High Citadel / Landslide (63 page)

Read High Citadel / Landslide Online

Authors: Desmond Bagley

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: High Citadel / Landslide
10.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘An exaggeration,’ I said. ‘Less than two weeks.’

‘Why the hell didn’t you come to me?’ Gibbons demanded.

It was then I started to laugh. I laughed until the tears came to my eyes and my sides ached. I laughed myself into hysteria and they had to bring a doctor to calm me down. I was still chuckling when they put me to bed and I fell asleep.

II

I woke up fifteen hours later to find Clare at the bedside. I saw her face in profile and I’ve never seen anything so lovely. She became aware I was awake and turned. ‘Hello, Boyd,’ she said.

‘Hi, Trinavant.’ I stretched luxuriously. ‘What time is it?’

‘Just past midday.’ She looked at me critically. ‘You could do with a clean-up. Seen yourself lately?’

I rubbed my jaw. It no longer prickled because the hair had grown too long for that. I said, ‘Maybe I’ll grow a beard.’

‘Just you dare.’ She pointed. ‘There’s a bathroom through there, and I got you a razor.’

‘I trust I won’t offend your maidenly modesty,’ I said as I threw back the sheets. I swung out of bed and walked into the bathroom. The face that stared at me from the big mirror was the face of a stranger—haggard and wild-looking. ‘My God!’ I said. ‘No wonder that pilot was wetting his pants. I bet I could stop cows giving milk.’

‘It will come right with the application of soap and water,’ she said.

I filled the bath and splashed happily for half an hour, then shaved and dressed. Dressed in my own clothes, too. I said, ‘How did these get here?’

‘I had them brought from Mac’s cabin,’ said Clare.

Sudden remembrance hit me. ‘How is he?’

‘He’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘He’s as tough as Bull.
He
seems to be bearing up under the strain, too.’

‘I want to get him in court to tell that story,’ I said grimly. ‘After that I don’t care if he drops dead on the spot.’

‘Don’t be too hard on him, Bob,’ said Clare seriously. ‘He had a hard decision to make.’

I said no more about it. ‘Have you been filled in on all the details of this caper?’ I asked.

‘Mostly, I guess—except for what you have to tell me. But that can wait, darling. We have plenty of time.’ She looked at me straightly. ‘Have you decided who you are?’

I shrugged. ‘Does it matter? No, Clare; I’m no nearer finding out. I’ve been thinking about it, though. After the Matterson family a guy like Grant, a drug-pusher, is pretty small potatoes. What’s a drug-peddler compared with a couple of multiple murderers? Maybe Grant wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. Anyway—as I said—does it matter? As far as I’m concerned I’m just Bob Boyd.’

‘Oh, darling, I told you that,’ she said. We had a pretty passionate few minutes then, and after coming out of the clinch and wiping off the lipstick, I said, ‘I’ve just thought of a funny thing. I used to have bad dreams—real shockers
they were—and I’d wake up sweating and screaming. But you know what? When I was under
real
pressure in the Kinoxi with all those guys after my blood and Howard coming after me with his shotgun I didn’t get too much sleep. But when I did sleep I didn’t dream at all. I think that’s strange.’

She said, ‘Perhaps the fact you were in real danger destroyed the imaginary danger of the dream. What’s past is past, Bob; a dream can’t really hurt you. Let’s hope they don’t come back.’

I grinned. ‘Any nightmares I have from now on are likely to be concerned with that automatic shotgun of Howard’s. That really gave me the screaming meemies.’

We went in to see McDougall. He was still under sedation but the doctor said he was going to be all right, and he had a pretty nurse to look after him. He was conscious enough to wink at me, though, and he said drowsily, ‘For a minute there, down in that cellar, I thought you were going to let me down, son.’

I didn’t see Bull Matterson because his doctor was with him, but I saw the night nurse. I said, ‘I’m sorry I busted in on you like that, Miss…er…’

‘Smithson,’ she supplied. She smiled. ‘That’s all right, Mr Boyd.’

‘And I’m glad you turned out to be level-headed,’ I said. ‘A squawking woman rousing the house right then could have queered my pitch.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t have made a noise under any circumstances,’ said Miss Smithson primly. ‘It would have adversely affected Mr Matterson’s health.’

I looked straight-facedly at Clare who was disposed to burst into a fit of the giggles and we took our departure of the Matterson residence. As we drove away in Clare’s station-wagon I looked into the driving mirror at the
over-bloated splendour of that fake castle and heartily wished I’d never see it again.

Clare said pensively, ‘Do you know how old Lucy was when she and Howard killed Uncle John, Aunt Anne and Frank?’

