Don’t ask, just keep going.
A little more. The sun baked her back, stronger now than when she was at the bottom of the canyon. Another step up. She had to be—oops! A hand slipped. She smacked it back onto the cliff and grabbed. The dismal truth crept upon her consciousness. The holds were getting smaller, along with her strength. The muscles in her calves trembled.
Puffing air, she studied the cliff face. Up and to the left a piece of rock jutted. Narrow, but no more narrow than the ledge she’d conquered at the Tate Building. If she could reach it, she could rest. If the lip would hold her weight.
Almost there. Got to go higher. Her hand reached for the hold. Not there. Panic grabbed her throat. Gurgling, she pressed herself against the rock wall. Try again, girl Systematically, she probed the cliff for the depression. Her eyes widened. Nothing. She inched her chin up and rolled her eyes skyward, searching for the top of the cliff. Close, but not close enough. Twenty feet might as well be two thousand. Her holds had run out.
She fixed her gaze on the ledge. No way to reach it except to lunge sideways and grasp the edge. And if she succeeded in pulling herself onto the perch, she was trapped, because going down wasn’t an option.
Lord, You ask us to take the next step we can see and leave the rest to You. Here goes.
Her muscles gathered, released. Airborne. Her fingers curled around the edge of the outcropping. One hand slipped. She brought it back. Grabbed. Now she dangled eighty feet in the air over a pile of unforgiving rock eager to break her and drink her blood.
Yuck! Get that image out of your mind, Des.
An odd fact intruded on her awareness. The place where she gripped the ledge was curved inward, a tailor-made handhold.
Do a pull-up now.
She’d done thousands in her little lifetime. She strained. Her body drew up toward the ledge. She stuck a bent leg out to give herself leverage against the cliff wall.
There!
She sprawled full-length on a narrow table of stone, breathing and laughing. So what if she had no idea where to go next.
A cheer wafted up from below. Muscles quivering, Desi peered over the edge and waved. The dark-haired woman waved back and then took off toward the kiva. At least Tony would get the news that she was alive, even though she’d failed her assignment.
Desi got to her knees on the ledge and looked around. She made the climb, but what was the point? Too bad she didn’t have a rope. She could attach it to the thumb of rock jutting on the far side of the ledge and let herself down. That outcropping was worn in a way that suggested ropes had been used on it before.
She sighed and examined the cliff face above her. As she’d thought, no hand- or toeholds. They petered out at the level of her perch. Why did the Anasazi make the gouges at all? An ancient practical joke? If so, it was a dangerous one.
She just prayed it wasn’t fatal as well.
The sun hurt her eyes, and she looked down at the cliff face near her thighs. Something glittered inside the rock. Inside? Desi looked closer and found a crevice no wider than a fist about a foot above the place where the ledge pushed out from the cliff. A spark flashed again. Desi swallowed. Should she reach inside? Who knew what scaly critter might be in there?
Curiosity killed the cat, and it could be the death of Desiree Jacobs, because the force was impossible to resist. Okay, just put a couple of fingers in there, and see if she could reach the shiny object without disturbing any rock-dwelling denizens. Holding her breath, she probed and brushed something hard that moved with a small scrape. She jerked her hand out of the hole.
Quit being silly! What she’d touched wasn’t alive. She reached in, grabbed the object, and pulled it out. A necklace. The long gold chain dangled from her fingers. The links were thick and heavy, and on the end swayed a large, round medallion studded with green stones. This was no Anasazi work or even Pueblo. Pure Spanish and old, too—a relic from the days when the Spaniards of Mexico dominated the region.
Desi looked toward the ground. Had this necklace belonged to whoever died at the base of the cliff? Made tragic sense. Maybe the person, either a woman or a boy, judging from the size of the skull, made the climb, but when she got up here, she realized the same thing Desi did. This was no way out, and there was no way down. Rather than face a slow death under the merciless sun, perhaps that person jumped, leaving behind this testimony of who she was.
Desi slid the necklace back into the crevice. The creeps who’d be dropping by soon didn’t need to get their grubby hands on it. But if she got out of this mess alive, she’d come back to investigate. A piece like this had a history, and so did the person who’d owned it.
