I listened attentively while Kendall passed out the assignments and issued the order to have everyone who hadn't been assigned to a specific detail secured in the old schoolhouse. The order, he concluded somewhat dramatically, was going to stand for the duration of the siege.
While Kendall went over the details, I pushed myself to my feet and searched out another cup of coffee. It occurred to me that I'd probably be more concerned about the supply situation if someone had told me they were running low on coffee. In the process of walking over to the coffee, I took a general inventory of Wages's body parts. On the whole, everything worked, albeit a little stiffly, and by the time I returned to the conclave for Kendall's wrap-up, I was convinced I could make a contribution.
In the finest of military traditions, Kendall had us synchronize our watches. It was seven-thirty, and there was enough light in the street to indicate that there was, for a fact, a sun up there, struggling valiantly to get through. Somehow, though, I knew it wasn't going to make it.
"I think we can be ready to go by noon," Kendall summed up. "Any questions?"
There were no questions.
There was, instead, an aura of resignation.
"Okay," he said wearily, "everybody knows what they have to do."
As luck would have it, I ended up on the detail assigned to conduct the search outside of the village. The thought of dragging what was left of old E.G. body parts over the rocky terrain and around through the trees and sand wasn't all that appealing. On the other hand, if there was going to be a big, socko climax to this saga, I wanted to be there to see it. It would be a shame, I decided, to come this far and not see the last act.
I squandered a few minutes reflecting on some of my more sane friends who sat at their word processors and dreamed up bizarre tales of witchcraft and monsters — secure, creative, comfortable and with no real threat to life and limb. What I was feeling was envy. If I could do it, I reasoned, I would. Then there would be no reason for me to go thumping around in some foggy woods taking my life in my hands.
With four and a half hours standing between me and the invasion of the woods, I had two things to accomplish. Concern number one was good old Brenda, who I hadn't seen for hours. After several discreet inquiries, I was fairly well able to determine that the lady's whereabouts were somewhat of a mystery. The hairs on the back of my neck had that funny little twitch to them, another signal (almost as good as the one from the gut) that there was reason for concern. I told Madden about it and Doc Ferris as well. They both agreed to keep an eye open for her.
My driving record was already marred by two wrecked vehicles, so I was somewhat reluctant to ask Madden if I could borrow his four-by-four. The bottom line was, I didn't ask; I just took it. Given the situation, who was going to know? Madden had his hands full, getting supplies rounded up for the search.
It took me a full ten minutes to slip down the alley behind Palmer's market and two foggy blocks to the highway leading out to the motel. It was a long shot, but my instincts told me that if everyone else was in town, Kelto would be where everyone else wasn't.
Along the way I cursed the fog, the phones, my battered body, and the suddenly elusive B.C. Where the hell was she? Vernice's place looked dark and deserted, and I realized that Madden hadn't said anything more about the unfortunate woman. I knew the big guy was hurting, but I hadn't seen anything to indicate it was affecting his performance. Jake Madden was fast becoming, in my frame of reference, one of those rare creatures men like to call "a man's man."
The motel was only a couple of hundred yards down the road from the diner. By slowing down to a virtual creep, I was able to locate the motel driveway, turn in and inch my way back to the general area of the office. The lights were off, and the door was locked. This time the Johnsons had complied.
I tried Kelto's room, knocked three times and got no response.
Just to make certain I hadn't overlooked something, I managed to get one puffy paw wrapped around the handle of the Mauser and did the old patrol bit around the entire motel unit.
Bert and Polly had done a thorough job. All of the units were locked. One more exercise in futility.
By the time I worked my way back to good old number eight where the rapidly dwindling supply of Black and White was waiting, I had decided to fortify myself with one quick drink in preparation for my afternoon in the woods. It took a while, but I fished around in the contents of my duffel bag until I came up with the battered old flask Gibby gave me as a going away present the day we called it quits. ("Get out and stay out!" she screamed, and threw the flask at me. As usual, her aim was off, and I retrieved the flask as sort of a memento.) I rinsed it out, filled it with the B and W and plunked myself down on the edge of the bed.
One sip.
Suddenly, the previous night and all the days preceding it began catching up with me. Three days in Chambers Bay had turned into an eternity — an ugly eternity. The shoes came off real easy, and lying back across the bed seemed like the natural thing to do.
Maybe Elaine was right. Maybe I ought to pay homage to my mounting years and quit chasing around the countryside sifting through bizarre situations to find a story. Instead of chasing shadows, I could chase women. That's it; write romance novels. Why not? Romance from the man's point of view. Maybe it would sell. Then I suffered a good dose of instant recall and discarded the idea. E.G. Wages writing romance? Get real. Good old Elliott Grant couldn't write a romance if his life depended on it. This was the same old Elliott Grant that Gibby once termed a "sexual mutant between the sheets." Bad idea, writing romances.
Twenty winks couldn't hurt.
As I plunged headlong into a shadowy world of semi-awareness, I could feel what was left of me sink deeper and deeper into an uncomfortable world of chaotic thoughts. Where was B.C.? Where was Keho? How many of those damn things were out there tramping through the woods? And perhaps the most troubling thought of alclass="underline" Where was Gibby?
The old internal clock didn't fail me. I rolled over, glanced at my synchronized watch and mentally recorded ten minutes till eleven. The near two hour tussle with the sheets helped, but it was still foggy both inside and outside my head. I spent several minutes staring at the darkened ceiling, slowly becoming aware of the uncomfortable feeling you get when you know you're supposed to be alone but you're all too aware that you aren't.
Once again I had proven that Thelma's only son was indeed a clever lad and very much predisposed to caution. Just before slipping off into never-never land, I had tucked the old Mauser under the pillow. Now it was just a simple matter of a good acting job — roll over, slip the hand under the pillow, grip that dependable old hunk of cold steel, sit up and confront my uninvited visitor.
The Mauser was gone.
Now I bolted upright out of fear.
Jake Madden was slumped in the room's only chair with a frown deeply etched into his furrowed face. "I could charge you with grand theft auto," he said a little testily.
Remember the old Gibby trick? When you're on the defense, attack. "How long have you been sitting there?" I snapped, equally surly and equally taciturn.
"Ten minutes, no more. Figured you'd be here. When I found my truck missin', I put two and two together."
"I figured I might get lucky and find that Kelto kid. If I could get him to give me some straight answers, it might save us some grief."
"What's your fascination with him?"
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, reached down and searched around till I found the half-empty glass of B & W, took a swig and tried to get myself oriented to reality. It wasn't all that easy in a room composed of half-shadows and what appeared to be a coat of thick gray paint obscuring the world beyond the dingy windows of the rented cubicle. The thought tumbled through my mind that it might be now or never. Either I brought someone in on everything I had learned up to this point or went along with Kendall's plan intact. And at this point, I had the uneasy feeling that there was a better way than the one Kendall had proposed.