by JJ Lamb
“Yeah. I’ve pretty much had it.”
“Are you here on business?”
“No, it’s a personal matter. I’ll going to Carson City.”
A look of disappointment crossed his face. “Well, let’s get you out and moving. What kind of car do you have in mind, Ms. Goldmich?”
“Cheap.”
Man, are those the whitest teeth in the universe, or what?
“I think I have just the car for you. How about a Ford Fiesta? Easy on the pocketbook but a decent ride.” He laughed and she felt as though rainbows had fallen all over her. “I bet you’d love the bright red color.”
They did all the paperwork. He gave her the keys and directions for picking up the car, and as she turned to go, he pulled out a business card. “If you end up spending any time in Reno, I’d love to hear from you.”
“Thanks,” she said, finally looking away from his face and taking in his name tag for the first time. “Carlos … don’t be surprised if I call.”
“I’m counting on it.”
* * *
Driving from Reno to Carson City was spectacular with the fall array of colors on the trees scattered throughout Washoe Valley. It made her realize how fantastic the West was, with its combination of empty spaces and hovering mountains. Then guilt hit her. Here she was enjoying herself when she should have been back at her drafting table in New York.
Carlos had suggested a reasonable motel at the edge of town and he’d called ahead for her. She drove into the Happy Sleeper parking lot and registered for three days. They let her into her room even though she was an early check-in. She rolled in her small suitcase, set it in the corner, and after tossing off her shoes, dove onto the bed.
She was awakened by the hot sunlight coming in through the window and shining on her face. She sat up with a start and looked at the clock-radio on the bed stand.
“Oh, my God! It’s three o’clock already.”
She jumped up and headed for the bathroom.
Half an hour later, she was in her car and on the way. The map showed Virginia City clearly, and she knew Comstock Medical was only a short distance before that.
But she drove past the turnoff and had to make a 180 when she reached the sign welcoming her to VC. Within a short time she found the actual road and wondered why the sign was so tiny and obscure for a supposedly major medical facility.
Moving down the entry road, she passed a continuous line of large boulders that seemed to absorb all the light and brightness from the sky. An uneasy feeling began to weigh down on her shoulders.
She parked in one of the three designated Visitor spaces in front of the building.
Looks like they didn’t plan on too many people dropping by.
The building was far smaller than she’d expected. She had assumed it would be like a large hospital or institutional-type of building instead of this three-story structure.
She locked up the car and stared up at the second floor windows.
Bars?
As she stepped inside, she was sure she heard a buzz nearby. There was no reception desk.
She stood there trying to figure out what to do next when a man came out of an office down the hall and walked up to her.
“Is there something I can do for you, Miss? I’m Ethan Dayton, the Comstock administrator.” His smile never touched his eyes and her first instinct was to turn around and leave as fast as she could.
“I’m Tuva Goldmich,” she said just as formally. “I’ve come to see my mother, Emma Goldmich.”
Ethan’s face turned lead white. “Oh, yes!” He held out a hand.
“Why don’t we go into my office?” He pointed down the hallway. “This is rather strange; I was just working on your mother’s discharge papers. How fortuitous that you came here just now. Probably saved us a lot of back and forth telephone calls.”
When she was seated in his office, he said, “Allow me a few minutes and I’ll take you up to see her. I know she’ll be happy to have you here.”
After the administrator stepped out, Tuva exhaled all of her anxieties. She hadn’t eaten much in the last 24 hours; it was probably what was making her jumpy.
It’s going to be all right.
She smiled as she started planning her mom’s temporary living arrangements—her mother would take the bedroom, Tuva would sleep on the couch. It would only be that way until she could work out a more permanent solution.
Tuva was happy and relaxed for the first time after three weeks of uncertainty and worry.
Life’s pretty funny … if I’d waited just a few more days, Mr. Dayton would have called me.
Oh, well. I’m glad I’m here.
She closed her eyes, but she was really high, couldn’t wait for everything to come together, to finally see her mom after three long weeks.
As she opened her eyes, a fist slammed into her face and a large hand smashed against her face, covering her nose and mouth. She fought to push it away, but it was useless; the person was too strong. She couldn’t catch her breath… there was no air. Spots of red exploded in her head.
Help!
Her arm was yanked out, a stabbing pain jolted her.
Help! Can’t breathe!
A jack hammer was drilling into her head; her heart was exploding.
Spinning … spinning … spinning … turning black … blacker.
Helpmehelpmehelpme!
Chapter 37
Carl Krueger and his wife Annie zoomed along the two-lane Geiger Grade in a Porsche Boxster. This is what he missed living in New York City—owning a car that hugged the curves like two lovers in a swelling climax.
Man, this is living.
The rental cost for the low-slung roadster was exorbitant, but Carl didn’t care … the glorious drive up the twisting mountain grade made it worth every penny. Too bad he couldn’t put the Porsche on his expense account. It would have been nice, but when you got right down to it, it didn’t matter much—a great ride was a great ride.
The view as they circled the mountain?
