'Hijack,' Duke replied laconically.
The jeep driver snorted. 'Thinks he's in Cuba,' he said to no one in particular.
Morgan stood up in the front seat of the jeep. 'Doc, you come with me,' he said. 'The rest of you stay here with these people till we get back.' The lead jeep lurched away along the rutted road after the switch had been made.
The second jeep had a whip antenna coiled backward along its length. Duke strolled to the jeep and pointed to the antenna. 'Can you talk to Vegas with that thing?' he asked.
'Sure I can,' the driver said.
'Well, you can see we need transportation,' Duke went on. 'I'd appreciate it if you'd call Tom Weston in Vegas an' tell him Duke Conboy said to get two buses down here to pick us up. An' to come along himself.'
There was a momentary silence. 'You mean the Tom Weston who's the lawyer for the Frontenac?' the driver asked cautiously.
'That's the Tom Weston I mean. Just tell him our plane's down an' we're stranded here.'
The driver conferred with the other men in the jeep in low tones. 'What was that again about a hijack?' the driver asked Duke after a moment.
'That's why we're here,' Duke said patiently. 'You just call Tom Weston. He'll straighten everything out.'
'Reckon I should without Morgan's okay?' the driver asked his companions.
'I reckon,' another man said. 'Since it's Weston.'
The jeep driver picked up a microphone from a hook on the dashboard. 'Mobile Unit Four to KN-five-five- eight,' he said.
'Go ahead, Mobile Unit Four,' a static-jumbled voice said after a ten-second wait.
Duke strolled back to the watching gamblers. 'Nothin' to it now,' he said comfortably.
'I'm glad you think so,' I told him. 'When that first deputy finds what's left at the plane-'
'Nothin' to it,' Duke repeated. The jeep driver waved to him to indicate that the message had been sent. Duke waved back in acknowledgment. 'Might as well get as comfortable as we can, boys,' he said to the others. 'There's buses on the way to pick us up.'
'What about that deputy?' Sal wanted to know.
'I just pulled his teeth.'
'I hope he knows it,' Sal grunted.
The gamblers seated themselves awkwardly on the ground. The twilight shadows were lengthening but the earth was still warm to the touch. The occupants of the jeep got out and sat with their backs braced against the jeep's wheels while they chain-smoked hand-rolled cigarettes. There was no fraternizing between the two groups.
Thirty minutes passed. There was a preliminary squawk and then a voice from the jeep's dashboard speaker. 'KN-five-five-eight Mobile Unit Two to KN-five-five-eight Mobile Unit Four,' it said. 'Come in, Mobile Unit Four.'
The driver rose to his feet and picked up his microphone. 'Go ahead, Two.'
'Call Williamson an' get the coroner an' two ambulances out here pronto.' The jeep driver looked at his companions and then at the gamblers. 'You got that, Four?'
'I got it.'
'You guys never saw nothin' like what we got here. KN-five-five-eight Mobile Unit Two out.'
'KN-five-five-eight Mobile Unit Four out,' the driver echoed. He depressed the microphone switch again. 'KN- five-five-eight, this is Mobile Unit Four,' he began.
'Look there,' a man near me said softly.
I looked in the direction he was pointing.
Three dust devils were advancing toward us along the same route the jeeps had taken previously. The clouds of dust materialized into two huge yellow buses led by a black limousine. When the limousine drew up near us and the rear door opened and two men in dark business suits stepped out, the jeep's occupants rose and stood stiffly, almost at attention.
The two men were followed by a chubby man in the same uniform as Morgan, the deputy who had gone to inspect the plane, but this one had scrambled eggs on his campaign hat. The first man out of the limousine was tall and aristocratic-looking with wavy gray hair. 'Where's Duke Conboy?' he asked.
'Here I am, Tom,' Duke announced.
The tall man strode to where we were standing. 'What've we got, Duke?' His tone was pleasant but carried a note of authority.
'A bad one,' Duke replied. 'The plane crew's dead plus two hijackers.'
Weston frowned. 'Aren't you the little ray of sunshine, though?' he said as we were joined by the other civilian and the man in uniform. 'Gentlemen, this is Neal Harris, liaison with the governor's office,' he continued. 'He happened to be with me and I'm glad I played a hunch and brought him along. And this is Sheriff Courtney.' Nods were exchanged all around. 'These men were on one of our special flights, Neal, and Duke just told me that the plane crew is dead along with two hijackers.'
Neal Harris' easy-going manner changed. 'Where is the plane?' he wanted to know.
'Back a couple of miles,' Duke answered.
''Probably at the abandoned silver mine's airstrip,' Sheriff Courtney said.
Harris looked at the sheriff. 'Someone is investigating the-ah-situation at the airstrip?'
The sheriff nodded. 'Morgan, one of my deputies.'
'To this point no one else is involved except your department?' Harris' voice was crisp. 'No other investigatory agency, I mean?'
'No, sir. Not yet.'
'Here comes Morgan,' someone said from behind me. A long, trailing funnel of dust from the direction in which we'd come heralded the return of the first jeep.
'I'll do the talking,' Harris said, and said nothing more until the jeep arrived. Deputy Morgan stared from the buses to the limousine to our little group, then swung down from the jeep and walked over to us.
'This is Neal Harris, Deputy Morgan,' Tom Weston said.
'I know Mr. Harris,' Morgan replied. Respect dripped from each syllable.
'What did you find?' Harris demanded.
Morgan drew a deep breath and flung his hands wide. 'Bodies till hell wouldn't have it,' he declared. 'The plane crew includin' the stewardess with their throats cut, plus two foreign-lookin' guys on the ground outside, one of 'em sliced up like you wouldn't believe. I never saw-'
'I'm correct in assuming that the basic situation is that the plane was hijacked and the passengers-ah- retaliated?' Harris interrupted him.
'They sure as hell did,' Morgan said grimly. 'I been in the department a long time but I never-'
'It's not the image we wish to promote of the state of Nevada,' Harris cut him off again. 'So there will be no report of a hijack.'
Morgan's eyes swiveled to the sheriff, who nodded. 'Yes, sir,' Morgan said.
'Send the airline people to me, Sheriff Courtney,' Harris continued smoothly. 'For once our concern about poor publicity should coincide. I'll depend upon you to arrange for inconspicuous disposal of the bodies other than those of the plane crew. Have I made myself clear?'
'Yes, sir,' the sheriff replied.
'I'll expect you to impress the need for silence upon deputies and other personnel on the scene here, Sheriff.'
'Take care of that, Morgan,' the sheriff said. Morgan strode to the jeeps. The sheriff's gaze swept the gamblers, lingering upon Candy Kane's lime-green-and-shocking-pink ensemble. 'Of course you realize I don't have any control over these people, sir.'
'I'm about to give you control, Sheriff. You have two buses here. I want this group split between the buses with deputies aboard each. I want one bus driven to Reno and the other to Salt Lake City. I'll arrange to have a charter flight at each municipal airport to take these men back to New York. These men are to communicate with no one before they leave, and there are to be no exceptions to the fact that they do leave. I'll hold you personally responsible. I intend that any stories floating back to Nevada in connection with this-ah-episode will be strictly in the nature of rumors.'
