dk.nightchills-第46章

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　Trying　to　think　of　some　way　to　convince　the　man　that　be　could　and　should　do　what　had　to　be　done　so　that　he　would　get
　off　the　phone；　the　general　hit　upon　an　approach　that　he　recognized　at　once　as　custom…tailored　for　Dawson。　〃Leonard；　there's　one　thing　that　every　soldier　learns　his　first　day　on　the　battlefield；　when　the　enemy　is　firing　at　him　and　grenades　are　exploding　around　him　and　it　seems　like　he'll　never　get　through　to　the　next　day　alive。　If　he's　fighting　for　the　right　cause；　for　the　just　cause；　be　learns　that　he's　never　alone。　God's　always　with　him。〃
　〃You're　right；〃　Dawson　said。
　〃You　do　believe　ours　is　a　just　cause？〃
　〃Of　course。　I'm　doing　all　of　this　for　Him。〃
　〃Then　you'll　e　out　just　fine。〃
　〃You're　right；〃　Dawson　said。　〃I　shouldn't　have　hesitated　to　do　what　He　so　obviously　wishes　me　to　do。　Thank　you；　Ernst。〃
　〃Don't　mention　it；〃　Klinger　said。　〃You　better　get　moving。　They're　probably　leaving　the　station　wagon　about　now。　You'll　have　ten　minutes　at　most　to　prepare　for　them。〃
　〃And　you？〃
　〃I'll　go　back　to　the　church。〃
　〃God　be　with　you。〃
　〃Good　luck。〃
　They　both　hung　up。
　
　10
　Saturday；　August　27；　1977
　　
　　
　12：10　A。M。
　　
　　
　THE　WIND　RAISED　a　steady；　haunting　whooooo！　in　the　highest　reaches　of　the　trees。　Thunder　rumbled　frequently；　each　peal　louder　and　more　unsettling　than　the　one　that　had　e　before　it。　Above　the　forest；　the　sky　periodically　blazed　with　lightning；　the　electric　glow　pulsed　down　through　the　canopy　of　interlaced　branches　and　left　in　its　wake　a　series　of　stroboscopic　images　that　dazzled　the　eye。
　In　the　dense　underbrush；　small　animals　scampered　this　way　and　that；　busily　searching　for　food　or　water　or　panionship　or　safety。　Or　perhaps；　Paul　thought　as　one　of　them　dashed　across　the　path　and　startled　him；　they　were　frightened　of　the　oning　storm。
　Paul　and　Sam　had　expected　to　find　armed　guards　rather　than　animals　at　the　edge　of　the　woods　that　surrounded　the　mill；　but　there　were　none。　Although　all　of　the　lights　were　on　in　the　main　building；　the　structure　seemed…as　did　the　land　around　it…　deserted。
　They　circled　through　the　woods。　Eventually　they　came　to　the　employee　parking　lot　and　studied　the　scene　from　behind　a　thick　clump　of　laurel。
　The　helicopter　was　there；　on　the　macadam；　thirty　feet　away。　A　man　stood　beside　it　in　the　darkness；　smoking　a　cigarette；　watching　the　lightning　and　the　fast…moving　clouds。
　Paul　whispered：　〃Dawson　or　Klinger？〃　
　〃I　don't　think　so；〃　Sam　said。
　〃Neither　do　I。〃
　〃Then　he's　the　pilot。〃
　〃You　see　a　gun？〃　〃No。　Nothing。〃
　〃Move　in　now？〃　〃Wait。〃
　〃For　what？〃
　〃The　right　moment。〃
　They　watched。
　A　few　seconds　later　the　pilot　dropped　his　cigarette　and　crushed　it　under　the　sole　of　his　shoe。　He　put　his　hands　in　his　pockets　and　began　to　walk　aimlessly　about；　just　killing　time。　At　first　he　came　toward　the　trees；　wandered　within　ten　or　twelve　feet　of　them；　then　turned　and　went　back　the　way　he'd　e。
　〃Quickly；〃　Sam　said。
　Paul　stood　up。　He　eased　through　the　laurel　and　ran　after　the　pilot。
　The　man　heard　him　and　turned。　His　face　was　a　black　mask；　but　his　eyes　seemed　phosphorescent。　〃Who…〃
　〃I　am　the　key；〃　Paul　said。
　〃I　am　the　lock。〃　〃Speak　softly。〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　Paul　looked　beyond　the　helicopter。　He　could　see　the　windows
　…most　of　them　with　light　behind　them…on　the　second　and　third　floors　of　the　main　building　at　the　end　of　the　storage　yard。　If　he　could　see　the　windows；　anyone　who　happened　to　glance　Out　might　be　able　to　see　him；　in　turn；　despite　the　darkness。　He　hustled　the　pilot　closer　to　the　helicopter；　where　they　were　pretty　much　hidden　from　the　main　building。
　Sam　joined　them　and　said；　〃What's　your　name？〃
　〃Malcolm　Spencer。〃
