Jack Higgins - East Of Desolation

by East Of Desolation [lit]

  God knows why, but it was as if I had known all along and my voice when I spoke, seemed to belong to someone else.

  "Why did you kill him?"

  "I didn't mean to. I knew he couldn't very well go running to the police. I was going to give him something to keep him happy. I was holding him with his own shotgun and he tried to jump me. It was as simple as that."

  Sarah Kelso shook her head. "But it isn't possible."

  Desforge shrugged. "What she's trying to tell you is that we were in bed together when it happened."

  "That was certainly my impression," I said.

  He turned to Sarah Kelso. "Sorry, angel, but I left you for an hour. That's all it took. You were sleeping like a baby."

  "You fool," I said. "You stupid bloody fool. Now what happens? What can happen?"

  "Christ knows, it's a mess." He shook his head. "I never thought it would end up like this. In the beginning it seemed like a good idea. I was desperate. There was nothing left, Joe. That letter from Milt was a death sentence. There was a court order out on my property in California against back taxes and the picture deal had fallen through. I was finished. Have you any idea what that meant? There was nothing to come. There was never going to be another picture:"

  It was as if he was talking for me alone, as if I was the only person there and in a strange way I understood what he was trying to say. He wasn't making excuses--- he was just trying to get me to understand. All his life he'd inhabited the fantasy world, living a series of incredible adventures each contained in its own watertight compartment and as one finished, another began. If you made a mistake the director shouted Cut and you tried it again. Nothing was for real--- nothing was ever for real and suddenly, I realised what he must have felt like after killing Arnie, standing there with the noise of the shotgun still ringing in his ears, looking down on his handiwork and realising with horror, that his was permanent, this was something that couldn't be adjusted ever.

  Ilana stared at him mutely, a kind of dazed incomprehension in her eyes. He ignored her and said to Vogel, "It seems to me you and I have something in common after all. How were you hoping to get away from here? By rendezvousing with Da Gama's schooner?"

  Vogel shook his head. "You're wasting your time, I've no room for passengers."

  "You're living in cloud-cuckoo land. Tell him, Joe."

  I nodded. "He's right. Even if the schooner makes it in one piece, there's a Danish corvette doing coastal survey work out of Godthaab that could run you down in half a day."

  Vogel turned back to Desforge, a slight frown on his face. "You have something else on your mind or you would not have raised the matter."

  Desforge lit a cigarette. "There's always the Otter down there in the fjord."

  For the first time Vogel's iron composure cracked and he clutched at what was, after all, the only real hope of extricating himself from what was otherwise an impossible situation.

  "You can fly?"

  "Not like laughing boy here, but good enough for short hauls. Newfoundland, for instance."

  "We could reach Newfoundland?"

  "Easily with what's in the tank now. Plenty of remote fishing villages where we could put down and pick up enough gas to continue. We could make somewhere like Maine for our second landing. I'm willing to take my chances after that. America is a big country. Of course I'd expect a cut in the emeralds. Fifty per cent would seem to be about right."

  I could almost see Vogel's brain working as he decided that he could handle that one at the right time and place. "Agreed. Is there anything else?"

  Desforge held out his hand. "I think I'd like to look after the bank if you don't mind. After all, you and bully boy here seem to be carrying all the artillery."

  Vogel hesitated fractionally and probably decided there was no harm in humouring him. He tossed the belt across. Desforge folded it neatly and stuffed it inside his parka.

  "Another thing, no more trouble." He nodded towards Da Gama. "I don't want Frankenstein there cutting loose on my friends or anything like that. Now tell him to get the Land-Rover."

  "Just as you say, Mr. Desforge."

  Ilana turned and hurried away and he had to run to catch her at the door. She started to struggle and he held her very firmly and then she seemed to go limp and sagged against the wall. He had his back to us, hiding her from view and it was impossible to hear what he said, but when Da Gama drove the Land-Rover into the yard, he turned and came back towards us and I saw that Ilana was crying bitterly.

  As Desforge approached, I moved into his path. "You're kidding yourself," I said. "Even if our friend here doesn't put a bullet through your head at the appropriate time, where on this earth can Jack Desforge hope to hide and not be recognised?"

  He laughed. "You've got a point there, kid, but there must be somewhere. I'll have to think about it."

  As Vogel climbed into the Land-Rover, Sarah Kelso said something to him in a low voice. He pushed her away angrily. "You've made your bed--- now lie on it."

  She turned on Desforge, desperation on her face. "For God's sake, Jack, if I ever meant anything to you, take me with you. He says I can't go."

  Desforge laughed incredulously. "You've got your nerve, angel, I'll say that for you. Go on, get in! I'd say we just about deserve each other."

