A Chill in the Air, Chapter 6/12

Chapter Six

Stefania angrily closed the door of the dig house and headed back towards the shed where the redheaded girl – Hannah Duffy, by the papers in her bag – was lying recumbent.  Smelling salts might do the trick of finally waking her up again; Stefania had had to order Finnegan to give them back.  We’ve had enough delays on this project without all the petty swiping going on.  Then she smiled wryly, in spite of herself.  It’s almost like I’m working with a bunch of thieves.  That was not an entirely appropriate thought to have – the company prided itself on highly structured and honorable thievery – but Stefania enjoyed it anyway.

Entering the shed, she looked over at Hannah, the girl’s prostrate form illuminated by the single propane lantern in the room.  Still out.  What do I do if she’s in a coma?  She wasn’t sure that situation was covered in the handbook.  Stefania’s manicured fingers nimbly uncorked the salts and held them under Hannah’s nose.

I just hope the girl that Twitch Grier killed wasn’t a friend of yours.  What a waste.

Just when Stefania was wondering if the salts would work at all, Hannah sniffed deeply and recoiled at the strong smell.  Her eyelids opened, revealing striking green-grey eyes, the color of the sea when a storm was brewing – or had just passed.  They looked about the room in alarm, and settled on Stefania’s face.

“Good evening, Hannah.”

“How…um…do I know you?”

“No.  You may call me Stefania.  But I know you.  We have eyes everywhere.  Miss Hannah Duffy, University of Manchester, on her little research trip to save the fishies.”  Stefania was a little surprised at the disdain in her own voice, disdain which she did not truly feel, but seemed to flow naturally.

The “eyes everywhere” remark was a blatant lie – no one on earth had the resources for that – but it came right out of established corporate policy.  The implication of power could be just as important as real power.  And it paid to use the information from her prisoner’s notebooks to imply greater knowledge than Stefania actually possessed.  “But you bit off more than you could chew, this time.  Tell me what you know about our operation here, and I may let you go free.”  Then the both of us will be better off.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed, but she made no reply.

“I’m warning you – if you don’t start talking, I’ll have to hand you over to my men to make you talk.  They’re much less…genteel than I am.”  Knowing the predilections of some of the crew, Stefania hated herself a little for making the threat.

Hannah turned her head to the left and shut her eyes.  Stefania rounded the desk and leaned close in, toward Hannah’s face.  A faint scent of ginger and vanilla, the Pole’s perfume, wafted over the prisoner.  Stefania worked to keep the pleading out of her voice.  “For heaven’s sake, speak up while you have the chance.  Or else you’ll wish you had never woken up.  Don’t make me…” Stefania felt a sharp prick in her right thigh.  What the…

She looked down and lifted the hem of her dress to see an Antiquities, Inc. Mark VI Sedation Syringe, which protruded at a right angle from the midpoint of her lamé-covered thigh.  With shaking fingers she quickly pulled out the syringe, but she could see that some of the liquid inside had already been dispensed.  Stefania glanced down further and found herself looking into a pair of deep blue eyes.  A second girl was crouched under the desk, holding one of the company’s standard issue black leather Tranq Bags.  Another one!  Still flabbergasted, Stefania fought to retain her composure.  “And who might you be?”

“Amanda Jones.”  The gorgeous girl slid out from under the desk and stood.  “And I don’t take kindly to people who tie up my friends.”

An incorporeal shadow passed across Stefania’s vision, and she began to feel woozy.  She struggled to look Amanda in the eye, but found it difficult.  “And I don’t take kindly to people who become thorns in the side of my operations.  You both should go back to your textbooks.”

Amanda reached over and began untying Hannah, who helped in the process as much as she was able.  The American’s eyes flashed like the aurora borealis.  “No way.  I’m not going to sit idly by while you steal all the artifacts from the castle.  You can’t do that, it’s just wrong!””

“I assure you we can.  As for it being wrong…”  The room began to spin.  Stefania mumbled, “That’s a matter of – nnhh – perspective.”  Suddenly her legs buckled, and she fell against the desk.  Her fingers, gradually growing numb, scrabbled for a grip on the desk’s far edge, to steady herself.  One hand found such a grip for a moment.  Her vision swam, and her body sank until she was nearly bent over the desk.  She was nearly on her knees; her lower legs sprawled uselessly behind her.  With half-lidded eyes, she stared at Amanda and tried to find more words.  I need to…call…for help…But her tongue felt fuzzy in her mouth; the words wouldn’t come.

Treacherously her fingers released their hold, and began to recede across the desk as she slid off it and sank still lower.  All thoughts in her mind were crowded out by an overpowering urge to sleep.  Her smooth face came to rest against one of the desk drawers, and her body found equilibrium in a kneeling position, slumped forward against the desk.  One arm slipped from the desk and fell into her lap; the forearm of the other rested against the desk edge, the palm facing upward, fingers listlessly settling into a half-curl.

