A crack between two of the rocks faced toward the cliff, where both ends of the rope still hung from the outthrust rock, above. In my current state of pain I couldn't picture myself climbing up that cliff and I wondered how I had ever done it.
I found a sitting position that was bearable. I leaned my back against a smooth rock. I drank some water and chewed on a granola bar and hoped that someone else would show up before Stan did.
It became very quiet when I stopped moving, the kind of quiet unknown to a city, the kind that is scary to somebody used to constant noise. But it lulled me and I started to daydream, helped by the warmth of the afternoon sun. I must have fallen asleep.
A noise startled me and I opened my eyes. Through the crack between the rocks I could see somebody moving, a little below me, near the face of the cliff. I blinked my eyes to focus them. It was Stan. He was looking up at the rope. Both ends were well above his reach. He couldn’t get to it unless he climbed partway up the rock. The rope might be used as evidence against him.
He also had another problem. There was no body. That meant I was still alive and he had to find me before someone else did. The sun's rays slanted almost horizontally from the west. It would be dark soon. He needed to find me before dark. And I needed to get out of this mess before dark.
Stan looked around. I didn't move. He shouldn't be able to see me because I was in shadow and the crack between the rocks in front of me wasn't very big. He walked a few steps to the side and disappeared from my view. I moved closer to the crack to increase my field of vision and spotted him, still looking around. I felt a lot better when I could see him. I had to keep him in sight.
Without showing myself I called out, "Stan, here is the puzzle for today."
I paused and he looked in my general direction. If I remained hidden he wouldn't know I was hurt and he would hesitate to approach me, especially since he had to climb uphill, out in the open, to do it.
I continued, "If party A pays party B to kill party C, does that make party A a coward?"
"I know where you are," Stan said, but he didn't move in my direction.
He took off his backpack and pulled out a gun. I had been afraid of that.
"You can't use a gun here," I said, partly to let him know I could see him.
Stan continued to search with his eyes, but he didn't spot me. He walked slowly toward the base of my rocks. I couldn't let him get too close. I picked up a loose stone. I stood up quickly and lobbed it at him, almost screaming at the pain in my back.
The stone bounced harmlessly a few feet from him, but he fired twice at where I had been. The shots reverberated off the cliff walls. Stan retreated several steps while I kept silent. Somebody would hear the shots and show up soon. I just had to wait him out.
He must have realized that his time to shut me up was limited because he started toward my position again and reached the bottom of my rock pile. If he killed me he might be able to declare self-defense or even get away. I showed myself briefly and lobbed another rock at him, audibly grunting. It missed again. He fired at the air.
Stan started to climb toward me, keeping his gun pointed in my direction. He was too close and too alert for me to show myself again. I had moved so I could only see his legs through the crack. If I couldn't see his eyes he couldn't see me. I hoped.
But I had to do something fast. I stuck my hand out through the crack, waved it quickly and pulled it back in. He didn't fire but I could tell he had seen it by listening to the noises his feet made. What he couldn't see was the actual entrance I had used to get into my sanctuary because it was around to the side.
I picked up a good-sized rock and crawled painfully toward that opening. I could tell by Stan's noises that he was almost to the crack. It was now or never. I stood up, suppressing my desire to cry out at the pain.
Stan's side was toward me now and his head was partially hidden. He stuck his gun into the crack in the rocks. I drew a deep but silent breath to help me stand the pain and then took two giant steps toward Stan. I raised the rock over my head with both hands.
My war cry was more of a scream as I launched the rock at his head. He moved slightly and it caught him mostly in the shoulder. I covered the rest of the distance between us in one painful bound.
I managed to knock his head into the rock face, but the effort hurt so much that I lost my breath again. I sat down heavily. Stan appeared to be stunned. His eyes looked toward me, but I'm not sure he saw me.
We sat there a few feet apart, two injured combatants, too hurt to fight. Stan slowly pulled his arm out of the crack in the rocks, not appearing to notice that he was doing it. I kept my eyes glued to it, waiting for the gun to appear. There was nothing more I could do to stop him.
After an eternity his hand came into sight. The gun wasn't in it. He must have dropped it when I hit him. I would have breathed a sigh of relief but it hurt to breathe. The only way to retrieve the gun was to go in the entrance to my former hideaway, and neither of us could get that far. We sat for another five minutes, not speaking, hardly moving.
A voice from below called, "Are you two all right?"
It sounded like Jed. I said, as loudly as I could, "We're hurt. We need help."
I turned my head and watched Jed climb up the rocks toward us. When he got to us I said, "Stan killed Ned Mackay and he tried to kill me."
Chapter 35 JAMES
As I lay on a gurney in the emergency room I tried to remember whether I was already covered by the Tartan medical plan or whether there was a waiting period for new employees. That's one of the things you don't usually worry about when you're young and healthy and starting a new job and I hadn't, until now. Jed had told the admissions people I was covered in order to get me admitted, but still I wondered.
My brain had short-circuited and was running in circles, partly as a result of the painkiller the nurse had given me after it had been determined from X-rays that the only thing wrong with me was a cracked vertebra. When I wasn't trying to sort out the insurance problem I was replaying the last few minutes I had spent with Stan and wondering how I had survived.
I should feel fortunate that I had. All I needed to do was to wear a body caste for a few weeks. It would be applied as soon as the doctor was freed up from taking care of a heart-attack victim who apparently had priority over me. Certainly, he was in worse shape than I was. With luck, I would be out of here in an hour.
Jed had driven me all the way back to San Francisco because I had made light of my injury and said I could stand it. During the trip, when we had bounced over bumps I had rued not asking to be taken to the nearest hospital, but now I was glad I wasn't stuck in Salinas.
The others had placed Stan under a form of house arrest and brought him back, also, after tying him up with one of the climbing ropes. It was felt that his crimes could more adequately be dealt with here in the city than out in the sticks.
Somebody came into my room. Hoping it was the doctor, I turned my head to look. The flashy sport shirt immediately told me it wasn't and the limp looked familiar. I blinked to clear the haze from in front of my eyes and verified that it was indeed James.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. It must be around midnight.
"I came to make sure you weren't going to kill yourself to get out of working for me," James said, patting my shoulder. "You know, most young men would give their eye teeth to work for Tartan, but you've played hard to get. That's one reason I like you."
"I broke my back for you."
James looked concerned, the first time I had ever seen that look on his face since we had tried to find Ned. "They told me that you'll be fine in a few weeks."