Desi stood and surveyed the canyon. How could she find this place again if she needed to? From here she could see the entire canyon. At one end, it narrowed into a closed point. On the other end, an earthquake or other natural disaster had collapsed a cliff wall into an impassable barrier.
Her gaze traced the ridgeline opposite. A red stain like someone had tossed the contents of a giant paint can splashed the cliff at her eye level. The stain rose into the air on a monolith of rock jabbing high above the rest of the canyon face. The way the red finger pointed, it wouldn’t be visible from the floor of the canyon, but it would be from the air. A perfect landmark. No chance of their captors mislaying them. They could be here anytime.
Desi sighed and sat down, dangling her legs over the edge of the rock lip. She could only wait for rescue by the bad guys. How ironic was that?
That crazy-wonderful woman made it to a safe spot! If anything other than his legs were working, Tony would have danced. He laughed instead, and even that was too much. Man, he was a wreck. But a happy wreck.
All they could do now was wait for Gordon and company He didn’t expect mercy but he wouldn’t give any either. A strong set of legs was better than nothing, and let him anywhere near a gun … Ham Gordon better watch out.
Whump! Whump! Whump! The deep tone began as a vibration and grew.
Helicopter. Tony’s heart beat in time with the rotors.
The wait was over.
The chopper’s thunder shook the ledge under Desi’s legs. A pale blue whirlybird lowered toward her. The gale wind of its rotors pressed her back against the cliff wall. She lifted an arm to protect her face, but peered above her elbow to watch the approach. The helicopter hovered level with her perch. She met the gaze of the passenger seated next to the pilot. Not Gordon. Reverend Archer Romlin. The preacher’s slack-jawed stare mirrored her own.
Desi snapped her mouth shut. Why was she surprised? The guy was a shyster. And he’d approved of Ham Gordon’s construction project in the wilderness. Goodness, he was even planning on setting up his own harem full of little Hopes. No doubt he was the one prospecting out here for copper. Why shouldn’t he be a full accomplice in this too-weird combination of greed and insanity? But he was a minister, for crying out loud. Guess there was something in people that expected a shred of decency out of someone who professed spiritual leadership.
The chopper rose, and a rope ladder fell toward her. Desi stood and reached for the rungs. All aboard who’re going aboard. Like she had a choice.
Desi reached the open rear door, and male hands pulled her inside. One of the palms was wrapped in a dirty bandage that had probably started out white. She came face-to-face with a muscle-bound goon that had coyote breath and stained teeth. One of the truckers who ran them off the road yesterday? He shoved her into a seat, drew up the ladder, and slammed the door. The goon took the seat next to her and pulled a rifle onto his lap.
She glanced at the bandaged hand. “Been in any interesting museums lately?”
He stared at her, face blank. Probably couldn’t hear over the din of the descending helicopter. They bumped onto the canyon floor, and the roar faded as the rotors slowed.
Romlin turned toward her. “Desiree Jacobs, I presume.” He chuckled. “Who else might we expect to find camped out on a cliff-side aerie?”
The me
lodious voice flowed over Desi, and her heart rate gentled. She looked away from his silver gaze. Hypnotic man. No wonder people followed him.
He chuckled again. “Now we’ll have Jack and George collect the other members of our party and be on our way. You and I can wait here.” The muzzle of a handgun pointed toward her from Romlin’s white fingers.
The pilot and the goon climbed out.
“How do they plan to get Tony out of that pit? He can hardly move.”
“Don’t worry.” A scrape came from the pilot’s side of the helicopter. “I believe that was George detaching the telescoping aluminum ladder. The federal agent will climb unless he wishes to perish of dehydration in that hole.”
Heat flared in Desi’s chest. “Maybe he’d prefer that over what you and Hamilton Gordon have planned.”
Romlin shook his head. “Not me. Ham’s developed his own outlandish theology. I don’t understand how he got his notions from what I preach.” The man shrugged. “But I make allowances for such a generous donor.” Romlin flashed even white teeth.
