Airtight Case (50 page)

“Who is Mike or Mark, or whatever his name is, to you?”

“It’s Mike . . . and Marina’s my cousin.” Lindsay felt a hard grip on her arm and a gun in her back.

“Take the disk out of her pocket,” said Marina.

Mike slid his hand in the pocket of her sweatsuit jacket, pulled out the disk, and tossed it to Marina, who then picked up Lindsay’s laptop from the couch.

“Who was the other guy?” Lindsay asked.

“Barrel? He’s a cousin, too. Mine, not Marina’s.” Mike put his lips to Lindsay’s ear. “Baby, if you’d just played along with us a few months ago, all this would be over and you’d be home safe and sound now. Instead, you got that poor couple in the woods involved, and now they’re dead.”

The Marina Lindsay liked had completely disappeared. This Marina’s eyes were like black ice—dark, treacherous, and cold. “The Laurenses are in the kitchen. I know you like them. You don’t want the crew to come back to the house and find a massacre. I want to impress upon you how far both Mike and I will go to protect ourselves—and we have little to lose now. One or two more won’t make any difference. You are the last loose end. You do see the logic of our position?”

“Yes,” said Lindsay, “your logic is very clear.”

“Now I want you to go out the front door,” said Marina. “Don’t give either of us any problems. I know you’re inclined to be altruistic and won’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“It’s not true that one or two more won’t make a difference,” said Lindsay. “You can still cut your losses. And you need to know that . . .”

Lindsay felt a sharp blow on the side of her head. The pain blinded her for a moment. She put a hand to her cheek, expecting to see blood, but she wasn’t cut.

“Keep your mouth shut and get out the door, or I’ll hit you again with more than the barrel of this gun. Don’t think I don’t mean it. Keep your mouth shut.”

They took her down the steps and toward the woods. Lindsay wished that John would drive up. She watched the road to see if they were coming, but they hadn’t left that long ago. They probably weren’t even to the car rental place yet.

“No one’s going to come to the rescue,” said Marina, watching Lindsay’s gaze. “Go on, Mike, I’m going to dump the disk and computer into our bottomless pond, and then I’ll walk a ways through the woods with you.”

Lindsay watched Marina go toward the pond with her computer. She thought about Claire and her admonition to back up her hard disk.

“I have research on that,” said Lindsay.

“You won’t need it,” Mike snapped at her. “I told you to shut up.” He jabbed the gun in her ribs and marched her into the woods. Marina caught up with them.

“Okay, the evidence is gone. I’m going along this trail by the tree line so I can enter the artifact tent by the back. Take her really deep into the woods and try to do something to muffle the noise. I mean it. This is supposed to take care of all our problems, not create more. And don’t get any blood on you.”

“How can you talk so casually about . . .”

“Shut up,” said Mike.

“I do need to tell you something important . . .”

He hit her in the middle of the back, and she fell to the ground on her hands and knees, gasping for air.

“I don’t want to hear your voice. Say one more word, I’m going back to the house and shoot Mrs. Laurens and her husband. Nod your head if you get it.”

Lindsay nodded.

“You should’ve just taken all the hints we gave you to leave.” Marina walked off down the trail.

“Get up and walk, bitch. You’ve been nothing but trouble. I had to come down here and take a job in that greasy spoon just to stick around to see what you were up to.”

Lindsay didn’t say anything but simply walked. When she was on the ground, she had gotten a glimpse of his footwear—cowboy boots. Not good for hiking. He wouldn’t be going far. Lindsay hoped they would go far enough to cross over into the national park.

They walked for about fifteen minutes. It could have been a beautiful walk, with the bright bluets and deep blue spiderwort, and intense red fire pinks along the way. They went farther than she thought he could go in those boots.
Must be broken in better than I thought.
She guessed they had already crossed over into the national park. At least that was some small comfort. The forest had become so dense only an occasional shaft of sunlight penetrated the canopy to make a small pool of light on the ground. She considered calling out for help, but that had gotten the hikers killed.

“Okay, stop a minute. I’ve got to think.”

