The Darkfall Switch

by David Lindsley

  ‘OK. We’ll have this place to ourselves, I’d guess. Won’t be too many people round here, and any that do come we’ll hear as they approach through that defile.’

  The motel had done them proud. The packs contained salad, enormous club sandwiches, cheese and apples.

  After eating and drinking, they lay back on the grass for a while, basking in the hot sunshine. Then she sat up, smiled, leaned across him and slowly began to unbutton his shirt.

  ‘Mr Dan Foster,’ she said quietly, ‘this is a really beautiful place. And I’m feeling really relaxed and happy. I want to share it with you.’

  He reached up and loosened her top button. When the rest were undone she shrugged her shirt off her shoulders and unfastened her brassiere. Moving with swift urgency, they removed the rest of their clothing until they were lying naked on the grass. At first he lay on her, but after a while she rolled away and knelt across him, raised her arms languorously and threaded her fingers through her hair. ‘I feel wicked!’ she said. ‘Very wicked!’ She looked over towards the horses, but they were grazing contentedly, taking no notice of them. Then she leant forwards over him.

  Afterwards, they stayed there for some time, dreaming dreams and thinking thoughts, until he stood up and started to dress. ‘Sorry to end this,’ he said. ‘I could stay here with you forever, but we should be getting back.’

  ‘I could stay here forever too,’ she whispered. Then she rolled over on to her front, rested her chin on her hands and said, ‘Oh Dan! Can’t we just build a camp-fire and stay out here, under the stars, all night?’

  He looked down at her and smiled. ‘Another time, maybe.’ He bent to flick away a midge that had ventured near her bare shoulder. ‘And next time we’ll come better prepared. We’ll bring insect repellent. These little guys can make life a misery here. Now he’s found us he’ll go back to get his buddies. We’d best be off.’

  They rode back through the defile and had just emerged at the other end when they became aware of a faint humming noise in the distance. At first it was little more than a distant drone, barely audible over the sounds of their horses’ hoofs on the rocky trail, but as they continued their ride it gradually became louder until at last they could make out that it was the harsh clatter of a helicopter. They could just see it in the distance: a black dot zigzagging across and over the hills.

  ‘I wonder what they’re up to,’ Foster said, frowning. ‘I’ve seen helicopters out hereabouts before, but they’ve usually been involved in some logging operations. These guys seem to be looking for something.’

  The noise grew as they carried on and by the time they had reached the crest of the escarpment the helicopter was close enough to let them just make out the shape of two figures sitting inside its Plexiglas bubble. Then, as if the occupants had seen the riders too, the machine made a sudden turn and headed towards them. Foster felt Starblazer pull nervously as it approached. ‘Easy, girl,’ he said and patted her neck.

  Socks’ eyes widened in alarm and Janet gripped her reins tightly. ‘I don’t like this, Dan,’ she said. ‘She’s getting spooked.’

  Foster was now very worried. It was clear that the horses were on the brink of taking off. He was fairly confident of his horsemanship, but was he good enough to have a reasonable chance of staying in the saddle if Starblazer set off in a wild gallop over this very rocky and uneven terrain? And then, what about Janet? She was not nearly so experienced.

  The clatter swelled relentlessly. It became deafening as the machine rushed towards them and dropped until its landing gear was only a few feet above the ground. The down draught of its rotors created a vicious moving dust-storm under it, flinging leaves, twigs and stones out of the way. Now the horses became really agitated and started to prance and buck nervously.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Foster shouted over the noise.

  ‘I think so,’ she yelled back. ‘But this is going to test my two riding lessons.’

  ‘They’re idiots!’ Foster said. ‘If the horses take off we could both be in trouble.’ By then he had become convinced that this was no coincidence: the pilot was deliberately trying to scare them.

  Relentlessly, the machine’s approach continued. It swooped low and started to come really close to them in a series of sweeping arcs. It was too much for the two animals. They suddenly broke and began to gallop in a frantic effort to escape, and it was all that the two riders could do to stay mounted as they streaked along the scarp, running parallel to its crest. The animals were now thoroughly panicked and were running wildly under their own blind volition, without any thought except to get away from the aircraft.

