'Tell me how to fix this radio and I'll think about it.'
'They'll kill me if I do that.'
'The nose. The fingers. The toes. And guess what else goes? You're lying on your belly, you know.'
The man cursed in long, elaborate phrases that seemed to have no end. Kier had never heard anything quite like it. 'All right, all right. Press star, then punch the year 1776 into the key pad, then the date 07-04-76, then star again.'
Kier did as instructed.
'I don't hear anything.'
'It's because nobody's talking. Now can I get up?'
Suddenly, the Indian boy's screams took on a calmer, but more robust tone. James Cole was in real pain now. The boy's agony carried in his cries.
'What are they doing to the boy?'
'Probably ripping off his nails with a set of pliers.'
'Call and make them stop or you're dead.'
'Won't do any good.'
'Do it.' Kier held the radio to the man's lips and gritted his teeth through the boy's next scream.
'Base, this is Oregon.'
'Go ahead, Oregon.'
'Stop with the boy or I'm dead.'
There was a pause.
'Say again, Oregon.'
'Stop with the boy or I'm dead!'
'Sorry-' Something cut the man's voice off. There were muffled choking sounds over the radio, then quiet.
Kier grabbed the radio and listened, but heard nothing except static.
James Cole let out a war whoop that rang through the forest. Then there was only the silence of the falling snow.
'Guess we can go back to the number of men on this mountain,' Kier said, mystified as to how the boy might have gotten free. It was unthinkable that James could have overcome a trained soldier, especially since they would have had him in cuffs.
'Ten went up this ridge of the mountain, but only six went up this fork of Hobbs Ridge with the Indian boy. Brennan thought you probably wouldn't go someplace a lot of people know about. They called Brennan and the other four on the radio when the grenade went. They're split in pairs. One pan-is at least four hours away. The other is more. Now let me up.'
Because of his shaking, the man's words were almost unintelligible.
'You said this ridge of the mountain. What about the other ridge to the northwest and the ridge to the southeast?'
'At least three on each, nobody on the back side of the mountain yet. Of course, that doesn't count the law. Soon you're gonna be a fugitive, you know. The story is you're a thief trying to get rich off other people's research.'
'Who do you work for?'
'Oh, come on. They're gonna tell a grunt like me? I'm a mercenary on contract. I work for the colonel back down the mountain. Who he works for, I don't know and I don't care.'
'What's the colonel's name?'
'Goes by Brennan, but nobody uses a real name.'
'Who does he report to?'
'I don't know. Guy doesn't come around much. Think he goes by Grant.'
Kier sensed that the man wasn't giving him everything. Saying nothing, he began pushing even more snow on his captive.
'No,' the man said, sounding panicked.
Kier withdrew his knife and held it to the man's Achilles tendon.
'Please, don't cripple me here on the mountain.'
Pressing, Kier drew blood.
'All right!' the man said. 'Brennan and Doyle report to a guy who goes by the code name Grant, General Grant. Brennan called him 'Mr. T' once, then shut up real fast. That's all I know.'
'So where is Mr. T?'
'Johnson City. I don't know.'
Kier kicked more snow, then stepped on the man's feet, driving them deeper.
The man half screamed. ''Last night they found a lady named Donahue. Let her go, I guess. Command station's at Donahues'. General Grant's in Johnson City. Or maybe at that clinic of theirs. That's all I know.'
'Tell me everything you know about the general-Mr. T.'
'He's rich. Got a company of some kind, and he's a big hunter they say. He was out looking at the tracks you left. He's got the clinic over by the reservation. I don't know any more than that. He talks to Brennan and Doyle, not me. I lied about the law. They're scared of the law until we find those volumes. I swear that's all I know.'
'Tell me about the clinic.'
'I've only been there one time. I don't know.'
'What did you do there?'
'Nothing just… moved stuff around.'
'Tell me exactly.'
''Took papers from the wreckage there by snowmobile. Most of it was all burned, but what was half burned or still readable, we put in boxes and took there.'
'Where exactly did you put these boxes?'
''I don't know. I'm telling you I was blindfolded to get down there. It seemed like a basement-it was all concrete. Now let me up or I'm gonna die.'
'Did they tell you about a virus or bacteria-danger of infection from the plane?'
'Huh?'
'Yeah, huh. They had an infectious-disease freak show on that plane, with viruses and bacteria and a few special things developed by the geniuses who hired you. I could have been exposed to something.'
'You're bluffing.'
'Why do you suppose Mr. T's ass is so far away? Have you seen him get near the plane? Why would I make this stuff up?'
'That would explain the suits. We didn't go near the pieces of the plane. Some other guys with special suits did. You… you touched my clothes.'
'If I was you, I wouldn't take them back. Or I'd make sure I got medical treatment. Maybe you'd like to take the clothes from the guy just down the hill here. He hasn't been near me.''
'You bastard. I can't even wear my boots.'
'Quite right. With any luck the dead guy didn't get his feet blown off. Then again, maybe he did.'
'Look, I'm freezing. I got to get up.'
'Talk to me.'
'Listen, you gotta let me up. I can't feel things anymore.' The man's voice had risen to a shriller pitch.
'How did you guys get to the crash site so fast?'
'Damn it, I don't know this stuff.'
'Your balls are gonna look like purple plums unless I get some answers.'
'Savage. Bastard.' Kier waited while the man swore epithets more vociferously than before. 'Have you no human bone in your body?' the soldier said through gritted teeth, his whole body convulsing as he tried lifting his middle out of the snow. Kier put his foot on the man's buttocks, holding him down.
'We were waiting for the plane to drop something. It was to drop a… a… bunch of pods. It wasn't supposed to crash. We don't know why that happened.'
'What was the plane supposed to drop?'
