.”

Mahmoud gestured to the rifle. “With that?”

“I don't want trouble. I just want to complete the deal and get you across the border.”

Amanda was trying to think through the fireworks in her head. They faced off in a frozen tableau — the three of them and a child against a single man with a gun. Kaylee, she noticed, was nowhere in sight. Could the dog provide the unexpected distraction that could tip the balance of power? Or would she get herself shot again in the process? Amanda opted to keep the man focused on talk.

“So you can collect your money and make sure no one squeals on you,” she said.

The captain gave her a long, chilly stare. She stared back at him. After the brief standoff, he lowered the rifle to let it hang loosely by his side. “Look, it's win-win for the people over there. They want to get out of Europe, and we have the ship and the means, so why shouldn't we work together to help them get a better life?”

“I've seen your kind of help before,” Amanda snapped. “You promised them papers and visas, but instead, you worked them like slaves, you starved them and froze them —”

“I'm not interested in debating my business practices with you,” the captain said, turning to address Mahmoud. He patted his pocket. “I have the papers right here. If you want to avoid going to jail over here, I'm your only chance. So start walking.”

Fazil took a few steps but Mahmoud stood his ground. “No. You kill a man.”

“I told you, your brother died.”

“Other man.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Where the old man live, on island. You shoot the man in boat.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw a boat, I was never on any island. I've been looking all up and down this fucking countryside!”

From behind her, Amanda heard a sudden rush of movement. Kaylee? But then Tyler roared past her, his eyes blazing with rage, and flung himself at the captain.

“You shot my father!”

The captain knocked Tyler aside with the rifle butt. Howling with pain and fury, the boy launched himself again.

The captain trained his rifle on him. “Stay out of this, boy!”

Amanda reached out to grab Tyler's arm and haul him to safety. He fought to wrench himself free but she hung on. She could feel him trembling beneath her grip. She stepped in front of him.

“Or what?” she demanded. “You'll shoot an
eleven-year
-old boy? Who's already lost his father?”

“I didn't kill his father.”

“Bullshit!” Tyler snapped, renewing his struggles.

The man tightened his grip on his rifle ominously. Amanda's thoughts raced for a toehold of reason.

“Then don't make this worse,” she said. “If you kill us, you will have crossed a line you can never come back from. Not just in the eyes of the law, but, more importantly, in your own soul. If you're a decent man, it will crush you.”

The captain wavered. His eyes flickered and his grip on the gun loosened. Holding her breath, Amanda took a cautious step forward. “These people have been through more than we can imagine. You say you're not a bad man, just a businessman. Prove it. Give me the rifle.”

He shook his head. “I didn't kill your father, son. I just want to get these men out of here undetected, for their sakes as well as mine.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mahmoud glance at Fazil with a puzzled frown. He asked him a question in Kurdish, and Fazil issued a vehement denial. The two began to argue loudly, flinging words back and forth, until abruptly Mahmoud cursed and spat at Fazil's feet.

Fazil's nostrils flared. Before anyone could react, he reached under his jacket and pulled out a pistol.

Mahmoud's jaw dropped.

“You!” Amanda gasped. Her thoughts raced to make sense of this latest twist. Where had the pistol come from? He held it with the practiced ease of an expert. Had he kept it hidden all along, from his time in the army, or had he found it during his night foray?

The captain jerked his rifle back up and Mahmoud's shouts escalated. Fazil whipped his head back and forth. “Not go prison. Not go back Syria.” He seized Tyler and dragged him toward the ATV. “You, Captain —” He spat out the word. “You give me the rifle and the car. And the boy is coming with me.”

Chris paused to take a sip of water and listen again to his surroundings. The sun was rising, warming the valley floor and bringing the forest creatures, including the blackflies, out in force. Earlier he'd thought he detected the faint drone of an engine up ahead, but now as he swatted away the flies, he could hear only the sounds of the forest. A breeze rustled the branches and nearby, a stream gurgled down the hill. But the drone had dissipated in a puff of wind.
My imagination
, he thought. Or perhaps the direction had been deceptive and it was a rescue team coming up behind him from the main road.

