Killer Mountain

“You’re in over your head, Dora,” said Cilla.

“Eh?” She turned to her. “What do you mean?”

“She means your mind is going,” said Carver.

“None of this is real,” said Cilla.

“Ooooh! Let’s get the ice,” moaned Harv.

“Shut up, Harv. We’ll find out how real it is!” She pointed the pistol at Cilla.

“I’m over here.” Loni leaned against the doorframe.

“What?...”Dora swung toward the door. Cilla kicked the pistol out of her hand. It skidded across the floor. Carver picked it up.

Cilla faced her. “Dora, where has Frank taken Hudson?”

The woman was still trying to take in the situation. “Frank? How should I know? Let me get some ice for Harv.”

“We haven’t time for this,” growled Carver moving toward her with the pistol. “Listen carefully, Dora. Minutes count, so I’m not going to waste even one. I’m going to put the first shot through your dress, the second through your hair, the third in you.” The pistol exploded. Dora cringed at the sound.

“No!”

Carver fired again.

“Aagh!” Dora grabbed at her head. “Stop! Stop! He took him to the desert! I don’t know where, I swear I don’t!” The words tumbled over each other. “He said he was going out where it’s hard and flat and there are no roads.” She crouched in fright, elbows close to her body, hands hiding her head. “Don’t shoot! Please! I’ve never been out there!”

“When did he say he’d be back? Quick!” Carver pointed the weapon at her face, where she could look down the barrel.

“For dinner? Yes! I’m sure he...” Her voice faded as she saw the fierce look in the old man’s eyes.

Cilla picked up the telephone. “We’ll never find them on our own.” She dialed.

“Krestinski?” asked Carver.

“Yes.” As the phone rang at the other end, Cilla said, “Loni, are you all right? We...” Into the phone. “Mr. Krestinski please. Cilla Rogers calling from Arizona.” Back to Loni. “Did she hurt you?”

“The bullet drove a stone into my leg. It’s okay.” Cilla could see a thin stream of blood running down Loni’s leg. “She scared the shit out of me though; I thought for sure it was the bullet. This blubbering pile of meat is her husband.” Harv was wrapped inside his pain, continuing to make noises.

“John?...Oh, well when...? I see...No, I haven’t...Yes.” She hung up and turned to Carver. “I’ll get the car. We go it alone.”

“Krestinski?”

“Isn’t in or expected, nor is anyone else from the way this man was talking. Something’s happened. He asked if I’d seen the news today.” She handed the pistol to Carver. “You call police, I’ll get the car.” She hugged the girl who could be her twin. “We have to go after Frank. You’ll be okay, we’ll have the police out here in no time.” She held Loni so she could see her face, gave a quick smile of encouragement and ran out.

Carver, keeping an eye on Dora and Harv, dialed 911 and spoke. “We need an ambulance and some police...I don’t know the address here, but if I leave the telephone off the hook can you trace the call?...There’s no time for questions, can you do it?...Good.” He put the receiver on the table and turned to the “agents”. “All right you two, into that storage room I saw off the kitchen.”

He told Loni to wait for him in the den, then herded Dora and Harv into the windowless room. After a little extra safeguard, locked the door behind them. He called, “Loni will be right outside the door with the pistol and instructions to shoot if either of you attempt to get out.”

Back in the room with Loni, “They won’t bother you, and someone should be here soon. Are you alright?”

“Sure,” said Loni. Carver was about to say more, when a honk from outside told him Cilla had the car. He touched his chin, telling Loni to keep hers up and went out. Cilla gunned the engine as he climbed into the front seat. He grabbed the armrest to hold on, then opened the map. “This only looks like a driveway. It merges with another road in a few miles.”

“What did you do with them?”

“Locked them in a storage room. No windows.”

“Harv is strong. He could break down the door.”

“Not any more.”

She looked at him. “You didn’t...?”

“No. Just a tap on the head. I told Dora I was leaving the gun with Loni with instructions to shoot if the door opened.”

“But you didn’t. Leave the gun.”

“No. We might need it.”

They drove in silence for a while, on a road that at times almost disappeared. But the way was clear enough.

“Would you have shot her?” asked Cilla.

“She’d be no use to us dead.”

“Only a ploy, in other words.”

Carver stared straight ahead. “I hope your ploy doesn’t prove fatal.”

She glanced at him. “Mine?”

“Your `leaving’ Hudson.”

“I was the dangerous one. I had to keep him away from me, how else was I going to do it?”

“You probably weren’t. But look what’s happened from what you did.”

“Damn you, Wally! Don’t you put this on me!”

“You must know Hudson well enough by now to predict his actions. Did you expect he’d sit in his room counting the hairs on his chest?”

Cilla eyed him coldly. “He doesn’t have hair on his chest; it’s on his head. Wallace Carver, have you stopped to think that none of this would have happened if you hadn’t agreed to take in your old friend Sturgis?”

With disgust, “Of course I have.” Though where the disgust was aimed was not clear.

The road suddenly ended at an even more rudimentary road running perpendicular to it.

“Go right,” said Carver.

The rocky road they were bumping along made conversation difficult, to the relief of both. Carver, a very private person, found admitting an error to anyone difficult. To this young woman... What was it about her that made it particularly distasteful? Because it showed weakness. For Wally, weakness was the cardinal sin. Wolves make dinner of weakness, cutting the faltering animal from the pack. When his case in court had least merit was when Carver was his most confident. And it usually worked. Opposing attorneys found themselves settling on terms less favorable than they’d have demanded of another opponent. A thought inserted itself. Unwelcome, he realized he’d been suppressing it. In the airport garage at Logan she’d suggested the rental car office. On North Garrison Street it had been her plan not his that got them into the house and Loni out. Damn it, he was along to supply the brains, not this half-breed fresh from two years in that ashram, where dropouts from life congregate to put their one horsepower thinking apparati in mothballs.

Cilla was also suffering her own little hell. She hadn’t thought it a good plan. It was the only plan she could come up with. The man with the whispering voice seemed to know what was going on in her daily life. She had to convince him that she and Hudson had split, that her husband was no longer of value to the man with the graveside voice. Anyone can kill anyone if they want to enough, and these people don’t care how many others get hurt in the process. The use of the bazooka proved that. What else was she to do? She’d had to get Hudson out of the line of fire, and he wouldn’t have gone unless pushed. But the old buzzard was right. She should have thought that one extra step. She ought to have known he wouldn’t go easily. And now...Somewhere ahead a man was driving the only person she really cared about to his