Connell stepped forward, brushed past O'Doyle, and stared down at Mack.
"He's not your man, he's my man,” Connell said. “You're all mine, you all work for me, and if you ever disobey another order you'll find yourself on a plane back to Australia faster than you can think."
"I was with him when he was hurt,” Fritz said. “I have to be the last one down here, that's the least I can do."
Connell turned on him. “What you can do is pack your bags. I need Mack, I don't need you. You're fired."
Fritz started to speak, but looked too damn tired to protest. He leaned his head back against the rock and closed his eyes.
The elevator door's light changed from an “up” arrow to a “down” arrow — it was on its way. Connell checked his watch: twenty more minutes until he could get everyone to safety. Everyone had to just sit tight until then, and they'd all go up together. With everyone safely on the surface, Connell would rethink the situation. Jansson's disappearance, more importantly the severed thumb, hammered home a fact he'd missed for a long time — no amount of money was worth risking lives. He had placed the importance of finding the Dense Mass over his people's safety. Connell now realized how screwed up he was, how he'd let self-pity warp his priorities. He didn't like the revelation, not one bit.
Maybe Jansson was a spy, but probably not. Either way, someone got to Jansson, then dragged him away. O'Doyle said there was no doubt Jansson was dead — the blood splatters on the wall made that quite clear. Whoever took out Jansson wouldn't hesitate to kill again. Connell had to get his people out of there. Then he would reorganize, come down with a fully armed, fully rested, and fully prepared team. The delay could cost him the Dense Mass — but it also might save lives.
The surface phone buzzed loudly.
Connell grabbed the black handset mounted on the wall. “Kirkland here."
"Mr. Kirkland, this is Bill Cook,” the voice answered. “I'm up at the adit mouth. We just got a radio message from Dr. Hayes. She's on her way up here now to talk to you directly."
"What was the message?"
"She said to get everyone out of the mine immediately,” Cook said. “She said it was urgent."
Connell's grip tightened on the handset. The knot in his stomach tightened as well. He suddenly realized he had to piss very badly.
"Tell her we're already doing that, Mr. Cook. And get her on the phone the second she arrives. And do not, I repeat, do not send anyone else down, is that clear?"
"Yes sir, Mr. Kirkland."
Connell hung up. Veronica, Sanji, Lybrand, O'Doyle, Mack, Lashon, and Fritz all looked at him. Their lives were in danger, and it was his fault. Connell checked his watch. Something bad was brewing, all right. He just hoped it would stay away for another eighteen minutes.
From far above, he heard the faint, hollow, metallic echoes of the descending elevator.
Sonny now understood how a rabbit felt just before the bobcat's fatal bite. He lay on his bunk, shaking. Fear festered in his gut like a worm in the bottom of a tequila bottle, white and soft and disgusting.
That creeping feeling, the one that had grown steadily worse ever since he'd arrived at Funeral Mountain, was now so intense he could barely stand it. But he was safe inside the Quonset hut. Wasn't he?
The image of the crude cave drawing popped unbidden into his head. It meant something, but what? What did it mean to Anderson and the other geology students back in 1942? Sonny wondered if the students felt as he did now. He wondered if Jessup's people had felt it — and ignored it.
Sonny's eyes bolted wide and his breath locked up tight. Jessup. The newspaper article. The cave drawing's significance suddenly slammed home with the weight of an avalanche.
Sonofabitch.
He sat up in his bed, eyes darting about the room like prey trying to spot a lurking predator. Sonny threw on his backpack and ran for the door. Screw the Hummer, screw the money, and screw that sonofabitch Kirkland. He'd send for the Hummer later, it didn't really matter at the moment. He had enough supplies in his backpack to get him to Milford. That trip would be a stupid venture for most people, but after forty years in the desert he knew he could make it easily. Sonny pushed open the door of the hut with one hand, the other hand furiously thumbing the Hopi charm on his belt.
Katerina and Achmed gasped for breath as they reached the adit. Normally the short walk up the path was strenuous but manageable. Sprinting up the incline, however, was a different story.
Cook handed the phone to her when she reached the top, Connell already waiting on the other end. The first load of miners was walking out of the adit — the elevator was already heading back down.
"Mr. Kirkland!"
"What's the news, Dr. Hayes?"
"Oh my god! Get everyone out of there now!"
"We're doing that Dr. Hayes, but the elevator only moves so fast. Calm down and tell me what's going on."
Katerina stooped over at the waist, one hand on a knee and the other holding the handset to her ear. She took a big breath and tried to control her heaving stomach. “Those anomalies we talked about. You remember?"
"Of course I do."
"Well, there was another one since you went below. Achmed and I ran some numbers on the readings. The time between the epicenters and the readings match data for tunneling through that same amount of rock. We're almost sure the anomalies were cave-ins caused by open-face blasting and natural fall-away. The path heads straight for the top of the shaft! There's no question, it's not a natural occurrence!"
Connell paused. “Tell me that again so I know I heard you right, Dr. Hayes. And this time in English."
Katerina took a deep, pulling breath, then answered. “The cave-ins weren't natural. They were man-made. Someone is digging their way out of the mountain, and they're coming straight for the shaft."
Connell huddled Mack, Veronica, Sanji and Fritz near the edge of the elevator platform. Veronica and Sanji stood nervously, while Mack and Fritz just lay in the powdery silt. Fritz was sound asleep, apparently unconcerned with his recent firing. Connell couldn't blame Fritz and Mack; they'd been in the scorching tunnels for over twelve hours, crawling, climbing, searching.
O'Doyle, Lybrand, and Lashon stood twenty feet farther down the tunnel, their backs to the others, their guns ready to fire. They blocked any access from the caves to the elevator.
"Connell,” Veronica said loudly. “Would you please tell us what the hell is going on?"
"It's probably nothing, Dr. Reeves,” Connell said, staring up the elevator shaft and checking his watch for the tenth time in the last two minutes.
"Nothing? Oh, then maybe you can tell me why there are armed guards with machine guns pointing down the tunnel?"
Connell sighed. Might as well tell them, they'd find out eventually. “A miner, Brian Jansson, came up missing, as you already know. We have reason to believe there's someone else down here. This other party may have hurt or even killed Jansson. We have to get everyone to the surface and now."
Veronica said nothing, perhaps suddenly realizing how precarious their situation could be. Over two miles underground there was only one way to safety. For once at least, Connell noted, she stopped talking.
The elevator echoes were louder now, a sound marking the teasing promise of safety. He checked his watch, then looked back up the elevator shaft. Far up the shaft, he thought he could see the bottom of the elevator.
Katerina, Achmed, and Cook sprinted through the adit toward the shaft mouth. Her legs screamed and her breath came in burning gasps — she'd have to get in shape when all this was over. She'd spent too much time in a lab parked on her behind.