Lindsay stopped and turned around.
Can’t think and walk at the same time. Great, was that a good or bad sign?
A cool mountain breeze blew through her hair. For the first time she got a good look at the gun he was carrying.

“Okay. Turn left and off the trail and keep going.”

They walked through the forest another five or ten minutes, up and down small hills while he looked for a place where she wouldn’t be found for a while.

“Okay, stop.”

“Can I say something?”

“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll give you a last request. We can do more than talk if you want.”

“You have several problems to deal with.”

“Don’t try to snow me. I’ve got everything pretty well covered . . . deep in the woods, unregistered untraceable gun, all the computer evidence is floating to the center of the earth. You are the last problem.”

“No, you and Marina think you’ve come up with an organized plan, but there are several mistakes you’ve made. Do you want to know what they are, or would you rather walk back to wherever you parked your truck wondering if maybe you should have listened?”

“Sure, go ahead. Shoot.” He laughed. “But that’s your line.”

“The Internet.”

“What about it?”

“I sent out the photos in email messages to a couple of lists in my address book.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Do you know what email is?”

“Yes, I know what email is. Do you think I’m ignorant or something?”

Well, yes,
Lindsay thought.
Anybody who would do a job like this with a black powder revolver has to be a little ignorant.
Not that she was complaining. Occasionally, Lindsay let her gaze dart around, looking for any kind of weapon, without him seeing what she was up to. Difficult with him looking straight at her.

“I sent out the photos to all the faculty members in the Department of Archaeology and Anthropology, and to all the FBI agents of my acquaintance.”

“You what? You what?” For a moment, he looked frightened. “You’re lying. The thing has to be plugged into a phone line, I know that much.”

“It was. I was in the living room using the phone jack in there.”

“You’re lying. That old place wasn’t wired for computers.”

“I did send those pictures out, but let’s move along to your other problem.”

Lindsay spotted a limb, possibly a discarded walking stick, under a rhododendron. Could she dive for it before he shot her? No. Getting to it would require that she move toward him. There was a laurel thicket to her right. She might make it, but she needed more information before she acted.

“And what would that be?” he asked.

“We’re in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.”

“Yeah, how’s that a problem?”

“You’re now in the jurisdiction of the FBI. It’s they who will be hunting my killer, and not the local sheriff.” That gave him pause, and Lindsay continued. “Now, I’m open to a solution that will get us both out of here. If I’m dead, I can’t disavow those photographs I just sent all over the country.”

“You can forget that argument. I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to talk your way out of this.” But he did hesitate a moment. “You may be right about the FBI thing.” He brightened. “Marina said you’ll just disappear. The wild animals will drag your body off.”

Unfortunately, he could be right about that. “Maybe. Provided I didn’t drop anything on the way through the woods. Were you watching me the whole way? Did you know if I had a ring that I might have slipped off my finger?”

“You’re reaching. No one would ever find it. If they did, they’d never know who owned it. Is that all you have?”

“Where did you get the gun?”

“I’m getting tired of this.” He raised the gun and cocked the trigger.

That was the information she needed. She turned and sprinted around the laurels, leaving him cursing his gun. The admonition to not go off halfcocked sprang to mind. She stopped still, thankful that the forest was dense and the light was dim. Now what? She looked around for a path. There—through a copse of trees. She might be able to make it.

She picked up a rock and tossed it and ran. He fired. She jumped and rolled into the bushes, scrambling deep in the thick of them. He had learned to cock his gun, but he had only five more shots remaining. After that, even if he had anything to reload with, she could be halfway to the Chimneys before he got the thing loaded. Maybe there was some way to get him to use up the remainder. She stayed still.

“Come out, dammit. If I have to find you, it won’t be a quick kill.”

“Mike . . .” She heard a far-off call. “Mike . . .”

“Barrel, is that you?”

Oh no, the other one. She needed a weapon.

“Barrel. Over here.”

“Did you have to go so deep in the woods? I’ve been trailing you forever. Where is she?”

“She ran for cover. This gun you gave me don’t work half the time.”

“You have to cock the hammer, but that’s what I came to tell you about.”

He takes his advice on guns from a man named Barrel?
Maybe she had more than half a chance to get out of this.

