He blew out his breath. “Ah...I’m the one should be apologizing. It’s just that you two make me feel stupid.”
She smiled a little. “Actually, you’re the one that’s made me feel stupid. I won’t presume to speak for Rawn on that. But neither of us thought of caves until you mentioned it and we should have, because it’s totally obvious in hindsight.”
“So what the hell has a razor got to do with it?”
“Occam’s Razor is a scientific principle,” Caden answered. “If you have several theories to explain something you’ve observed, the simplest theory tends to be the correct one.”
“In this case, the reason we’ve not seen Bob and his friends until now is because they’ve been hiding from us. Until you mentioned the caves, we kept discounting the theory because we couldn’t understand how they could stay hidden in a town of this size. The caves answer every objection. They’re hidden, secure, and have access to the sea. Which means that, again, simplest theory—there’s more of them in those caves. Probably a lot more.”
“More like Bob?”
Montana nodded. “Ever since terrorism became the world’s political currency, any country that has been a victim of terrorism and that country’s allies have been turning the world upside down, looking for those responsible. Want to know how many they’ve found?”
Steve could feel his jaw dropping. “Don’t tell me....”
“Virtually none of them. It’s not because they’re being cradled in the bosom of their country, either. Western intelligence, when they work together, is good. They know they’re not there. They just up and disappear as soon as the going gets too hot.”
“That’s not counting the ones that have died during an operation, or have been captured during an operation,” Caden added. “That’s a different matter. The fact is that once these guys make it home, they disappear and no one has ever been able to find them once they’re gone.”
“We think they’ve been looking in the wrong place,” Montana added.
“Here?” Steve sat up. “Here? That’s so ridiculous, it’s…it’s retarded.”
“No, it’s not.” Caden jerked his chin towards Montana. “I reacted the same way when Montana proposed it, but it’s just a matter of getting used to the novelty. It seems far-fetched but that’s exactly why it’s such a good idea. Who in their right minds would go looking for wanted terrorists down here at the toe of Western Australia, amongst the most relaxed population in the world?”
“Occam’s Razor,” Montana said softly. “It has the beauty of being simple. So simple it’s discounted. Just like you’re discounting it now.”
Steve shook his head. “No proof,” he pointed out and his voice came out strangled. “No evidence. I’m a cop. I believe what I can see and you’re not showing me anything.” He gulped a mouthful of lukewarm beer. He’d been gripping the can too tightly and warmed it. “Besides, if you are right, then what do I care? They haven’t broken any laws in my country and that’s all I’m paid to do. Uphold the laws here.”
Caden leaned forward. “Confiscated any smack recently? Test it for origins and brace yourself. It will have come from somewhere in the Middle East, rather than the usual Asian heroin you’re used to seeing.”
Steve could feel his heart wheezing. “What’s that got to do with anything at all?”
“So you have tested some lately.” Caden smiled with sleek satisfaction. “That’s how they’re paying for their groceries, Constable. They probably bring it in with each new boatload of bad guys. They’re not crossing any controlled borders to get here. They could sling a backpack full of it over their shoulder and just walk on in. Break it down in the caves, cut it, process it and Bob passes out the goods to the handful of local dealers he’s recruited over the last year, to sell it down the line. Easy money.”
“Rabbit,” Steve said, feeling sick.
“Rabbit,” Caden agreed.
In the silence that fell, Steve could hear the frogs on the nearby sheep trough and behind them, the constant roll and thunder of the sea, smashing itself against the cliffs.
His town. His people.
“I get the feeling you’re starting to believe us,” Caden said softly.
Steve shook his head. “All you’ve done is convince me that I have a stake in checking this out. We have to get inside the caves.”
“Difficult to do without one of those local guides you were talking about,” Caden said.
“No problem at all,” Steve said with grim satisfaction. “You’re looking at one. Drink up, ladies and gentlemen. We have work to do.”
Chapter Fifteen
Three hours later, Montana found herself following Steve’s back, with Caden trailing her, as they slid through the forest. It was one a.m. She had voiced her protest over venturing out so late but both Caden and Steve had shaken their heads. “It’s always dark in the caves anyway,” Steve pointed out.
Caden’s reason was the more chilling of the two. “No one can escape their circadian rhythms. They’ll be sleepy, if they’re not already asleep. Easier to sneak up on.”
Steve was taking them to another entrance to the system of caves Ghenghis Bob was using. “It’s an unpopular access,” Steve said, but didn’t explain further.
In the three hours before, Steve had prepped them all for the expedition with an alarming thoroughness. He had driven them to a community hall on the outskirts of Yallingup and used a key on his key ring to open a back room lined with cupboards and shelves holding equipment and gear. “Yallingup Potholers Association,” he declared.
He had handed them both black nylon overalls to put on over their clothes. “Waterproof,” he explained. “The biggest problem when you’re down there, besides lack of light, is the cold. You do anything to avoid getting damp or wet.” He also handed them both plastic safety helmets with lamps attached to the front and took a lot of time to fit the inside webbing properly around their heads. The last item was a cumbersome thick belt each. The belts had hooks and snaps and tabs galore. “No packs. We carry everything on our belts. And no metal. The last thing we want to do is clink.”