‘No.’

‘She was eighteen years old—just eighteen. How could anybody do anything like that at eighteen?’

I didn’t know, so I said nothing and we drove in silence through Fort Farrell and on to the road which led to Mac’s cabin. It was only just before the turn-off that I smote the driving wheel, and said, ‘My God, I must be nuts! I haven’t told anyone about the quick clay. I clean forgot.’

I suppose it wasn’t surprising that I had forgotten. I’d had other things on my mind—such as preventing myself getting killed—and Bull Matterson’s revelations had also helped to drive it out of my head. I braked to a quick stand-still and prepared to do a U-turn, then had second thoughts. ‘I’d better go on up to the dam. The police should have a check-point there to prevent anyone going up into the Kinoxi.’

‘Do you think they’ll have caught Howard yet?’

‘Not a chance,’ I said. ‘He’ll be able to run rings round them. For a while, at least.’ I put the car into gear. ‘I’ll drop you at the cabin.’

‘No you won’t,’ said Clare. ‘I’m coming up to the dam.’

I took one look at her and sighed. She had her stubborn expression all set for instant use and I had no time to argue. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘But stay out of trouble.’

We made good time on the Kinoxi road—there were no trucks to hinder progress—but we were stopped by a patrolman half a mile short of the powerhouse. He flagged us down and walked over to the car. ‘This is as far as you go,’ he said. ‘No one goes beyond this point. We don’t want any sightseers.’

‘What’s happening up there?’

‘Nothing that would interest you,’ he said patiently. ‘Just turn your car round and get going.’

I said, ‘My name’s Boyd—this is Miss Trinavant. I want to see your boss.’

He stared at me curiously. ‘You the Boyd that started all this ruckus?’

‘Me!’ I said indignantly. ‘What about Howard Matterson?’

‘I guess it’s all right,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You’ll want to see Captain Crupper—he’s up at the dam. If he’s not there you wait for him; we don’t want anything going wrong in the Kinoxi.’

‘Then you haven’t caught him yet,’ said Clare.

‘Not that I know of,’ said the patrolman. He stood back and waved us on.

Work was still going on at the powerhouse and I could see a few minuscule figures on top of the sheer concrete wall of the dam. There was still the sea of mud at the bottom of the escarpment, a slick, slimy mess churned up by the wheels of trucks. It had been too much for a couple of trucks which were bogged down to their axles. A team of sweating men had anchored a power-winch on firm ground and was hauling one of them out bodily.

I pulled up next to a big car and found myself looking at Donner, who looked back at me expressionlessly, then got out of the car. I went to meet him with Clare close behind. ‘Donner, you’re in trouble.’ I waved at the powerhouse and up at the dam.

‘Trouble!’ he said bitterly. ‘You think
this
is trouble?’ For a reputedly bloodless and nerveless man he was showing a hell of a lot of emotion. ‘Those goddam crazy Mattersons,’ he burst out. ‘They’ve put me in one hell of a spot.’

I knew what was wrong with him. He was one of those people who make bullets for others to shoot, but he’d never
take responsibility for pulling the trigger himself; a perfect second-in-command for Bull Matterson but without Bull’s guts. Now he found himself in charge of the Matterson Empire, if only temporarily, and the strain was telling. Particularly as the whole thing was about to fall apart. Nothing could now prevent the whole story coming into the open, especially the double-dealing with the Trinavant Trust, and it was easy to see that Donner would be hunting around for ways to unload the blame on to someone else.

It wouldn’t be too hard—Bull Matterson was too sick to fight back and Howard, the murderer, was a perfect scapegoat. But it was a trying time for Donner. However, I wasn’t interested in his troubles because a bigger danger was impending.

I said, ‘This is more trouble than you think. Did you read my report on the geology of the Kinoxi Valley?’

‘That was Howard’s baby,’ said Donner. ‘I’m just the accountant. I didn’t see the report and I wouldn’t have understood it if I had.’

He was already weaselling out from under the chopper; he could see trouble coming and was disclaiming responsibility. Probably, on the balance of things, he really hadn’t seen the report. Anyway, that didn’t matter—what mattered was getting every construction man off the site as soon as possible.

I pointed up at the escarpment. ‘That hillside is in danger of caving in, Donner. It can go any time. You’ve got to get your men out of here.’

He looked at me incredulously. ‘Are you crazy? We’ve lost enough time already because that dumb bastard Howard pulled men away to look for you. Every day’s delay is costing us thousands of dollars. We’ve lost enough time because of this mud, anyway.’