“Better not use that gun. That’s what I came to tell you.”

“Why not? You said it’s not registered.”

“It’s not. But I didn’t realize—Clayton said he loaded it last week.”

“So? What’s the problem?”

“That kind of gun—it’s not good to leave it loaded. He didn’t mean to leave it like that.”

“Dammit, Barrel. We’ve got to get her, or we’re in trouble.”

“You know, Mike, I don’t like this. They found that couple.”

“Exactly. That’s why we need to get rid of her.”

Lindsay listened to them talk. They seemed to be standing in one place and not looking for her. She slowly turned her head to one side, then the other, looking for a quiet way out of the bushes. Behind her was the best bet, then up the slope. The only drawback was that part of the path would be in the open before she could escape down the other side. She eased backward until she could stand.

“What’s that?” said Mike.

Lindsay started running up the hill as fast as her legs would go.

“There she is,” yelled Mike.

“Wait, don’t shoot,” Barrel yelled.

Lindsay didn’t hear a shot. Maybe he took Barrel’s advice. She topped the ridge, slipped on the leaves, and went sliding down the other side, just missing a huge oak. Unhurt but hearing her pursuers, she scrambled and hid in another thicket of bushes.

“It didn’t fire, dammit,” yelled Mike.

“Don’t go waving that thing around. It’ll fire and you’ll hit me, or yourself.”

“It won’t fire. I don’t have my finger on the trigger. Think I’m stupid or something? I wouldn’t climb a hill with my finger on the trigger.”

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean, after it clicks like that, sometimes it don’t fire right away after you pull the trigger. It waits a while.”

“Waits a while? What the hell kind of gun is that?”

“Put it down. You don’t know when it’ll fire.”

“Barrel, I told you, I need an unregistered gun, not some kind of maniac gun. What is this thing?”

“I told you, it’s a black powder gun. It’s not the same as a gun that uses bullets.”

“Barrel . . . What do you mean, not the same as a gun that uses bullets? What am I shooting at that woman with?”

“They’re bullets, but . . .”

As much as Lindsay wanted to wait around and listen to the conversation, she decided to take a chance. Farther down the slope it leveled off to a place of large moss-covered rocks and huge trees. If she could find a good place to hide, she could wait them out. It was doubtful they knew anything about the woods. She had just started to run when the gun fired, and she heard a scream.

“Barrel, you son of a bitch. I’m hit.”

She heard several explosions and another scream. This time, she imagined, the other four rounds went off.

“My hand. You son of a bitch! Oh, God, my hand. Barrel . . . help me.”

“It don’t look that bad.”

“What do you mean, it don’t look that bad? My hand is burning off.”

“Go stick it in that creek. The cold water will stop the pain.”

Lindsay started running. She heard gunfire behind her. This time it was an automatic. Barrel must have brought another gun.

Chapter 42

A Barrel Of Laughs

LINDSAY STOPPED BEHIND an outcropping of rocks to catch her breath. It would be better not to run deeper into the Smokies but to double back toward the site. John and Lewis would be coming, sooner or later.

“Stand up.”

Lindsay looked behind her to see a man with dirty blond hair and cornflower blue eyes holding an automatic pistol on her.

“Barrel?” she said.

“You got her, Barrel? You got her? Shoot her, dammit, and let’s get out of here. My hand’s killing me.”

“No, Barrel. You seem smarter than he is. You know this is a national park. The FBI will be all over you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Think about this, Barrel. Don’t get in any deeper. The hikers were an accident. You hadn’t intended to kill them. This is intentional. In court there is a big difference.”

“None if we don’t get caught,” he said.

“Shoot her, dammit, shoot the bitch.” Mike came up with a wet handkerchief wrapped around his hand.

“You still have a problem, Mike. Why don’t you quit screaming and listen to me? You and Barrel are both in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” asked Barrel.

“Do you know your way back? Mike, did you think to keep track of where you were while you were leading me into the woods? Barrel, did you just follow the trail, then the sound of the gunshot to locate Mike? Did you watch for landmarks?” They looked around, then at each other. “I do know the way out,” she said.