Track of the Scorpion

by R. R. Irvine

  Sidestepping, McKinnon dropped the phone and buried the butt of his rifle in Elliot’s stomach. With a gasp, Elliot collapsed onto the cave floor, his mouth opening and closing as he fought for air. Nick fell to her knees beside him, holding him tightly. When he’d recovered enough to sit up, she looked up at McKinnon, who’d backed away far enough to have slung the second .30-.06 over his shoulder.

  Fear started her trembling. “Why?”

  “My mother’s getting worse,” McKinnon answered. “You talked to her. You must have seen it for yourself. She’ll need institutional care for the rest of her life. That costs money, and money doesn’t mean anything to a man like Hatch.”

  “A minute ago you wanted to get me into bed.”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “I thought you wanted to see your father buried.”

  “He’s not my father. He left me nothing, not even memories.”

  Nick’s fear gave way to rage. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. An icy calm settled over her, filling her with a white-hot resolve. Just an opening, she thought, that’s all she wanted. A chance no matter how slim, and she’d take it.

  He must have sensed the change in her, because he began backing away. “The safety’s off, Nick. All I have to do is pull the trigger. I’m not much of a shot, but nobody could miss at this range.”

  Without taking his eyes off her, he bent down, retrieved the cellular phone, the smallest she’d ever seen. “I’m sorry, Nick,” he said. “The fact is you never had a chance.”

  He punched a single button on the phone, then spoke into it. “I have the weapons.” He listened for a moment, nodding at whatever was said in response. “That’s fine by me.”

  Somehow Nick managed to control her voice. “What now?”

  “Now I live up to my bargain. I walk to the front of the cave, turn over the guns to them, and I walk away a rich man.”

  “Leaving us for dead?”

  “Maybe if you beg, he’ll offer you money, too.”

  Staring at McKinnon, she wondered how could she have been so wrong about him. Surely treachery showed on a man’s face? It had been clear enough on Ben Gilbert’s face at the disciplinary hearing. Or had that been embarrassment? Whatever it had been, McKinnon’s showed no signs of it. Perhaps she’d been too busy assessing the wattage of his kisses.

  “You’re like my mother,” McKinnon said. “You don’t use your head when it comes to sex. Neither of you live in the real world.”

  Gritting her teeth, Nick helped her father to his feet and began nudging him toward the extension ladder.

  “Start climbing, Elliot,” she said. “I don’t think he has the guts to shoot us.”

  McKinnon shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be trapped up there in this kind of weather.”

  “You’re on my turf now, you bastard.”

  “Good-bye, Nick.” Keeping his rifle aimed at her, McKinnon backed toward the mouth of the cave.

  “Move,” Nick urged her father.

  He scrambled up the ladder, with her literally at his heels. Once on the top story, they pulled the ladder up after them and repositioned themselves beneath the fissure in the rock wall. Cases of water had already been stacked on the roof, the only permanently shady spot in the cave.

  When she looked for McKinnon, she realized that he’d stopped short of the cave mouth to watch their climb. Seen against the light in silhouette, his posture suggested that he was enjoying their plight. In that instant, she knew what had to be done.

  “We’ll climb out the fissure,” she said.

  “Look at me,” Elliot said. “I’ll never fit.”

  “If we can get to the Trooper well be all right.”

  Elliot shook his head. “There’s something I have to say while I’ve got the chance. I always knew about your mother, you know. I knew she wasn’t capable of doing the cooking and the cleaning, that you got stuck with it. If you remember, I tried to hire help, but your mother drove them away.”

  She touched his arm. “I’ve always suspected you knew.”

  “About the Anasazi,” Elliot said, “they’re my way of coping with reality.”

  “You might as well come down,” McKinnon shouted from the cave mouth. “They’ve left their car in the pass just like I told them. Even if you had the rifles, you’d still be bottled up in here.”

  He raised his hand to shade his eyes against the outside glare. For a split second, Nick thought her eyes were playing tricks as McKinnon was lifted off his feet and hurled backward. Then came the sound, the roar of a long burst from an automatic weapon. Ricocheting bullets sang like hornets inside the cave.

