Holz yanked the rope loose, leaped astride like a stunt man, and galloped off bareback toward the head of the valley. I tried once more to get him in the fancy telescopic sight, but there was simply not enough light coming through all that glass. I lowered the gun, watched him disappear among the trees, and turned to see young Davis standing over the dead cook. His face, where the beard didn't cover it, was pale in the darkness.
"He… he didn't have a gun. But you said to shoot."
There was accusation in his voice. I said, "That's what I said. You did fine."
I couldn't help thinking that tonight the boy- and girl-scouts had done a lot better than the old pro, me; or even the old pro, Holz. All I'd managed was to cut one man's throat with a dull knife somebody'd handed me. Holz hadn't even accomplished that much. He'd just managed to escape with his skin, slightly damaged. A couple of inexperienced youngsters and a black dog had done the real work. I patted the pup as he came up, a little guiltily, to lick my hand and tell me he hadn't been able to find the dead bird I'd sent him for. There had been distractions.
"It's okay," I said. "There wasn't any bird, amigo. I was just kidding you." I looked up, frowning. "Where'd the girl go?" I asked Davis.
She answered for herself. "Over here. Come on, give me a hand with the horses so we can go after him."
"In the dark?" I said. "To hell with that. We'd either fall into a swamp or run into an ambush."
"You mean you're going to let him go?" Davis' voice was accusing once more.
I said, "He's not going anywhere."
"What do you mean? I didn't wound him badly, I don't think."
I said, "Never mind. He'll be around. We'll wait for daylight."
I thought of Hans Holz, wounded, out there on a horse without a saddle, with his fancy gun, the one designed, perhaps, for killing a brand-new president-elect. But before that he had another job to do. He'd been assigned to cover this espionage operation and to make sure the goods were delivered-the goods he carried in his shirt pocket. He wouldn't ride off and leave the job unfinished; he wouldn't let the people he was expecting fly into a trap.
It was time for the old pro, me, to show that he could do something besides lie around to be rescued by a couple of kids and a dog. I started thinking my way into Holz's mind. It wasn't hard, since it was a mind very much like mine, but I was interrupted by an indignant female voice from the nearby tent.
"Matt, for God's sake! Are you going to leave me tied up in here all night with a corpse for company?"
Davis started that way. I said, "Hold it. Untie her feet, take her to the cook tent, and tie her again, securely. Make sure the stove is nice and warm and she's got plenty of blankets."
I was annoyed with him and with Libby. I was trying to read Holz's mind at long range, and they weren't being a bit of help.
"Do it," I said.
"But I thought-"
"How much security clearance has she got with your people?"
"Well, none, but-"
"And none with me," I said. "So leave her tied. Okay?"
So much for our mystery woman. She could remain a mystery, a hog-tied mystery, until I had time to bother with her.
32
IT WAS WARM AND PLEASANT IN the big cook tent with the fire crackling in the stove and a kerosene lantern throwing a yellow light over the table on which lay, now, just one exhibit: a businesslike 7mm Magnum rifle equipped with a six-power telescopic sight. One collar was back on the pup; the other had been tossed aside. Grant Nystrom's revolver was back under my belt, which had been returned to duty, and the Buck knife was back in my pocket; but neither of these was apt to do me much good in this mountainous country, dealing with an expert and well-equipped long-range rifleman. Holz was no fuzzy-faced boy with a woodchuck gun. If I could stalk within two hundred yards of him without getting shot, I'd be doing well. But first I had to find him.
Libby said angrily, "Matthew Helm, if you don't cut me loose this minute, I… I'll…" She was so mad she couldn't finish the sentence.
I looked at her where she'd been bedded down comfortably near the stove. Her hair was mussed and her face was pink and lovely among the rough blankets.
I said, "You're warm and dry. You couldn't go anywhere even if you weren't tied up. Now shut up and let me figure something out, will you?"
"But I don't understand! It's so damn unreasonable, darling. You can't think I-"
"Look," I said warily, "at the moment, strange as it may seem and unflattering though it may be, I don't have time to think about you at all. That's why you're tied up, so I don't have to think about you. When I've taken care of Mr. Wood, I'll deal with y7u. Maybe I'll apologize. Maybe I'll even bend over and let you kick me hard. Okay? In the meantime, just be quiet."
"Well, I don't know what you expect to accomplish by just sitting there staring at that silly rifle-.-" I drew a long breath and took a handkerchief from my pocket. It wasn't very clean. I twisted it to form a loose rope, deliberately.
"If you insist," I said, "if you absolutely insist on being gagged as well as tied-"
"Matt, you wouldn't dare!"
I started to rise, but settled again as Pat Bellman entered the tent. She had a yellow cartridge box in her hand, and for a moment I was hopeful, then I saw that it was too small to hold the long Magnum cartridges.
"I found this box of thirty-thirties in the little tent," Pat said.
"No seven emm-emms?"
"Nothing," she said. "If you saw a box here, he took it with him."
I sighed. "Okay. At least we can load up the two carbines, one for you and one for Les. How's he doing with the horses?"
She laughed. "Well, just between you and me, he's a nice guy but a horseman he isn't. I'd better go out and help him before he spooks them all clear above the Arctic Circle."
"Sure." As she turned away, I rose and followed her outside. It was frosty and dark out there but a hint of dawn showed in the sky over the east rim of the valley. "Pat," I said.
She stopped and turned slowly to face me. I couldn't make out her expression, only the tousled blond hair and the long, slim, half-boyish figure.
"Yes?" she said warily.
"Thanks," I said. "I don't know why you did it, Skinny, but thanks."
"Go to hell," she said. "It was something to do. For kicks. You were so damned experienced and ruthless and professional. I got a big bang out of helping the great man out when he got himself all loused up like an ordinary human being."
"Sure."
"I still say it's all a big, bad joke. One side is as good as another, yours and that of the guy who just rode out of here. Or as bad. But I drove clear to Alaska to find some action, and your side happened to be where it was. I just took a piece of it, that's all."
"Sure," I said again.
"Besides, I did owe you something for turning me loose back there. I don't like being in anybody's debt. Now we're even… I'll see if I can't round up some of those nags." She started to turn away.
"One more thing," I said, and she stopped. "How much help was the pup, really? I'm curious."
I saw her look back at me and grin. "Well, he found us two coveys of ptarmigan and one bull moose," she said. "No, actually he did help, but it wasn't a hard trail to follow, four horses in all that soft stuff. But he made a swell diversion when we got here, didn't he? I kind of figured on that."