　〃You　are　the　pilot？〃
　〃Yes。　I　am。〃
　〃Where's　Leonard　Dawson？〃
　〃In　the　mill；〃　Spencer　said。
　〃Which　building？〃
　〃The　biggest　one。〃
　〃Which　floor？　First；　second；　or　third？〃
　〃First　floor。　There's　a　sort　of　public　sales　area　with…。〃
　〃And　Ernst　Klinger；〃　Sam　said。　〃Where's　he？〃
　〃He's　in　Black　River；〃　Spencer　said。
　〃That　can't　be　right。〃
　〃Sir？〃
　〃You　mean　he's　in　town？〃　Paul　asked。
　〃That's　right。〃
　Paul　and　Sam　glanced　at　each　other。
　〃Something　wrong？〃　the　pilot　asked。　He　seemed　to　be　concerned　about　them。
　〃You're　lying；〃　Paul　said。
　Surprised；　Spencer　said；　〃No；　sir。〃
　〃I　am　the　lock；〃　Paul　said。
　〃I　am　the　key；〃　Spencer　said。
　〃Where's　Klinger？〃
　〃He's　in　Black　River。〃
　Paul　stared　at　Sam。　〃Christ！〃
　To　the　pilot；　Sam　said；　〃You　took　Klinger　and　Dawson　to　the　logging　camp；　didn't　you？　And　then　brought　them　to　the　mill？〃
　〃No。　Just　Mr。　Dawson。　General　Klinger　went　to　town　from　the　camp。〃
　〃When？〃
　〃A　couple　of　minutes　after　we　got　there；〃　Spencer　said。　He　smiled　uncertainly。　His　teeth　seemed　even　more　radiant　than　his　eyes。
　〃How　did　he　go？　Not　in　the　chopper？〃
　〃No；　sir。　He　took　a　car。〃
　〃Why…〃
　Before　he　could　get　out　more　than　one　word　of　the　question；　Sam　screamed　and　stumbled　forward　against　the　helicopter。
　In　the　same　instant；　the　night　silence　was　split　open　by　a　single　rifle　shot。
　Instinctively；　Paul　dropped　to　the　ground　and　rolled。
　A　bullet　cracked　into　the　pavement　where　he'd　just　been；　ricocheted　into　the　darkness。
　A　second　bullet　smashed　the　macadam　on　the　other　side　of　him；　bracketing　him。
　He　rolled　onto　his　back　and　sat　up。　He　saw　the　rifleman　at　once：　down　on　one　knee　in　a　sportsman's　pose；　thirty　feet　away　at　the　edge　of　the　woods。　On　the　drive　from　town；　Paul　had　reloaded　the　bat　Magnum；　now　he　held　it　with　both　hands　and　squeezed　off　five　quick　shots。
　All　of　them　missed　the　mark。
　However；　the　sharp　barking　of　the　revolver　and　the　deadly　whine　of　all　those　bullets　skipping　across　the　pavement　apparently　unnerved　the　man　with　the　rifle。　Instead　of　trying　to　finish　what　he　had　begun；　he　stood　and　ran。
　Paul　scrambled　to　his　feet；　took　a　few　steps　after　him　and　fired　once　more。
　Untouched；　the　rifleman　headed　away　in　a　big　loop　that　would　take　him　back　to　the　mill　plex。
　〃Sam？〃
　〃Here。〃
　He　could　barely　see　Sam…dark　clothes　against　the　macadam
　…and　was　thankful　for　the　older　man's　telltale　white　hair　and　beard。　〃You　were　hit。〃
　〃In　the　leg。〃
　Paul　started　toward　him。　〃How　bad？〃
　〃Flesh　wound；〃　Sam　said。　〃That　was　Dawson。　Get　after　him；　for　God's　sake。〃
　〃But　if　you're　hurt…〃
　〃I'll　be　fine。　Malcolm　can　make　a　tourniquet。　Now　get　after　him；　dammit！〃
　Paul　ran。　At　the　end　of　the　parking　area　he　passed　the　rifle：　it　was　on　the　ground；　Dawson　had　either　dropped　it　by　accident　and　had　been　too　frightened　to　stop　and　retrieve　it…or　he　bad　discarded　it　in　panic。　Still　running；　Paul　fished　in　his　pocket　with　one　hand　for　the　extra　bullets　he　was　carrying。
　12：15　A。M。
　　
　　
　The　wooden　tower　stairs　creaked　under　Klinger's　weight。　He　paused　and　counted　slowly　to　thirty　before　going　up　three　more　steps　and　pausing　again。　If　he　climbed　too　fast；　the　woman　and　the　girl　would　know　that　he　was　ing。　And　if　they　were　ready　and　waiting　for　him…well；　he　would　be　mitting　suicide　when　he　walked　onto　the　belfry　platform。　He　hoped　that；　by　waiting　for　thirty　seconds　or　as　much　as　a　minute　between　brief　advances；　he　could　make　them　think　that　the　creaking　stairs　were　only　settling　noises　or　a　product　of　the　wind。
　He　went　up　three　more　steps。
　　
　12：16　A。M。
　Ahead；　Dawson　disappeared　around　a　corner　of　the　mill。