  “Jesus,” Elliot said.

  “Climb. They’re not going to leave us alive as witnesses.”

  “You first, Nick, in case I get stuck.”

  Halfway up, another burst of gunfire ricocheted into the cave wall next to them, gouging shrapnel from the red rock. A splinter sliced open her cheek. Behind her, Elliot shouted and fell. When she looked down, he was lying on the roof of the cliff dwelling, one leg obviously broken.

  Even as she started to climb down, he straightened the leg. “Go!” he shouted at her.

  Two silhouettes stood at the mouth of the cave.

  Elliot gestured angrily. “They can’t get to me without the ladder. I can last for days. Get help.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but settled for a nod. He was right. Even if what McKinnon had said was true, that the road was blocked, there was still a chance.

  “Two days,” she said, “I’ll be back by then. If I’m not . . .”

  “I’ll be here,” her father said. “Now move.”

  She pulled herself headfirst into the fissure, then kicked the ladder onto the top of the cliff dwelling. Around her, startled bats fluttered and squeaked. Clenching her teeth, she wormed her way toward the distant daylight.

  She’d always admired bats, but from a distance. Without them, the insect population would explode. But up close, amidst their guano, the smell was not to be believed. And whether the cuts she was feeling on her hands and arms came from sharp rocks or razor fangs didn’t make much difference. She was going to need a rabies shot, if she survived.

  And survival was as much in Elliot’s hands as hers. If the grand old man of archaeology was right, they had a chance.

  On the other hand, it didn’t make any difference. They no longer had a choice. They were both committed. So keep climbing, she told herself. And pray that Elliot knew his Anasazi.

  From the cave, she heard more gunfire. Dear God, had they somehow reached her father? No, that didn’t seem likely. They’d have to build a ladder, and there wasn’t any material for miles. Of course, they could chop handholds in the rock walls given time enough. But she wasn’t about to let that happen; she wasn’t going to give them the time.

  Twice she slipped, ripping skin from her hands and arms. But she kept going, climbing with her eyes shut to protect them from the stinging sweat that reeked of bat urine.

  Blistering sunlight told her she’d broken free of the mountain. Blindly, she groped across the scorching rock face. When her eyes finally adjusted, she wasn’t more than a quarter of a mile from the Trooper. All that stood between her and the vehicle was a twenty-foot drop onto rocky soil. She would have preferred to search for an easier way down, but there was no time. She stretched the front of her soaking T-shirt far enough to wipe her eyes, then jumped, rolling as she landed.

  Instantly, she was up and running, conscious of nothing worse from the fall than raw knees. Ahead of her, the Trooper shimmered in heat waves. Half blinded by sweat, she lost sight of it completely for a moment. But she kept running, praying the emergency water was where it should be. If it wasn’t, she’d be dead in a day considering how much she’d sweated away already.

  Halfway there, her legs felt as if they were moving in slow motion. Sucking air in lung-searing gasps, she spurred herself forward with the thought of Elliot being stranded and left to d
ie. And all the while, she expected to feel bullets ripping into her back and pitching her into oblivion like McKinnon.

  Reaching the Trooper was like a miracle. On wobbly legs, she opened the door and climbed into what felt like an oven on high broil. But the water was right where it should be, thank God, half a dozen one-gallon jugs lashed in place by bungee cords.

  She grabbed one of the jugs, gulped water until she had to come up for air, then groped under the seat. The .30-.30 was there, too, along with a box of shells. Shakily, she pulled out the rifle and levered a cartridge into the chamber. Then she retrieved the box of cartridges and stuffed half a dozen loose shells into the pocket of her jeans.

  Now all she needed was a few seconds leeway. The key was to lure them out of the cave, but not so quickly that she wouldn’t be out of range.

  Still panting, Nick rolled down her window, then reached across the seats to do the same on the passenger’s side in case she needed a clear field of fire.

  Releasing the emergency brake, she started the engine and eased the Trooper forward, creeping along the curving rock abutment toward the cave. If they heard the engine and were waiting for her outside the cave, she’d be dead in seconds. If they’d gone inside, she and her father might have a chance.

