In the Shadow of Death (24 page)

“Hurry up! I haven't got all day.” The man had now got out of the car. “You still haven't cleaned my headlights. You can see they're splattered with mud.”

“Keep your shirt on, Mac! I've only got one pair of hands,” the attendant answered back.

“And I need a map,” the man continued.

“Where you going?”

“I was supposed to meet my wife here, but I've tried all the hotels and she's not here. So now I have to go on to some Godforsaken place called Wild Rose Lake.”

“You don't need a map. Take the 150 Mile turnoff to Horsefly. Wild Rose is about twenty-five miles further in.”

That's odd that he's going to Wild Rose Lake too,
Sawasky thought.
I guess there must be other houses on the lake.

N
at was suddenly wide awake. The breaking dawn provided just enough light for him to see around the mine entrance. He inched himself toward it and listened. He was sure it had been the sound of an engine that woke him. But it had stopped. Scrambling for his boots, he pulled them on quickly, wincing with pain as the hard leather scraped the open sores on his heels, and prepared to make a run for it. The rush of adrenalin made his heart beat faster as he again crept to the opening, but when he saw Nordstrom and his pal, their rifles at the ready, already climbing the hill, he quickly drew back and turned to stumble further back into the inky blackness. Then he stopped short. Without a light, he had no way of knowing what lay ahead.

“He's around here somewhere.” He recognized Nordstrom's voice.

“Give me the flashlight,” the other man said. “I'll see if he's inside.”

“Here, catch.” Nat heard a clatter on the stones outside.

“I told you to pass it to me, you stupid idiot.”

Pressing himself against the rough wall, Nat held his breath as the man walked a little way inside.

“You've busted the damned lamp. But he's in here somewhere. Look at this.”

“Your slicker!”

Bloody hell! I forgot that.
Now, as Nat's eyes became accustomed to the gloom of the mine, he began to feel his way further back over the huge piles of stone and rubble, but a sudden sharp bend to the left, shutting out the faint light from the opening, took him by surprise. Instinctively putting his hands out in front of him to grope his way, he felt the soft blackness encasing him, and it was all he could do to push back a wave of panic.
Get a grip on yourself,
he thought.
Their flashlight's broken.
This cheered him up momentarily.
So they can't see in here any better than I can.
He began to breathe easier.
In fact, they don't even know for sure that I'm in here.

But they weren't in doubt for long. As he advanced further over the rubble, it was his sudden yell as his feet slid from under him that gave him away. He found himself flying into space.

“Southby just found the shaft!” he heard Nordstrom yell. And both men laughed. “I think we can safely leave him resting there awhile.”

“You stay here,” the other man ordered. “I'm going back to the cottage for another lamp and some dynamite. I think it's time we had another little accident.”

“You mean blow it up with Southby inside?” Nordstrom sounded uncertain. “Maybe he doesn't know anything.”

“But maybe he does. We can't be certain, and he's too dangerous to let go. Just the fact that he showed up at all is worrying enough for me. Anyhow, no one knows he's here.”

“But . . . suppose he told the Spencer woman he was coming here?”

“She'd never figure out that he's in the mine.”

“You sure?”

“It'll solve everything. Once the mine blows, no one in their right mind would try to dig down inside.”

“Okay, but don't leave me here too long on my own. Make it fast.”

Nat, his right foot twisted painfully beneath him, heard the men still laughing as they moved away from the entrance. “Murdering bastards!” he muttered. “Got to get out of here before he comes back.” Before trying to stand up, he felt cautiously around him, and then, stretching out his arms until they touched a wall, he leaned back against it.
Nordstrom had called it a shaft!
Wincing in pain every time he had to move his foot, he inched his way forward on his behind, his legs straight out in front of him. He had only gone a couple of yards before his feet were suddenly dangling in space. Heart beating wildly, he backtracked to the safety of the wall.
Bloody hell. I must've landed on a ledge.
Too terrified to move in the total darkness, he leaned back against the stony surface again and closed his eyes. “Get up, you coward,” he admonished himself. “Those bastards will be back soon.” Pressing his spine against the wall, he eased himself slowly to his feet. But putting his full weight on his right foot was impossible. Intense pain shot up through his body, bringing waves of dizziness and nausea. Finally, he turned to face the wall. It wasn't solid rock, as he had expected, but compacted gravel, and each time his exploring fingers loosened a stone, he would wait and listen as it bounced across the ledge and down into the shaft. He found himself counting as he waited for the faint splash when it eventually hit water.
About forty feet,
he told himself.

