High Citadel / Landslide

by Desmond Bagley

  I felt a chill in that big, warm, centrally-heated room—the chill of horror as I looked across at Lucy Atherton who was standing with a blank look on her face as though the matter under discussion did not concern her a whit. It must have been also ‘a minor happening of no great consequence’ that a hitch-hiker called Grant was also in the car.

  Matterson sighed. ‘So Lucy talked Howard into it, and that wouldn’t be too difficult, I guess. He was always weak and rotten even as a boy. They borrowed my Buick and trailed the Trinavants on the Edmonton road, and ran them off that cliff deliberately and in cold blood. I daresay they took advantage of the fact that John knew the car and knew them.’

  My lips were stiff as I asked, ‘Who was driving the car?’

  ‘I don’t know. Neither of them would ever say. The Buick got knocked around a bit and they couldn’t hide that from me. I put two and two together and got Howard cornered and forced it out of him. He crumpled like a wet paper bag.’

  He was quiet for a long time, then he said, ‘What was I to do? These were my children!’ In his voice was a plea for understanding. ‘Can a man turn in his own children for murder? So I became their accomplice.’ There was now a deep self-contempt in his voice. ‘I covered up for them, God help me. I built a wall around them with my money.’

  I said gently, ‘Was it you who sent the money to the hospital to help Grant?’

  ‘I was pulled two ways—torn down the middle,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want another death on my conscience. Yes, I sent the money—it was the least I could do. And I wanted to keep track of you. I knew you’d lost your memory and I was scared to death you’d get it back. I had a private investigator checking up on you but he lost you somehow. Must have been about the time you changed your name.’ His hands groped blindly on the coverlet as he looked into the black past. ‘And I was scared you’d start back-tracking in an attempt to find yourself. I had to do something about that and I did what I could. I had to get rid of the name of Trinavant—it’s an odd name and sticks in a man’s memory. John and his family were the only Trinavants left in Canada—barring Clare—and I knew if you bumped up against that name you’d get curious, so I tried to wipe it out. What put you on to it?’

  ‘Trinavant Park,’ I said.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he chuckled. ‘I wanted to change that but I couldn’t get it past that old bitch, Davenant. She’s about the only person in Fort Farrell I couldn’t scare hell out of. Independent income,’ he explained.

  ‘Anyway, I went on building the company. God knows what for, but it seemed pretty important at the time. I felt lost without John—he was always the brains of the outfit—but then I got hold of Donner and we got going pretty good after that.’

  There was no regret for the way he had done it. He was still a tough, ruthless sonofabitch—but an honest sonofabitch by his lights, dim though they were. I heard a sound outside—the sound of a fast-driven car braking hard on the gravel. I looked at the nurse. ‘Have you got all that?’

  She looked up with misery in her face. ‘Yes,’ she said flatly. ‘And I wish I hadn’t.’

  ‘So do I, child,’ said Matterson. ‘I should have killed the pair of them with my own hands twelve years ago.’ His hand came out and plucked at my sleeve. ‘You must stop Howard. I know him—he’ll go on killing until he’s destroyed. He loses his head easily and makes terrible mistakes. He’ll kill and kill, thinking he’s finding a way out and not knowing he’s getting in deeper.’

  I said, ‘I think we can leave that to Gibbons—he’s the professional.’ I nodded to the nurse as a faint knocking sound echoed through the house. ‘You’d better let him in. I can’t leave here with her around.’

  I still kept a close watch on Lucy whose face continued to twitch spasmodically. When the nurse had gone I said, ‘All right, Lucy: where are they? Where are Clare Trinavant and McDougall?’

  A chill had settled on me. I was afraid for them, afraid this crazy woman had killed them. Matterson said bleakly, ‘Good Christ! Is there more?’

  I ignored him. ‘Lucy, where are they?’ I could have no pity for her and had no compunction in using any method to get the information from her. I pulled out the hunting knife. ‘If you don’t tell me, Lucy, I’ll carve you up just like I’d carve up a deer—with the difference that you’ll feel every cut.’

  The old man said nothing but just breathed deeper. Lucy looked at me blankly.

  I said, ‘All right, Lucy. You’ve asked for it.’ I had to get this over with fast before Gibbons came up. He wouldn’t stand for what I was about to do.

  Lucy giggled. It was a soft imbecile giggle that shook her whole body, and developed into a maniacal cackle. ‘All right,’ she yelled at me. ‘We put the sexy bitch in the cellar, and the old fool with her. I wanted to kill them both but Howard wouldn’t let me, the damn’ fool.’

  Gibbons heard that. He had opened the door as she began laughing and his face was white. I felt a wave of relief sweep over me and jerked my head at Gibbons. ‘The nurse say anything about this?’

  ‘She said a little.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘You heard what this one said, though. She’s got Clare Trinavant and old McDougall locked in a dungeon of this mausoleum. You’d better put cuffs on her, but watch it—she’s homicidal.’

  I didn’t take the shotgun off her until he had her safely handcuffed and then I tossed it to him. ‘The nurse will fill you in on everything,’ I said. ‘I’m going to find Clare and Mac.’ I paused and looked down at the old man. His eyes were closed and he was apparently sleeping peacefully. I looked at the nurse. ‘Maybe you’d better tend your patient first. I wouldn’t want to lose him now.’

