“To do what? Sit in the desert waiting for him to come by?”
“What the hell am I contributing here? I...” Suddenly the lights in Carver’s upstairs bedroom went out.
“Oops. Must be the storm,” said the doctor.
“Storm? Just a few flurries. There’s a candle and matches on the bureau behind you.”
The doctor fumbled his way across the darkened room. “No, there’s a blizzard headed our way. Up to a foot and a half expected; a couple inches on the ground when I arrived.” There was rustling from the bed. “You stay put, Wallace Carver. I’ll see to the folks downstairs.”
“You don’t know where the candles and flashlights are,” growled the patient. “And don’t you start ordering me about in my own house.”
By flickering candlelight the two made their way down to the ground floor. “Candles in the sideboard. Flashlights in the cabinet next to it,” barked their host, attired in a brightly striped bathrobe, to the four illuminated by flames from the living room’s fieldstone fireplace. “Put the candlesticks only where I tell you, so no wax gets on the furniture.” After-dinner coffee and tea cups were carefully placed on magazines or newspapers, as the troops mustered at the call of the general.
Bob Gold struggled up with the help of crutches, under the apprehensive eye of Frances Ingalls. It would do more harm than good to tell him the others could manage these primitive lighting arrangements with substantially less effort.
Andre, visiting Bob, had recovered from the shock of seeing Loni. She’d quickly explained that her disappearance had been at the insistence of the FBI, who would permit her no contact with anyone, even him. But while their greeting was cordial, it was obviously not a reunion of lovers; Loni’s heart had - as perhaps it always would - danced away to a bright new melody. He quietly took a chair in the corner of the room, his thoughts kept to himself.
“It’s coming down hard,” Loni shivered. The wind had risen, its surges causing the French doors to shudder. Flecks of snow beat against its panes.
“Settle in, Doctor,” said Carver. “Wait for the town plow. No point in testing Ledge Road or Swallow Hill now. Andre, you’d better plan on spending the night with that city car of yours.” He brushed away Adams’ protests as he might snow from his parka. Outwardly his usual gruff dictatorial self, inside he was tired and empty. First Hudson, now Cilla. No word from her since she and Kurt and Todd had taken off on that insane mid-winter scaling of Washington. And this storm looked to be a big one here on the flat. On the mountain with “the worst weather on earth” it could be cataclysmic.
“It better be soon. I’m due back at the hospital.”
“Just be glad you’re not a National Guardsman out checking rivers,” said Bob.
“Are they still at it? I haven’t seen a TV.”
“They’re everywhere. We’ve had it on all day.”
“And nothing yet?”
“Nada. But on the other hand, there’ve been no reports of bug deaths. Everyone not searching or evacuated has barred themselves at home.”
“Except the one who never gets the word,” said Frances. “A man was shot in Laconia while ice fishing.”
“When we came in,” said Loni, “what was it maybe an hour ago? They were showing a soup line in a Boston church, people who’d been burned out of their apartments cause firefighters can’t get through the streets to them.”
“If we ever have another one of these they ought to make people leave their cars at home.”
“We haven’t gotten through this one yet.”
Heads nodded agreement.
The back door flew open with a bang. The wind blew candle lights. A snow-encrusted figure appeared from the darkened kitchen
It was Cilla.
Chapter 44
“Wally!” said a suddenly taut Cilla. “Then, Hudson...?”
The old man went to her, awkwardly put his arms around her. “No word. Thank God you’re safe.”
Cilla pushed him off, held him so she could look in his eyes. “John said a body had been found.”
“It wasn’t Hudson.”
“Then why are you here?” she demanded, a fierce light in her eyes.
Loni came over to her. “Blame me, Cilla. He hadn’t slept in three days, just sat in his room worrying. The search is continuing. They’ll call us if...when they find him.”
Cilla slumped into an armchair. It was then they saw the blood caked on her forehead.
“Here!” said Doctor Evans. “Let me look at you. What happened?”
She sat up. “Have you heard anything from Todd?”
“No. Wasn’t he with you?”
Cilla sighed. “We got separated. Kurt’s wounded, maybe badly.”
“Wounded?”
“Bullets. It’s a long story. I’ve given it all to John Krestinski. We found the Nutcracker.”
Exclamations came from her listeners.
“Then your hunch was right,” said Wally almost to himself.
“Only partly. He got away. I think I’ve got to lie down.” She went to the stairs.
“I’ve got to check you over, Cilla,” insisted Dr. Evans. “You’ve obviously been in an accident.”
“I’m alright, but come up,” she said without stopping her ascent upstairs to the room she’d shared with Hudson.
“How did you get here?” asked Frances.
“Guide at AMC,” she replied. Then stopped, bemused. “Power is out in the whole Valley. They say we may not get it back until morning.”
“The guide’s car made it up the hill?’
“No. I borrowed a snowmobile from the kids at the bottom.” She disappeared.
Doctor Evans came down the stairs in less than five minutes. “She’s okay. Just needs rest. Like you Wallace Carver.” He lowered his voice. “Incidentally, she wants to see you.”
Carver cleared his throat with a short bark. Frances felt there was pride to his step as he mounted. “Did she tell you any more?” she asked the doctor.
“Not much. She apparently came down Washington on skis and took a spill that knocked her out for a while. When she came to she skied to the AMC Center in Pinkham Notch where she contacted John Krestinski. She’s sure three of the tanks are up there somewhere. But the Nutcracker’s not. The Observatory said the helicopter was gone.”
“How about Kurt and Todd?” asked Frances.
“She doesn’t think the Nutcracker’s people found them. Mountain Rescue has been alerted and is probably already on Mt. Field. They go out in nearly any weather.”
“But with this storm, and Kurt wounded...”
“Todd’s a mountain man,” said Bob Gold. “In this weather, Kurt couldn’t be in better hands.”
It was nearly twenty minutes later when both Wally and Cilla descended.
“Great,” pronounced Doctor Evans. “Both of you should be in bed. One word from me, and everyone does the opposite.”
“I’m fine,” said Cilla, putting a hand on his arm. “I just needed to lie down for a while.” She peered into the wood-box next to the fireplace. “We’re going to need more wood tonight if the heat stays off. Jim, will you and Andre get some logs from the garage?”
When the two returned with armloads, Cilla was telling the others what had happened on Mt. Washington. She did look a lot more energetic, thought Doctor Evans. Oddly, Loni now appeared tired and despondent. It was as if Cilla had been able to transfer her exhausted state to her “twin.” Like the painting in the closet.
“When I got to the AMC center, the ground lines were out; they let me use their radio to call John. He’ll have an army sealing off Washington and Field as soon as the storm lifts.”
“So the Nutcracker is out of business,” said Bob.
“He’ll never get to use those three tanks,” said Cilla, “though we’d better find them before a thaw. The worry is the others. There are three more and, something John just learned, they may be unstable.”