Caden submitted to the testing and fitting with silent interest. He seemed to intuitively understand most of what Steve was insisting upon, but the last comment made his brow rise. “That means no weapons,” he pointed out.
“Right. This is not a raid. We’re in, we look around, we come out again. If you’re right and there are a dozen of the world’s most wanted down there, three of us isn’t enough to take them on.” He shoved his leg into his own nylon suit. “Shit, I really hope you’re wrong. I hope we end up bumbling around down there listening to our own echoes and feeling totally stupid.”
“We won’t,” Caden said simply.
“Yeah, well, I can hope.”
“Hope all you want, but we play this like it’s for real,” Caden shot back. “Because these guys won’t give you time to adjust to their reality and they play for keeps.”
Steve looked up at Caden and grimaced. “I hear you.”
But when he looked down again, Caden slid his big folding pocket knife into a pocket on one leg and the small flat leather pouch that went everywhere with him into the other. He looked straight at Montana, daring her to say anything.
She kept her gaze steady and her mouth closed.
Now, as they walked through the forest, listening to the wind in the canopy high overhead, Steve spoke over his shoulder. “About ten minutes to the hole,” he said. “If you’re feeling chatty, get it out of your system now. Once we’re inside, we stay silent. Sound carries in there like you wouldn’t believe.”
The last thing Montana felt like was chatty. The spit in her mouth had dried up, despite constant sips at the plastic canteen on her hip. She still ached from the pummeling Caden had given her yesterday, disguised as a self-defense lesson.
“Why Nicollo?” Caden said, behind her.
She was startled. “You really want to talk about this now?”
“Indulge me.” His voice
was a low rumble behind her.
She had no intention of answering. The words “It’s none of your business,” hovered behind her teeth.
“I can’t see it,” Caden went on. “If you’re going to have a hero, why not a bona-fide American hero, like Neil Armstrong? Or if you wanted a diplomat, what about Kissinger, or Lester Pierson? Hell, even Bismarck or Churchill?”
“It’s not like they ever had to struggle to have their value recognized,” she said, and realized that she’d been provoked into answering despite her reluctance.
“Because she was a woman?”
“Worse. She was a housewife. Despite pulling a country back from the brink of all-out revolution, she remained just a housewife. She never received any medals or formal recognition. She’s a legend in the diplomatic community for her insistence on doing the right thing, for struggling against the ills of the world, by keeping up the good fight. But you won’t find her in any books, anywhere.”
Caden said softly, “After all, she worked behind the scenes. No confrontation. Kinda like you, huh?”
The comparison stung. “Not even close,” she said firmly. “I am a diplomat—”
“You’re at a consulate, not an embassy.”
“I’m still an official member of the diplomatic corps—”
“Posted to a forgotten corner of the world. Didn’t you say you’d been here six years now?”
Hot words bubbled to her lips, but Steve spoke, instead. “How do you know she ever really existed?”
Her surprise wiped out the hot retort. She hadn’t realized Steve was following the low-volume conversation or that he’d understand it if he did. He’d complained more than once that their conversations were hard to follow.
“She exists,” Montana said shortly and stopped there. There was no way she was going to reveal what she did know.
“She does exist,” Caden agreed, lifting his voice enough for Steve to hear properly. “That’s why Montana took up wind surfing. That’s why she’s been hanging around the beaches, getting to know the locals. She’s spent the last few years trying to track down her hero, because she thinks Nicollo lives somewhere around here.”
“How did you know that?” she demanded, forcing herself to keep walking, to not spin around to confront him.
“I put it together,” Caden said complacently. “The one thing that I still can’t figure is how you ended up posted here in the first place.”
“You get to nominate your preferences,” she said tiredly. Why try to refute someone who seemed to be able to reach into your brain and pluck thoughts out whole?
“I guessed. But I’d have thought, given your gung-ho need to serve your country that you’d have nominated the hotspots of the world where all the action is — anywhere in the Middle East, China. Even Russia, six years ago, would have been boiling over.”
“They were my first choices,” she admitted.
“But you put Perth, Western Australia down at the bottom,” Caden concluded.
“Why?” Steve asked. “Why put it down at all?”
She hung her head. She was beyond embarrassment now and it was dark. They couldn’t see her flaming cheeks. “I thought, if I only put the hot spots, they might wonder about my motives. They might figure it out. I’d heard the rumor that Nicollo was living somewhere down here so I thought I’d put it down just to throw anyone off the scent. I didn’t in a million years think they’d send me here.”
Steve had the decency to try to hold back his laughter, but it came out as a snuffle anyway.
Then she felt Caden’s big hand on her shoulder, heavy and warm. A gentle squeeze, then it was removed. “Didn’t you ever stop to wonder if that’s a world you really want to live in if you couldn’t risk revealing something like that?”
“It’s not just my world,” she said. “It’s everywhere.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Steve agreed with a sigh. He stopped, then pointed ahead. There was very little moonlight, but the ground ahead was irradiated with starlight that didn’t make it through the canopy to where they stood. A rocky outcrop, shaped like the sloping hump of a whale surfacing, pushed out of the ground. Coarse grasses surrounded it, then the trees took over again.
