Waking up the pilot who was asleep at the wheel, so to speak, Kat asked him how long it would take to reach Oakley’s mines. Still half asleep, the pilot scratched his head.
“Well, not long at all. It’s on the other side of the valley. How long are you going to be there?”
“Hard to say. Two or three hours. Why? Do you need to be back at a certain time?”
“I might have to ferry some hotel guests.”
Kat was immediately intrigued. “Hotel guests? You mean from the hotel in town?”
“That’s the one. I take them over to the ranch at Quiggly’s Gulch. I took four of them out there this morning.”
Kat felt a light bulb moment coming on. If four hotel guests had been flown out to Quiggly’s Gulch, there’d been no sign of them at the hotel. “What time do you have to bring them back?”
“Oh, they’re not coming back, but I might have four more to take out there.”
So there were still guests at the hotel, guests who were in hiding. “What d’you mean, they’re not coming back? I thought they were all flown in from various cities.”
Starting the engine, the pilot climbed out and opened the rear door for her. “I don’t know where they come from. All I know is they don’t come back from Quiggly’s Gulch. I ferry them out there, and that’s it. They find their own way home.”
Kat gazed around the airfield. The plane that had brought them here was parked not far from the terminal building, but there was no other plane. She stared at the man. “You’re kidding. From the middle of Utah, with mining in operation, and a turf war raging? It must be two hundred miles from the nearest town.”
“Three hundred. The nearest place is Hite, and that’s a ghost town. I don’t know, lady, but Pine Ridge is a popular place. I’m always flying people out there. Maybe they go trekking. Who knows?”
“People go trekking in Hell? How far is Quiggly’s Gulch?”
The pilot peered at her over his glasses. “Bout ten minutes. We can go there on the way to Oakley’s place if you’re curious.”
She glanced at Giselle, who’d been listening to the conversation with interest. “Are we curious… Ellie?”
Giselle’s face blushed a rosy pink, and it took her a moment to compose herself. “Am I going to get teased about that? Jock likes nicknames.”
“And you’re already calling him Jock. Are we curious?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to look, I suppose.”
She turned back to the pilot. “You’re on, Mr. Pilot. Take us to Quiggly’s Gulch.”
Ten minutes later, they were airborne and flying over West Fork. The town looked like a film set tacked onto the barracks as a joke. Even the railway station looked like something out of the Wild West, rows of telegraph poles stretching into the distance. Kat could see Oakley’s mine in the distance, an ugly yellow scar, surrounded by patches of forest. She’d never been to Utah before, and it surprised her. She’d expected it to be all mountains and grassy plains.
They passed over the old mine where they’d given Giselle target practice. Its entrance barely visible from the air, then over a dry riverbed, a grassy plain that seemed to go on forever until the land dipped. The area became more hilly with small patches of forest that appeared to be mainly cottonwood and silver birch. She saw the ranch at Quiggly’s Gulch quite suddenly. It was perched on a ridge, just above the river. But there was no sign of life. No horses, no cattle, no animals, but as they drew closer, it became apparent that there were also no vehicles either, no method of transport whatsoever. The place looked deserted.
The pilot landed the helicopter a few yards from the main house. There was no garden or fencing to worry about, just bare Earth. They all climbed out. It was cooler here than West Fork, and a fresh breeze was blowing in from the south. Making their way over to the house, Kat gazed at it. It wasn’t a large house. It probably only had two or three bedrooms, but the paintwork was in good condition. The place was well maintained, but by who, she wondered. Walking over to the front door, she turned the handle. The door opened easily.
“Hello!” she called, stepping inside. “Anybody home?” But her voice echoed back at her.
She walked cautiously into what looked like a living room. But she needn’t have worried. There was no one here, and there was no furniture. The oak hardwood floors were well varnished, and the window frames newly painted, but the house was an empty shell. The helicopter pilot frequently brought people out here, but no one stayed at the house. It was merely a drop-off point for people he never saw again. So where were the people he’d dropped off this morning? Had they just faded into the landscape?
She turned to Giselle. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“You think it’s a portal?”
“What else could it be? There was no plane waiting to take all those people home again. They’re dropped out here and never collected again. They were rich, city people. Are they going to go wandering off into that?” she exclaimed, waving her hand at the arid landscape through the window.
She looked at Dore, who was standing in the doorway. “What do you think, Jock?”
He stared at her for a moment. “I think we should collect our things from the hotel, and get the fuck out of here before McInnes arranges for Rostock, and his cronies to kill us all.”
“You really think McInnes would do that?”
Dore shrugged. “Well, he obviously knows about all this; someone maintains this place, and what else would he need a helicopter for? If he wants to have the occasional get together with Oakley, he could drive there. But I also have another question. Rostock is a Federal Cop and a violent drunk. If McInnes was on the up, and up, wouldn’t he contact Police Headquarters in New York City, and have Rostock removed?”
“You think he keeps him here to get rid of nosy people.”
“It’s the most likely explanation. Rostock’s already picked a fight with me over nothing.”
She peered through the window and saw the pilot sitting on a rock, smoking a cigarette. She looked at her watch. It was still on New York time, which meant it was six in the afternoon in Utah. The sun would go down in one hour, and the airfield didn’t have navigation lights for takeoff in the dark.
