''Something for a damn experiment. And a bunch of papers, that's all I know. They don't tell us.'
'You must have surmised.'
'Look, I don't know.'
'You guessed. You speculated.'
'I'm gonna die, mister,' the man cried, obviously starting to break.
'What did you imagine?'
'We thought maybe… it was some military experiment. Something to sell to the military… worked out by the government. And then there was… something to do with the Indian reservation.'
'Why did you think that?'
'Because they seem to know a lot about the Indians, that's why.'
Kier's blood ran cold. Every Tilok on the reservation was a potential guinea pig-including his own mother.
'Be more specific. What do they know about the Indians?'
'Well, they had us go to a mink farm and take some minks. In the middle of the night.'
'What did you do with the minks?'
'Brought them to the lab.'
''How many of you were involved in this?''
''Just me and another guy. They said they thought the natives might have gotten something from the minks. We just went and got about five. It was for some kind of test.'
'What kind of a test?'
'One of the science types whispered about a test. 'When the test was done,' he said. And we had supplies for a few days. I swear to you, I don't know-they told us nothing except what I already told you.' The man shook so badly he seemed to be convulsing. ''Then more men came. We were supposed to get stuff dropped from the plane. I swear to God that's everything I know.'
'There was a fancy black box on that plane. It had lab summaries. Why do they want it so bad?'
'There were s- s- six volumes. Number five and six are still missing. They're going nuts over Volume Six especially. I don't know why! Le- le- let me up. Please!'
'Tell me Mr. T's name. You must have heard something.'
'Tillman, I think. Tillman, damn it.'
Fortunately, the dead man lived up to his name-'Texas.' He was big, with boots that would suit Kier's purposes. Apparently Texas had tripped the wire, then looked in horror to see what he had done. Since it had taken a moment for the grenade to blow, it had caught him in the face, with the result that there wasn't much of the head left. Blood was everywhere, and the clothes riddled with shrapnel.
'I have some disappointing news for you.'
'What?' the man said, standing on the dead body to try to keep his feet out of the snow.
'You're going to wear his boots, and my shirt.'
The man just stared vacantly.
'Don't take it so hard. If I've got a virus or bacterial infection, it's inside me. It's my breathing on you or touching your skin after I've blown my nose or wiped my ass that could kill you.'
Kier gave the man the boots with no socks. Then the man put on Kier's shirt. Kier took his captive's outer clothes, which were tight but wearable.
'I don't have time for the truth-or-consequences test. So we'll cut straight to the good stuff. You are going to get on this radio and say exactly what I tell you. If you say anything else, I will shoot you instantly. If you do it right, I'm going to let you run straight down this mountain in those oversized boots. You say exactly the following:
''The Indian stripped Texas. He's headed down the mountain. I'm circling.'
After the man uttered the words, Kier took back the radio.
'Run. And if I were you, I wouldn't come back here. Your friends are jumpy. They'll shoot an ordinary shirt in a second.'
At that the man fled at a gallop.
Chapter 16
The cries of bad men carry on the same breeze as those of the good.
Jessie could find no more leaf piles to further insulate her clothing, so she was limited to rearranging what she had-and exercise-to keep warm. She longed for the comfort of the hut. Maybe there would be clothes from the bodies of the enemy, she told herself.
She walked in a large circle, satisfied that she had managed to find her beginning point after she had broken down the trail and stepped off it in a way that would disguise her exit. Having watched Kier, she made several false leads and hid near one of them at a spot where she could observe both the main trail and the false lead.
Now inactivity made the cold a bigger menace. She had heard of jumping in a snowbank for warmth. At the moment, it was a frightening thought. The logic behind hiding in snow-the elimination of wind chill and the insulating qualities of the fluffy white stuff-paled before the mental image of freezing to death in a smothering white prison.
So she remained in her hiding place, rubbing her arms through the leafy insulation, occasionally jumping up and down. But that used energy. Shivering used energy. Thinking used energy. Being ready to kill used energy. There was no more food, and she had little body fat. She imagined her body devouring its own muscles and organs to stay alive.
Looking around, she saw that the trees in this area were young. Kier had explained that forest fires killed the old trees and allowed the forest to regenerate. The young red fir trees had interlocking branches that created a wall of delicate green boughs.
In places where these evergreens weren't as thick, there were leafless hardwoods and underbrush that tore at her legs, dislodging the insulation in her clothes and rustling when she moved. It was hard to see much beyond fifty or sixty feet, even in the openings. In the thickets there was no visibility.
She decided that she needed to emulate Kier: to be a ghost in the woods, moving much more slowly, placing one foot directly ahead of the other, as he did.
Suddenly, she heard a crunch, then a branch swish. Was it Kier? If so, he was making noise on purpose, and that was unlikely. Could those men have killed him with a silenced shot and gotten past him? A hollow feeling entered her chest-a foreshadowing of panic-and she felt so alone. These mountains were so vast, so foreign. While she listened, she made herself take deep slow breaths and consciously relaxed her muscles.
By the direction of the sounds, she could tell there were two of them. So it wasn't Kier. They were on either side of the main trail that she had broken down. They were on her circle, or, perhaps just off it, trying to avoid booby traps. Lifting the silenced pistol, she readied herself. Then they stopped. Why?
For what seemed like minutes, there were no more sounds. Then she heard a snap. Dear God, they were on top of her. She noticed the fog from her own breath. Crazily, she wondered if it would give her away, like a chimney. Now her heart thundered. She aimed straight at the sound, her finger wanting to pull the trigger. But she dared not. Why didn't he move again? A muscle in her shoulder tensed, pulling. Her arms started to ache from bracing in the firing position. Relaxed control. Relaxed control. Breathe, breathe.
Another swish. And there was white against the green. Kier was wearing white. She saw an arm through the trees, then above the arm a shoulder. Was it Kier? She had to be sure.
She aimed just below the shoulder. All she had to do now was squeeze. Got to do it. Just a face-something- there! It was a wisp of brown hair. Pop! Down he went. She had been dead on, she was sure.
Her breaths were sharp and jerky, her hands shaking. God, I'm a mess. Think. Think. Where's the other one?