  And still the machine followed. Foster suddenly realized the pilot’s intention: he and Janet were being driven towards the dangerous edge of the cliff ahead, the one that Randy Sanders had warned about back at the Lazy S. He couldn’t allow that.

  He shouted to her, ‘Pull to the right! We’ve got to get away from the cliff.’

  He saw her tug at Socks’ reins in response. Neither rider had much control of their mounts: the animals were being driven by fear now, the humans on their backs no more than annoying encumbrances. Foster and Janet were able to do little more than to try and deflect the horses’ headlong gallop away from the treacherous crest and down the side of the hill. The helicopter swung agitatedly to drive them back but now its course was hampered by the small thicket of trees they had passed earlier.

  Foster looked ahead and saw a possibility of salvation there. ‘Get to the tree!’ he shouted. ‘But for Christ’s sake keep your head down. Really low down.’

  She responded and bent down over Sock’s neck as they sped towards the trees. Perhaps the animals sensed that the trees might offer some protection, because it now became a little easier to guide them in that direction.

  The helicopter swung up and away as the two horses galloped into the cover of the trees. Foster could hear it circling angrily in frustration, but he now had another urgent problem to deal with. Branches of trees were whipping past their heads and snatching at their legs as their mounts ran, but eventually the sounds that had frightened the horses began to fade and the riders managed to regain control.

  When they eventually came to a halt they were both breathing deeply. Janet’s face was pale, displaying her fear. ‘What the hell was that all about?’ she asked.

  ‘Some idiots thinking they’ll have a bit of fun,’ he said. But deep inside he knew that it wasn’t true. He was absolutely certain that the helicopter pilot had deliberately tried to drive them to the cliff edge. And if he’d succeeded and they’d gone over, they and their horses would certainly have been killed. It would have been reported as another tragic accident. There would have been no witnesses. No clue as to why they’d fallen.

  And the threat was still there. He could hear the helicopter circling the edge of their little thicket. He wondered if it would land, its occupants emerging to hunt them down on foot. The trees covered only a small area, so the hunt would be brief. But what would they do then? Were they armed? There could be little doubt now that the aim had been murder, but he felt that their hunters’ intention had been to achieve that aim by means of an accident – easily explained and soon forgotten. Once firearms were used it would become much more difficult to tidily sweep away the deaths of two British tourists. No, he doubted that they would resort to using guns. And indeed there was no change to the machine’s noise: it continued to zigzag agitatedly along the edge of the trees.

  Foster knew that he and Janet could hold out here and that the pilot would eventually be forced to quit as his fuel ran low. But what then? Once the machine had flown away, allowing them to make their way back to the ranch, what would be waiting for them there?

  This affair had suddenly become very serious indeed.

  At that instant another sound intruded: it was the engine of a vehicle. Foster cursed silently. Were these reinforcements?

  But then the sound of the helicopter began to fade until it had disappeared into the dist
ance. They waited, straining their ears to make sure it wasn’t just waiting further away. Foster wondered what the newly arrived vehicle was doing.

  Then they heard a distant shout: it was Randy Sanders.

  Foster gave a sigh of relief. ‘Here!’ he shouted. ‘We’re here, Randy. Coming out.’

  They picked their way carefully towards the point from where Sanders’ voice had come and in a few moments they saw him standing beside his big pickup truck. He had a rifle in his hands.

  ‘What’s goin’ on?’ he shouted, as they emerged a little distance from him. ‘You folks OK?’

  ‘Yes we are,’ Foster replied. ‘But we’re glad you turned up.’

  ‘I heard the chopper. Wondered what it was doin’ here. Came to take a look. Brought the rifle in case there was trouble.’

  ‘Just as well, Randy,’ Foster said. ‘That helicopter spooked the horses.’

