Десмонд Бэгли - Landslide

Mac said gently, ‘This leads to an odd situation. If you are Frank Trinavant, then you inherit old John’s estate which puts Bull Matterson in a hell of a jam. The whole question of the estate goes into the melting-pot again. Maybe he’d still be able to enforce that option agreement in the courts, but the trust fund would revert to you and the financial flapdoodle he’s been pulling would come into the open.’

My jaw dropped. ‘Wait a minute, Mac. Let’s not take this thing too far.’

‘I’m just pointing out the logical consequences,’ he said. ‘If you are Frank Trinavant — and can prove it — you’re a pretty rich guy. But you’ll be taking the dough from Matterson, and he won’t like it. And that’s apart from the fact that he’ll be branded as a crook and will be lucky to escape jail.’

Clare said, ‘No wonder he doesn’t want you around.’

I rubbed my chin. ‘Mac, you say it all boils down to Matterson’s identification of the bodies. Do you think he did it deliberately or was it a mistake? Or was there a mistake at all? I could still be Grant, for all I know and can prove.’

‘I think he wanted the Trinavants dead,’ said Mac flatly. ‘I think he took a chance. Remember, the survivor was in a bad way — you weren’t expected to live another twelve hours. If Matterson’s chance didn’t come off — if you survived as Frank Trinavant — then it would have been a mistake on his part, understandable in the circumstances. Hell, maybe he didn’t know himself which was which, but he took the chance and it paid off in a way that even he couldn’t expect. You survived but without memory — and he’d tagged you as Grant.’

‘He talked about blackmail,’ I said. ‘And from what you’ve just handed me, he had every justification for believing I would blackmail him — if I am Grant. It’s just the sort of thing a guy like Grant would do. But would Frank Trinavant blackmail him?’

‘No,’ said Clare instantly. ‘He wasn’t the type. Besides, it’s not blackmail to demand your own rights.’

‘Hell, this thing is biting its own tail,’ said Mac disgustedly. ‘If you are Grant you can’t blackmail him — you have no standing. So why is he talking about blackmail?’ He stared at me speculatively. ‘I think, maybe, he committed one illegal act — a big one — to which you were a witness, and he’s scared of it coming to light because it would knock the footing right out from under him.’

‘And this illegal act?’

‘You know what I mean,’ snapped Mac. ‘Let’s not be mealy-mouthed about it. Let’s come right out and say murder.’

We didn’t talk too much about it after that. Mac’s final statement was a bit too final, and we couldn’t speculate on it without any firm proofs — not out loud, that is. Mac took refuge in chores about the house and refused to say another word, but I noticed he kept a bright eye on me until I got tired of his silent questioning and went out to sit by the stream. Clare took the jeep and went into town on the pretext of buying new blankets and mattresses for Mac.

Mac had handed me the biggest problem I had ever had in my life. I thought back to the days when I was reborn in the Edmonton hospital and searched for any mental clue to my identity — as though I had never done so before. Nothing I found led to any positive result and I found I now had two possible pasts. Of the two I much preferred Trinavant; I had heard enough of John to be proud to be his son. Of course, if I did turn out to be Frank Trinavant, then complications would set in between me and Clare.

I tossed a stone in the stream and idly wondered how close the kinship was between Frank and Clare and could it possibly be a bar to marriage, but I assumed it wouldn’t be.

That short and ugly word which had been Mac’s final pronouncement had given us pause. We had discussed the possibility in vague terms and it had come to nothing as far as Matterson was concerned. He had his alibi — Mac himself.

I juggled the possibilities and probabilities around, thinking of Grant and Trinavant as two young men whom I might have known in the distant past but without any relationship to me. It was a technique Susskind had taught me to stop me getting too involved in Grant’s troubles. I got nowhere, of course, and gave up when Clare came back.

I camped in the woodland glade again that night because Clare had still not gone up to the Kinoxi Valley and the cabin had only two rooms. Again I had the Dream and the hot snow ran in rivers of blood and there was a jangle of sound as though the earth itself was shattering, and I woke up breathless with the cold night air choking in my throat. After a while I built up the fire again and made coffee and drank it, looking towards the cabin where a gleam of light showed where someone was sitting up half the night.

I wondered if it was Clare.

Nothing much happened just after that. I didn’t make any move against Bull Matterson and McDougall didn’t push me. I think he realized I had to have time to come to terms with the problem he had handed me.

Clare went up to her cabin in the Kinoxi Valley, and before she went I said, ‘Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped me doing that survey on your land. I might have come across a big strike of manganese or something — enough to have stopped the flooding of the valley.’

She said slowly, ‘Suppose you found something now — would it still make a difference?’

‘It might — if it were a big enough find. The Government might favour a mining settlement rather than a dam; it would employ more people.’

‘Then why don’t you come and give the land a check?’ She smiled. ‘A last-ditch effort.’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Give me a few days to get sorted out.’

I went prospecting but nowhere near the dam. In spite of Matterson’s assurance of safety, something might have stirred up, say, between me and Jimmy Waystrand — or those truckers, if I came across them — and I wanted no trouble until I had got things clear in my mind. So I fossicked about on the Crown lands to the west, not really looking for anything in particular and with my mind only half on the job.

After two weeks I went back to Fort Farrell, no more decided than I had been when I left. I was dreaming a lot of nights and that wasn’t doing me any good, either. The dreams were changing in character and becoming frighteningly real — burnt bodies strewn about an icy landscape, the crackle of flames reddening the snow and a jangling sound that was cruel in its intensity. When I got back to Mac’s cabin I was pretty washed-up.

He was concerned about me. ‘Sorry to have put this on you, son,’ he said. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

‘You did right,’ I said heavily. ‘It’s tough on me, Mac, but I can stand it. You know, it comes as quite a shock to discover you have a choice of pasts.’

‘I was a fool,’ Mac said bluntly. ‘Ten minutes’ thought and ten cents’ worth of understanding and I’d have known better. I’ve been kicking myself ever since I opened my big mouth.’

‘Forget it,’ I said.

‘But you won’t, though.’ He was silent for a while. ‘If you pulled out now and forgot the whole thing I wouldn’t think any the worse of you for it, boy. There’d be no recriminations from me — not like last time.’

‘I won’t do that,’ I said. ‘Too much has happened. Old Matterson has tried to scare me off, for one thing, and I don’t push easy. There are other reasons, too.’

He looked at me with a shrewd eye. ‘You haven’t finished thinking about this yet. Why don’t you give Clare’s land the once-over, like you promised. You need more time.’