  CHAPTER 38

  Hatch, following well behind Kemp, stepped over McKinnon’s body and entered the cave.

  “We have them now,” Kemp said. “There’s no way out.” Using the toe of his boot, he prodded McKinnon’s lifeless body. “I hope this poor bastard got paid in advance.”

  He had, in an offshore account, but Hatch wasn’t about to say how much. A sum like that might make Kemp greedy before his usefulness came to an end.

  “He should have kept them down here where we could get our hands on them,” Hatch said before realizing the mistake had been his, that he’d given the order for Kemp to shoot. He nodded; he was getting too old for things like this. It was time he turned CMI over to his son.

  He stared into the cave, but his eyes couldn’t cope with the shadows. “Do you see them?”

  “Fuck it,” Kemp said. “It’s like looking into an ink-well. What do you want to do, wait or blast them out?”

  “For Christ’s sake. I’m not about to dawdle in this kind of heat. Besides, there’s an easier way.” Hatch smiled. One thing he wasn’t too old for was negotiation. In that area, he could still show Lee a thing or two.

  “Follow me,” he told Kemp, “and watch the master at work. I’ll talk them down. Once I do, you finish them.”

  Mindful of the cave’s rocky floor, Hatch slung the Uzi over his shoulder and strode to the base of the cliff dwelling. “Ms. Scott,” he shouted, craning his neck, “allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Leland Hatch. I have a lucrative offer for you.”

  A baseball-size rock sailed over the edge of the roof, missing him by inches.

  Retreating beyond Kemp’s field of fire, Hatch said, “Soften them up.”

  Stone and mortar exploded in a line along the wall just below the roof as Kemp fired a burst from his assault rifle.

  Even as the echoing roar died away, Hatch heard a car engine revving outside the cave. Before he could move, Kemp took off at a dead run. The moment Kemp reached sunlight, he dropped to one knee, raised his weapon, and fired until he ran out of ammunition.

  “Goddamn,” Kemp muttered when Hatch joined him. “That bitch is getting away.”

  A quarter of a mile away, red dust billowed behind a white utility wagon that was heading east into the desert.

  “I thought there was only one road in and out,” Hatch said.

  “There’s nothing out there but badlands.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll show you on the map,” Kemp said.

  “How the hell did she get out of the cave?”

  “That I don’t know.”

  “Did you see her father?”

  Kemp shook his head. “He must be up there, though. Somebody threw that rock.”

  “To hell with him. He’s not going anywhere on foot. Now get the map and show me where she’s going.”

  As soon as Kemp returned from the Land Rover, he spread the map on the ground inside the cave to be in the shade. “See for yourself, Mr. Hatch. There’s nothing in that direction but an old Indian ruin. To get there, you follow a shallow valley, more like a salt flat really. There’s a deep ravine on both sides for a hundred miles at least. When the ravines run out, you’ve got desert for another hundred miles, and no roads anywhere.”

  Hatch studied the map. It appeared that Kemp’s analysis was correct, that the Scott woman had driven herself into a dead end. On the other hand, escaping the cave had shown a great deal of resourcefulness. So he wasn’t about to underestimate her again.

  His inclination was to go after her first, then come back to finish off her father. He paced far enough to spot a thermometer hanging from a hook on the rock wall

  “Can you believe it! It says it’s a hundred and five in here.”

  “The forecast calls for a hundred and twenty in the badlands. Maybe more where the Scott woman’s headed.”

  “She’ll be dead in a day, then,” Hatch said.

  “She keeps water in the car.”

  “How much?”

  Kemp shrugged. “Not enough to survive indefinitely.”

  “Get us some water.”

  While Kemp fetched, Hatch inventoried the supplies stored against the rear wall of the cave. Once satisfied that there was nothing that could be used as a weapon, he sat down to study the cliff dwelling. It was a full three stories high. Even if Elliot Scott climbed down, he’d never make it to the highway in this kind of weather without water.

  “Dr. Scott!” Hatch shouted. “Make it easy on yourself. Give us the ladder, and I promise you a painless death.”