  ‘Not surprised. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. The chopper was just buzzin’ back and forth like it was lookin’ for somethin’.’

  ‘It was,’ Janet said, calmer now. ‘They were looking for us!’

  Sanders frowned at her.

  ‘We’ll explain back at the ranch,’ Foster said. ‘But be careful, Randy. You may have company there by now.’

  Sanders stared at him with a worried expression. ‘What’s goin’ on?’ he repeated. ‘You folks don’t look like escaped convicts.’

  ‘We’re certainly not,’ Foster laughed. ‘But it seems we have enemies.’

  Sanders shrugged and then pointed to a low hill. ‘Go past that rise there,’ he said. ‘Cut past the right of it and you’ll find a trail leading back to the ranch. I’ll take the long route. We should get there at about the same time.’

  He was right – they saw his truck drive up to the ranch house just as they were approaching the Lazy S. They dismounted and he led their horses away, asking them to wait while he dealt with them.

  When he returned they went up to the house and settled back in armchairs in the comfortable living room. Sanders introduced them to his wife, who brought them drinks and circled them curiously.

  ‘We don’t get folks out here from England,’ she said. ‘And now Randy tells me there’s bin some kind of trouble.’

  ‘Apparently, yes,’ Foster said, sipping at his Jack Daniel’s. It wasn’t bad. ‘I have some information that some people seem keen to get hold of. Or to stop me dealing with.’

  ‘Information?’ Sanders asked.

  Foster gave them a very brief summary of the past few weeks’ events. He didn’t say anything about his fears that their hunters may be returning for them soon.

  ‘Jeez!’ Sanders breathed when he had finished. ‘It’s like a movie.’

  ‘It’s a scary one for us,’ Janet agreed.

  ‘So what’re you folks goin’ to do now?’ Sanders’ wife asked.

  ‘We don’t have much choice,’ Foster said. ‘We’ve left everything back at the motel: passports, tickets. The safest thing is to get back to London. I’m sure that whoever’s after us won’t be able to do anything once we’re there.’

  He hoped his voice sounded more confident than he actually felt. But it was true: they had to get back to London.

  As they sped down towards their motel Foster turned on the radio and tuned to a country-music station. As it played quietly in the background Foster asked her if she was saddle-sore. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘You were right about the saddles too. I could have gone on forever.’

  ‘Still, you’ll enjoy the hot tub now.’

  The faux-American accent returned as she answered, ‘You’re darn tootin’!’

  They had been driving for less than an hour when Foster stopped the car suddenly. A small cloud of dust failed to stop with them and drifted along the road in front.

  ‘What?’ Janet asked.

  He leant forward and turned up the radio to catch what the newsreader was saying: ‘… his vehicle was found down a gully beside Rampart Ridge Trail. Zak Beckermann, Chief Executive of Powerplant Dynamics, said that Mr Matthews had been on vacation and was fond of driving some of the more adventurous trails in the mountains. He said that the driver had been a well-liked senior executive in his company, and he would be sadly missed by his family and his colleagues.’

  Foster stared grimly at the console and then switched off the radio.

  He sat as though transfixed, until she asked what he’d heard.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he said. ‘Joel Matthews. He’s been killed.’

  Her eyes widened in shock.

  ‘I missed the beginning of the report but it seems he was in a car accident yesterday.’

  Her response was quiet. ‘How horrible!’

  ‘More than just horrible,’ he said. ‘That’s the second person who’s suddenly died after giving me information on this Darkfall thing.’

  She stared at him as she remembered Luke Proctor’s suicide.

  ‘Surely not?’ she said. ‘Can’t it just be coincidence?’

  He shook his head. ‘Could be, but it would be a mighty big coincidence – too damn big. Anyway, what’s Matthews doing taking a break in the middle of the week to go trail-driving? Those guys are driven by work – they’re passionate about it. I can’t see him taking time off in the middle of the week.

  ‘And now somebody’s tried to kill us.’ He shook his head and added, ‘No, I’ve stumbled on to something big. Very big.’

