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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
They climbed west out of town rather abruptly. The snow was still on the tops of the mountain range and even patches were seen amongst the spruce and pines and rocky outcrops they passed.
"I said something different. I didn't think it would be this different." Spikey was looking down the mountain side. A bridge was crossed that was definitely new. Rushing grey water cascaded underneath. Then a small level valley and buildings. A number of cabins connected by some trails and a two storey log and stone cabin of impressive size. The car park had two or three vehicles and beyond the 'Reception' sign was a coffee and souvenir entry.
"This is it. I think? Glacier Lodge. Ah, there's the sign.”
Spikey just nodded his head and they got out and entered the reception door. Antlers adorned the walls and lots of back wood charm. A middle aged man in check shirt and buckskin boots appeared from a side door.
"Howdy folks. Ivan's the name. How can I be of service?”
Rory was suitably impressed. "Partner and I are looking for a room for a night, or maybe two. One of the nice ladies in town suggested we try up here.”
"Might do. Coming into summer season and usually full with the early birds. Photographers. Painters. You name it." He moved his bulk around behind the counter and looked at a booking sheet. "Got a room in here. Upstairs." He looked over his rim less glasses at them before continuing. "Has a double bed. No single.”
Rory looked at Spikey. "Toss you for it. Looser sleeps on the floor.”
Before Spikey could manage a reply, Ivan broke in. "Or, as you seem to be regular guys, I have a cabin vacant. All mod cons. $200 a night. From down under, are you?”
"I am," said Rory. "Also on a budget.”
"Ok, as a special favour, you being from a long ways off, $200 for the two nights. Cash." The two travellers looked at each other for a second.
"Done.”
"I like a man who knows where he's at," replied the big fellow. "A name for the register," as he took the money.
"Mason. Rory Mason.”
It meant nothing to the manager but the handyman, who had walked in behind them, with wood for the open fire, it was like a sting. Thin, late twenties and a scar on his neck under his left ear, he just stood there. He didn't know them from a bar of soap. In fact he didn't often know a bar of soap, but the name was familiar. Stacking his wood pile, he fiddled around checking a shelf until he got a glance at Rory's face, then turned his back as the two visitors left the building. The handyman knew he should remember the name but mental things took a little time. He went out the front door and watched where the car stopped at one of the brown cabins up the hill. As he returned to the service shed behind the main building, he remembered.
The cabin was quite comfortable and met with Spikey's approval. Rory didn't really care as long as there was a bed and hot shower. They sat on the little veranda at the front and looked down the valley past the main lodge. Tumbling water and many boulders, cascaded down the valley. In the distance was a mountain range, capped in white. At it's base, Rory could make out some structure, but not recognise it at this distance. A squirrel hopped onto the railing and he put out his hand to pat it.
"Hand away'" came the pommy accent. "Nice critters but me brother warned me that I should touch them. Many have a nasty bite which could give you rabies.”
Rory already had his arm back out of reach. With the glow of some whiskey and the fading light adding a purple haze to the valley, they donned coats and headed for the lodge's main dining room. It was full, and Rory wondered where all the people came from. Also was the car park. It looked like some drove up from Big Pine or other nearby towns. The food was reasonable, the wine not so cheap but every one seemed to be having a good time. a log fire burned in a large stone hearth, keeping the chilly night air outside.
"You fellows settled in ?" It was Ivan.
"Fine thanks," replied Rory. "Certainly gets busy here.”
"Yep. Lots of folks from LA and 'Frisco to keep me happy. Well just holla," then he moved away.
"Not a bad sort of bloke," said Spikey. "Usual try on with the prices, which reminds me. You said Darius was picking up the tab, so why the budget bit?”
"You know me. Wouldn't have cared if it was $250. Just I hate being taken for a ride. Needed to try and counter that. Worked."
They walked back up to their cabin in the brisk air. The moon caught patches of snow amongst the rocks and trees and threw them into glistening halos of light. They couldn't see the stream now, but heard it, in it's rush to fall away down the mountain.
There was another sense not so nice, that seemed to prick at Rory's neck. Twice he glanced around but saw nothing in the gloom.
"You feel anything?," he asked Spikey as they climbed onto the verandah.
"Like we're being watched or something? Maybe. Dunno. Wine could be having it's effect, but I am a little uneasy myself.”