Hannah looked over as Amanda finished loosening her bonds, and she hopped off the other end of the desk, a heavy blanket falling away.  “Jeez – that stuff works fast.  She went down quicker than I did.”  She shuddered.

Amanda glanced over at the leather case of sedatives and other chemicals; it had been a stroke of luck to find it when she’d hidden under the desk.  “I picked the one labeled ‘24 hours;’ I figured even if I didn’t get it all into her bloodstream, it’d be strong enough to do the trick.”  A shiny black business card had spilled out of the case; Amanda pocketed it for future reference.

Now free, Hannah hugged her friend in a solid embrace that conveyed both relief and fear.  “And I thought I was glad to see you this morning.”  After releasing her, she looked Amanda in the eyes with anxiety.  “There’s got to be more going on here than water contamination.  Have you found out anything?”

Amanda hurriedly explained what she’d seen that day, and her supposition that tonight was the climax of the criminals’ whole operation.  Hannah’s eyes widened.  “We have to get out of here and fetch the police.  It’ll take hours to walk to the nearest phone.  What are we waiting for?”

“I’m all for getting out of here,” Amanda whispered back.  “But we have to get you dressed first.  You’ll be awfully cold like that.”  She gestured to Hannah’s attire.

Hannah looked down and grimaced.  “Why…”  In sudden realization, she crossed her arms and hugged them self-consciously around her narrow waist.  “Oh…oh, damn it.”  Her eyes welled slightly, and she spoke in a quavering voice.  “Feckin’ gyppos.  All they want to do is horse it in.”

Concern creased Amanda’s brow; she would have spared Hannah this pain if she could have.  She ran her hands up and down Hannah’s upper arms reassuringly, and made eye contact.  “They’ll get theirs, Hannah.  Don’t worry.  For now let’s find the rest of your clothes and get out of here.”  She tried to bolster her friend with a smile.  “Wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

Hannah sniffed and nodded, and they quickly searched for the lost articles.  She retrieved her wool stockings and boots and put them on, but her coat, sweater, hat and gloves were nowhere to be found.  Suddenly the girls were startled by the sound of voices outside.  Their time was up; Stefania’s cohorts were probably looking for her.

Frantically the girls retreated to an adjoining room, where they found another exterior door.  They hurriedly stepped out into the darkness of the evening; Hannah gritted her teeth in the cold.  They tiptoed around the structure, and heard someone enter on the far side.  “We need to get across the stream.  Run!” whispered Amanda.

They fled toward the bank of the stream, ducking behind the piles of excavated material for cover.  Shouts of alarm rose from the compound, and more illumination lit the woods as men emerged from the dig house doors.  Both of the girls were breathing hard, with small clouds appearing in front of them in the night air.  Amanda peered over the dirt embankment, measuring the distance across the open space to where they had each crossed the stream earlier.  “Next time their backs are turned, we make a break for it.”  Hannah nodded.

Several tense minutes elapsed while the men searched the buildings and beat the brush nearby.  Rich Grier seemed to have them organized fairly efficiently.  Twitch hooted gleefully and bustled about amidst the searchers, not appearing to add anything substantial to their efforts.  He brandished several short sticks in his hands; the other men gave him a wide berth.  At no time did it seem wise for the girls to move from their hiding spot.  Though their breathing had slowed, their hearts continued to pound in their chests unabated.

The search cordons were moving closer; currently only Twitch was looking in their direction.  Amanda and Hannah looked at each other – there was no need to discuss.  It was now or never.  They simultaneously took a deep breath and made a dash for the Cawdor Burn.

“Hey!” Twitch shouted, heading off in pursuit.  But the limber girls quickly outdistanced him; their feet barely touched the rocks as they skipped across to the far side of the waterway.  He gnashed his teeth.  Then he laughed gutturally and drew a lighter from his jacket, which he brought to bear on one of the sticks he carried.  The freezing rain did not extinguish the butane flame as it flickered to life, illuminating a dynamite fuse.

He took aim at the pair of girls as they struggled up the far bank, leaned back, and lobbed the missile into the air.

The girls had just climbed over the lip of the bank when Hannah looked back and saw the hissing projectile land by her foot.  Her eyes grew wide, horrified.  There was no time to shout a warning.  The moment seemed to telescope as she reached down, grabbed the sinister object, and hurled it away with all the strength she could muster.  Then she accosted Amanda by the shoulders and thrust her toward a small hollow in the ground, which was partially shielded by an old fallen tree.  The redhead dived after her friend for the dubious shelter.

The dynamite was still agonizingly close when it exploded in midair.  The sudden white flash briefly lit up the forest like a bolt of lightning.  Then the night plunged the hunters and the hunted into stark darkness again, temporarily blinding all those who had been looking in the direction of the explosion.

Hannah felt the heat of the blast through the thin layer of her clothing.  She was spared its full devastation, but the concussion threw her forward hard against the fallen tree.  She struck it with terrible impact; the blow knocked the breath from her lungs, and she shut her eyes as her head reeled toward a hard knot of wood on the surface of the trunk.  The knot and her temple met with volatile force.