  Another rock sailed over the parapet.

  “We’re out of range, but suit yourself. We’re going to have ourselves a nice cool drink and then go after your daughter, who’s been foolish enough to drive out into the desert.”

  “You’ve never met her, have you?” Scott called out.

  “Not in person, no.”

  “She’s always been headstrong, and very determined.”

  “So am I.”

  Hatch unslung the Uzi, aimed at the stone parapet where he guessed Scott to be hiding, and fired off an entire clip of ammunition.

  Kemp came running at the sound.

  “Just getting in the mood,” Hatch told him. “Now empty every bottle of water in this cave and then we’ll go after the woman.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Nick stopped a half mile from the cave, waited for the dust to settle, then looked for signs of pursuit in the rearview mirror. No dust. Nothing. She grabbed her binoculars from the glove compartment, stood on what passed for a running board, and focused on the cave. The Land Rover had been moved but wasn’t following her.

  Maybe she’d miscalculated. Maybe they’d wait for her there instead of risking the desert. If so, she’d have to go back and confront them, though the .30-.30 was no match for their firepower.

  She drank more water, then took another look through the binoculars. “Yes,” she said, raising a clenched fist. There they were, the two of them, coming out of the cave, moving toward the Land Rover. She crossed her fingers. “Come on, you bastards. Chase me.”

  Hearing the words out loud, Nick smiled at her own madness. Here she was, a mouse, daring the cat to come out and play. Only this mouse, she reminded herself, was playing on her own turf.

  She snatched the open water bottle and drank again, this time until she sloshed. Overhead, the sun seemed to fill the entire sky, leaving blue to show only around the edges. Everything else was fire.

  Rubbing the sweat from her eyes, she went back to the binoculars. By God, the Land Rover was moving, coming her way at last.

  She climbed back into the Trooper, but didn’t start rolling until the Land Rover was clearly visible in the rearview mirror, maybe a q
uarter of a mile behind her. From now on, she’d be the perfect bait, tantalizingly close, but still beyond rifle range.

  She reset the odometer. The cliff dwellings at Site No. 2 were twenty miles due east. The first two or three miles were the easy ones, she remembered, with only an occasional flash-flood gully to make four-wheel drive an absolute must. Ten miles an hour was possible. After that the trip would be hell.

  Carefully, she edged the Trooper up to speed, then assessed the Land Rover’s response.

  Christ, they looked to be doing twice her speed. Clenching her teeth, she focused on the ground ahead. The boulder-size rocks didn’t worry her. It was the smaller ones, the ones that the tires might kick right through the gas tank. Still, she didn’t have much choice.

  Gingerly, she accelerated. At fifteen miles an hour, she expected disaster at any moment.

  After what seemed like hours, she glanced at the odometer. She’d come slightly less than three miles. Already the temperature gauge was creeping toward the red line. But what the hell. She’d burn it up if she had to, as long as it got her to the ridge, the only feature on the landscape worth mentioning before the site itself. At the ridge she’d make her move. From there, it was a four-mile trek to her destination.

  Her sigh turned into a groan. Breathing was like inhaling fumes from a flamethrower.

  Ahead, mirages crawled along the horizon like indolent monsters. She had the feeling that she was about to drop off the edge of the world and fall into hell where she’d be consumed by fire.

  She shook her head. Don’t start hallucinating. Drink more water.

  Driving one-handed, she sucked on the mouth of a plastic water jug. Maybe Hatch and his crony wouldn’t have the sense to do the same. Maybe they’d start out thirsty when she put them on foot. On the other hand, maybe her memory was playing tricks, maybe she’d remembered Chaco Ridge incorrectly. Maybe . . .

  Concentrate, she told herself. There was no room left for doubts. She was committed.

  As if urging the Trooper to greater efforts, Nick leaned forward in her seat. Thank God the needle on the temperature gauge had steadied, just short of the red zone. In this kind of weather, she wouldn’t have blamed the Trooper for blowing up. She’d never felt heat like this before. It had to be a hundred and twenty. Even with water, how far could she walk in weather like this?