They stared into the darkness. Most of the other cabins around were quiet, save one with a radio, but all had lights on. They went inside and locked the door. A glance showed nothing out of order. They had a coffee then prepared for bed.
"Think I might have a look around outside," said Spikey, putting on a thick coat. "Just...you know, to be sure like.”
Rory straightened up from his overnight bag. "Might be a good idea. I could be wrong but my passport at the bottom of my bag is the right way up.”
"So?”
"Just that I threw it in earlier before we went down for tea and I'm sure it was upside down. Can't be definite. Check yours.”
Spikey had a look in his gear. "Wouldn't know. It's here and everything seems like it was. How about doing a 'Pakanbaru'?”
"You mean, lights out and see what's happening?”
"Year. I'll slip out the bedroom window, it's low down and there's some bushes behind us. Should be able to see both front and back. Shut it after me but don't lock it. I'll give it about half an hour.”
As Spikey made for the window, Rory called him back. "Have an idea. Seems stupid but why not. Here, stuff these pants and coat with something. A pillow and some of those magazines and anything else.”
"What you scheming at now?”
"Can the overhead light and leave the table one on. I'll walk out on to the veranda with our dummy clasped to my side and say a few loud words like I need air and sit it on the steps next to the railing. Then a big 'see you later' bit by me to our Fred here and come back inside. You go out the window and see what might happen. Think I will wait behind the door ready to dive
Out.”
"Bloody dramatic aren't you? Who would want to follow us?”
"Buggered if I know, but you said yourself you wanted excitement.”
"OK.”
The moves were made and after Spikey had slipped away at the back, Rory sat with coat and boots on, just behind the door, ready to dive out if needed. He had drawn the curtains shut so nothing could be seen from outside. It might be a long half hour. He was going to try and get a fix on the dummy from the front curtain but decided the door would be too slow to get to, if it
Needed.
The minutes ticked by. Twice he looked out through cracks in the curtains, even at the back, trying to see something. But nothing seemed to move in the darkness. Not entirely dark, as there was a waning moon, but lots of unseen areas due to the trees and other ground cover. Then a noise at the front door like a small dull thud, almost immediately followed by a yell to the side. "Freeze or I'll blast ya.”
Rory dived at the door knob and yanked it open, moving quickly out the door and to the side slightly, so as to be out of the frame.
"Down there to your left." It was Spikey's voice, then his running outline as he headed down the drive and into the darkness. Rory only gave a glance at the dummy lying down on the steps, before straddling it and taking up the pursuit. He cursed as he remembered he should have kept a torch nearby. Spikey was ahead but slowing. He had stopped when Rory caught him. They had left the road and were in a swampy area with some large rocks. They couldn't see any further.
"Lost him here," said a breathless voice. "You go that way. Be careful.”
They split up and tried to move through the wet grass. Water seeped into Rory's shoes. Apart from the feint noise made by Spikey, and an owl, it was quiet. He reached the end of the damp area and the mountain side almost immediately started to climb. A movement behind the first tree and he froze. Taking one step closer on the difficult terrain, and a form darted out to his
left and up the hill, snorting. Rory's heart had missed a beat at the size, then he brought his mind into focus. It was only a deer. He looked around trying to spot Spikey but couldn't. Then a thump off to his right and some bushes being brushed aside. He headed over. A groan brought him quickly to a stop and a second one to it's source.
Even in the dark, he recognised Spikey laying on his side from his coat. He went down on his knees. "It's Rory. Don't move.”
Spikey groaned and started to roll over. "Winded," was the feint rasping reply.
"Here," said Rory giving him a hand. Spikey sat up with his hands clasped across his stomach and gave another groan.
Then he stood up, all dripping wet. "Bastard. Came out of nowhere.... Got me in the stomach with..... a branch or something." His voice was laboured as he tried to regain his wind.
Rory took a look around in the gloom but could see nothing. Supporting his friend, they made their way back through the trees to the roadway and up to the cabin. Sitting Spikey on the sofa, Rory did a quick check of the building's inside but found no one. Apart from some scratches and a very sore stomach, Spikey was none the worse for the event, and took a liberal shot of Kentucky. Rory had a drop in his coffee. Then he retrieved the dummy from the veranda steps. He found the slit in the back of the shirt, a cause for concern.
"What went on out there, Spikey?’
"Well I had a reasonable view of front and back. Was just thinking what a right pair we were turning out to be when I saw him.”
