It would have required sophisticated electronics. With components that could be traced back to their purchaser.
“That’s what you’re really after, isn’t it, Russ? The container?”
“You got it, kid. I built that signaling device by hand. I was careful, very careful, but I can’t take the chance of letting it fall into the wrong hands. Old man McCoy couldn’t have carted all these bricks far. Now that I know their location, I can concentrate my search for the container in the immediate area and let the rest of my team scatter to hell and back. Too bad you won’t be part of the search effort, Rache. We made a good team.”
His false air of regret sickened her almost as much as the certainty of what would come next. Instinctively, she edged closer to Jake.
“Don’t lay any compliments on me, you bastard. I don’t want them from you. I don’t want anything from you, except to watch Buck Silverthorne cart you off wearing your own cuffs.”
“That’s not going to happen. Move away from Henderson, Rachel, and walk toward me.”
She choked down the panic that rose like bile in her throat. “Get stuffed!”
“I’ll shoot you both where you stand if I have to. The explanations would be messy, but I can work it. I’d rather make it look natural. Move away from him.”
“Do as he says, Rachel.”
Jake reached over with his free hand and squeezed her arm before pushing her aside. With his other, he kept the flashlight beam trained on Taggart. Rachel forced herself forward, cursing her one-time partner with every dragging step.
She knew Jake wouldn’t move as long as Russ had her targeted. He wouldn’t risk her life, but he’d risk his own. Terror churning in her stomach, she formulated a desperate plan. She’d throw herself forward. Fall on the gun. Take Taggart’s arm down with her. Give Jake time to lunge.
Every nerve in her body screaming, she coiled her muscles. Suddenly, Taggart surged forward. His fist came out of the darkness, cut through the beam of white light, and slammed into her jaw.
Rachel sank without a sound. She was still on her way down when Jake launched himself through the air.
The FBI operative’s years of training and experience had him anticipating just such an attack. Flinging up an arm, he took the flashlight with a crack of metal on bone. His other arm whipped around.
Jake crashed into him at the same instant the automatic’s blue-steel handle smashed into his skull. Blinding white pain exploding in his head, he took Taggart down.
They hit with a force that knocked grunts from both men. Locked together, they grappled in the darkness. Swearing, straining, struggling frantically, Taggart used every move in his bag of dirty tricks.
Jake had survived his share of barroom brawls, both before and during his stint in the marines. He and his brothers had invented a few tricks of their own during their rambunctious youth. Ramming a knee into Taggart’s gut, he followed with a hard right to the jaw and grabbed for the man’s gun arm.
If the darkness and the searing pain in his temple hadn’t blinded him, he might have gotten a better hold. With a snarl, Taggart ripped his arm free and brought the gun down again butt-first.
A muted roar pierced Rachel’s stupor. She opened her eyes to complete darkness. She turned her head, groaning when the movement started waves of pain in her lower face.
It took her a few moments to realize that the darkness wasn’t total. There, in the distance, was a dim grayness. Frowning, she stared at the faint coloration until it took shape. An oval. Half an oval.
The half made no sense to her. Frowning, she blinked to clear her confusion. It came back to her then, in a swift, terrifying rush. She was in a tunnel. That gray patch formed its entrance.
Jake! Dear God, where was Jake?
Ignoring the throbbing pain in her jaw, she crawled up on all fours and croaked out a hoarse cry.
“Jake?”
When she received no reply, panic rushed through her veins. Frantic, she scrabbled forward, rammed into something, and almost pitched over. The something, she discovered with a sob, was an inert body.
Only after her trembling hands encountered buttery soft sheepskin and burrowed under the curly lining to the chest beneath did she confirm that the body belonged to Jake. And that he was still breathing.
Sobbing with relief, she conducted another frantic, fumbling search. She found no bullet holes pumping hot, sticky blood.
His scalp was a mess, though. Plenty of blood there. Cradling him gently in her arms, Rachel sank back on her heels. Wave after wave of delayed shock shuddered through her.