  He looked at his watch. He wanted to report the new incidents to Grant, but it could wait until they were back at the Brown Palace.

  As they set off, and in spite of their best efforts, a pall of gloom fell on them, and it lasted for the rest of the day.

  Foster had remained tense and watchful throughout the trip back to the motel and then, after they’d packed their bags and checked out, on their return journey to the Brown Palace. He remembered now the things he’d seen earlier that, at the time, he had dismissed: the small signs of a possible intruder in their room; the car that was always just in view behind them; the two men in their out-of-place business suits, reading newspapers in the motel lobby. Now, with hindsight, these things took on an ominous significance.

  But nobody followed them and there were no surprises waiting for them. But even that was unsettling, like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  At the Brown Palace he asked for Peter Halligan and when the general manager appeared he asked him if anybody had been asking questions about him. ‘No, Sir,’ came the reply. Then Halligan frowned and added, ‘But the maitre d’ at the coffee shop did report that somebody had been acting suspiciously the other day. It was as though he was watching you and Ms Coleman. I decided not to worry you about it, Dr Foster. Not unless anything further developed.’

  Foster nodded his head absentmindedly. He was thinking: whoever the mysterious observer was, it was now clear that he had seen Joel Matthews hand over the disk in the café. Had that act signed the PPD man’s death certificate? And had it been the trigger to the attempt on their own lives? It seemed all too likely.

  He thanked Halligan and asked him to alert his staff to be on the lookout for any unusual activities relating to him and Janet. Then he said he would be checking out the next day, as soon as he had made the necessary flight arrangements.

  After that, they had dinner in the restaurant and went up to their room.

  After he had carefully opened the door, Foster searched inside the room for signs of anything unusual. But, as far as he could tell, nobody had disturbed any of their possessions.

  While Janet opened the minibar and took out drinks for them, he switched on his laptop, connected it to the hotel network and booked their flight back to London. Then he rang Grant and outlined the recent events, carefully leaving out any reference to Janet.

  ‘Good God, man!’ Grant gasped. ‘Be careful. And when you come back here I’ve got some news for you, about your friend Worzniak. You must be careful of him, laddie.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Foster replied
. ‘Believe me, I’ll be giving him a wide berth.’

  ‘Do you want me to do anything from here?’ Grant asked. ‘I could mebbe see about getting some kind of protection for you.’

  Foster considered the offer briefly. It would give them some security if it could be arranged, but it would necessitate telling Grant about Janet’s presence. He made a decision. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not worth it. I’m booked on a flight tomorrow.’

  He hung up and said, ‘OK. We’re out of here tomorrow. We should pack up most of our things now, so that we can check out early.’

  This they did, and then they went to bed, to sleep a restless sleep.

  NINE

  Polly Put the Kettle On

  Having caught the evening flight from Denver, they landed at Heathrow early in the morning. Their flight had been assisted by favourable winds, so they had landed early, and it was still only 9 a.m. when they arrived back to Foster’s boat. They drank coffee while they stood on the deck, looking across the river at Kingston beginning to wake. The morning was chilly, and there was a faint hint of dampness in the air. The bare branches of the chestnuts bordering the river stood like stark black skeletons against the grey sky. Even the river had lost its sparkle, and its surface had a flat oily sheen as it swirled sluggishly past Lake Goddess’s hull. The steel handrails dripped moisture on to the deck.

  They had eaten breakfast on the flight, but by ten o’clock they were hungry again, so Foster prepared another one for them in his galley – a far more substantial one this time. After they’d eaten, he rang Arnold Coward’s offices and arranged to meet Grant there in the afternoon. Janet had booked another few days’ leave, so she said she’d like to do some shopping locally. She would be back that evening.

  They then went back up on deck to finish their coffee. Janet leaned against him and he felt her shiver. They had both put on warm sweaters but the damp chill of the morning air had quickly penetrated even these. They had tried vainly to adjust themselves to the time, altitude and climate differences, but were still slightly disorientated.