"Him?”
"Coming through the brush to the right at an angle, towards the back of our friend here. Didn't see me of course. Was thinking of grabbing him when he got up close. Then I sees the gleam in the moon light of silver and the bloke throws a knife. It went right in the back. That's when I yelled. He wasn't fooled and bolted.”
"Just a minute and I'll go look for the knife. Didn't see it.”
Rory returned shortly. "Nothing. Must have come back after he hit you and taken it. Who would want to kill us. Or more likely, me?”
"Dunno," said Spikey. "Maybe the guy on the boat. No. Wouldn't be him. Robbery?”
"Doubt it. You might knife someone if you were caught stealing, but this wasn't robbery.”
"Well I'm tired," said Spikey as he stood up. "I gather you aren't in a hurry to call the manager or the police tonight?’
"No. Don't think there is much point. Do it tomorrow. Lock the windows and let's get some rest.”
The rest of the night was uneventful except for the bellowing far off of some antelope creature. Next morning they walked down for breakfast, and sought out Ivan.
"You're kidding me, you guys. Sure it's not the wine last night or some happy pills or something?”
Rory was a little on edge. " Listen Mister. This is no joke. If it was me on those steps last night, it wouldn't be me talking to you now. You've got no loony’s around here, have you?”
"OK. Keep your shirt on. I'm sorry about what happened. Sure as hell's going to worry me. Never had any trouble up here. Can't figure who'd want to. I'll ring the sheriff in Bishop and get him to come up.”
They thanked him and went and ate. After wards, Ivan came in and said that the sheriff was out of town and would call in later in the day. Rory cast an eye about the people that were eating and later outside, but none seemed too interested in them. Back at the cabin, Spikey decided to take it easy.
"Think I'll just rest up and sit out front. Back to the wall of course.”
"Some short hiking tracks about. Might take a stroll up to the first lookout. Seems a shame to waste the scenery.”
A discussion followed on the risky business of going off and Spikey insisting he come with Rory. There was a last check of the cabin and the pairing knife from the kitchenette drawer was safely stowed in Spikey's belt. They climbed upwards in the morning light, amazed at the clear air and the occasional almost perfect view. The path wound around boulders, all taken with a careful eye, and through the spruce and Mariposa Pine. All the time climbing. They met a couple coming down, but except for a cheery 'good morning, great day', saw no one else.
At the rare, and rustic bench seats that seem to just appear beneath a tree or at a break, Spikey sat. He was reasonably fit, but last night and his general dislike of exercise, without profit, was making this excursion more a necessity than a time of exploration and enjoyment. It took some 50 minutes to reach the first lookout, aptly named 'Eagles Rest'. It sat above a rock scree and hence had no trees in front that obscured the view. And what a magnificent view it was. Stretching far down the valley it followed the tumbling stream. Past the lodge until lost in a mass of greenery and rocks. If you lifted your eyes, one saw the far distant White Mountains, capped in a mantle of snow. At their feet it appeared undulating, splotches of grey and yellow. From their trip up, Rory knew this was the desert. It was a surprise to him to find it so dry and open on the eastern side of the coastal ranges after the green and wetter forests on the west coast that he had read about in travel brochures. And somewhere beyond those mountains he could see, was the metropolis of Las Vegas, sitting in the middle of nothing.
They sat for a long while, just taking in the view. A group of young people came up from the valley, giving a greeting as they passed. All with day packs, they seemed oblivious to the world not so far away with all it's pretensions and dangers. Overhead an eagle or hawk just circled lazily, then it's mate joined him. It was indeed a restful place.
They headed back down. Although the trail was formed, there was still a lot of rocks embedded in it's surface, and it was easy to trip. When the shot came, Rory didn't immediately comprehend what had happened, just the dust flying up in front of his feet and the high pitched whine as sparks came from a rock on the track less than three feet away. Then he did. Spikey was already yelling something, as Rory broke into action and dived into the drainage ditch that was along side this part of the trail. The second shot was quick on the heel of the first but the branch it hit was slightly further up.
They wriggled and made for more cover without trying to be exposed. This was danger and the loud banging Rory heard was his own heart. Away from him was silence. Even the noisy birds had taken shelter. Not quite silence. The ever falling creek was not perturbed. It just continued to fall.
"You right?," came Spikey's voice.
