Tortoise Soup (Rachel Porter Mysteries)

by Jessica Speart

  I gently laid Pilot’s head down on the ground with a final kiss, then pushed my way up along the wall.

  “Did DOE buy the county commission’s cooperation by promising land for development if they remained silent?” I asked.

  Brian smiled sadly. “Life is a series of murky compromises, Rachel. It’s amazing the power that developers have in this county.”

  I felt faint at the sight of Pilot’s blood on my pants but forced my mind to stay focused. I had to keep Brian talking. “What about the houses that are going to be built? The people that will be living here?”

  “Developers are a greedy, unconscionable lot, aren’t they? Makes you stop and wonder about human nature,” Brian smiled grimly.

  “Is that why Dee was murdered?” I asked, playing for time.

  Brian’s finger rested on the Magnum’s trigger. There was no way I’d ever outdraw the man.

  “You know why, Rachel. You were partially responsible. She knew too much and was beginning to talk.” Brian restlessly shifted his weight.

  My fingers latched onto the chain that hung from my back pocket. “And Annie McCarthy? Did she know too much as well?”

  Brian sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Alpha Development wanted her land and she wouldn’t sell.”

  He began to raise the gun as I wrapped the chain tight in the palm of my hand.

  “What I still can’t figure out are the tortoise symbols that were found,” I said desperately.

  Brian stared at me blankly, the gun frozen in place. Then he smiled as he realized what I was talking about.

  “Oh, that was Garrett’s nephew. The idea was to send Metro on a wild-goose chase after animal activists.” Brian shook his head. “Kids and their crazy ideas.”

  I brought my hands out from behind my back, the pounding in my head making it hard for me to think. I racked my brain, at a loss on how to distract Brian.

  But Anderson had reached his limit. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Time’s up. No more questions. That’s been your problem right from the start. You should have talked less and listened to me more.” Predatory eyes flickered coldly, his voice turning flat and hard. “You don’t know how much I hate this part of the job.”

  My lungs had begun to burn with the fury of a stoked furnace, while my heart was beating like a locomotive out of control. I could feel the weight of Pilot’s head against my legs as I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. Then, opening my eyes wide, I focused my attention behind Brian.

  “Noah! Watch out!” I screamed loud enough to bring every dead soul in the cave back to life.

  Brian glanced over his shoulder, and I quickly threw the St. Christopher medal down the tunnel hall as far as I could. Brian went for the bait. Turning around, he took off toward the sound as I dodged past Pilot and pushed deeper into the mine. I spotted a passageway that veered off to the right and hobbled inside.

  But any hope of evasion was mere illusion. Brian’s voice curled with serpentine menace down the floor of the hall, smoothly rounding each corner until it nailed me.

  “Good try, Rachel. But I can’t leave you here, and you can’t get away. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

  I stumbled blindly, crying out as I stubbed a toe hard against a rock. At the same moment, I discovered that my escape had been cut off, dead-ended by yet another wall. Bracing myself against it, I tore the SIG-Sauer pistol from the back of my pants and held it in both hands, trying my best to be cool and steady.

  I aimed at the entrance and calculated where Brian’s chest would be, my finger pressed lightly against the trigger. I held my breath until I felt I would burst—then Brian’s silver hair finally came into view. I silently cursed every demon in my life, every poacher that had gotten away, the forces that had caused Pilot to be poisoned, and any man that would take me for a fool. I focused Anderson’s chest in my sights, and firmly squeezed the trigger. But instead of the inevitable roar, a deadly silence became my earthly shroud. My gun had jammed, just as it had on the day I’d met Noah. I stood with my back to the wall, now the perfect target.

  A fine layer of sweat defined each flawless angle in Brian’s handsome face as I sensed the tension in his body relax. He serenely raised his revolver and pointed it in my direction.

  “Oh, Rachel. You almost had me. That makes this so much easier now.”

  My life didn’t flash before me and I wondered if it was because I didn’t have one as I heard a roar and waited to die. It took a splitsecond before I realized that the sound hadn’t come from a gun but from Pilot, who had managed to follow us in. The dog leapt against Brian’s back, the full force of his weight catching the man off guard and sending my adrenaline soaring.

