be the pillar of the office. Someone who could promise Gail marriage with his blue eyes brimming with sincerity—just before leaving on a trip for Hawaii with his wife.
The beauty of this hellish forest was that she didn't need to think about Frank and his threats to end her career—there was enough happening here without digging up that skeleton and worrying it some more. In fact, she'd stay alive longer if she dropped it, before she got to the really horrible part. Before she started in on all the whys. Why did her best friend behave so stupidly? How could Frank be so evil? Why did I have to discover it? And she slogged on.
Glancing back at Miller, she wondered what his name really was, where he came from, and what his mother was thinking at this moment. Did he believe he would die? For the second time in her life she thought she might.
One thing she knew for sure. She had to get to a phone and contact law enforcement right away, before anything worse happened to her sister, the boys, or even Kier, a man who might start a small war. In addition, there was the threat of an epidemic of some sort from that disease menagerie in the plane.
Only two hundred feet from where he left Jessie the ground became firmer. Sword fern gave way to bracken fern, like miniature tree stems with fronds atop, growing in every little opening, interrupted by dense clumps of Scotch broom and manzanita. Kier ran in a great arc, staying low, parting foliage by angling himself, letting his shoulders shrug off the clingy tendrils. Ahead a natural opening, dominated by grasses, left a blanket of snow that showed their old tracks like soil on white satin.
Kier knew that he needed to get close—very close—-before Jones saw him. With luck, the man would believe he was Miller. Jones stood only a few feet from the tracks left by Kier and Jessie. Running through a last cluster of madrone, Kier kept low, hoping Jones wouldn't look his way. Sixty feet to go. The man seemed occupied with the traces of Kier's earlier passage. He turned as if to follow the imprints in the snow.
Uh-oh. Jones was using his radio again. Already it might be too late.
Kier bounded the last three steps straight at Jones. The man turned, pointing his gun. Kier willed himself to keep the automatic across his chest, his eyes riveted to the black, round bore of Jones's M-16. Jones stared, cocking his head.
He's trying to decide. He's spooked.
Kier swung the butt of his rifle at Jones's jaw. Jones fired. The rifle butt connected with a firm thud as, missing Kier by inches, the shot echoed through the forest, shockingly loud. Kier cringed, knowing the sound would make things infinitely more complicated. Even so, he was sure Jones had not got a good look at his face, obscured as it was by the fur-lined hood under the helmet.
"Jones, say status. Jones, say your status."
The man's radio lay in the snow. Jones had alerted the others, and now Jones wasn't answering.
"Switch Delta, Switch and answer Delta," came the radio command.
They would be scrambling frequencies, Kier knew. And the way it worked, Delta code would not be available on either Jones's or Miller's radio card. Checking Miller's card, Kier saw a series of names down the left side, in alphabetical order. Numbers followed most of the names. Delta was blank. No doubt the printed list was also in electronic form on the phone. Both these radios would now be useless unless they wanted to talk to him.
Kier dropped to the snow, scanning the trees, using Jones's unconscious body as a half-shield. In seconds, another man approached, moving low and fast, obviously casting about for his comrade. Kier slumped forward, lying atop Jones. Like a pointer, this new attacker froze, staring through the snow-laden air. His gun came up. Surely he wouldn't shoot downed men in the snow—especially when they gave every appearance of being his own kind. Kier slipped his hand over the butt of his pistol. From the corner of his eye he
The beauty of this hellish forest was that she didn't need to think about Frank and his threats to end her career—there was enough happening here without digging up that skeleton and worrying it some more. In fact, she'd stay alive longer if she dropped it, before she got to the really horrible part. Before she started in on all the whys. Why did her best friend behave so stupidly? How could Frank be so evil? Why did I have to discover it? And she slogged on.
Glancing back at Miller, she wondered what his name really was, where he came from, and what his mother was thinking at this moment. Did he believe he would die? For the second time in her life she thought she might.
One thing she knew for sure. She had to get to a phone and contact law enforcement right away, before anything worse happened to her sister, the boys, or even Kier, a man who might start a small war. In addition, there was the threat of an epidemic of some sort from that disease menagerie in the plane.
Only two hundred feet from where he left Jessie the ground became firmer. Sword fern gave way to bracken fern, like miniature tree stems with fronds atop, growing in every little opening, interrupted by dense clumps of Scotch broom and manzanita. Kier ran in a great arc, staying low, parting foliage by angling himself, letting his shoulders shrug off the clingy tendrils. Ahead a natural opening, dominated by grasses, left a blanket of snow that showed their old tracks like soil on white satin.
Kier knew that he needed to get close—very close—-before Jones saw him. With luck, the man would believe he was Miller. Jones stood only a few feet from the tracks left by Kier and Jessie. Running through a last cluster of madrone, Kier kept low, hoping Jones wouldn't look his way. Sixty feet to go. The man seemed occupied with the traces of Kier's earlier passage. He turned as if to follow the imprints in the snow.
Uh-oh. Jones was using his radio again. Already it might be too late.
Kier bounded the last three steps straight at Jones. The man turned, pointing his gun. Kier willed himself to keep the automatic across his chest, his eyes riveted to the black, round bore of Jones's M-16. Jones stared, cocking his head.
He's trying to decide. He's spooked.
Kier swung the butt of his rifle at Jones's jaw. Jones fired. The rifle butt connected with a firm thud as, missing Kier by inches, the shot echoed through the forest, shockingly loud. Kier cringed, knowing the sound would make things infinitely more complicated. Even so, he was sure Jones had not got a good look at his face, obscured as it was by the fur-lined hood under the helmet.
"Jones, say status. Jones, say your status."
The man's radio lay in the snow. Jones had alerted the others, and now Jones wasn't answering.
"Switch Delta, Switch and answer Delta," came the radio command.
They would be scrambling frequencies, Kier knew. And the way it worked, Delta code would not be available on either Jones's or Miller's radio card. Checking Miller's card, Kier saw a series of names down the left side, in alphabetical order. Numbers followed most of the names. Delta was blank. No doubt the printed list was also in electronic form on the phone. Both these radios would now be useless unless they wanted to talk to him.
Kier dropped to the snow, scanning the trees, using Jones's unconscious body as a half-shield. In seconds, another man approached, moving low and fast, obviously casting about for his comrade. Kier slumped forward, lying atop Jones. Like a pointer, this new attacker froze, staring through the snow-laden air. His gun came up. Surely he wouldn't shoot downed men in the snow—especially when they gave every appearance of being his own kind. Kier slipped his hand over the butt of his pistol. From the corner of his eye he
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