‘I don’t know quite what you mean by grotesquely shaped, but I hope it isn’t me,’ said Wedderkind. ‘It’s a nice idea, Phil, but I have a feeling you’re whistling in the dark. You know there’s more to it than that.’
‘Yes,’ said Wetherby. ‘What about all that business with the hatch – and Spencer’s message?’
Brecetti didn’t reply.
‘I think we were being offered an easy way to find out what Crusoe was all about,’ said Wedderkind.
‘I agree,’ said Collis. ‘But the trouble is, Crusoe was only selling one-way tickets.’
Sunday/September 23
ROCK CREEK PARK/WASHINGTON DC
The Pontiac from the White House car pool arrived outside Connors’ door at a quarter to six. Charly helped Connors into his coat and handed him his briefcase. She was wearing his bathrobe.
‘This is almost like being married,’ she said.
‘Yeah… what does it feel like?’
Charly put her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘Mmm… I guess I could get used to it. But if we were going to stay here, I’d want to have a Philippine couple living in. Or some Vietnamese boat-people. They’re cheaper, but of course there’s the communication problem.’
‘Yes. And it’s not just with Vietnamese…’ Connors picked up his zipped travel bag. ‘Will you remember to mail that cheque to the power company for me?’
‘Sure.’ Charly hugged him once more before letting go.
‘And turn everything off before you leave?’
‘Of course.’
‘Okay… well, g’bye, Charly. I’ll call you when I get back. I’m not quite sure when that’ll be. Take care.’
‘You too.’ Charly gave him a wifely peck on the mouth and hid behind the front door as she opened it.
Connors walked down the path without looking back.
The driver started the car. ‘Do you want to go straight to Andrews Field?’
‘No, I want to stop off at the Rochester Towers.’
The driver pulled into the hotel forecourt and stopped alongside Greg. Greg dropped his luggage into the trunk and got in beside Connors. Dan Chaliapin and the two Russians were sitting in another green Pontiac parked just ahead of them.
‘All set?’
‘Yes, fine.’ Greg leaned towards the driver. ‘They’re going to follow us.’
They cleared the car in front and turned left into the street. Both pavements were lined with cars but there was little other traffic. At the intersection the driver swung right and headed down towards Fifteenth Street.
‘Did the General get fixed up?’
‘Yes. A discreet dark grey worsted. Conservative cut. Amazing. Put these guys in the right clothes and they wouldn’t look out of place on the board of the Chase Manhattan.’
GLASGOW AFB/MONTANA
Their plane left Washington at 6:30 A.M., arriving at Glasgow AFB, Montana, at 8 P.M., local time. Colonel Zwickert, the Base Commander, and Major Jessup, the SAC Communications link man between Crow Ridge and Washington, were there to meet them. General Allbright had briefed Zwickert on the project shortly after the Air Force had got their hands on the Ridge.
Grigorienko and General Golubev changed into crisp new sets of olive-drab fatigues. Supplied by the Air Force, the uniforms came complete with stencilled name tags, red bands around the epaulettes and, in the case of the General, five gold stars on the cap and collar.
One of the yellow Corporation helicopters lifted them over to the civilian airport at the town of Glasgow, some eighteen miles south of the base. The Twin Comanche from the Miles City air-taxi outfit touched down a few seconds after they did. Harvey Korvin was at the controls. Connors saw him do a marvellous double take as Golubev and Grigorienko climbed in and began talking to each other in Russian.
The word about Connors’ aquaphobia had obviously got around, because Korvin’s flight path was angled clear of the Fort Peck dam. Once across the Missouri, he followed Highway 24 south through McCone County. Ahead, Connors could see the T-junction where Highway 24 met the east-west road running from Sydney to Lewistown. If they flew more or less straight on, they would pick up Highway 22 angling in from the northwest, and Broken Mill would be just off the starboard wing. Korvin crossed the T-junction at a height of two thousand feet. It was one of those days when you could see forever. The sky was clear and cloudless.