  Anderson’s revolver clattered to the ground. I flung my own useless pistol at his head and dove forward, determined to claim his .357. My fingers wrapped around the Magnum’s handle, then Brian’s hand clamped onto mine, bearing down with the strength of a vice.

  I hung on tight as Anderson rose to his feet, pulling me up along with him, all the while fighting to pry the gun from my grip. Gritting my teeth, I refused to let go. I kept one hand on the Magnum and the other on Brian’s wrist, fighting to ignore the pain that tore through me. Finally, unable to hold him off any longer, my arms quivered and began to give way as Anderson steadily pushed the gun in toward me. The cold steel of the revolver lodged itself tightly beneath my chin like a brace, thrusting my head back until it could go no further.

  My throat rested heavily on the mouth of the barrel, imprinted with each tiny ridge. My last thought was that you could only be betrayed by the people you trust. I was still holding tight onto Brian’s wrist when Pilot lunged once again, his fangs sinking into Anderson’s arm. Brian screamed at the dog and struggled to shake him off, but Pilot’s grip only grew stronger. My heart hammered against my ribs as I called up every last bit of strength I could muster to propel the gun away from my neck, slanting it in Brian’s direction. His eyes caught mine in a riveting stare, and his voice gave one last command.

  “It’s over, Rachel.”

  I’ll never know if the pronouncement was meant for my own death or his. I concentrated on squeezing my fingers as hard as I could against Anderson’s, which covered the trigger. Then the sound of gunfire roared through my limbs and my body flew backward, the revolver clutched tight to my chest. I looked up and saw Brian still standing, even as the sickeningly sweet scent of blood filled the air. My mind frozen in terror, I held the gun out before me and shot twice more. When I stopped, his body lay crumpled, as lifeless as everything else in the tunnel.

  I wanted to laugh and cry in relief—until I saw Pilot. He was lying on his side, blood running from his nose, each breath racking his body with pain. I knew he was dying and that I was losing my closest friend.

  I also knew there was only one thing left I could do, breaking the only vow I’d made when I’d taken this job. Cradling his head in my lap, I brushed my lips against his fur and thanked him for saving my life. Then, standing, I held the Magnum steady in both hands and taking careful aim, shot Pilot between the eyes.

  My mind was numb as I limped back through the tunnel, my hands pressing blindly along the wall to guide the way. It seemed forever before I began to smell the desert air, sweeter than any perfume. For the first time, I knew that my demons had never been monsters or things that go bump in the night. They were tangible, made of real flesh and of bone. Even worse, they now had a face, bringing the terror closer to home.

  Already light-headed, I felt almost giddy as the entrance came into view, and I picked up my pace. But something was blocking my way. Losing my balance, I tumbled to the ground, where Noah stared blankly, a bullet hole smack through his head. A wave of panic crested, threatening to burst, as death closed in around me. I scrambled up, fear propelling my body out of the tunnel and past the steel door, until I was standing under the night sky with a ceiling of stars burning blissfully in their orbs. I wanted to cry until there were no tears left. Instead, I
threw back my head and howled in rage, my screams covered by the roar of haul paks as they continued to make their way down the road.

  Eighteen

  I don’t remember how I made it back to the ark. All I knew was that when I opened my eyes, Georgia was hovering over me, a spoon in her hand and the smell of chicken soup filling the air.

  “Thank God,” Georgia said, her eyes uncharacteristically brimming with tears. “You scared the hell out of us, Porter.”

  “Us?” My tongue felt heavy and dry, making it an effort to speak.

  Suzie Q poked her head out from behind the tie-dyed curtain. “Yeah. Georgia, Frankie S., and me,” she said, though the tarantula was nowhere in sight. Her eyes were swollen and red as if she had been crying.

  “I have to tell you what happened.” I struggled to sit up, my stomach grumbling loudly.