She was still rocking Jake in her arms when the muted roar that had pulled her into consciousness penetrated her whirling mind once more. She craned her neck, frowning as the sound grew louder. Deep-throated echoes thundered through the tunnel.
Russ! It had to be Russ! On one of the four-wheelers. Was he coming back to look for them? He had to know the ATV wouldn’t fit into this side tunnel.
Maybe it was Marsh, Rachel thought on a leap of desperate hope. Or Shad. Or Buck Silverthorne. She was still trying to decide what to do if it wasn’t one of the good guys when the pale gray oval suddenly disappeared. A moment later, the deafening roar died.
For God’s sake! What had Russ done? Blocked the tunnel entrance with the ATVs?
Did he think that would keep her and Jake inside? The scheme made no sense, until she remembered that he’d said he wanted to make things look natural. The pieces of the puzzle tumbled together with horrifying clarity.
What was more natural than burying her and Jake and the money they’d so foolishly gone looking for under tons of rock? It would take searchers days to find their bodies, dig them out. Days that Russ needed to look for his damned container.
And unless the bastard had packed some plastic explosive or dynamite along with him, the only means he had of creating an explosion was to put a bullet through the gas tank on one of the ATVs!
Terror came clawing back. One shot! That’s all it would take. One shot from a safe distance down the main passageway. Scrambling back onto her knees, she threw her arm across Jake’s chest and shook him.
“Jake! Wake up! We’ve got to move back, further down the tunnel!”
A groan rumbled from deep in his chest.
“Please, Jake. Please!”
She couldn’t wait for him to come to. Her throat clogged with suffocating fear, Rachel scooted around and hooked her hands under his arms. Knees bent, back straining, she dragged his deadweight down the narrow tunnel.
Her hip slammed into rock. Her stumbling boot landed in something foul-smelling. Sweat popped out on her forehead, between her breasts.
How far had she gone? Twenty yards? Thirty? Not far enough! She was in total darkness now, her breath ragged and sharp. Thunder roared in her ears.
Five yards more. Ten. Dear God, she had to…
The bright flash when the ATV exploded was her only warning. Shock waves cannonaded down the tunnel, hammered at her eardrums, deafened her.
The ground beneath her feet trembled. The mountain shifted around her. The shriek of rock tearing away from rock pierced the ringing in Rachel’s ears.
With a sobbing cry, she threw herself over Jake’s body.
Chapter 14
“Jake?”
Her voice sounded tinny. Thin. Distant.
Rachel swiped her forearm across her face. The dust floating through the thick, pitch-black air burned her eyes and clogged her lungs. Her ears buzzed from the explosion’s percussive blast. Her chin felt as though she’d connected with an iron horseshoe that was still attached to the horse. Her back, arms and legs ached from dragging Jake.
None of those minor pains took the edge from her singing, searing joy. The mountain hadn’t fallen down on their heads! She and Jake were still alive!
For the time being, anyway.
That thought sobered her considerably. Crabbing sideways, Rachel scooted off Jake’s chest. Still on all fours, she shook her head in a va
in attempt to clear the ringing in her ears. All she succeeded in doing was making herself dizzy. Gulping, she forced back the nausea that rose in her throat.
Okay. All right. She needed to think, to analyze the situation. First, though, she had to gather enough data to determine just what the situation was!
Pushing to her feet, Rachel braced herself against the tunnel wall with a hand on either side. The rock felt icy cold under her fingers, but blessedly solid. Inch by cautious inch, she followed the wall back the way she’d come just frantic moments before.
She counted her steps, searching the darkness, afraid she’d see a shadowy form moving toward her, worried she’d see nothing at all. The foul-smelling mess she’d stepped in earlier told her she was getting close. She had reached step number fifty-three when she spotted a dim glow directly ahead.