Rory was breathing so quickly he had difficulty in getting out the words straight away. "Fine.”
They waited, hoping the earth would swallow them up or the cavalry would arrive. No tourists appeared. A squirrel bobbed up in front of Rory's nose, giving him a scare. When no sound came after about three minutes, they crawled together and then Spikey slowly raised his cap. Nothing happened. A very cautious look followed and finally they stood, making sure they were covered by a tree. The shots had come from down the valley or across it. Moving from whatever cover there was, mostly crouching and stopping, they headed back down.
Nothing. It could be a trick to give them a sense of false security. Voices. Then three people came around a bend, climbing towards them. "Howdy," said the leading man. His female companions smiled.
"Hi," replied Rory. "You hear anything. Some shots or something?”
"No." He turned and asked his friends, but they just looked surprised and said no. "Talking too much. You might have heard a branch breaking or falling rocks. How far to the first lookout?”
"Oh, not far. Bye." Rory felt safer but somehow wished they would go back. Naturally they were going on. They disappeared amongst the trees higher up.
"Come on," said Spikey, " let's get out of here.”
They walked quicker now, darting from side to side until they were almost running as they reached the cabins. Some one was sitting on the veranda smoking of the cabin next door, and a handyman was doing something or other to a post down the way. They made it to the door and even crouching as it was unlocked by Rory, slipped inside.
"Someone is definitely out to kill us. No. To kill me. Why?”
A question neither he nor Spikey could find an answer to. They decided to drive down to the Lodge and wait for the sheriff in a safer environment. Ivan said nothing. It was apparent he only half believed them, and was regretting having them stay another night. They had a beer and just sat. Spikey dozed off to sleep in the big chair.
Just as a few came in for a bite of lunch, so did the law and his deputy. Ivan pointed them out and the stereotype sheriff, complete with large belly and that 'don't mess with me look' came over. The deputy stayed at the desk. Rory stood up.
"You Mason, are you?" The voice was deep and authoritative.
"Yes. This morning someone shot at us. Up on the hill.”
"All your word of course. No witnesses. Other than your friend that is. Now why would some one want to do that?" His voice had a sarcastic lilt to it.
"Don't know," replied Rory. "Only been in your country a few days. Maybe some crazy around here.”
"Or maybe the only crazy around here is you." The tone of the law man was plain derision. "Hey, listen here...." Spikey had stood up, having been awakened by the conversation. In the same instant both the sheriff and the
deputy had brought out their pistols and had them levelled at the two visitors.
"What? We're the victims." Rory's voice was incredulous.
"Now just let's be quiet and sensible like, fellas. ID on the table here and no funny moves. Lester is a good shot.”
They slowly removed their passports.
"Now hands behind. We goin' to take a little trip down town.”
"But...." There seemed no point in saying anything else. They were handcuffed, the deputy keeping a safe distance with his pistol drawn. A small crowd had gathered, saying nothing. Ivan just stood, expressionless. Both men tried to explain that they were the victims, but it did no good. They were placed in the sheriff's car and the journey down the mountain to town began. Rory was alternately livid and resigned. Something was going on. So much for American justice.
Standing at the corner of the Lodge, next to a stone abutment, a figure watched the departing car. With a smile he walked away to the back of the building and turned into the log and stone storage shed. Under the bench, covered in a canvas sheet, he extracted a rifle and emptying the magazine, cleaned it. Then wrapping it up again with the ammunition, he removed the loose plank on the floor of the chain saw cupboard, and stowed his parcel away. After he had washed up, he would make a phone call to a certain lady he was currently seeing in Bishop. His next move would probably depend on what she said.
The desert flashed by as the patrol car sped up the highway. Rory tried to ask questions or even get conversation, but was told, in that drawl so prevalent in the western states, 'that he should save his talkin' for later. He might need it.' Bishop came into sight, a reasonable sized town for this area, crossing Rory's mind. They turned into a two story brick building and pulled up at the side.
"You folks won't have any funny ideas of leaving in a hurry, I'm sure.”
Rory only shook his head, as they were lead inside. "Now since we don't have any charges yet, but that's only a matter of time, best you relax in one of our cells." They had no choice. Half pushed, they found themself in one of detention rooms. The door was slid shut and locked. Spikey just sat on the floor.