Standing on his good leg, he stretched his arms as high as possible until he could feel the rim of the shaft. He was slightly over six feet, so he estimated that the top was about seven and a half feet above the floor of the ledge. Although it sloped very slightly away from him, it was too steep to climb without footholds. If he just had some kind of tool! But his pockets were empty. Sinking down to the floor again, he considered his predicament. The other man would be back well within the hour. He would have lights with him and dynamite. Nat was a sitting duck. Even if he hadn't hurt his foot, he was no match for the two of them. They were at least ten years younger and in far better physical shape. He eased the boot off his aching foot and felt his swollen ankle. He picked the boot up again and ran his hand over it. The damn things were so stiff, especially the toes.
Stiff leather!
He struggled up once again and felt the stony surface of the wall. Making an estimate of where three feet would be from the floor of the ledge, he ran his hands over the face. “Got you,” he muttered as he found a good-sized rock loosely embedded. Standing on his one good foot and leaning against the wall for support, he started to dig the rock out with the hardened toe of his boot.

Nat was sweating and swearing profusely by the time the rock became loose enough to ease it out of its hole.
I'm on the right track.
He continued to dig until the hole was big enough for his purpose. As he leaned against the wall to get the strength for the next part, Nordstrom called out to him.

“I can hear you, Southby,” Nordstrom taunted. “I don't know what you're doing, but there's no way out of there.”

• • •

MAGGIE AWOKE TO
a tapping on her door. “You asked for a five o'clock call, madam.”

She dressed quickly and packed her bag. The sun was just beginning to peep over the top of the distant mountains, and for a brief moment she forgot everything that had happened in the past few days. Downstairs in the dining room, she had the waitress refill her Thermos. As she climbed into the Jeep, she looked at her watch.
Five thirty. Sit tight, Nat.
She grabbed cheese and crackers from the picnic basket to eat while on the way, then slipped the Jeep into gear.

The sun, drying up the wet road and causing swirls of mist to rise off the trees and bushes, was already bringing out the mosquitos. At first, Maggie tried to drive with the windows up, but as it got warmer, she had to stop to get out and strip off her jacket. The mosquitos took full advantage, and within seconds had invaded the inside of the vehicle. She found herself steering with one hand and batting with the other. “Get out!” she yelled, slapping wildly at the insects that buzzed around her head, neck and arms. Belatedly, she remembered the repellent she had packed, and pulling off to the side of the road, she delved into the basket again, found the evil-smelling liquid and dabbed it on.

If Maggie had thought the road to Horsefly was rough, it was a picnic compared to the one that followed the river to Shadow Lake. Her neck and shoulder muscles became tense with the continual strain of steering around and between potholes. The road was not only lonely, it also ran precariously close to the water, and the closer she got to the lake, the more she realized that she had no idea how to find Nat.
You didn't think this out, Maggie. You have only Jerry Harkness' word for it that Nordstrom's plane went to Shadow Lake. And Jerry could be part of the conspiracy!
But she knew that she had to take the chance that Nat was there.

At the head of the lake, she discovered the road branched to either side of it. She could see that the one along the west side veered sharply away from the water, but reasoning that Nordstrom's place would have to be near the lake in order to fly the plane in, she chose the one along the east side. Although this track rose high above the lake, between the trees she could still see an occasional white sail or the wake from a powerboat.