  He turned to me and smiled sombrely. "Strange how things work out. Have you ever wondered how many changes you'd make in your life if you could do the whole thing over again?"

  "Often," I said.

  "Me too." He nodded. "But I'd only need to make one. Remember the pier at Santa Barbara in the fog when I met Lilian Courtney for the first time? I should have turned and run like hell."

  It was an interesting thought, but there was no time to take it any further. He got into the passenger seat beside Da Gama and turned and looked at me for the last time. For a second, there was something there, an unspoken message that I couldn't hope to understand and he smiled that famous smile of his, sardonic and bitter, touching something deep inside me, the old indefinable magic that had moved millions of people through the years in exactly the same way.

  And then he was gone, the Land-Rover disappearing into the rain with a roar. When I turned, Ilana had sunk down on her knees beside the door, leaning against the wall, crying steadily.

  I went forward and took her by the elbow. Her sheepskin coat was unbuttoned for some reason and as I pulled her up, it opened and the money belt fell to the ground.

  I stared down at it in stupefaction, then picked it up awkwardly with my left hand. "What's this?" I said hoarsely.

  "The emeralds," she said. "Don't you understand? He slipped them under my coat when he was saying goodbye."

  Perhaps I had lost more blood than I realised or maybe I was moving into shock, but suddenly nothing seemed to make too much sense any more.

  I shook my head as if to clear my sight and said carefully, "But why would he do that? What on earth could he hope to accomplish?"

  And then it hit me with the force of a thunderbolt, and I realised what his eyes had been trying to say in those last moments before the Land-Rover had driven away into the fog. When I looked up, Ilana was staring at me in horror as if she too had suddenly discovered the only possible explanation.

  She shook her head dumbly and I pushed the belt inside my flying jacket and grabbed her arm. "The jeep, where is it?"

  "Somewhere behind the barn."

  I turned and ran and heard her call through the rain. "Don't leave me, Joe! Don't leave me!" There was panic in her voice.

  I found the jeep, just as she had said, but with one difference. It was standing in a lake of petrol, a bullet hole in the tank and I turned, ignoring her desperate cry, scrambled over the wall and ran through the meadow.

  I was wasting my time, I suppose I knew that from the start and yet nothing in this world could have stopped me. I clambered over the fence at the bottom of the meadow and as I went down the slope through the willow trees, the engine of the Otter coughed ang
rily in the rain below and roared into life.

  As I reached the top of the crag, the Otter roared down the fjord, the engine note deepening so that I knew she was lifting off. There was a sudden crashing through the trees behind me as Ilana arrived and at the same moment, a wind coming down from the ice-cap swept the rain to one side like a giant curtain and I saw the Otter for the last time, five hundred feet up and climbing into the morning.

  And then she turned, as I knew she would; and came back across the fjord, heading straight for that great wall of stone and going like a bomb.

  God knows what happened in that cabin during those last few minutes. I suppose Vogel must have emptied his gun into him, but he held her on the course of his own choosing, straight and true, Jack Desforge, that magnificent, wonderful bastard going out as he had lived in a blaze of glory.

  The explosion echoed between the hills as a ball of fire erupted against the side of the mountain and then mercifully, the wind died and the curtain of rain dropped back into place.

  .....

  I think that at that moment I could have sat down and wept for him and for the cruel senseless waste of it all, but there was no time for that now. Ilana stood staring into the void, then turned and stumbled towards me, tears streaming down her face. I pulled her against my chest and stroked her hair with my one good hand.

  "Why did he do it, Joe? Why?" she said brokenly.

  I could have given her the obvious answer. That he was tired, that he'd had enough, that he knew, as I had told him, that there was no place on earth for him to hide, but I could do better for him than that.

  "To save us," I said. "He agreed to fly Vogel out to save us and for no other reason. But somewhere along the line he was going to get a bullet in the head, he knew that. He decided to take them with him, that's all. There isn't a newspaper or magazine in the world that won't swallow that hook line and sinker. They'll believe it because they want to believe it."

  "And Arnie? What about Arnie?"

  "Vogel and Stratton killed Arnie," I said patiently. "I thought you knew that."

  She stood there staring at me, a hand to her mouth and I patted her on the shoulder and said gently, "Now go back to the farmhouse like a good girl. I'll be along later." She hesitated and I gave her a push. "Go on."

  She stared up through the grove and I watched her go. She paused at the edge of the trees and turned. "You won't leave me, Joe?"

  "No, I won't leave you, Ilana."

  I waited till she had gone then scrambled over the edge of the crag and slowly and painfully made my way down to the beach. Whichever way you looked at it, it was ironic. By this time next year somebody would probably be sinking a million or so into a film of it all. I wondered who they'd get to play me and suddenly the whole thing seemed so ludicrous that I started to laugh and the sound of it echoed back across the water as if Desforge was laughing with me.