Back to the wall, Rachel froze. It was Taggart. It had to be Taggart. His first attempt at burying her and Jake alive hadn’t worked, so he’d come back for another try. Her heart in her throat, she stared at the light, waiting for it to move closer, praying it wouldn’t, trying to work out her best plan of attack if it did.
Finally, her frantic mind absorbed the fact that the light was remaining stationary. She waited another two minutes. Three. A thousand, it seemed, before she inched forward again, even more cautiously than before.
The glow sharpened, brightened, resolved into a beam. With a muffled exclamation, Rachel skittered forward and scooped up the flashlight Jake must have dropped during the struggle. Whirling, she swept the beam back and forth across the tunnel floor.
“Yes!”
Almost tripping in giddy relief, she bent down and retrieved Jake’s rifle. The odds were a little better now, she thought exultantly.
Her pumping excitement faded the moment she swung the flashlight toward the tunnel entrance. More correctly, where the entrance used to be. Tumbled slabs of rock the size of small trucks now blocked the passageway. She was still staring at them in blank dismay when a faint tapping came through the cracks.
“Rachel?”
Taggart’s voice drifted to her, muted by the dust still sifting through the air. Like a small animal hiding from a predator, Rachel didn’t move, didn’t breathe. She wasn’t about to alert Taggart to the fact that they were still alive and possibly trigger another explosion.
“Henderson?”
She heard a clatter of stone on stone, the scrabble of boots on loose rock. Still she didn’t move.
Something fell, hit hard. Taggart cursed again. Footsteps thudded on the far side of the rock wall. He was moving away.
Swallowing, Rachel counted each muted tread, just as she’d counted her own just moments ago. He had to have reached the main passageway. Was he leaving the mine? Would he come back?
She had no idea how long she listened, every sense straining. Ten minutes? Twenty? It felt like hours. She was still locked in place, her nerves screaming with tension, when the sound of running footsteps behind her spun Rachel around.
Jake raced toward her, his expression murderous. Blood from the lacerations on his temple streaked one side of his face. Glistening red splotches stained his shirt and sheepskin vest.
“Rachel!”
“Shh!” She accompanied the fierce shush with a whispered order to keep his voice down. “I heard Taggart moving around a little while ago. I think he’s left, but he may come back.”
“You’d better give me the rifle.”
“Take it.” She was more than happy to surrender the lethal weapon. “I don’t think it’ll be much use, though. Not with that between you and your target.”
Her hand wobbling, she aimed the flashlight at the tumbled wall of rock. Jake stared at it in blank astonishment.
“What the hell happened?”
“We had a slight explosion while you, uh, were sleeping.”
Beneath the streaks of red, his eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”
“Aside from an incipient bout of hysteria, I think so.”
Evidently he disagreed with her self-diagnosis. Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, he walked her over to the tumbled boulders.
“Sit down, put your head between your knees and breathe deeply.”
“I’m okay. Really. Or I will be, when the buzzing in my ears goes away.”
“Sit down.”
Rachel sat. At that point she discovered she was shaking from head to foot.
“Tell me what happened,” Jake ordered.
In short, succinct sentences, she told him.
Jake listened in silence. His jaw got tight when she described seeing the ATV blocking the entrance, even tighter when she admitted feeling just a tad of terror while she’d dragged him down the tunnel.
When she finished, he stood as still as the stone around them. Rachel couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. She didn’t need to.
“When we get out of here, Russ Taggart isn’t going to be able to run far enough or fast enough.”
His flat implacability sent shivers skittering along her spine. Folding her arms across her chest, Rachel rubbed her hands up and down her jacket sleeve.
Jake crouched down on his heels and curled a knuckle under her chin. Wincing, she jerked her head back. With a smothered oath, he dropped his hand. The dim light deepened the planes and hollows of his face.
“I owe you, Rachel.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You saved my life. Both our lives.”
“Only because I came to first.”
“I knew Taggart was following us,” he said on a note of scathing self-disgust. “I shouldn’t have let the bastard get close to us like that.”
