him.
He felt something on his upturned face: a light, cold tingle of moisture. Tears? Just the first frail snowflakes. He could see them against the light: a fragile lacework. At that moment, almost hearing it, he knew the soul of Daniel Blank had escaped the flesh and gone winging away into the darkness, taking with it Captain Delaney’s pride.
Shortly before dawn the snowfall dissolved into a freezing rain. Then that too ceased. When Captain Delaney came out on the porch at 8:30 a.m., the ground was a blinding diamond pave; every black branch in sight was gloved with ice sparkling in the new sun.
He wore his greatcoat when he walked over to the van for black coffee and a doughnut. The air was clear, chill, almost unbearably sharp-like breathing ether. There was a chiselled quality to the day, and yet the world was not clear: a thin white scrim hung between sun and earth; the light was muted.
He went back to the shack and instructed the radioman to plug in an auxiliary microphone, a hand-held model with an extension cord so he could stand out on the porch, see the top of Devil’s Needle above the skeleton trees, and communicate with Chilton Two and Chilton Three.
The ambulance rolled slowly into the compound. Chief Forrest climbed out, puffing, to direct its parking. A stretcher and body bag were removed; the two attendants went back into the warmth of the cab, smoking cigarettes. Captain Sneed showed a squad of ten men where they were to take up their positions, handling his duties with the solemnity of an officer arranging the defense of the Alamo. But Delaney didn’t interfere; it made no difference. Finally Forrest and Sneed came up to join the Captain on the porch. They exchanged nods. Sneed looked at his watch. “Take-off about now,” he said portentously.
Chief Forrest was the first to hear it. “Coming,” he said, raised his old field glasses to his eyes, searched northward. A few minutes later Captain Delaney heard the fluttering throb of the helicopter and, shortly afterward, looking where Forrest was pointing, saw it descending slowly, beginning a tilted circle about Devil’s Needle.
The radio crackled.
“Chilton One from Chilton Two. Do you read me?” It was Major Samuel Barnes’ tight, rapid voice, partly muffled by the throb of rotors in the background.
“Loud and clear, Chilton Two,” the radioman replied.
“Beginning descent and reconnaissance. Where is Captain Delaney?”
“Standing by with hand-held mike. On the porch. He can hear you.”
“Top of rock covered with snow. Higher mound in the middle. I guess that’s Blank. No movement. We’re going down.”
The men on the porch shielded their eyes from sun glare to stare upward. The ’copter, a noisy dragonfly, circled lower, then slowed, slipping sideways, hovered directly over the top of the rock.
“Chilton One from Chilton Two.”
“We’ve got you, Chilton Two.”
“No sign of life. No sign of anything. Our downdraft isn’t moving the snow cover. Probably frozen over. We’ll start the descent.”
“Roger.”
They watched the chopper hanging almost motionless in the air. They saw the wide cargo door open. It seemed a long time before a small figure appeared at the open door and stepped out into space, dangling from the cable, a padded leather horse collar around his chest, under his arms. The shotgun was held in his right hand; his left was on the radio strapped to his chest.
“Chilton One from Chilton Two. Chilton Three is now going down. We will stop at six feet for a radio check.”
“Chilton Two from Chilton One. Delaney here. We can see you. Any movement on top of the rock?”
“None at all, Captain. Just an outline of a body. He’s under the snow. Radio check now. Chilton Three from Chilton Two: How do you read?”
They watched the man dangling on the cable beneath the ’copter. He swung lazily in slow circles.
“Chilton Two from Chilton Three. I’m getting you loud and clear.” Farber’s voice was breathless, almost drowned in the rotor noise.
“Chilton Three from Chilton Two. Repeat, how do you read me?”
“Chilton Two, I said I was getting you loud and clear.”
“Chilton Three from Chilton Two. Repeat, are you receiving me?”
Captain Delaney swore softly, moved his hand-held mike closer to his lips.
“Chilton Three from Chilton One. Do you read me?”
“Christ, yes, Chilton One. Loud and clear. What the hell’s going on? Do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Chilton Three. I’ll get right back to you. Chilton Two from Chilton One.”
“Chilton Two here. Barnes speaking.”
“Delaney here. Major, we’re in communication with Chilton Three. He can read us and we’re reading him. He can hear you, but apparently you’re not getting him.”
“Son of a bitch,” Barnes said bitterly. “Let me try once more. Chilton Three from Chilton Two, do you read me? Acknowledge.”
“Yes, I read you, Chilton Two, and I’m getting fuckin’ cold.”
“Chilton Two from Chilton One. We heard Chilton Three acknowledge. Did you get it?”
“Not a word,” Barnes said grimly. “Well, we haven’t got time to pull him back up and check out the goddamn radios. I'll relay all orders through you. Understood?”
“Understood,” Delaney replied “Chilton Three from Chilton One. You are not being read by Chilton Two. But they read us. We’ll relay all orders through Chilton One. Understood?”
“Understood, Chilton One. Who's this?”
“Captain Delaney.”
“Captain, tell them to lower me down onto the fuckin’ rock. I’m freezing my ass off up here.”
“Chilton Two from Chilton One. Lower away.”
They watched the swinging figure hanging from the cable. Suddenly it dropped almost three feet, then brought up with a jerk, Farber swinging wildly.
“Goddamn it!” he screamed. “Tell ’em to take it fuckin’ easy up there. They almost jerked my fuckin’ arms off.” Delaney didn’t bother relaying that. He watched, and in a few minutes the cable began to run out slowly and smoothly. Farber came closer to the top of Devil’s Needle.
“Chilton Three from Chilton One. Any movement?”
“No. Not a thing. Just snow. Mound in the middle. Snow drifted up along one side. I’m coming down. About ten feet. Tell them to slow. Slow the fuckin’ winch, goddamn it!”
“Chilton Two from Chilton One. Farber is close. Slow the winch. Slow, slow.”
“Roger, Chilton One. We see him. He’s almost there. A little more. A little more…
“Chilton Three here. I’m down. Feet are down.”
“How much snow?”
“About an inch to three inches where it’s drifted. I need more fuckin’ cable slack to unshackle the horse collar.”
“Chilton Two, Farber needs more cable slack.”
“Roger.”
“Okay, Chilton One. I’ve got it unsnapped. Tell them to get the fuck out of here; they’re damn near blowing me off.”
“Chilton Two, collar unshackled. You can take off.”
The ’copter tilted and circled away, the cable slanting back beneath it. It began to make wide rings about Devil’s Needle.
“Chilton Three, you there?” Delaney asked.
“I’m here. Where else?”
“Any sign of life?”
“Nothing. He’s under the snow. Wait’ll I get this fuckin’ collar off.”
“Is he breathing? Is the snow over his mouth melted? Is there a hole?”