‘What’s that place on the right?’ asked Connors.
‘Van Norman,’ said Korvin. ‘That creek running almost underneath us is called the Little Dry.’ As he said it, both engines of the Twin Comanche coughed and died.
Connors’ heart missed a beat as the steady comforting roar was replaced by the soft whistle of air over the wings.
Red warning lights indicating power failure flared up along the top of the instrument panel and then faded abruptly. The needles of the flight instrument wavered and dropped to zero. Korvin switched on the emergency battery power supply, checked the fuel and ignition switches, primed the fuel pumps, and looked expectantly at the engines. The propellers continued to windmill but the engines didn’t start.
‘What in hell’s happening here…?’ muttered Korvin.
Connors knew. He looked back at Greg. ‘Is it the electrics?’ he asked Korvin.
‘Yeah, everything’s blown,’ said Korvin.
This is.impossible, thought Connors. They were over thirty miles away from Crow Ridge. But it was the only explanation. The cutoff zone had expanded – and they had flown right into it. From high up, the ground looked deceptively smooth. But if they didn’t pick the right spot, there could be no second try…
Korvin pulled on fifteen degrees of flap, pumped down the undercarriage, and turned into wind. ‘Sorry about this, folks. Just tighten your seat belts, sit back, and relax. We’ll all walk away from this one.’
BROKEN MILL/MONTANA
Deputy Carl Volkert left Forsyth before eight, crossed over the Yellowstone, and drove north along the unsurfaced back road that climbed into the badlands north of the river. About twenty miles out, the road began to snake between sloping buttes topped with piles of flat weathered sandstone. Volkert broke out on to the higher part of the plain and got a chance to push the patrol car up to sixty-five. He rocked along with his left elbow out of the window, whistling tunelessly.
He topped a shallow rise and saw about two hundred head of cattle moving south over the range to his left. The herd had five outriders, and following it on the road were three pickups, one towing a trailer, and two Army trucks. All the vehicles were loaded with bedding and furniture.
Volkert swung off the road to take a closer look at the herd and recognized the horned-H brand of the Hiller ranch on the steers. The nearest cowboy turned out to be a teen-age girl. One of the Hiller boys rode up to him.
Volkert pushed back his stetson and grinned. ‘Where the hell are you going – Australia?’
‘No, the Army’s movin’ everyone clear of the Ridge. We got word the whole shootin’ match is going right up in the air. They’re evacuating everybody from here all the way to Cohagen.’
‘Hell, I didn’t know that. How long’s it been goin’ on?’
‘Got word yesterday mornin’. They gave us till midnight tonight. Whole thing’s top secret.’
Volkert smiled. ‘It was till they told you. Where’s the rest of your stock?’
‘The Army trucked ’em out yesterday. We’re heading down to Ma’s cousin’s place near Cartersville. Where’re you aimin’ for?’
‘Broken Mill. Official business.’
The Hiller boy grinned broadly. ‘Well, you’re gonna have to do it standin’ up. I was over there yesterday. Most of the widow lady’s stuff was already packed and out in the yard.’
Volkert pointed at him. ‘Ross, next time you go through town, make sure you drive nice an’ slow.’
Volkert got back on the dirt road and headed towards the loaded pickup. Two of them had the wives and kids aboard. Old Man Hiller was hauling the trailer.
He leaned out of the window and waved to Volkert as he pulled up alongside him.
‘Where’re you headin’?’
‘Broken Mill.’
‘You may not get through. They’re settin’ up road blocks back there.’
‘That’s okay. Official business. Who’s the girl you got back there?’
‘She’s from Miles City. There’s two of ’em out there. Bid for them at the last Jaycee’s slave auction.’ Hiller chuckled. ‘They thought they was comin’ to clean out the kitchen. And you know what? Dang me if they ain’t handlin’ those steers almost as good as my two hands.’