　When　he　reached　the　same　corner　a　moment　later；　Paul　stopped　and　studied　the　north　work　yard：　huge　stacks　of　logs　that　had　been　piled　up　to　feed　the　mill　during　the　long　winter；　several　pieces　of　heavy　equipment；　a　couple　of　lumber　trucks：　a　conveyor　belt　running　on　an　inclined　ramp　from　the　mill　to　the　maw　of　a　big　furnace　where　sawdust　and　scrap　wood　were　incinerated　。　。　。　There　were　simply　too　many　places　out　there　in　which　Dawson　could　hide　and　wait　for　him。
　He　turned　away　from　the　north　yard　and　went　to　the　door　in　the　west　wall　of　the　building；　back　the　way　he　had　e；　thirty　feet　from　the　corner。　It　wasn't　locked。
　He　stepped　into　a　short；　well…lighted　corridor。　The　enormous　processing　room　lay　at　the　end　of　it：　the　bull　chain　leading　from　the　mill　pond；　up　feeding　shoots；　into　the　building；　then　a　crosscut　saw；　a　log　deck；　the　carriage　that　moved　logs　into　the　waiting　blades　that　would　make　lumber　of　them；　the　giant　band　saw；　edging　machine；　trimmer　saws；　dip　tank；　grading　ramp；　the　green　chain；　and　then　the　storage　racks　。　。　。　He　remembered　all　of　those　terms　from　a　tour　that　the　manager　had　given　Rya
　and　Mark　two　summers　ago。　In　the　processing　room　the　fluorescent　strip　lights　were　burning；　but　none　of　the　machines　was　working；　there　were　no　men　tending　them。　To　his　right　was　a　washroom；　to　his　left　a　set　of　stairs。
　Taking　the　steps　two　at　a　time　for　four　flights…the　first　level　was　two　floors　high　in　order　to　acmodate　the　machines　in　it…he　came　out　in　the　second…floor　hallway。　He　stopped　to　think；　then　went　to　the　fifth　office　on　the　left。
　The　door　was　locked。
　He　kicked　it　twice。
　The　lock　held。
　There　was　a　glass　case　bolted　to　the　corridor　wall。　It　contained　a　fire　extinguisher　and　an　ax。
　He　jammed　the　revolver　in　his　belt；　opened　the　front　of　the　case；　and　took　out　the　ax。　He　used　the　flat　head　of　it　to　batter　the　knob　from　the　office　door。　When　the　knob　fell　off；　the　cheap　latch　snapped。　He　dropped　the　ax；　pushed　open　the　ruined　door；　and　went　inside。
　The　office　was　dark。　He　didn't　switch　on　any　lights　because　he　didn't　want　to　reveal　his　position。　He　closed　the　door　to　the　hall　so　that　he　would　not　be　silhouetted　by　the　pale　light　that　spilled　in。
　The　windows　in　the　north　wall　of　the　office　opened　above　the　first…floor　terrace。　He　slid　one　of　them　up；　slipped　through　it；　and　stepped　onto　the　tar…papered　terrace　roof。
　The　wind　buffeted　him。
　He　took　the　bat　Magnum　from　his　belt。
　If　Dawson　was　hiding　anywhere　in　the　north　yard；　this　was　the　best　vantage　point　from　which　to　spot　him。
　The　darkness　offered　Dawson　good　protection；　for　none　of　the　lights　was　on　in　the　yard。
　He　could　have　turned　them　on；　of　course。　But　he　didn't　know　where　to　find　the　switches；　and　he　didn't　want　to　waste　a　lot　of　time　looking　for　them。
　The　only　thing　that　moved　out　there　was　the　clattering　conveyor　belt　that　rolled　continuously　up　the　inclined　ramp　to　the　Scrap　furnace。　It　should　have　been　shut　down　with　the　rest　of
　the　equipment；　but　it　had　been　overlooked。　The　belt　came　out　of　the　building　directly　beneath　him　and　sloped　to　a　high　point　twenty　feet　above　the　ground。　It　met　the　furnace　door　forty　yards　away。　Because　the　cone…shaped　furnace…thirty　feet　in　diameter　at　the　base；　ten　feet　in　diameter　at　the　top；　forty　feet　high…was　primed　by　a　gas　flame；　the　fire　in　it　was　never　out　unless　the　mill　foreman　ordered　it　extinguished。　Even　now；　when　the　belt　had　no　fuel　for　it；　the　furnace　roared。　Judging　by　the　intensity　of　the　flames　leaping　beyond　the　open　door；　however；　several　hundred　pounds　of　the　day's　input…conveyed　out　of　the　mill　before　Dawson　had　halted　operations…　had　yet　to　be　fully　consumed。
　Otherwise；　the　yard　was　quiet；　still。　The　mill　pond…with　the　giant　grappling　hook　suspended　from　thick　wires　over　the　center　of　it…lay　to　the　right　of　the　ramp　and　the　furnace。　It　was　dotted　with　logs　that　looked　a　bit　like　dozing　alligat