“It’ll be dark soon. We need to leave.”
Giselle winced. “Don’t we want to stay here and find out who’s supplying these people with artifacts? It could be McInnes… or even Oakley.”
“I don’t think it’s either of them. I’m not saying McInnes isn’t involved; he probably is, but I think he’s a go-between. Those artifacts have to come from the city. We need to find the source.”
“Then, we should stay here until he brings them here.”
Kat shook her head. “Whoever the source is, will use smugglers… anonymously. The smugglers won’t know who the source is, and neither will McInnes. What we need to do is find someone who is about to escape, and shake out as much information from them as we can… come on, let’s go back to West Fork for dinner before it gets dark.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
T he sun was setting on the horizon when they landed at the barracks. Smoke was still rising from the mining area, but they were thin wisps of smoke, nothing to indicate recent work. The men had probably packed it in for the day. And the barracks were also quiet. Were the men in their billets, or were they massing in the valley, preparing for another night assault? It might be useful if they were. It would distract Rostock and his cronies.
Kat took her time driving into town. They’d found what they needed to know and weren’t in a hurry. It was a pleasant evening, and she tried to imagine what West Fork would be like if there’d been horses.
By the time they reached the main street, Kat was in a daze of thoughts and memories. She didn’t notice how quiet the street was, or that the shops had closed early. The sidewalk outside the saloon certainly seemed quiet. It was usually populated by men sitting on the benches, and drinking beer, and then she saw a dress shop. It was small and unusual in
a town full of men. There were no families here. There were no families in Hell. Nevertheless, it was more intriguing than puzzling.
Pulling up to the saloon, she decided to take a look. “Go ahead, Jock. I just want to look at a dress. Want to come, Ellie?”
“God Almighty,” he grumbled. “I knew there was something I wasn’t missing.”
Crossing the street, the two women approached the shop with anticipation. There were two dresses in the window. One was a cream, long-sleeved dress with daisies printed on it, the other was a pale blue summer dress with pink stripes, and it occurred to Kat that it wouldn’t just be men escaping from Hell, it would be women as well, women who might want something beautiful to wear before they dived into the unknown. Did that mean that the entire town was in on the escapes? It was then that she noticed how quiet the street was. It wasn’t just quiet; it was completely silent.
“Well, if it isn’t the Wolfram ladies!” a gruff voice called.
Kat straightened and looked around. Fifty yards away, five demons stood, spread out across the street. It was hard to see them clearly with the sun in her eyes, but she finally made one out to be Rostock. The other demons were his card game buddies. They were all armed, and they were standing with their legs apart, their arms at their sides. It was like a comedy sketch of five gunmen waiting for a showdown.
Stepping off the raised sidewalk and into the street, she squinted at the five demons. “Well, if it isn’t Billy the Lizard and his scaly butt buddies!” she called, trying not to laugh.
“You carrying, lady?”
She did an exaggerated double blink. “Do you mean, am I armed? I’m a film producer. I didn’t think it was necessary.”
“It is if you want to leave West Fork… Alive.”
Suppressing a snort of laughter, she squinted at the demon. “Way cool! Are you challenging me to a gunfight? Five against two? I thought that only happened in the movies!”
“You’re a movie producer. We’re playing by your movie rules.”
She glanced at the saloon. There was no sign of Dore. “Can’t argue that I suppose… If you’ll be so kind as to allow a lady to go to the hotel and strap on her irons, we can get this party started. Give me two minutes? Don’t move! Promise to be here when I get back?”
“We’ll be here.”
Grabbing Giselle’s wrist, she ushered her across the street and into the hotel. Together, they raced up the stairs, and into Giselle’s room.
Closing the door, Kat said, “I need to change.”
Giselle’s eyes widened. “You’re not seriously going out there?”
“Of course I am,” she said, stepping out of her pants and unzipping the overnight. “McInnes knows we’ve been snooping around the ranch at Quiggly Gulch. He must have called Rostock to waste us.”
“Then, don’t go out there.”
“Are you kidding? This is a real gunfight in the old west. I haven’t had this much fun since I was killed.”
Trembling with anxiety, Giselle exclaimed, “no wonder you were sent to Hell!” She then left the room to find Dore.
It felt strangely exciting climbing into her Elite uniform, pulling on her boots, and strapping on the .44 magnum. It reminded her of when she’d worn a NAZI uniform and carried a Luger.
Dore was striding down the corridor with Giselle when she came out of her room. He’d taken his jacket off, and his twin shoulder holsters look seriously impressive.
“Holy mother of God!” he exclaimed when he saw her. “You look like Joan of Arc.”
“Yeah, we were both crispy when done… You and I do make quite a pair, though. Do you think we can take them?”
“No worries. We’ve been up against worse odds, but we’re not going to play their silly game. I want you to go out in the street, freak them out in your Uniform…” He grinned. “And leave the rest to Scotland.”
“What about Giselle? There are five of them.”
“I don’t want her going out there. It’s too dangerous.”
She let out a cackle of laughter. “You old softy!”