For the tenth time he questioned the sanity of his mission. In this vast, empty wilderness, the chances of him finding the group of lost people, by himself, on foot, and armed with only a service pistol and a hunting rifle, were infinitesimal.

He was considering turning back to link up with reinforcements when another sound reached his ears. Distant, mere snatches on the wind, but the unique sound of human voices. He swung around, straining his ears as he tried to distill meaning and pinpoint direction, but the voices seemed to bounce and echo off the very cliffs. Sharp and desperate. Damn it! Down the road or over the hill?

The hilltop would at least give him a vantage point. Without hesitation he began to run up the hill, taking long, powerful strides to propel himself over rocks and fallen trees. Halfway up, he turned to get his bearings, but could see nothing but dense branches pressing in. Farther up, the trees became dwarfed, and he hauled himself up on a stony outcrop to take in the view.

Through the bush down below, his eye caught a flash of red, leaping and dancing as it approached. It disappeared behind outcrops and shrubs, only to burst into view again, all fur and wagging tail.

“Kaylee! Oh sweet Jesus!” he cried aloud, falling on his knees to envelop the dog in his arms.
I'm close, I'm close
, he thought, blinking back the unexpected tears that flooded his eyes.

The dog slobbered him with kisses before stepping back to look at him expectantly. She barked, ran a few steps, wheeled around, and barked again.

“Yes!” he cried, stumbling to follow. “Take me to her!”

For an instant, they all froze. The captain opened his mouth as if to make one final appeal to reason, but Fazil's rigid stare stopped him. The captain held out the rifle, forcing Fazil to walk forward for it. “All right, but you still need me to get you out of here.”

“I have the little car. Need papers. And the boy.” Fazil reached toward the rifle, yanking Tyler with him.

“No!” Amanda roared. She dived in front of Fazil and snatched the rifle from the captain's hand. Without a moment's hesitation she whirled around to point it at Fazil. “Let go of him!”

Fazil stared at her, tightening his grip on Tyler. Gradually the shock in his face twisted into contempt. “You not shoot. Not killing.”

The rifle was heavy, and her arms shook with the effort of holding it level. Only rage sustained her. “Don't try me, you bastard. You killed Phil.”

“He see us.”

Tyler thrashed in his grip, tears streaming down his cheeks. “He was only trying to help you! To get you food and clothes.”

“He see we kill the old man.”

“
You
kill old man,” Mahmoud corrected.

Fazil swung the pistol back and forth angrily. “Old man shoot my cousin.” Beneath the contempt, confused emotions raced across his face. Pain, even fear, like a cornered animal lashing out. But before she could think how to use that, Tyler tore himself free and attacked, feet and fists flailing. In a flash Fazil's face hardened and he aimed the pistol.

Amanda had no time to think. No time for anything but blind instinct. The trigger pressed against her finger.

“Tyler, down!” she screamed. The boy dived, and in that split second, she squeezed. The explosion blew out her eardrums, and the kick knocked her backward onto the ground. She scrambled to sit up and groped beside her for the cold steel barrel of the gun. Her ears were ringing but she could make out snatches of screaming.

Fazil lay on the ground with blood pouring down his face.
My god, my god
, she thought,
I shot someone!
In the next instant she registered Tyler lying face down on the ground, his hands pressed to his ears. Fazil was struggling to reach his pistol, which lay on the ground just beyond his groping hand.

The stench of gunpowder, blood, and burning flesh filled her nostrils. Beside her in the dust, the two schoolgirls cowered, trying to shield their heads with their bare arms as the machetes were raised. She dragged the rifle around to aim it at him, but the steel against her finger was an alien thing, hard and cold. She couldn't move.