‘Where’s your other boy?’
‘National Guard called him out on Friday.’ Hiller chuckled again. ‘Went down to Miles City yesterday morning, put on his uniform, and got himself detailed back to the ranch with a bunch of GIs to help move some of the hay. We’re gonna need that this winter.’
‘How big do they say this blast’s going to be?’
The smile faded from Hiller’s face. ‘Gonna take out our whole ranch. Probably burn off all the grass too. Won’t be nothin’ left of that. They say we can move back in again in three weeks’ time. But, hell – what to? And you know who’s behind all this? The damn Rooshians. That’s who it is.’
‘Yeah, the government ought to do somethin’ about that,’ said Volkert.
‘Oh, that side’s okay. The way they’re talkin’ we’re gonna get paid twice over – but goddammit, I already had the place burned down once. We just got it all put back together. Makes me madder’n hell.’
‘Maggie must be pretty upset too.’
‘That’s only the half of it. What about the land? Forty years we’ve been workin’ that. They say it won’t, but how do they know this blast ain’t gonna poison everythin’?’
‘I guess we just have to hope the government knows what it’s doin’,’ said Volkert. He drove on.
As he reached the abandoned site of the old post office at Maudlin and turned east towards Highway 22, an Army helicopter swooped low over the roof of the patrol car, circled round and hovered alongside long enough to read the words ‘County Sheriffs Office’ on the side of the car. The copilot of the Iroquois gave him a thumbs-up as they lifted up and banked away to the left.
Volkert parked outside Annie’s Mercantile and General Store and went in to buy his usual Sunday gift of ice cream. Most of the goods had been cleared from the shelves and packed into cartons piled up on the floor, but the big deep freeze cabinet was still humming quietly to keep itself cool. Annie came through from the house and put a bundle of bedding on top of a wooden crate full of pots and pans.
‘Still open for business?’
‘For as long as we’re here,’ said Annie. ‘If you can find it, you can buy it.’
‘Know where they’re takin’ you?’
‘I did hear somebody say Jordan. You come to pick up Laura?’
‘I just dropped by to see if she was okay. Give me a pint of that strawberry ripple.’
The clock in the store started to strike nine. Volkert glanced up at the wall but there was only a white circle where the clock had been. The chimes were drowned out by the deep-throated roar of a heavy truck.
Volkert peered out of the window. ‘They come for you already?’
Annie didn’t look round. ‘That’s one of the diesels from Crow Ridge. ‘Spect there’ll be a plane comin’ in soon.’
Annie went over to the freezer. As she opened the lid to get out the ice cream, the freezer’s motor stopped.
‘Now what in the world do you think’s wrong with that?’
‘Sign in the window’s gone out too,’ said Volkert. He switched on the neon tube hanging from the roof of the long poky store. It didn’t light up. ‘Must be a power line down.’
‘I’ll go and start the jenny,’ said Annie. ‘I’ve got three hundred dollars’ worth of food in there and I got meat down in the cellar. Don’t know we’re going to get that away without spoiling.’ She wrapped up the ice cream in a couple of sheets of the Miles City Star. ‘A dollar.’
Volkert paid and stepped outside. Sid Lindstrom, Annie’s husband, was thumping one of the two old pumps in front of the store. He’d been gassing up a beige Subaru station wagon with Idaho plates. It was crammed with a family all wearing stetsons. Volkert walked over.
‘No use beating it, Sid. You got a power line out. Annie’s down starting the generator.’
‘Hope she remembers the tank’s empty.’ Lindstrom turned to the big red-faced driver of the Subaru. ‘Back up over to the hand pump there and I’ll give you the other five.’
The driver turned the ignition key. The Subaru’s starter motor turned over, the engine fired briefly, then died. The driver pushed back the brim of his stetson and tried again. This time nothing happened. Volkert stepped in front of the car.