  I found the horseshoe of black rocks on the beach where I had hidden from Stratton earlier, with no difficulty and slumped down wearily. What happened to me now didn't seem to matter. After all, what could they do? Probably a deportation order and maybe I'd lose my licence, but both these things seemed relatively trivial.

  One thing was certain. Nothing must be allowed to diminish the magnificence of that final sacrifice. I took the money belt from inside my flying jacket, opened the pouches one by one and emptied them of the pebbles they contained.

  The emeralds were where I had left them in a little pile under a flat stone. Slowly and with great difficulty because I could only use my left hand, I started to replace them.

  The End

  Praise, for Jack Higgins and his bestselling novels...

  THE PRESIDENT'S DAUGHTER

  "All of Higgins's skill in weaving together a tight story with plenty of action, appealing heroes and dastardly villains is exhibited in The President's Daughter, making it another worthy addition to his prolific repertoire."

  -Chattanooga Free Press

  NIGHT JUDGEMENT AT SINOS

  On the prison island of Sinos, one man holds the fate of thousands in his hands...

  "This is one you won't put down."

  -The New York Times

  DRINK WITH THE DEVIL

  The blockbuster New York Times bestseller--- two adversaries search for stolen gold in a deadly treasure hunt with worldwide consequences....

  "A most intoxicating thriller"

  -Associated Press

  "It is Dillon's likability and the author's adroitness in giving his character the room he needs that make Higgins's novels so readable."

  -Washington Times

  YEAR OF THE TIGER

  Higgins's novel of Cold War espionage and blistering suspense. A scientist holding the key to the Space Race becomes the object of a worldwide manhunt...

  "Higgins spins as mean a tale as Ludlum, Forsyth, or any of them."

  -Philadelphia Daily News

  "A seasoned pro... Mr. Higgins knows how to tell a story!"

  -The New York Times Book Review

  "The master's master of spycraft storytelling."

  -UPI

  ANGEL OF DEATH

  Jack Higgins's electrifying bestseller--- mysterious terrorist group plots an assassination that will plunge Ireland into civil war...

  "Pulsing excitement... Higgins makes the pages fly."

  -New York Daily News

  "Jack Higgins has a new thriller, and like its long list of predecessors, it's a terrific read."

  -Associated Press

  "An exciting yarn... hurtles from one thrill to the next."

  -Publishers Weekly

  "As always with Higgins, the action never stops."

  -San Francisco Examiner

  "A crackling good read... A thrilling confrontation... Jack Higgins has been writing page-turners for more than thirty years now, and with Angel of Death he comes through with another top-drawer thriller."

  -The Virginian-Pilot

  MIDNIGHT MAN

  (also published as EYE OF THE STORM)

  A duel between two masters of espionage culminates in an attempted mortar attack on the British war cabinet--- in this shocking thriller that blends fact and fiction...

  "A heart-stopping cat-and-mouse game... spectacular and surprising."

  -Abilene Reporter-News

  "A riveting story... as current as today's headlines."

  -The State/Columbia (SC)

  "Razor-edged... Eye of the Storm will give you an adrenaline high. It's a winner."

  -Tulsa World

  "Will leave readers happily breathless."

  -Kirkus Reviews

  ON DANGEROUS GROUND

  Jack Higgins's explosive thriller--- the desperate search for a secret document that could change the fate o f Hong Kong, China, and the world...

  "It's a whirlwind of action, with a hero (Sean Dillon) who can out-Bond old James with one hand tied behind his back... It's told in the author's best style, with never a pause for breath."

  -The New York Times Book Review

  "Engaging... Jack Higgins knows how to entertain, and entertain he does with On Dangerous Ground."

  -Baton Rouge Magazine

  "A powerhouse tale of action and adventure."

  -Tampa Tribune-Times

  SHEBA

  His most powerful novel of Nazi intrigue--- the shattering story of an archaeologist who discovers a legendary temple... and a Nazi plot to turn the landmark into Hitler's secret stronghold.

  "Jack Higgins is the master..."

  -Tom Clancy

  "When it comes to thriller writers, one name stands well above the crowd--- Jack Higgins."

  -Associated Press

  THUNDER POINT

  The shattering bestseller about the search for Martin Bormann's missing files--- in a sunken U-boat on the bottom of the Caribbean...

  "Dramatic... authentic... one of the author's best."

  -The New York Times

  "A rollicking adventure that twists and tu
rns..."

  -San Diego Union-Tribune

  Books by Jack Higgins

  THE PRESIDENT'S DAUGHTER