Десмонд Бэгли - Landslide

I said slowly, ‘I could get out of town. I could go to Fort St John and try to stir up some interest there. Someone, somewhere, might be intrigued at the idea of a dam collapsing.’

‘Might as well go there as anywhere else,’ said Mac. ‘Because one thing is certain — the Mattersons are mad as hornets right now, and no one in Fort Farrell is going to lift a finger to help you with Howard breathing down his neck. Old Bull was right — the Mattersons own this country and everyone knows it. Nobody will listen to you now, Bob. As for going into Fort St John, you’ll have to go through Fort Farrell to do it. My advice to you is to wait until after dark.’

I stared at him. ‘Are you crazy? I’m no fugitive.’ His face was serious. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Now that Bull is out of the way there’ll be no one to hold Howard down. Donner can’t do it, that’s for certain. And Jimmy Waystrand and some of Howard’s goons could make an awful mess of you. Remember what happened a couple of years ago to Charley Burns, Clare? A broken leg, a broken arm, four busted ribs and his face kicked in. Those boys play rough — and I’ll bet they’re looking for you now, so don’t go into Fort Farrell just yet.’

Clare stood up. ‘There’s nothing to stop me going into Fort Farrell.’

Mac cocked an eye at her. ‘For what?’

‘To see Gibbons,’ she said. ‘It’s about time the police were brought into this.’

He shrugged. ‘What can Gibbons do? One sergeant of the RCMP can’t do a hell of a lot — not in this set-up.’

‘I don’t care,’ she said. ‘I’m going to see him.’ She marched from the cabin and I heard her car start up. I said to Mac sardonically, ‘What was that you were saying a little earlier about giving them another slug while they’re off balance?’

‘Don’t be nippy,’ said Mac. ‘I spoke a little too fast, that’s all. I just hadn’t got everything digested.’

‘Who was this guy, Burns?’

‘Someone who got on the wrong side of Howard. He was beaten up — everyone knows why, but no one could pin anything on Howard. Burns left town and never came back. I’d forgotten about him — and he hadn’t got in Howard’s hair half as much as you have. I’ve never seen him so mad as I did this morning.’ He got up and looked into the stove. ‘I want some tea. I’m just going out to the woodpile.’

He walked out and I just sat there thinking about what to do next. The trouble was that I had still got no further on the Trinavant mystery, and the man who could tell me about it was probably in hospital at that moment. I felt inclined to go into Fort Farrell, walk into the Matterson Building and bust Howard one in the snoot, which might not solve anything but it would do me a lot of good.

The door slammed open and I knew I wouldn’t have to go into Fort Farrell. Howard stood on the threshold with a rifle in his hands, and the round hole in the muzzle looked as big as the bottomless pit. ‘Now, you sonofabitch,’ he said, breathing hard. ‘What’s this about Frank Trinavant?’

He took two steps forward and the rifle didn’t waver. Behind him Lucy Atherton slipped into the cabin and smiled maliciously at me. I started to get out of the chair and he said in a hard voice, ‘Sit down, buster; you’re not going anywhere.’

I flopped back. ‘Why are you interested in Frank Trinavant?’ I asked. ‘Hasn’t he been dead a long time?’ It was hard to keep my voice level. Facing a gun has a curious effect on the vocal cords.

‘Scared, Boyd?’ asked Lucy Atherton.

‘Keep quiet,’ said Howard. He moistened his lips and came forward slowly and stared at me. ‘Are you Frank Trinavant?’

I laughed at him. I had to work at it, but I laughed.

‘Damn you, answer me!’ he shouted, and his voice cracked. He took a step forward and his face worked convulsively. I kept a wary eye on his right hand and hoped the rifle didn’t have too light a trigger. I was hoping that he would come one step closer so I would have a fighting chance of knocking the barrel aside, but he stopped short. ‘Now you listen to me,’ he said in a trembling voice. ‘You’re going to answer me and you’re going to tell me the truth. Are you Frank Trinavant?’

‘What does it matter?’ I said. ‘I might be Grant — I might be Trinavant. Either way, I was in the car, wasn’t I?’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he said. ‘You were in the car.’ He went dangerously calm and studied my face. ‘I knew Frank, and I’ve seen pictures of Grant. You look like neither. You had a lot of surgery, I see. It must have hurt a lot — I hope.’

Lucy Atherton giggled.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You were in the car. It’s only if you look real close you can see the scars, Lucy. They’re just fine hairlines.’

I said, ‘You seem interested, Howard.’

‘I wondered about that — you calling me Howard all the time. Frank used to do it. Are you Frank?’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘What’s the difference? What did you see in the car? Now you can tell me, or you’re going to have to get some more surgery done on that pretty face.’

‘You tell me what I saw — and I’ll tell you if you’re right.’

His face tightened in anger and he made a slight move, but not enough to bring him within range of my hands. It was awkward sitting down; it’s not a position from which you can move quickly.

‘Let’s have no games,’ he said harshly. ‘Talk!’

A voice from the door said, ‘Lay that gun down, Howard, or I’ll blow your spine out.’

I flicked my eyes to the door and saw Mac holding a double-barrelled shotgun on Howard. Howard froze and turned slowly, pivoting on his hips. Mac said sharply, ‘The gun, Howard — lay it down. I won’t tell you again.’

‘He’s right,’ said Lucy quickly. ‘He’s got a shotgun.’

Howard lowered the rifle and I stood and took it as it slipped from his hands; if it dropped on the floor it might have gone off. I stepped back and looked at Mac, who smiled grimly. ‘I put the shotgun into the jeep this morning in case we needed it,’ he said. ‘Lucky I did. All right, Howard: walk over to that wall. You too, sister Lucy.’

I examined Howard’s rifle. The safety-catch was off, and as I worked the action, a round flew out of the breech. I hadn’t been very far from having my head blown off. ‘Thanks, Mac,’ I said.

‘No time for formalities,’ he said. ‘Howard, sit on the floor with your back to the wall. And you, Lucy. Don’t be shy.’

Howard’s face was filled with hate. He said, ‘You’re not going to get far with this kind of thing. My boys will nail you, Boyd.’

‘Boyd?’ I said. ‘I thought it was Grant — or Trinavant. The thing that’s eating you, Howard, is that you don’t know , do you? You’re not sure.’

I turned to Mac. ‘What do we do now?’

He grinned. ‘You go and follow Clare. Make sure she brings Gibbons on the run. We can nail this sonofabitch for armed hold-up. I’ll keep him here.’

I looked at Howard dubiously. ‘Don’t let him jump you.’

‘He’d be too scared.’ Mac patted the shotgun. ‘I’ve got buckshot in this baby; at this range it would blow him clean in two. Hear that, Howard?’

Matterson said nothing, and Mac added, ‘That goes for sister Lucy, too. You just sit there, Mrs Atherton.’

‘Okay, Mac,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you within the half-hour.’ I picked up Howard’s rifle and unloaded it, tossing the bullets into a corner. As I ran for the jeep I threw the rifle into the undergrowth and within a minute I was on my way.

But not for long. There was a corner just before the turnoff to Fort Farrell and, as I spun the wheel and the jeep swung round, I saw a tree felled right across the track. There was hardly time to jam on the brakes and the jeep rammed it head-on. Fortunately I’d slowed for the corner but the impact didn’t do the front end of the jeep any good, and I nearly rammed my head through the windshield.