‘Switch on your headlights.’
The lights came on, flared up to a bright yellow four or five times, then cut out.
Volkert slapped the hood and walked back to the car window. ‘Okay, switch ’em off. I hope you ain’t in a hurry to get anywhere.’
‘Why?’ asked the driver.
“Cos we got all kinds of trouble,’ said Volkert. He handed the driver the pack of strawberry ripple. ‘Here – give your kids some ice cream.’
Volkert walked across the road. Laura, the widow he’d come to visit, lived in a big corrugated aluminium trailer set on a concrete base. The curtains had been taken down from the windows. Furniture was piled in the front yard. Volkert went inside.
‘Hi…’
‘Hi, Carl. Won’t be no Sunday dinner today.’
‘Yeah, I know. Why didn’t you call me?’
‘Couldn’t say nothin’ to nobody. Didn’t they tell you this whole thing is top secret?’
‘Yeah, sure. Everything okay?’
Laura nodded. ‘We had soldiers here yesterday helpin’ out.’ She closed the door of an empty cupboard. ‘They’re comin’ back for us later today.’
‘Maybe,’ said Volkert. ‘But whatever happens, don’t worry. I’ll see you get out okay. Where are the boys?’
‘They’re around somewhere. Probably over on the fence waitin’ to see the plane come in.’
Volkert went back over the road to where the yellow Crow Ridge diesel was parked with its motor idling. It had one of the prefab units loaded on its trailer. Three young men with blue helmets were sitting in the cab.
‘Hi,’ said Volkert. ‘You expecting somebody?’
‘Yeah, in about ten minutes,’ said the nearest blue hat. He had the name LARSEN stencilled on a white tag over his breast pocket.
‘Well, they may be in trouble,’ said Volkert. ‘You know that problem you had on the Ridge?’
‘I’m not too sure what you’re talking about,’ said Larsen.
‘Listen, sonny, don’t bullshit me,’ said Volkert. ‘I was the one that found that hole up there. Damn near got my ass burned off. There was nothing able to move around up there, right?’
‘Right,’ said Larsen.’
‘Well, you’ve got the same problem right here. Happened just a few minutes ago.’
Larsen looked at the other two cadets in the cab. They all jumped out. One of them climbed up on top of the roof of the trailer with a pair of binoculars and searched the sky to the north.
‘See anything?’ asked Larsen.
‘Nope…’
‘Well, take a good look all the way round. See if you can spot any of those Army helicopters we saw.’
The cadet on the roof of the trailer made a thorough 360-degree search. ‘Nothing up here but me and the birds,’ he reported.
Larsen banged his fist on the wing of the truck. ‘Boy – this is really going to bitch things up.’
‘Where’re your people coming from?’ asked Volkert.
‘Glasgow over to Fort Peck, then due south. If they’ve gone down, they can’t be more than thirty miles away.’
‘Means they could be up near Van Norman
…’
‘Do you know this area?’ asked Larsen.
‘I can find m’way around,’ said Volkert. ‘Want me to come with you?’
‘That would be great.’ Larsen called up to the cadet on the trailer roof, ‘Bail out, Zip. We’re gonna drive north, look for the plane, and see how far this thing has spread.’
The cadet jumped off the roof of the trailer.
Volkert hurried back to his car, pulled his Winchester from the pocket under the front seat, and grabbed a box of shotgun shells from under the dash. The truck swung around in a wide circle and stopped opposite the store. Sid and the driver of the Jap station wagon had the hood up and their hands full of wires. The rest of the family were still wedged in the car.
The driver spotted Volkert. ‘Hey, wait a minute – ’
‘Stick around,’ said Volkert. He ran across the road and squeezed into the cab of the truck.
The kids, perched patiently on the fence waiting for the plane to skim over their heads, watched as the truck turned north on to the highway. Annie came out of the store.
‘Sid! Have you been messin’ with that jenny again?’
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