  I hurried out and down the staircase. In the hall I found a bewildered-looking man in a dressing-gown. He came over to me at a shuffle, and said in an English accent, ‘What’s all the fuss? Why are the police here?’

  ‘Who are you?’ I asked.

  He drew himself up. ‘I’m Mr Matterson’s butler.’

  ‘Okay, Jeeves; do you have any spare keys for the cellars?’

  ‘I don’t know who you are, sir, but—’

  ‘This is police business,’ I said impatiently. ‘The keys?’

  ‘I have a complete set of all the house keys in my pantry.’

  ‘Go get them—and make it fast.’

  I followed him and he took a bunch of keys from a cabinet which contained enough to outfit a locksmith’s shop. Then I took him at a run down to the cellars which were of a pattern with the house—too big and mostly unused. I shouted around for a while and at last was rewarded by a faint cry. ‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘Open that door.’

  He checked a number stencilled on the door and slowly selected a key from the bunch while I dithered with impatience. The door creaked open and then Clare was in my arms. When we unlatched from each other I saw she was filthily dirty, but probably not more than I was. Her face was streaked with dirt and there were runnels down her cheeks where the tears ran. ‘Thank God!’ I said. ‘Thank God you’re alive.’

  She gave a little cry and turned. ‘Mac’s bad,’ she said. ‘They didn’t feed us. Howard came down sometimes but we haven’t seen him for five days.’

  I turned to the butler who was standing with his mouth open. ‘Send for a doctor and an ambulance,’ I said. ‘And move, damn you.’

  He trotted off and I went in to see how bad Mac was. It figured, of course. Crazy Lucy wouldn’t bother to feed people she already regarded as dead. Clare said, ‘We’ve had no food or water for five days.’

  ‘We’ll fix that,’ I said, and stooped down to Mac. His breathing was quick and shallow and the pulse was weak. I picked him up in my arms and he seemed to weigh no more than a baby. I carried him upstairs with Clare following and found the butler in the hall. ‘A bedroom,’ I said. ‘And then food for six people—a big pot of coffee and a gallon of water.’

  ‘Water, sir?’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, don’t repeat what I say.
Yes—water.’

  We got Mac settled in bed and by that time the butler had aroused the house. I had to caution Clare not to drink water too fast nor to drink too much, and she fell on cold cuts as though she hadn’t eaten for five weeks instead of five days. I reflected that I hadn’t lived too badly in the Kinoxi Valley, after all.

  We left Mac in the care of a doctor and went to find Gibbons who was on the telephone trying to make someone believe the incredible. ‘Yes,’ he was saying. ‘He’s loose in the Kinoxi Valley—got a shotgun with rifled slugs. Yes, I said Howard Matterson. That’s right, Bull Matterson’s son. Of course I’m sure; I got it from Bull himself.’ He looked up at me, then said, ‘I’ve got a guy here who was shot at by Howard.’ He sighed and then brightened as though the news had finally sunk in on the other end of the line. ‘Look, I’m going up to the Kinoxi myself right now, but it’s unlikely that I’ll find him—he could be anywhere. I’ll need a backup force—we might have to cordon off a stretch of the woods.’

  I smiled a little sadly at Clare. This was where I came in but this time I was on the other end of a manhunt—not the sharp end. Gibbons spoke a few more words into the mouthpiece, then said, ‘I’ll ring you just before I leave with any more dope I can get.’ He put down the telephone. ‘This is goddam incredible.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ I said tiredly, and sat down. ‘Did you really speak to Bull?’

  Gibbons nodded and there was a kind of desperate awe in his face. ‘He gave me specific instructions,’ he said. ‘I’m to shoot and kill Howard on sight just as if he were a mad dog.’

  ‘Bull’s not too far wrong,’ I said. ‘You’ve seen Lucy—she’s crazy enough, isn’t she?’

  Gibbons shuddered slightly, then pulled himself together. ‘We don’t do things like that, though,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll bring him in alive.’

  ‘Don’t be too much the goddam hero,’ I advised. ‘He’s got a shotgun—a five-shot automatic loaded with 12-gauge rifled slugs. He nearly cut Jimmy Waystrand in two with one shot.’ I shrugged. ‘But you’re the professional. I suppose you know what you’re doing.’

  Gibbons fingered some sheets of paper. ‘Is all this true? All this about them killing the Trinavants years ago?’

  ‘It’s a verbatim report of what old Matterson said. I’m witness to that.’

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I have a map here. Show me where you last saw Howard.’

  I bent over as he unfolded the map. ‘Right there,’ I said. ‘He took two shots at the helicopter as we were taking off. If you want to get up to the Kinoxi fast that helicopter is just outside the house, and there might even be a pilot, too. If he objects to going back to the Kinoxi tell him I said he was to go.’

  Gibbons looked at me closely. ‘I got a pretty garbled story from that nurse. I gather you’ve been on the run from Howard and a bunch of loggers for three weeks.’

  ‘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 ju
st 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.’