Rory looked around and at his companion. "You seem pretty quiet. You sure this has nothing to do......? Sorry. Just that this is so mixed up. Trying to kill me, then getting arrested. For what?”
"You're right," came a voice from his friend, "it is all mixed up. I just hates being mixed up with the law. I've done nothing that I can think of, so I'm thinking. We best get on side with this sheriff fellow and find out what going down, before we end up in some prison."
"OK.”
Rory yelled for the man with a badge but no one came. They just sat there and waited.
Two tin mugs of coffee arrived by a deputy about an hour later who advised them to stand well away from the door or he would 'chuck it all over yous'. The cell was warm despite the time of the year. Just when stomachs were making noises that lunch would be nice, the sheriff appeared and unlocked the cell.
"Sorry for the wait but I guess you are free to go.”
"Just like that?", said Rory. "Why were we dragged down here and thrown in a cell? I want to know.”
They had followed him out to the main office. "Well it seems we have nothing to charge you with. Had an anonymous phone call this morning that you was wanted for serious crimes and was hiding out at the Lodge. Thought this bull crap about being shot at and attacked was a smoke screen to get away or whatever.”
"Garbage," said Spikey. "We was attacked and my friend here would have been killed except for good luck. And we ain't done nothing wrong." The Yorkshire accent was becoming more prominent as he got worked up.
"Keep your shirt on. It won't need much to keep you here. We've been waiting on State Police at Sacramento to tell us if you was wanted. They had to wait on the FBI. Don't know about Australia or the like, but there's nothing on file. Yet. Hope you was comfortable and we didn't get too..... Sorry you couldn't help us with our inquiries.”
"You're enquiries?" Rory could just contain his anger. "What about what happened back at the mountain.?”
"Well, tell my deputy here exactly how it all took place and he'll have a look around. My advice is to keep on going to wherever it was you was going to. That way you live longer."
Rory looked in disbelief. "Our car and gear. You forget we have to go back.”
"And we have another night we paid for." Spikey was getting his courage back up.
The sheriff looked at them as he placed both his hands on the counter in front of him. "Well we took the liberty of making sure you wouldn't have any more trouble back there. Ivan is on his way down in your rental with all your gear. My deputy can take him back. Real nice of Ivan to do that." He pointed to the front door. "Suggest you just wait out in the sunshine." Then he turned away.
Rory went outside followed by Spikey. They sat down on a bench.
"What about the statement you was supposed to give?”
Rory gave his partner a half shrug. "Waste of time I should think. You see it in the movies but just don't think it would ever happen to you.”
Rory saw a diner opposite and indicated to Spikey. "Something to eat?”
Spikey nodded and they crossed the street and went up the three steps into the building. There were several tables and booths free. They sat at one near the front window to keep a lookout for their car.
"What'll you have fellas?" She had her pencil and pad at the ready.
They ordered and tried to fathom out what had transpired in the last 24 hours. When the meal and coffee was finished they just sat.
"The edge is taken off the trip," said Rory, "so I feel just like getting to the mine and doing what I have to and taking off.”
"How about Las Vegas? It's not that far from the workings, is it?”
Rory thought a second and shrugged. "Why not. As soon as we get the car we can sort it out on the road map.”
Shortly afterwards, their car appeared and pulled up outside the sheriff's office. Ivan got out and went inside. Rory and Spikey paid and went across, waiting at the vehicle. Ivan came back.
"Brought all your stuff. Nice rental." He was a bit uneasy.
"You set us up?" Rory was direct.
"Know nothin' about it. Honest. Ever passing again, you have that night we agreed. Leave it a while though." He gave a half salute and went back inside.
Spikey checked the bags on the back seat, and they drove south out of town. It was necessary to go back so they could get over into Nevada. At the gas station just at the edge of town, they filled up and even were approached by a young woman wanting a ride to LA. The road was long and windy, taking them right through the centre of Death Valley. Spikey remarked that he was glad it wasn't summer. Rory countered that he was glad it wasn't winter either. Outside it was freezing. But there were compensations. The scenery was stunning. The surrounding mountain rims were alive with colours and the creosote bushes and sage that dotted the landscape every now and then gave it a blotchy effect. There were a few cars and trucks going both ways. They stopped at a cafe come information stop and had a rest. When there was no traffic passing, it was so quiet. A coyote suddenly appeared about 200 yards away, took a sniff and just as quickly disappeared. The smell of desert was in the air.