the water's edge; the other side had fewer sheer drops and was more soil-covered, the trees growing in places to the water's edge but not so densely that on a climb out, her invisibility would be guaranteed. The Douglas fir and the scattered oak were rich green in the sunlight of the day, but now in the lengthening shadows some were turning black, making the place seem deadly solemn.
The leader called out from a distance well above the rock. 'I see another one coming. This one's got a gun.'
Realizing her pursuers were distracted, she decided to drop. Letting the root slide through her hand, and using her fingers and toes to cling to the rock, she accomplished a controlled but painful slide. She moved down three feet, paused for a split second, and then pushed herself off-plummeting ten feet to the mud, her chin barely missing a stone projection as she fell.
Instantly she sank to her thighs in soft, velvety ooze. She had never heard of quicksand anywhere in California, but that hardly put her at ease. If it was quicksand, she knew thrashing would be stupid. But she had read about swimming in quicksand. The horror was that you got only one swimming lesson-and if you failed, you died.
She looked down again. Her belt was closer to the muck. Maybe she had just leaned over and wasn't really sinking. No-she had been still. Straining to pick up her right foot, she tried to move forward, but she received only shooting pains through her ankle for the effort and a loud sucking sound. The noise was frightening. And now the mud was touching her belt.
Above her she heard the growers on the hillside, waiting for whoever had been following her. With luck they would kill or run off her pursuers, but would that really help her? For the first time she felt cold, and wondered how long she could stand in the mud before her lowered body temperature would become life-threatening.
She looked down, barely saw her belt. How long until the mud reached her neck? Maybe she should just try crawling forward and gamble that they wouldn't hear her movements. What irony if she should die in this mud hole after escaping both the growers and her kidnappers. Tears came to her eyes. Don't be a wimp, she scolded herself.
She listened intently and soon realized that the leader was sitting just above her. Occasionally he would call out to the others who were searching the hillside. Any movement on her part created water and mud noise sufficient that she would be heard. Only a real struggle would free her.
Maria shivered uncontrollably as the sun began to slip below the ridge in the western distance. She was having a harder and harder time remaining conscious. She had ceased being in pain from the cold and the bruising; how she was numb, and she knew that was bad. Struggling and pulling herself out might soon be her only option. Dan's face kept flashing through her mind. He was coming, she kept telling herself, fighting the cold with the only weapon left to her: hope.
Then she heard the helicopter in the distance. This time it seemed to be coming nearer. It grew progressively louder, finally flying directly toward her. The big buzzing bird came into view from behind the rock face, flying overhead.
But as it turned, glinting and reddened in the failing sun, heading back up the mountainside, her hope turned to bitter despair.
Janet Morgan pointed to where they had stowed the German behind them in the van. 'Would he hurt us if we just let him go?'
'Damn straight he would,' Jack said. 'He said Corey should have killed that little boy.'
'She's crazy,' Janet said. 'The way she just went all nuts and cut that guy, and gouged out his eyes. She was using her fingers.'
'I don't think she'd kill a kid. And that guy was…' Jack paused. There was a thumping from the back.
''Hey, asshole,' Janet shouted as she drove. ''Child killer. If you don't shut up, I'm gonna spray your ugly face again.'
But still the pounding went on. After several more minutes, Janet slammed on the brakes. Grabbing the pepper spray, she walked around to the side door of the van.
'Wait,' Jack said, getting out the shotgun. 'You gotta be careful.' With the gun trained on the entry, he let her open the door and shove the can under the hood. Muffled gagging sounds erupted when she released the spray- then the foot stopped. But the van immediately filled with a foul odor.
'Well, now you know why he was banging his foot,' Jack said.
'The German's revenge,' she said as she rolled down the windows.
A couple of minutes later, Jack heard Janet gasp.
''Take it easy,'' Jack said. It was a state patrol car turning onto the highway ahead of her. Janet slowed.
'Keep going normally.'
A couple of hundred yards up the road, the patrol car turned into what Jack remembered as Corey's place. His face went white.
'That is the place,' Jack said. 'Just keep on driving.'
'Damn!' Janet muttered, speeding past the driveway. He studied the mirror on his side. Just as they entered a bend, he saw the highway-patrol vehicle exit Corey' s driveway and head in the opposite direction.
Jack exhaled sharply. 'He was just turning around.'
The first patch had been small, with no obvious alarms or booby traps. It was unguarded; Corey passed on.
The second was much larger, and she almost missed the first trip wire. After stepping over it, she heard the voices.
'I'm tellin' you, I saw a second one, dressed for the hike and carrying a gun.'
'Make the same pattern you did before, and keep your eyes open this time,' an authoritative voice responded.
Corey put the nylon stocking over her face and moved toward the voice. As she approached, she could see the two subordinates moving off through the brush no more than twenty yards from her. One of them held a bloody hand under his arm, the other had a swollen bloody face. Walking when they walked, stopping when they did, she slowly crept upslope and around behind her target. Now she was downstream from the leader, assuming that his attention was directed at the mountainside. She waited, knowing that if she moved closer he might hear her. Carefully she stepped out from behind a redwood stump the size of a small car, stealing a quick look to ensure that he was still facing in the opposite direction.
Tossing a stone in the bushes was a tired trick, but it worked. He immediately started for the spot where the stone had landed. Moving behind some bru^h, Corey raised her rifle. Soon she heard the crackle of his footsteps; seconds later, he walked straight into her sights. He wore a bandanna tied around his head. Tangled red hair hung from under it. Built low, broad-shouldered and squat with long arms, he looked slightly apelike, with a bit of a belly and a flat-looking face like her wooden masks.
'Hold it,' she said. 'Drop the gun.'
The man hesitated, considering his situation. Finally he dropped the gun, cursing.
'The woman you're hunting is a lady lawyer. You give her to me, and I'll walk her out of here and cancel her ticket.'
'Go screw yourself.'
Corey shook her head. 'Turn around and spread-eagle against that tree.'
The man just stared at her. She unholstered her army Colt. 45, strapped on the rifle, removed her stiletto, and approached him with her pistol aimed at his chest. A quiet click, and the blade on the stiletto appeared, glinting in the late-afternoon sunlight.
'Do it, asshole.'
The man looked at her, gauging her, weighing his chances.
Totally at ease and as cold as an arctic night, she sighed. 'I'm gonna kill you.'
'All right.' He turned and spread his legs against the tree.
'Farther,' she said, kicking his legs apart. Frisking him thoroughly, she found a knife and a pistol on his calf. The razor-sharp stiletto cut into the skin of his torso as she began shallow but bloody carving. He groaned and tried to move away. She put the gun hard in the hollow at the base of his skull.