“We’ve already discussed the fact that you didn’t see fit to clue me in on your suspicions,” Rachel reminded him astringently. “Next time, remember that this is a team effort.”
The grim lines in his face eased. “Next time we go prospecting for forty million dollars and get trapped in an abandoned mine, I will.”
“Speaking of getting trapped…”
Rachel gave the rock wall beside them a quick glance. It was still there, solid, impregnable. Swallowing, she turned back to Jake.
“What do you suggest we do now?”
“Marsh and Shad know where we were headed. We can sit tight and wait for them to come looking for us.”
He swiveled on his heels and aimed the flashlight down the passageway. Darkness swallowed the light whole.
“Or we can see where this leads.”
Rachel voted for Plan B. “Sitting around and waiting has never been one of my favorite occupations. Just keep your rifle handy in case we meet up with whatever deposited the pile I stepped in a while ago.”
They didn’t meet up with any depositors. Nor did they find a way out. Faced with another solid wall, Rachel wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered in the dank, swirling air.
“We must be close to an air shaft,” Jake murmured, playing the flashlight over the walls and ceiling.
One glistening surface in particular caught his attention. He ran his hand down the slick patch and gave a grunt of satisfaction.
“At least we’ve got a source for water. We can hold out indefinitely.”
Rachel eyed the dark patch dubiously. “What do we do, lick it off the wall?”
“That’s easier than spreading a shirt against the rock to collect the moisture, then wringing it out.”
“Done that before, have you?”
“Something similar. You learn a lot of ways to soak up spills when you grow up with four brothers.”
Judging by his quick grin, Jake was a lot less concerned about their predicament than Rachel. She could only be grateful for the rough and ready survival skills he and his brothers had picked up over the years.
He threw the dark patch another look. “A wet handkerchief has its uses, though. Hold this, will you?”
Handing her the flashlight, he fished a white square out of his back pocket, unfolded it and plastered the cloth against the w
all. Refolding the damp fabric, he laid it against her chin.
“Ouch!”
“You’ve got a helluva bruise there, kid.”
“Obviously, you haven’t seen what the side of your face looks like. Here, take the flashlight back and let me clean those cuts.”
To Rachel’s relief, his lacerations weren’t as deep as she feared. Although the flesh on his temple was purple and puffy, blood had already started to congeal in the cuts. Carefully, she daubed at the red streaks on his face and neck.
“We’d better save the flashlight batteries for emergencies,” he said when she finished.
Rachel appreciated the need to conserve their light source, but the idea of sitting in the dark for hours, if not days, raised a rash of goose bumps on her arms. Jake, as it turned out, had other plans.
“I’ll get a fire going.”
She cast a quick look at the wooden beams supporting the tunnel roof. “You’re not thinking of burning those, are you? One cave-in a day is my limit.”
“No, we’ve got plenty of fuel on hand.”
“Like what?” she asked warily, although she had a good idea what that fuel was.
They’d passed a few more piles in their exploration, which had destroyed Rachel’s misplaced belief in the theory that animals never soiled their dens. Dried waste would burn, she knew. Man had long gathered dung for fuel. The Plains Indians, in particular, had survived on the vast, treeless stretches by collecting buffalo patties.
That was on the Plains, of course. In the open. With plenty of fresh air to dilute the smoke and the stink. Still, if the choice was between total darkness and a smoky dung fire, Rachel knew which she’d vote for.
Jake, however, reminded her they had ready access to another source of fuel. “I suggest we lug some of those bricks back here. The air shaft will suck up the smoke.”
“Good grief! Are you suggesting we burn the money?”
“Why not? Forty million ought to fuel a small fire for a week.”
“But…”
“The government can always print more,” he pointed out with inescapable logic.
Rachel opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. The missing millions had cost four men their lives. The damned bills had almost killed her and Jake, as well. She couldn’t think of a more fitting use for them.
Twice in a Lifetime Page 14