Nothing to knock yourself out over. Just a bleak panorama of dried-up shrubs and scattered rocks of every conceivable size and shape.
Annie had barely spoken during the plane ride from New York to Reno. She’d just begun to indulge in monosyllabic conversation, but a big frown rode her forehead every time she looked at him.
“Sorry to drag you away,” Carl said, “but there’s something we have to talk about—”
“We can’t talk in New York?”
“I don’t think so. Actually, there’re a couple of issues—”
“Uh hum.”
“Anyway, I think you’re going to like the Ore House in Virginia City. It’s supposed to be a great little hotel from what I’ve read, and the meals are about as gourmet as they come in this part of the world.”
He could see she wasn’t buying into any of his limp preliminaries. When they came to a flat open area, he pulled off to the side of the road and turned to her. “Okay, Annie, let’s talk.”
She turned to face him. “About time, don’t you think? Why I ever married a law officer is beyond me … silent … uptight. I've been sitting here wondering how long it would take you to just spill it out. Heck, I guess I’m lucky you didn’t take me to Alaska.”
Is she yanking my chain, or what?
He felt indignant, but was trying to avoid a fight so he let her comment ride.
“Annie?”
“Oh, for God’s sake will you please say what you need to say? You’ve been impossible the past two weeks.” She reached for his hand. “What is it, Carl?”
He let it all fall out like a big cow plop. “I’ve transferred out of OCI to go back to my old FBI unit in LA.” He was wincing so hard he could feel his face scrunching as he waited for the hammer to fall. “I mean, I feel really bad. I know you love New York—”
She held her hand up to stop him. Her fair skin was blanched, if that was possible, or was it the sun shining on her face?
“You thi
nk I don’t know you, Carlie?”
“Well … yeah, I guess you do after all these years.”
“I knew New York and I were living on borrowed time. An LA brat like you can’t live without his car and the beach.”
“But what about you, Annie?"
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I like New York a lot better than you do. But I’ve done all the museums; Central Parked myself silly; and shopped all the stores. There was no sense my really getting involved in a job since I knew sooner or later we were going to end up back in California. I was beginning to get tired waiting for the hammer to fall, so I started looking around for a job and got that appointment for an interview at Bloomingdales.”
“But, baby, I thought you really loved being there.”
“Well, yeah. I like New York; the people are a kick; and its energy is a real turn-on.” She threw her arms around his neck. “But I’m as much an LA kook as you are. And besides, I want you to be happy. I can work anywhere.”
* * *
They unpacked the few pieces of clothing they’d brought and Annie sprawled out on the bed.
“There’s more to it, isn’t there, Carl?”
He’d poured them each a glass of the complimentary Zinfandel and took a sip. “Man this is pretty damn good.”
She gave him that look that always made his heart almost stop.
I swear, the woman’s a witch.
He told her about Tuva Goldmich.
“Don’t try to kid a kidder, Carl. That would never be enough to get you on a plane to come to Nevada. Especially since you don’t gamble.”
“You’re right, Annie. I mean, I feel for the woman but that whole business with clinical trials is pretty well regulated. There’s probably a good reason she hasn’t heard from her mom.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“I spoke to one of the partners at Zelint Pharmaceuticals, the company behind the trials. And, I swear, there’s something off with that operation.”
“Something off? Merely from a telephone call?” Annie smiled at him.
“Yeah, I know, that’s pretty lame.”
“Did you call the regional office of OCI before dragging us half way across the country?”
“I did, but they’re so backed up with cases they’ll never get to it. Besides, I promised Tuva Goldmich I would follow up. I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but I don’t want to let that woman down.”
“Aren’t you the one who told me to never make promises you can’t keep?”
“I think that’s why I dragged us out here.”
But she wasn’t listening anymore. She laid back, brought her arms overhead, and gave him that look again. This time it sucked his mouth dry. He slid onto the bed next to her, barely able to breathe. When she lifted his shirt, goose bumps trailed behind her nails as they rode up and down his back; his hand wandered across her smooth skin, found its way to her inner thigh.
“Have I told you lately that you’re the love of my life?”
“Never often enough, Carlie.”
* * *
Carl and Annie had walked themselves out traveling up and down the boardwalk in Virginia City when Carl came to a stop in front of a small gun shop. It was tucked in between two much larger buildings; he’d almost missed it.
“Let’s go inside and poke around,” he said, pulling her in with him.
“You men and your guns. You have your service revolver and that teeny thing you wear on your ankle at home. Why are we looking at more guns?”
“Because I’ve always wanted to own one of those western six-shooters.”
The shop was even smaller than it appeared on the outside. The man behind the counter wore a large western hat and his jacket and shirt had cowboy cuts; a bolo tie held a large, mottled turquoise stone in the center.
The man’s fingers were large and meaty; all but the thumbs were encircled with silver rings set with turquoise stones, rings like the ones in the showcase where his hands rested. Along side the display of rings was an impressive array of beautiful beaded and turquoise Indian bracelets and necklaces.
Carl could see Annie admiring all the exclusive Indian artifacts, while he was eying the hefty prices attached to them.