“There’s a cave in that?” Montana found herself whispering.
“Around the back. Are either of you claustrophobic?”
“Now you ask?” Montana hissed back.
“Would you have refused to come if I’d asked earlier?”
“No.”
He shrugged in response.
Caden cleared his throat, sounding awkward. “I’m claustrophobic.”
Montana stared at him, speechless.
Steve sighed.
“I’m okay if I’m with people I trust,” Caden added. “But I don’t like it much.”
“You’re not about to wait out here, though, right?” Steve said.
“You think I didn’t think of this back at the house?” Caden said, irritated. “You asked. I told you. Now, let’s get on with it.”
“Okay. But it’s tight. And now I’ve warned you.”
It’s not a popular entrance. Montana recalled his words and her own heart picked up speed. Just what was ahead of them?
* * * * *
It was bad right away and got worse from there.
On the other side of the whale’s hump, there was a horizontal split in the rock right where it met the dirt, like a giant had swung an axe and cracked it open. In the starlight there was no way to see deeper into the crack, to see how deep it went.
Montana took a gusty breath. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Steve didn’t whisper, but his words were barely audible.
Caden whistled soundlessly. “Am I going to be able to get through there?” His voice was racked right down, too. “My shoulders?”
“You’ll fit. We may have to help you through a bit, but you’ll get through. You just have to trust me on this one, because your brain is going to insist you’re stuck.”
“Just trust you, huh?” He swiped at his forehead, the nylon of his suit whispering. “Let’s get on with it, then.” His voice was steady enough.
“Right. I’ll go first,” Steve said, crouching down beside the fissure. “For the entrance and the plane, I want you in between us, Caden, but after that, you drop back to last.”
He dropped to his butt and pushed his boots into the crack. They disappeared and he wriggled forward until he was up to his waist. He kept wriggling and slowly slid from view, but they could hear his movements, the chatter of rocks and, strangely, his breath, quite loud. It was as if Steve had been swallowed whole by the mounding rock.
“Oh, shit,” Caden murmured, next to her.
She reached up and rested her hand on his shoulder and he covered it with his. She could feel the dampness of his palm. “It’ll be okay,” she told him. “Deep breath. Go on. You know why.”
He nodded and she could feel his shoulders lift as he breathed. He was staring at the crack and she saw him swallow.
“I’ll be right next to you,” she said.
“Ah, screw this,” he muttered. “It’s just a lump of rock.” He crouched, sat and shoved his feet into the hole in one reflex movement, committing himself fast. He wormed his way inside and was gone.
Montana licked her lips. Her turn. She was alone out here. Being inside with Caden and Steve, no matter what lay ahead, was the better option. She sat and pistoned her legs into the hole and pushed her way in. The crack was narrow, but the sides didn’t brush past her. There was a sickening feeling of being swallowed up—what had Caden thought of that sensation?—then the crack opened up a bit. Hands were on her ankles, swinging her around until she found herself lying on a long, sloping plane of cool rock. Caden lay right next to her and Steve next to him.
Steve tapped the light on his helmet, making shadows dance around them. She reached for her belt and pulled her helmet up to her chest. Caden reached over to flick the switch that would turn on the lamp.
She awkwardly nodded her thanks and put the helmet on.
It was difficult to maneuver in the tight space. The roof was another plane of rock. They were the meat in the sandwich. She glanced at Caden when she had the helmet on and her light showed his black eyes staring back at her. Sweat was rolling from his temples, but he looked calm enough. The roof was barely six inches from his chest.
Steve bent his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture and eased himself across the plane of rock, moving surprisingly fast. Speed would generate body heat, Montana realized.
They followed him, spidering their way across the plane. The roof dipped and rose above them. At one point it came down within an inch of Caden’s chest and stayed at that level for about six feet. He worked his way past that with his jaw clamped hard and the sweat pouring freely. When it was Montana’s turn, she eased under the projection and her own heart turned into a runaway steam train. She could feel it thudding in her ears and mind.
She couldn’t rid herself of the conviction that the roof was slowly closing down on her. In a minute she’d be out of both room and time and the slab of rock would pin her and slowly crush her to death.
She realized that her teeth were chattering.
Caden’s hand clamped on her wrist and pulled her the rest of the way through the slot. His eyes were locked on hers, silently willing her to hold it together.
The roof soared up and cool air touched her face. The slope of the plane they laid upon dropped sharply to become a cliff but with another wall immediately behind it. Steve was nowhere to be seen.
She pulled herself up into a sitting position, her muscles crying their relief. We have to go back through that to get out. The thought made her sick.
Caden pulled her to where he was sitting and pointed down the sharp edge of the cliff next to his hip. She leaned over. Steve was making his way down the deep shaft, his back and hands against one wall, his feet pushed against the other. As she looked, he lowered one of his feet, then lowered his upper body a few feet, clamped his hands against the wall, brought his upper leg down to join the first.
Despite the clumsy stop-and-carry pattern, he was moving down the chute fast. But neither her light nor his showed what was at the bottom.
Terror Stash Page 17