'He hasn't written it yet?' the blond man asked. He sounded surprised.
'I could have had him write it back at his camp,' the Indian said. 'I think I could handle him. Ninety-nine chances out of a hundred. But why take chances with one this slippery?'
'Too much money involved,' Eddie said. 'Way too much money for taking chances.'
He slipped the pistol deftly from the holster, handling it, McKee noticed glumly, as naturally as a pipe smoker handles a pipe.
'Don't talk so much,' the Big Navajo said. 'We're going to leave these two behind and the less they hear the better.'
Eddie said, 'Oh?' The word came out as another question.
The Navajo reached into the Land-Rover, pulled out a pile of papers, stacked them on the hood, sorted swiftly through them, extracted a letter, and skimmed it.
'How about this Dr. Green? Looks like he's your boss. He'd probably be the one to write.'
'Green's chairman of the department,' McKee said. 'We usually try to keep in touch when we're in the field.'
How long, McKee wondered, had Canfield lived after he wrote his note for this man? Just long enough for the Navajo to kill him without marks of violence. Only one thing was clear in this incredible situation-the Navajo's need for this letter was all that kept Miss Leon and himself alive. He wouldn't write it, but it had to be handled exactly right.
The Big Navajo handed him Dr. Canfield's ballpoint pen. It was a slim silver pen, and as McKee accepted it with his left hand he felt his resolution harden. He would never, under any circumstances, write this letter.
'I didn't find any stationery so I guess you use your notebook?'
'That's right,' McKee said.
'We'll make it to Dr. Green,' the Navajo said. 'What do you call him? Dr. Green? Or his first name?'
'Dr. Green,' McKee lied. 'He's pretty stuffy.'
The Navajo looked at him thoughtfully. 'What was Dr. Canfield's first name? Was it John?'
'John Robert Canfield,' McKee said.
The Big Navajo studied him.
'Dr. McKee,' he said finally, 'what happened to Dr. Canfield was too bad. It couldn't be helped because Dr. Canfield tried to get away and he didn't leave me any alternative. But there is no reason at all for you and Miss Leon to die. If this letter is written properly it will give us time to finish what we are doing here. And then we will leave and we can afford to leave you behind.' He said all this very slowly, watching McKee intently. McKee kept his expression studiously noncommittal.
'You may doubt that, but it's true. When we are finished here, there will be no way at all to trace us. If you cooperate, we can leave you up in that cliff dwelling with food and water. In time, perhaps you could find a way to get down. If not, someone will come in here sooner or later and find you.'
'What happens if I don't write the letter?'
The Navajo's expression remained perfectly pleasant.
'Then I'll have to kill you both. Without the letter we'd have to hurry. You would slow us down some, because someone will have to watch you. Nothing personal about it, Dr. McKee. It's simply a matter of money.' He smiled. 'You know our Origin Myth. That's what witchcraft is all about-the way to make money.'
'What do you want me to write?' McKee asked.
'That's part of the problem. We want a letter to Dr. Green telling him that you're leaving this canyon and going somewhere else-somewhere it would be natural for you to go. You and Dr. Canfield and Miss Leon. And it has to be written so that Dr. Green won't suspect anything.'
The Big Navajo paused, staring at McKee.
'You can see that, can't you? If someone gets worried and comes in here looking for you, we would simply have to kill you.'
I have to do this exactly right, McKee thought.
'I don't think I can believe you,' he said. 'You killed John after he wrote the letter.'
'Your Dr. Canfield was very foolish. He wrote you the note, and then he tried to escape. He jumped me.'
'I see,' McKee said.
'And I think that Dr. Canfield warned you somehow in that note of his. What was it? Why were you expecting me?'
McKee grinned. 'You're right, of course. It was the name. His name's Jeremy. When I saw that signature I knew something was wrong. I'd been over to the Yazzie hogan and found those rams you killed and I was nervous about that anyway.'
McKee was satisfied that his voice had sounded natural. He hoped desperately that his timing had been right. Maybe he should have waited longer, but he saw a slight relaxation in the Navajo's face. It's like poker, he thought, and this man's weakness, if he has one, is his vanity.
'You shouldn't try anything like that.'
'I don't have any reason to trust you,' McKee said. 'Just one thing. You kill one man and they hunt for you awhile but it is not so very unusual. You kill two men and a woman and it's something nobody forgets and they keep looking for you.'