  “What you have to do is eat,” Georgia ordered, shoving a spoonful of soup in my mouth. “You’ve been going back and forth between a high fever and chills for the past two days. As for food, I’m on my last pot of soup. Let’s hope you can keep this one down.”

  “But I have to tell you about Noah,” I insisted, not knowing when I had ever been so hungry.

  The spoon came to a halt in midair as Georgia’s face froze into a mask of grief.

  “You already did, Porter,” she informed me softly. Then she cleared her throat. “We know what happened. Don’t you remember?” I shook my head as I inhaled the soup. Looking up, I saw Georgia and Suzie Q silently watching, their cheeks wet with tears. Then the flood of events came rushing back to me.

  “We have to get to the mine! Noah’s body is still there. So is Pilot’s.” My voice cracked as the two women continued to stare, neither saying a word. “We need to prove what DOE has been doing!”

  Georgia shook her head slowly, as if dealing with an unruly child. “It’s over, Porter,” she said, echoing Anderson’s very last words.

  Icy fingers ran their way up my spine, the soup turning cold in my stomach.

  “Do you really think you can prove anything?” Georgia continued, a hard edge to her voice. “Trust me. You’ll never be able to beat DOE.”

  But by this time, my feet were already on the floor and I was shakily heading for the door.

  “I’m damn well going to try. I’ll need help in getting both Noah and Pilot out, and there’s no time to call anyone and explain.” I looked at both expressionless faces, wondering if they had even heard what I’d said. “Who’s going to come with me?”

  Suzie Q slipped wordlessly behind the curtain. I didn’t bother to wait for Georgia Peach’s answer, certain of what she would say.

  I walked outside and blinked, surprised to find daylight. Noah’s beat-up Suburban was parked in its usual place, his backpack lying beside it. Grabbing the pack, I headed over to the Blazer, where I found Georgia leaning against its side.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re stubborn as hell,” she sniffled, and then blew her nose. “Wasn’t the other night enough for you? Do you want to die as well?”

  That was the last thing I wanted. But even more, I wanted to prove what DOE had done. Otherwise nothing in my life would ever make sense.

  “Don’t you care about what happened to Noah?” I quietly asked, hoping to goad her to action.

  Georgia’s eyes hardened and then bore straight through me. “Hell, Porter. We may not do the usual pissing and moaning and groaning, like I suppose you’re used to. But Noah was part of our family. So what say you cut the moral crap and let’s get under way.”

  We headed out in the Blazer without another word, silence stretching between us until we reached the former Golden Shaft mine.

  The front gate was locked and the place deserted, without a soul in sight. I didn’t bother to beep the horn or wait for guards. It was obvious no one was there. Breaking and entering was fast becoming my second profession. I picked the lock and slowly drove through the gate, inspecting the site that had become part of my fate.

  Every haul pak was gone, the absence of their roar more deafening than the thunder of their engines had been. I searched for the spot where Noah and I had begun our assault. Daylight bathed the area in quiet indifference. A golden eagle circled lazily overhead, the desert caught up in a midday yawn. I parked the vehicle and handed a flashlight to Georgia, glancing up at the cloudless sky. I was fully prepared for a Black Hawk to swoop down upon us, its cacophonous din invading my soul. But the only sound was the overpowering silence of the deadly still land.

  I led the way, scrambling up the hillside to the top level, not yet ready to witness the remains of Noah and Pilot. A skull and crossbones had been newly painted on the door and a padlock put back in place. A sign warned, “Abandoned Mine. Danger. Keep Out.” The electric meter box and phone were nowhere in sight.

  I pulled out the metal snips and cut my way past the front door, no longer giving a damn about DOE property. Though the inner steel grate was now gone, the second door stood open, almost as if someone knew we’d be there. My heart picked up its pace as I flicked on my flashlight and expectantly shone its golden beam around the room. Just as quickly, my heart came to a stop. Everything I had seen only two days ago was no longer there.