This guy was greed personified. Wonder what allowances he’d make for news of the copper deposit right under his nose? Desi pressed her lips together. He wouldn’t find out from her that his dream had been found. Let him go away as empty as Francisco Coronado in his quest for the Seven Cities of Cibola. That misguided search led to centuries of Spanish oppression over the Pueblo people. News of a copper find on unclaimed land surrounded by reservations would unleash a feeding frenzy among the rich and influential. Enough to endanger what land the tribes had. Karen better have enough wits about her to keep her mouth shut, too.
Out the front windshield, Desi saw the lanky pilot coming toward them herding a white-robed Karen, who picked her way with bare feet among the spiny vegetation.
“The Indian girl is quite striking,” Romlin said. “Cleaned up a bit—”
“Keep your lecherous thoughts to yourself, you disgusting worm.”
Romlin tut-tutted. “Name-calling doesn’t become a Christian. You are one of those true believers, aren’t you?” He cocked a brow at her.
“If Jesus called the scribes and Pharisees snakes, naming a deceiver like you among those belly crawlers strikes me as right on target.”
His eyes slitted, and the gun poked toward her. “You have a disturbing mouth.”
Desi gripped the edges of her seat with sweaty palms. “So I’ve been told.”
“Well, keep it shut.” He turned his head. “Ah, here comes our last passenger.”
“Tony.” The name breathed between her lips.
He moved like a man treading on eggshells. His left arm crossed his chest and clamped his right to his body. Behind him, Mr. Goon gave him a shove. Tony staggered and went to his knees, head thrown back in a silent scream.
Desi cried out and lunged forward. A gun barrel in the face forced her back into her seat.
The passenger door opened, and Karen climbed in behind Desi. Seconds later, Tony filled the doorway. A moan escaped as he crawled inside and took the seat beside her.
The goon with the gun took the last seat, right behind Tony, and the pilot started the engine. They climbed out of the canyon into a cloudless sky. The helicopter skimmed close to the earth, and small wildlife scattered before them. A short time later, the chopper took an abrupt turn around a butte, dropped, hovered, and then settled next to a bright orange bulldozer. The huge machine looked as out of place as a cactus in a rainforest.
The doors of cliff dwellings gaped in the face of the butte, just like in the O’Keeffe painting, but where was Sanctuary? Nothing in the landscape resembled the model she saw in Santa Fe … except for the humongous mound of earth ahead of them. The granddaddy of all kivas, and from the ribbon of smoke rising from a small chimney, it was occupied. No wonder Max hadn’t found evidence of a clandestine construction project if this was all there was to Sanctuary.
Romlin got out, as well as the pilot, who also lugged an impressive firearm. Goon shoved Karen out ahead of him, and then hopped to the ground. The young woman shot Desi a frightened look between strands of hair whipped by the slowing rotors. Desi tried a smile, but managed only a frown and shake of the head. Romlin motioned her out with his gun. She stepped down and turned to help Tony, if they’d let her.
He staggered from his seat in a crouch, and then fell forward between the pilot and passenger seat, just missing the front panel. He writhed, groaning.
“Get him out of there!” The pilot almost screeched the command. “Those are touchy instruments.”
Romlin grabbed Desi’s upper arm, and his gun pressed against her temple. “Mr. Lucano, I suggest you disembark before this pistol accidentally discharges.”
“I’ll be … right with you.” Tony levered himself up using the front passenger seat and came out through the forward door.
They all headed for the kiva, Romlin gripping Desi’s arm.
“Crude structure.” He shook his head. “Did you know that roof is nothing but crisscrossed logs and dirt, and we have to climb across it to get inside?”
“Thank you for the Pueblo culture lesson.”
“I told you to keep quiet.” His fingers dug into her flesh.
Desi stifled a cry. Strong for such a pip-squeak. The man couldn’t be over five feet five, a few inches taller than she.
They passed a fat metal pipe sticking out of the ground. Ventilation shaft? Beyond the pipe, a pair of those beehive-shaped adobe ovens squatted. Heat emanated from them.