His gaze traveled up the walls that were covered with antique Colts of every description and condition, mostly excellent.
“Help you?” the man said in a quiet voice. Carl could sense he was probably the kind of man who never bluffed at poker, and rarely lied.
“Interesting store you have here.”
“I like it.”
“Where do you get all these old-timers?” Carl said, pointing at the guns.
“Oh, I travel from show to show throughout the Southwest. Pick up one piece here and another there.” He gave Carl a half-smile. “People inherit them … got no use for them … sell their collections to me. I love them old guns.”
“What’s the price range?” Annie asked.
He could see the man didn’t much like a woman butting in. Carl wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek to let the owner know where things stood.
“Well now, I could sell you a Colt SAA. 44 S&W, pre-war, single-action Army revolver for about $75,000 bucks.” His quote was accompanied by something that could be called a dry laugh. “But I’ll have to go into the vault for that one.”
“Ah, save yourself the trip,” Carl said. “That’s way out of my league.”
“Is this your first antique Western?”
“Yep! Always wanted one.”
“Well, why don’t we start you with a 1917 Colt double action 38?”
“What are you asking?” Carl asked, holding his breath.
“Let’s see: polished stainless, no pitting, bore is clean, action is tight, and it’s firm overall. A nice piece.” As he spoke, he reached under the counter and brought out a clean-looking pistol with pearl grips “I’ll let you have it for six hundred and fifty.”
Carl picked up the pistol, cocked the trigger, and spun the empty barrel. “Action feels good, like you said.” He could afford the money and he really wanted it.
“Why don’t I throw in a box of ammo?”
Carl carefully uncocked the hammer, set the pistol down on the counter. “You got yourself a deal. And while you’re at it,” he pointed to a turquoise and red-beaded bracelet that Annie had been eyeing, “let’s have a look at that, too.”
Annie’s smile was like a beautiful sunrise.
As they were leaving the shop, Carl turned around and said to the owner, “Say, have you heard of the Comstock Medical facility? It’s supposed to be around here someplace.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
Carl waited, gave him the time he needed to come up with more of an answer. It took him a few moments.
“If I were you … I wouldn’t send anyone I knew up there.” And there was that dry laugh again.
“Oh? Anything else?”
“Thanks for the business. Come back when you’re ready to add another piece to your collection.”
Chapter 38
Gina blinked, rubbed hard at her eyes, blinked again. She saw only the emptiness of being totally blind in the dark.
Confused, she jolted to a sitting position and groped out in front of her.
What happened? I must have passed out.
A stale smell of mold settled around her as the memory of where she was hit home.
“Oh, my God!” She remembered she was in this creepy inkiness below the ground. Buried in a mine, deep in the earth.
How do I get out of here?
She started to shiver, rocked back and forth. Her sobs echoed throughout the heavy silence.
Don’t think about it, Mazzio. Move! Just keep moving!
Move where? I can’t see a thing.
She was panting, her breaths a loud rasp that came faster and faster until she grew faint. She was so light headed she knew her erratic breathing had to normalize or she would pass out again.
Stop it! Get a grip!
She forced herself to breathe slowly, deeply. She pushed herself up onto her knees, and ran her fingers across the dirt. Her purse had to be somewhere nearby, didn’t it?
A frantic 360 sweep brought nothing but silt that rose up and made her choke—it hung in the air all around her, clogging her nose and throat. And there was nothing else on the ground but a scattering of rocks that bruised her searching fingers.
Standing on shaking legs, she reached out to steady herself, touched the mine wall. and felt something crawl across her wrist.
“Oh God!” She was surprised to hear her voice resound around her. She shook away whatever the creature was and stepped back. At least it hadn’t bitten her.
She muttered, “Forget that! Concentrate on getting out of here.”
With baby steps, she shuffled toward the other side—her toe side-swiped something. She crouched and swept a hand across the floor again. Her purse! She clutched it to her chest for a moment before frantically rummaging inside.
Where is it? Where is that damn little flashlight, that stupid gift they gave us on Nurses Appreciation Day?
She’d kept meaning to throw the thing away but like most things that went into her purse, it never came out.
Her hand closed over her cell phone.
“Thank God!”
She flipped it open and it gave up just enough light to tell her that the battery was dying. As if she didn’t already know, it advised her that there was No Service. Then it gave up the ghost altogether. The light went out. Blackness quickly surrounded her again.
Why do I keep forgetting to turn that thing off?
She rummaged through her purse again, fingers digging into every corner, finding emery boards, keys, lipsticks, a small rock, paper clips and every other useless item you could think of. Then, there it was, the tiny flashlight. She yanked it out and pressed hard on the end of it.
Nothing.
Her heart almost stopped.
What was she going to do without light? Blind, she could only wander aimlessly until she died, if not from fright, from dehydration.
She closed her eyes and envisioned the metallic red gizmo in her hand. Then she remembered—you have to twist it in the middle for it to function. The moment she did that, a small powerful beam of halogen light slashed through the darkness.