  My body broke into a drenching sweat, my eyes refusing to believe what they saw. The mainframe samurai warrior had vanished, as had every single piece of equipment. It was as if the very tunnel had swallowed up the miles of conduit, along with hundreds of electrical cords, snuffing out their circulatory powers. My brain buzzed, clouding my thoughts, as I tried to figure out where I had gone wrong. I was certain we were on the right level. But the room that once blazed bright as the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree was now as barren as snowfall under the hot Mojave sun.

  “Everything I described to you was here! I swear it!” I exclaimed, trying to reassure myself as well as convince Georgia, who looked blankly at me without saying a word.

  I was rushing back through the corridor, afraid I was either dreaming or had truly gone mad, when the block of cement finally appeared, as solid and reassuring as an ancient artifact from a faraway land. But even this was stripped of the gauges and instruments that had adorned it.

  “What did you expect?” Georgia sarcastically asked, perching herself on top of the block. “That there would be a neon sign up announcing, ‘Nuclear test facility. Come right this way’?”

  I ran out of the empty room and slid down to the lower level, where a spanking new lock had been attached to that door as well and the gully beneath it filled. Cursing silently, I wielded the metal snips like an executioner’s sword, quickly severing the chain.

  In my mind’s eye, Noah lay on the tunnel floor, the bullet wound in his forehead puckered and red. But his body was nowhere in sight. I made a mad dash for the air shaft, my heart beating so hard I felt faint, only to find that each skeleton had been removed. I hurried on, the whimper of pack rats filling my ears, yet no trace of them could be found. Finally I entered the room where I’d fought for my life, my pulse pounding in a combination of anger and fear. Nothing of Pilot was left. It was as though all the bodies had vaporized into thin air, their very existence expunged, my memory mocked and denied.

  I wanted to tear down the walls, blast open the cave, find Brian’s corpse, and strangle it with my bare hands. Instead, I was left to swallow my rage.

  “You’re right, Georgia. They’ve won,” I finally conceded, my anger building inside.

  Laughter nipped at my heels with razor sharp teeth, ghostly taunts whispering that I’d failed. Frustration devoured me as I scoured the room again, but any telltale signs had been forever obliterated.

  Wordlessly I began to head back, my mind racking up losses, when a glitter of gold caught my eye. My feet froze in place. There, nestled between two small rocks, lay the St. Christopher medal, which had protected me just as Noah had promised. I picked up the necklace with its memories branded inside and after a moment turned and offered it to Georgia. It was the only proof there would ever be o
f what we both knew had taken place.

  Georgia Peach held it in her hands as carefully as if it were the last of its kind, then slipped the chain over my head.

  “It’s yours, Porter,” she said. “You earned it. If I were you, I’d hold onto it tight for a very long time.”

  We drove back to the ark as silently as we came, the gold medal burning against my skin. The stillness was finally broken by the crazed barking of the whirlwind of Lhasas. Georgia got out of the passenger door and leaned in on the open window as Suzie Q slinked to her side.

  “What are you planning to do now?” Georgia asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

  I thought about it for a moment, unsure of what the next step would be. I knew I had better odds trying to break the bank at a casino in Vegas than I did going up against DOE.

  “Yeah. Sure, you could go back to Disneyland. But why the hell would you go there when you’ve always got the ark?” Suzie Q chimed in.

  I smiled, appreciative of the invitation. But I could already feel the ark’s ghosts settling in.

  “What bothers me is that Garrett and Holmes are still out there. They’ve gotten away scot-free.”

  “Don’t bother worrying about Holmes.” Suzie Q giggled mysteriously. “He’s being taken care of even as we speak.”

  I noticed that her shoulder was again empty of one very large and intimidating tarantula.

  “Listen, not that I’m looking to befriend him or anything, but where’s Frank Sinatra these days?” I asked.

  Suzie Q gave a sinister grin. “Frank’s pretty busy right now. It seems he got hold of something that he’ll be feasting on for a long time to come.”

  Georgia Peach chirped in before I dared question Suzie Q any further. “I wouldn’t worry too much about Garrett either. He shouldn’t be hard to deal with.”

  The Blazer’s engine kicked in and I started to pull away, not really wanting to think about either Frank Sinatra or his meal at the moment. But Georgia stopped me, coming over to my window.