At the kiva, wooden rungs made hand- and footholds for climbing to the apex of the mound. Karen and her guard went first and disappeared through the open hatch at the top. Romlin motioned for Tony to go next.
Tony took a step forward and winced. “Hope you’ve got all day, because I’m not moving too fast.” Sweat beaded his forehead.
Desi’s heart twisted. “Let me help him.”
“Sure you can help.” Romlin wrenched her arm, and she yelped. “Move along, Lucano. Ms. Jacobs will let you know if you’re not progressing fast enough.”
Tony’s stare could have incinerated stone. Then he turned and began the climb.
The sun baked down on Desi’s head as they waited. Romlin growled something nasty under his breath, and his hold tightened.
“Twist my arm again—” she glared at him—”and I’ll mash my heel onto those pretty Gucci loafers on your dainty little feet.”
The pseudopreacher’s mouth flopped open. His face went red, and he flung her at the kiva. “You next. Shove Lucano down the hole if you have to.”
Desi climbed. No opportunity to make a run for it with a pair of guns trained at her back. “You’re doing fine, hon,” she told Tony. “Just a little farther.”
Her answer was a pain-filled grunt. She hurt just watching him. He reached the apex and slowly descended into the opening at the top. When his head disappeared, Desi followed down a sturdy ladder. The air cooled as she descended. Twenty rungs. This was one deep hole in the sandbox. Finally, her feet touched bottom.
She edged toward Tony. Mr. Goon eyed them, cradling his gun. Romlin and the pilot reached bottom, and the pilot jabbed his gun at Tony, making him back away from her. She moved to go with him, but Romlin stepped between them. She glared at him. “Where’s Karen?”
He grinned. “You’ll join her in a moment.” He walked away. Her gaze followed him to a door in the curved wall. He entered and closed it behind him.
Desi looked around. Four fat wooden pillars supported a roof of logs spaced at regular intervals. The gaps were filled in with shaved poles chinked with adobe. At the base of each pillar lay a long stone slab, and toward the head of each, a deep gouge in one side of the rock led to a cavernous clay bowl on the floor. Chills snaked through Desi’s middle.
For catching the blood from the severed jugular of the sacrifice.
Twenty-Two
Don’t think Look at other things. Tony has a plan. He won’t let … Desi gulped and tore her gaze from the altars.
Lamps flickered at intervals on the wall. A continuous bench ringed the perimeter, and on the bench, many red-robed figures sat silent. They passed a clay jar from one to another and sipped. The air smelled of earth and vaguely of rot.
Cloth rustled, and a huge figure flowed toward her. Jabba the Hutt in a red gown.
Hamilton Gordon beamed. “Welcome, my dear. I’m so happy this moment has come. The other young lady has gone to be prepared. The acolytes will escort you to join her.”
A pair of women appeared beside her. One of them was built like a linebacker. Desi took a second look at the other one. “Hope?”
The ponytail was gone, and the woman’s unbound, blond hair draped her shoulders. She smiled, perfect white teeth gleaming. “Isn’t this exciting? Such an honor for you.” The two women tugged Desi toward another door she hadn’t noticed before.
“But—” She looked back over her shoulder.
Tony took a stride in her direction. “Wait just one—” Goon jabbed him in the side with the gun. Tony gasped and subsided.
Gordon lumbered over to him. “You will not disrupt the service. To you the honor of sacrifice has not been given. We had hoped you would be the ram for our sacrament, but your injuries have disqualified you, and we’ve found another. Watch in silence and learn. Perhaps you will become enlightened.” He nodded toward the armed men. “Bind the unbeliever and put him with the other. And get those guns out of here. This place is for reverence, not violence.”
Desi’s gaze sought and found Tony’s. Then she was pushed inside the antechamber, and the door separated them. In the center of the rectangular anteroom sat a pair of large metal tubs filled with steamy water. A soft coo turned her attention to the far end of the chamber.
Karen, eyes glassy, held a baby Though she was clearly drugged, a smile lit her face. “It’s Adam. I never thought I’d see him again.”
Reluctant Runaway Page 28