She came to a stop when she saw a wooden notice board by the side of the road.
BILL'S FISHING RESORT AND MARINA STRAIGHT
ahead: 2 miles.
So that's where the boats are coming from.
Quickly, she scanned the map, but the marina wasn't marked on it.
It says two miles.
She put the Jeep into gear again and continued along the rutted road.
They'll know where Nordstrom's cottage is.

“Al Nordstrom's place?” replied the man on the dock. “That's another six or seven miles along. Just keep going. He's right at the end of the road. You can't miss it. There's a road that branches off to the north, but that just leads to an old mine. Just stay on this one.”

Shadow Lake Mine! Should she drive up to the mine and have a look around, or try to find the cottage first? In the end, she decided on the cottage.
Nat's more likely to be there.

She passed the road leading up to the mine, hoping she would see a driveway that would lead down to a cottage or perhaps catch a glimpse of the float plane on the lake. But the road rose higher, and her view of the lake was obscured behind banks of tall trees. She had just crossed over another small bridge when the clatter of a truck coming at full speed toward her caused Maggie to wrench the wheel of the Jeep and try to pull over. And that's when the Jeep's engine stalled. The driver of the red flatbed jammed on his brakes and came to a screeching halt. “What the hell are you doing driving in the middle of the road?” he yelled at her. “This road's a dead-end anyway.” He waited, fuming while she got the engine going again and pulled to the side. Then he slammed the truck into gear and roared off.

I've seen that man before. Where?
She pulled into the middle of the road again.
Nordstrom's cottage has to be here someplace.
A short time later, the tracks led into a clearing next to an old garage. Pulling up sharply, she jumped out of the Jeep and ran down a path leading to a cottage on the edge of the lake. Pausing for a moment at the top of a flight of wooden steps leading from the house down to the beach, she saw a float plane tied to the pier. It was Nordstrom's all right. She was in the right place. The cottage seemed deserted, but she took a deep breath before quietly turning the handle and walking in. It was then that she heard sobbing. “Kate,” she called. The sobbing stopped. “Kate,” she called again. “It's me, Maggie.”

“Maggie!” Kate came running out of a back room and flung her arms around her. “How . . . how did you get here . . . oh, Maggie, I'm so glad to see you . . . I don't know what to do!” Maggie disentangled Kate's arms.

“What's happened, Kate? Where's Nat?”

“It's all my fault.” Kate started to cry again. “I'm so sorry, Maggie.”

“Where is he?” she repeated.

“Nat's at the mine, but . . . ”

Maggie started for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get Nat.”

“But what about Douglas?”

“I'm sorry, Kate, but Nat's safety comes first.”

“But you don't understand! Douglas is up there too. I think he's going to . . . going to . . . kill Nat!”

Maggie stopped in the doorway. “Your husband is here?”

Kate nodded miserably. “He's not missing at all. Oh, Maggie . . . ”

The man in the truck! Kate's wedding photographs!
“For God's sake, Kate, tell me what's happened.” But precious minutes were lost before Maggie could make sense of what Kate was saying.

“Then Douglas came back a little while ago to get a flashlight,” Kate finished, “and he said they had him cornered.”

“What did he mean?”

“I don't know. I followed him up to the garage, but by the time I got there, he was loading a box in the back of the truck and he told me to come back to the house and wait.”

Without another word, Maggie turned, left the house and started back up the path to the road.

“Where do you think you're going?” The man took her completely by surprise as he suddenly loomed over her. “It's Margaret Spencer, isn't it? I thought it was you up there on the road. You should have kept out of my business, lady.” He grabbed her arm, spun her around and frog-marched her back to the cottage.

Kate let out a wail as they re-entered.

“Isn't this touching?” he said, brushing past his wife. “Your little friend has come to join her boss.” He pushed Maggie down onto a chair and held her firmly there, with both hands on her shoulders. “I don't know if my Kate would do the same for me.”

“Where's Nat?”

“Safe and sound,” he answered. “Kate, you'll find some rope in the shed outside. Get it.”