Nikki continued to be the perfect passenger, holding on tightly, yet staying relaxed enough not to affect Matt's delicate balancing act. The woman was tough.
To their right, the embankment continued steep and high. The slim hope that there would be a gentler slope at the end of the lake vanished. If anything, the grade was even sharper. As they passed the hairpin end and sped down the other side, Matt watched the odometer until he was at the point directly across the lake from the tunnel. Then he cut off his headlight and made a sharp left-hand turn into the water. If Nikki was startled at the move, she hid it
well. Matt plowed ahead as fast as he dared. The water — probably from recent heavy rains — was six or so inches deep, and the stony bottom was identical to the track on which they had been riding. If the depth increased much, passage would probably be impossible. If they stalled and couldn't get restarted, Matt had decided to leave the bike where it was and try to make it to the tunnel on foot.
"Come on, baby," he urged. "You can do this."
Through his rearview, he could see the lights of the Rover shining directly out over the lake. Confusion at last, he thought, smiling.
Come on, bike!
They were at least at the center of the lake now and the depth was holding. If he could keep the Harley upright while maintaining his speed slow enough to prevent water from splashing up into the electrical system, they were going to make it across. His fear now was that even though he entered the water at the right spot, he hadn't held a straight enough line during the crossing. Behind them, the Land Rover was on the move again, continuing around the lake toward the spot where they had started. With luck, neither Verne nor Grimes knew anything about the tunnel. If that was the case, in Matt's perfect scenario, he, Nikki, and the Harley would vanish like something straight out of Siegfried and Roy.
He waited as long as he dared, then flicked on the headlight. They were no more than fifty yards from shore, and the tunnel was there, just twenty feet or so to the right.
"Hang on tight!" he hollered over his shoulder.
The arms around him tightened a notch. He swung right, straightening the path to the opening, and called on the Harley for some more speed. Engine screaming, they exploded out of the water, up the low bank, and hurtled into the tunnel. The corrugated steel ceiling flashed past less than a foot above their heads. The bike jounced viciously over the floor. Ahead, there was only darkness. Ten yards, twenty, fifty. Matt slowed. The end of the tunnel was just ahead. He cut the light and rolled out into a dry streambed that sloped gently downhill. Braking to a stop, he checked behind them. The metal tunnel was built into concrete, with a massive metal door that was, gratefully, open all the way. It seemed that Shady Lake was something of an engineering marvel — a reservoir that provided recreation and a source of water for the pools and golf course. It wasn't clear where the water to fill the lake would be diverted from. Maybe that's why the construction had stalled, Matt mused, smiling.
Lights off, they cautiously followed the streambed through the rolling outline of what one day was to have been the golf course. Behind them, toward the lake, there was only darkness.
"How are we doing?" Nikki asked softly, her cheek still pressed against Matt's back.
"Well, I think we're going to make it out of this place," he said, mopping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "The question now is: Where to from here?"
"Boston," she said firmly. "Take us to Boston."
CHAPTER 22
With one eye on the rearview mirror, Matt Rode the nearly dry streambed into the forest, where it merged with a running brook. He paralleled the brook for nearly a mile before they heard traffic noises. The two-lane road was one Matt didn't know well, and in fact, they headed south for several minutes before he realized his misjudgment and turned around. By then, despite wearing Matt's jacket, Nikki's teeth were chattering. He offered his socks to cover her bare feet, but she insisted he push on until he was certain they were out of danger.
She was absolutely beat, but hung on gamely for almost twenty miles more until Matt felt it was reasonably safe to stop. At a Target store they picked up a hairbrush, some toiletries and clothes for both of them, and sneakers for Nikki, and at the Sunoco station next door they got gas and a road map. From there they found a back road that paralleled the highway, and headed north.
A few miles past the Target store they spotted a railroad car diner dropped, it seemed, in the middle of no place. Nikki had changed at the store into jeans and a flannel hunting shirt, with a red bandanna tied loosely around her neck. Her lips were dry and cracked, and there was a lattice of healing scratches across her face. Dark shadows enveloped her eyes. Still, there was a gentle beauty and intelligence about her that Matt found totally appealing. The few occasions over the past year that he had been with a woman he had been so totally disinterested and distracted that at times he was actually embarrassed to the point of apologizing. The fullness in his throat and his keenness to learn more about Nikki Solari were as threatening as they were exciting, as bewildering as they were pleasant. His memories of Ginny were no less vivid than they ever had been. But over just two days, he knew that something inside him had changed.
Is it that enough time has passed? he wondered. Or is it this one woman?
"You all right?" he asked.
"I'm not ready for the obits, if that's what you mean, but I might be a candidate for the comics. This is totally unreal. Matt, we've got to go to the police or… or the FBI. Isn't kidnapping a federal offense?"
"It is, yes," he replied. "I have no idea what it would be like trying to bring charges against a police chief, even as two physicians sharing the same story. Despite losing to us tonight, Grimes is far from dumb. He's a killer, and now he's desperate. I'm sure he'll come up with some sort of countercharges, like maybe I kidnapped you and then brainwashed you with drugs or something. Weirder things have happened."
"What else can we do?"
"I don't know. For the moment I really want to move against the mine before they have a chance to empty that dump. Now that they've lost both of us, that might be the direction they go in. If we suddenly get embroiled in charges and countercharges with Grimes and some police department or FBI office, I think we might end up losing. Besides, once we come out into the open, Grimes has another shot at us both."
"I guess I understand. So, then, now what?"
"I don't know. Connect with some family or friends or… or maybe a lawyer. Tell them what happened. Form some kind of strategy. Then maybe go see the police. I'd really like to come up with some approach to dealing with the mine people before we make any other move."
"Okay. I'm not sure I agree, but I am sure you just saved my life. For now we do it your way, starting with my boss."
"Great, and then maybe my uncle, Hal Sawyer, the pathologist. Some way, somehow, we'll get to the police. I promise."
Nikki ordered black coffee and anything that was greasy and hot. Matt went for the chili. After the waitress had left, Nikki shared the stunning details of Kathy Wilson's illness and death.
"Her condition was all Grimes wanted to know about," she said. "He never explained why. All he kept asking was, 'Who else knows about her? Who else knows about her?'"
It was astonishing for Matt to hear the description of Kathy's facial nodules and mental deterioration. Nikki could just as easily have been speaking of Darryl Teague or Teddy Rideout. But there was a problem. Kathy Wilson had never worked at or near any facility of the Belinda Coal and Coke Company, and had left home to follow her destiny in music nearly nine years ago.