‘Donner, get it through your skull that you’re in trouble. I really mean what I say. That bloody hillside is going to come down on you.’

He swung his head and stared across at the solid slope of the escarpment, then gave me an odd look. ‘What the hell are you talking about? How can a hill cave in?’

‘You should have read that report,’ I said. ‘I found quick clay deposits in the valley. For God’s sake, didn’t you do a geological survey of the foundations of the dam?’

‘That was Howard’s business—he looked after the technical side. What’s this quick clay?’

‘An apparently solid substance that turns liquid if given a sudden shock—and it doesn’t need much of a shock. As near as I can check there’s a bed of it running right under that dam.’ I grinned at him humourlessly. ‘Let’s look on the bright side. If it goes, then a couple of million tons of topsoil is going to cover your powerhouse—the clay will liquefy and carry the topsoil with it. That’s the best that can happen.’

Clare touched my elbow. ‘And the worst?’

I nodded towards the dam. ‘It might jerk the foundations from under that hunk of concrete. If that happens, then all the water behind the dam will flow right over where we’re standing now. How much water is backed up behind there, Donner?’

He didn’t answer my question. Instead, he smiled thinly. ‘You tell a good story, Boyd. I like it very much, but I don’t go for it. You have a good imagination—an earthquake laid on to order shows real creative thought.’ He scratched his chin. ‘The only thing I can’t figure is what you reckon to gain by stopping construction now. I just can’t figure your angle.’

I gaped at him. McDougall had been right—this man figured every motive in dollars and cents. I drew a deep breath, and said, ‘You stupid, ignorant oaf!’ I turned from him in disgust. ‘Where’s the police captain who’s supposed to be here?’

‘Here he comes now,’ said Donner. ‘Coming out of the valley.’

I looked up to the road that clung to the hillside above the dam. A car was coming down, trailing a dust plume behind it. ‘Captain Crupper hasn’t the power to close down operations,’ said Donner. ‘I wish I knew what you were figuring, Boyd. Why don’t you tell me what you’re getting at?’

Clare said hotly, ‘Something you wouldn’t understand, Donner. He just wants to save your life, although I’m damned if I know why. He also wants to save the lives of all those men, even though they were after his blood not long ago.’

Donner smiled and shrugged. ‘Save those speeches for suckers, Miss Trinavant.’

I said, ‘Donner, you’re in trouble already—but not in real bad trouble because the worst that can happen to you is jail. But I’ll tell you something: if anyone gets killed here because you’ve ignored a warning you’ll have a lynch-mob after you and you’ll be damned lucky not to be strung up to the nearest tree.’

The police car rolled to a stop quite close and Captain Crupper got out and came over. ‘Mr Donner, I asked you to meet me here, but apparently it is now unnecessary.’

Donner said, ‘Captain Crupper, this is Mr Boyd and Miss Trinavant.’

Crupper switched hard eyes to me. ‘Hm—you stirred up something here, Boyd. I’m sorry it had to happen to you—and to you, Miss Trinavant.’ He looked at Donner. ‘It appears an investigation of the Matterson Corporation would be in order; running a private manhunt doesn’t come under normal business procedures.’

‘That was Howard Matterson’s affair,’ said Donner hastily. ‘I knew nothing about it.’

‘You won’t have to worry about him any more,’ said Crupper curtly. ‘We’ve got him.’

‘You got on to him fast,’ I said. ‘I’d have guessed it would take longer.’

With grim humour Crupper said, ‘He’s not as good in the woods as you, apparently.’ His lips tightened. ‘It cost us a good man.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

He slapped his gloves against his thigh. ‘Gibbons was shot in the knee. His leg was amputated this morning.’

So Gibbons had to go and do the heroic bit after all. I said, ‘I warned him not to monkey around with Howard. Bull Matterson warned him, too.’

‘I know,’ said Crupper tiredly. ‘But we always try the pacific way first. We can’t shoot on sight just on someone’s say-so. There are laws in this country, Boyd.’

I hadn’t noticed the law around the Kinoxi Valley during the last couple of weeks, but I said nothing about that. ‘There’s going to be a lot more good men lost if this idiot Donner doesn’t pull them off this site.’

Crupper reacted fast. He jerked his head round to look at the powerhouse, then speared me with a cold glance. ‘What do you mean by that?’

Other books

Life in a Medieval City by Frances Gies, Joseph Gies
Shattered by Haven Anne Lennox
Fire Down Below by Andrea Simonne
What Were You Expecting? by Katy Regnery
CHERUB: The Sleepwalker by Robert Muchamore
The Missing Heir by Tracy Barrett