Stunned but still standing, she staggered back for a moment, trying to regain her sense of balance, struggling to breathe.  The scene spun dizzily before her; she tried to focus her blurry vision.  Amanda, looking back in alarm, struggled to extricate herself from the shelter and go to Hannah’s aid.  Then one wavering foot stepped back too close to the edge of the stream’s bank, and the Irish girl toppled backward.  Limp and almost unresisting, she slid down the wet slope and rolled into the water.  She hit the stream with a splash, and submerged before rising to float, facedown, in the rippling current.

Amanda stared down the steep bank in horror.  Hannah wasn’t moving.

With furious energy the sleuth hurled herself back over the bank and slid on one leg down to the water’s edge.  A split-second childhood memory arose, of hesitant moments at the edge of a swimming pool, afraid to dip more than a toe in for fear of the cold.  All at once.  She waded into the stream, gasping in shock as the frigid water flooded her clothing.  Her limbs wanted to seize up, but she forced the impulse aside and reached for Hannah.  After a moment struggling for footing on the streambed against the current, she managed to turn her friend over and drag her to the bank.  With great effort, she heaved Hannah out of the water, and dragged herself out as well.  For a moment Amanda simply laid her head down on the shore, breathing hard; Hannah lay sprawled beside her.

For the first time since the explosion, Amanda was aware of shouting from across the stream.  She desperately pushed Hannah’s limp body into a tangle of underbrush which grew along the water’s edge.  Entering the small space on hands and knees, she pulled branches over the opening their passage had made.  Then she turned to check Hannah’s condition.

Wet hair was plastered to the girl’s temples and cheeks, its normally auburn sheen darkened by the water to the color of dried blood.  Her mouth hung slightly open.  Quick, steady puffs of fog issued from Amanda’s mouth as she panted, but Hannah’s ragged breathing was irregular.  

Suddenly Hannah’s body jerked and she rolled reflexively to the side.  Water flowed out of her mouth, and she coughed violently.  Amanda’s face relaxed with visible relief as she leaned low over her friend, trying to help her expel the remaining water and simultaneously muffle the sounds she was making.  She cradled Hannah’s head in her lap.  “Shh…”

From across the water and downstream, male voices echoed along the water.  Amanda recognized Rich Grier’s among them.

“Goddamnit, Melvin!  We’re a fucking covert operation, and you light off dynamite in the middle of the forest!”

Twitch murmured an inaudible reply, sounding apologetic.  Other voices drew near, indicating the Griers’ gang had assembled on the spot.  Anger still shook Rich’s voice as he spoke.  “Fan out and find them. We’ve got to finish them quick!”  His command, tinged with malice, reverberated through the wintry darkness.

Amanda heard the sound of splashing, and moments later a few of the men were cursing about the cold wetness.  Several of the voices came gradually closer.  The two girls exchanged glances.  Amanda put her finger to her lips, and with great effort Hannah suppressed her coughing.  The Irish girl began to shake in the cold as the minutes crawled past.

Heavy boots squelched in the mud just outside their tiny shelter, and a stick poked through and rattled the branches.  Both girls shut their eyes tight; there was nothing else to do.

A voice rang out from some distance away.  “Ah, they’re long gone!”

Rich Grier, up on the bank, cursed.  “Finnegan, can you spot anything down by the water?”

The man looming above the girls spoke.  “No, I’m still seeing spots.”  The stick made a few more halfhearted prods, then withdrew.

Rich called out, louder this time.  “Can any of you see them?”  Several voices responded in the negative.

Rich groaned in frustration.  “Alright – look, time to cut our losses. We’re miles from anyone that would have heard that…gonna pray there were no cars passing by…and those meddling bawbags are miles from help.  Let ‘em get lost in the woods for all I care.  Or maybe we got lucky and Twitch blew them to smithereens.  We’ve gotta do the job and get out of here.”  He raised his voice to a roar.  “Back to the tunnel!”  Then he lowered his voice again.  “Daley, let’s see if we can wake up the Bitch.”

Amanda heard an uncomfortably enthusiastic laugh.  “With pleasure!”  After that, the voices receded into the distance.

For the first time in an eternity, Amanda and Hannah stopped holding their breath.  This set Hannah into a minor bout of coughing, which she muffled in the crook of her elbow.  Amanda listened for a few moments to be sure, then whispered “I think they’ve gone.  Can you walk?”

“I think so,” Hannah breathed out in an exhausted voice.

Amanda quietly moved the concealing branches aside, then turned and helped Hannah out of the brush and up the bank.  Afterward she removed her parka and wrapped it around Hannah; though it, too, was dripping with icy water, it was still better protection than Hannah’s simple under layer outfit.  The teeth of both were chattering – Hannah’s even more severely than Amanda’s.  The redhead coughed and spoke.  “We h-h-have to g-get back to the tent-t-t.  Heat packs.  Dry cl-cl-othes.”

Amanda nodded.  Each girl wrapped an arm around the other.  Then they set off into the chilling rain.