Kat had no idea what Dore intended to do. Although she’d be out there on her own against a demon called Billy the Kid, Kat trusted Dore to do something spectacularly stupid and save the day.
As they descended the wooden staircase, every eye in the saloon was on them, mouths agape, not a sound to be heard. It was like a scene from the movie High Noon. The difference was Kat in her extraordinary uniform, Dore looking like a hitman from the New York City mob, the muscles in his hairy forearms bulging with nervous tension.
She gazed out through the swing doors. It was almost dark now. There was still light in the sky, but the sun had dipped below the horizon. Well, that’s good, she told herself. I won’t have the sun in my eyes. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she scanned the street. Rostock and his cronies were still there, and he had a sly smile on his lizard face. Even his horns were glinting. Were they all going to draw their guns at once… or would it just be Rostock and her? It didn’t matter; she had Jock. Those damn lizards didn’t stand a chance…
Taking a deep breath, she sauntered into the middle of the street. The effect on Rostock dramatic; his jaw visibly dropped when he saw the Elite uniform, its black metallic texture glistening in the evening light. Even his eyes lost their wicked gleam.
“Yo, lizard. Down to you, Kid!” she called, loosening the Smith & Wesson. “But you’d better make sure you kill me. If you don’t, Hades will have you for fucking dinner.”
Rostock took on a sullen air. He wasn’t about to be beaten by a woman. Glancing at his fellow demons, he nodded to them. It was a bad sign. Were they all going to draw at once, five of them against one woman? The question was, who would start this? And what did Dore intend to do? Rostock seemed to be waiting for something. His eyes kept flitting past her, but when she looked behind her, there was nothing.
And then a distant explosion rattled the windows, and then another. There was a chatter of gunfire and more explosions by a battle taking place beyond the mines. McInnes and Oakley were duking it out again. Rostock grinned, his pointed fangs, horribly yellow. Kat had no idea why, but it seemed to be what he’d been waiting for.
“Whenever you’re ready, Lady!”
“My, what a gentleman. Please, creepy lizard slime before beauty. I insist…”
Kat tensed, watching Rostock’s gun hand with an eagle eye.
And then Rostock exploded into action. It all happened so fast. The next few microseconds were like a blur. Rostock went for his gun, his cronies went for theirs, Kat grabbed the Smith & Wesson, taking a giant step to one side, so Rostock’s shot went wide. Kat’s shots didn’t. Kat pumped three .44 magnum bullets into the snarling lizard’s ugly face. It wasn’t possible to kill a demon with an ordinary gun, but she could certainly scramble his brains. Then Dore strode out of the saloon, hat low over his eyes, both guns blazing. The cronies’ heads jerked around, but too late. They were mown down in a hail of bullets. Only one demon remained standing, but not for long. Two shots were fired from the saloon. Giselle stood there; smoke drifted from the barrel of her Baby Browning.
Kat gazed at all the carnage. Green blood was collecting in pools beneath the bodies, but Rostock’s head was worse. She’d shot him three times with 350 grain .44 magnum bullets between the horns. Shards of bone and gray brain matter had splattered the ground around his scaly demon body from his blown away lizard skull. Holstering her gun, Kat chuckled at Rostock’s practically headless body and said, “boy, he’s going to feel that in the morning.”
“I think that deserves a drink!” Dore yelled, holstering his guns. “The last one in the bar’s a bloody lizard.” Then he turned and marched into the saloon.
A crowd began to collect, the murmur of fearful voices, but no one went near the mutilated bodies. It would be left to McInnes to clean up the mess, and right now, he was otherwise engaged. Walking over to Giselle, Kat wrapped an arm around her tiny waist and led her into the saloon.
“Hey Ellie, you did really good. I’m surprised that Jock’s not all over you.”
Giselle laughed. “He’s too embarrassed. Jock’s better at kicking than kissing.”
They found Dore setting down their drinks at the table where they’d eaten breakfast. He was humming Loch Lomond, and beer foam covered his upper lip.
“So that’s it,” he said. “We fly out tomorrow morning.”
“We still haven’t checked Oakley’s mine,” Kat reminded him. “What if there’s another ranch to the east? We know McInnes is probably involved, but is Oakley?”
Giselle shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Even if he’s involved, they’re just hosting all this. We need to find the source, and I doubt if either McInnes or Oakley know who it is. We’d be better off trying to find out who pays for the flights out here.”
“What we should really do,” Dore said, putting down his beer, “is question the people who arrive here. We arrived in the afternoon, and there were no other planes. These old Dakotas have a two-hour turnaround, which means they must be arriving in the morning.”
“What are you suggesting? That we hang around until tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “No reason why not. Now that Rostock’s out of the game, there’s no one chasing us now… You might want to change out of that uniform. Put on that sexy suit again.”
Without another word, Kat put down her drink and raced upstairs to change into her business clothes. Moments later, Kat rejoined them in the saloon.
“That better?” she asked, plumping into her seat.
“I certainly feel better,” Giselle said. “You were terrifying in that uniform. The look on Rostock’s face, he knew you could actually kill him.”
“You think they can repair the damage I did? He’ll need a new head.”
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