p&c.thunderhead-第86章

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water　echoed　and　re…echoed　off　the　canyon　walls；　magnified　and　distorted。　The　edge　of　another　storm　cloud　was　moving　into　the　sky；　staining　the　turquoise　an　ugly　shade　of　gray。　
　He　casually　slipped　the　notebook　into　his　pocket。　Then；　just　as　casually；　he　slipped　the　trigger　thong　out　of　its　catch。　
　He　waited。　Nothing。　
　He　rose　to　his　feet；　using　an　extended　stretch　as　an　excuse　to　take　another　look　around。　Again；　nothing。　Yet　his　instincts　were　rarely　wrong。　Perhaps　it　was　his　imagination。　To　say　he'd　had　a　tough　afternoon　would　be　putting　it　mildly。　
　Still；　he　felt　a　presence。　More　than　that：　he　felt　stalked。　
　Swire　wondered　what　could　be　after　him。　There　had　been　no　wolves　or　mountain　lions　in　the　valley　before；　and　none　sure　as　hell　had　e　in　today。　Perhaps　it　was　human。　But　who？　Nora　and　the　others　who　had　entered　the　slot　canyon　were　dead。　And　the　rest　of　them　were　busy　with　the　kiva。　Besides；　none　of　them　would　want　to…
　With　a　flash；　he　realized　who　it　must　be。　He　was　confused；　in　shock　from　the　day's　events；　or　he　would　have　realized　it　before。　They　were　the　ones　who　had　killed　his　horses。　The　bastards　who　had　gutted　his　animals。　
　And　now　they　were　ing　for　him。　
　A　surge　of　anger　pushed　away　his　rising　apprehension。　He　couldn't　roll　back　time；　he　couldn't　save　his　horses；　or　prevent　Nora　from　entering　the　canyon。　But　he　could　sure　as　hell　do　something　about　this。　
　The　rock　was　not　a　good　place　to　be。　Lightly；　he　hopped　off　and　strolled　out　into　the　open；　glancing　around；　looking　for　a　place　from　which　to　defend　himself。　On　the　surface　the　valley　looked　unchanged；　but　here；　in　the　open；　he　could　feel　the　presence　more　strongly。　
　His　eyes　moved　toward　a　small　grove　of　gambel　oaks　near　the　far　end　of　the　valley。　Twelve　hours　before；　the　trees　had　been　fifty　feet　from　the　water。　Now；　they　were　at　its　edge。　
　He　nodded　slowly　to　himself。　From　there；　the　water　would　be　advantageously　at　his　back。　And　the　oaks　would　hide　him　from　view。　They　wouldn't　know　where　he　was　among　the　trees。　But　he　would　have　a　view　out　across　the　benchland。　It　would　give　him　time　for　several　clear　shots。　
　He　began　strolling　down　toward　the　river；　his　shoulder　blades　crawling　with　the　sense　of　hidden　eyes。　When　he　was　halfway　to　the　grove；　he　stopped；　spat　out　his　tobacco；　and　hiked　up　his　pants；　in　the　process　loosening　the　gun　in　its　holster。　It　was　only　a　。22　magnum　long　barrel；　but　it　had　the　advantage　of　high　accuracy　in　repeated　shots。　A　good　gun　for　the　kind　of　work　he　had　in　mind。　
　He　paused　in　the　gathering　gloom。　This　would　be　his　last　chance　for　a　good　look　at　the　valley　before　entering　the　trees；　and　he　wanted　to　sense　which　direction　his　stalkers　might　e　from。　By　daylight；　there　were　few　hiding　places　in　the　valley。　But　as　night　neared；　the　number　grew：　stands　of　cottonwoods　and　chamisa；　areas　in　dark　shadow。　And　yet；　he　saw　no　unusual　movement；　nothing　out　of　place。　
　Once　again；　he　questioned　his　instincts。　They　were　still　screaming：　Run；　hide！　A　few　raindrops　began　to　fall；　splattering　heavily　in　the　sand。　His　heart　beat　faster　as　his　apprehension　grew。　He　was　not　a　man　to　walk　away　from　a　fight。　But　it　was　hard；　not　knowing　who　you　were　fighting；　or　from　where　they　would　e；　or　if　in　the　end　they　were　just　your　imagination；　after　all。　He　tried　to　remind　himself　that　these　were　the　bastards　that　had　killed　his　horses。　But　as　his　thoughts　returned　to　the　horses；　he　saw　them　again　in　his　mind's　eye：　ritually　sliced；　feathers　protruding　from　the　glazed　dead　eyes；　the　grayish…blue　guts　wound　in　spirals。　What　kind　of　monsters　could　do　that　。　。　。　
　He　started　forward　again；　quickening　his　pace　toward　the　copse。　Once　he　almost　turned　around；　heart　beating　fast；　but　he　checked　himself　in　time：　he　must　not　show　that　he　knew　they　were　there。　
　A　few　more　steps　brought　him　into　the　stand　of　the　oaks。　Moving　quickly　to　the　far　side；　he　crouched；　then　swivelled　around；　putting　his　back　to　the　water。　It　was　dark　beneath　the　hanging　limbs；　and　water　dripped　onto　his　head　and　back。　The　sound　of　the　flood　seemed　magnified　in　the　close　space：　it　bore　down　on　him　confusingly；　ing　in　from　all　sides。　He　shook　his　head　to　clear　it；　taking　a　step　backward　as　he　did　so。　He　was　at　the　very　edge　of　the　flood　now；　and　the　water　gurgled　through　the　tree　trunks；　curling　and　tugging　around　his　boots。　He　moved　back　yet　again；　slowly；　his　boots　making　a　light　plashing　noise。　
　With　a　dull；　hollow　thud　of　fear；　he　realized　it　had　been　a　mistake　to　retreat　to　this　grove。　Darkness　was　descending　so　swiftly　on　the　canyon　that　he　could　make　out　little　beyond　the　dense　thicket　of　trees。　He　waited；　shivering　slightly；　feeling　the　coldness　of　the　water　creep　into　his　boots。　His　eyes　widened　as　he　tried　to　separate　the　shapes　of　the　trees　from　each　other；　to　distinguish　them　in　the　damp；　dark　gloom。　
　Now　he　slipped　his　gun　out　of　the　holster；　waiting。　He　took　another　step　back　into　the　swirling　water。　It　surged　a　little　higher；　and　a　distant；　detached　part　of　him　noted　that　the　flood　was　ing　up　again。　His　anger　was　no　longer　a　fort；　now　all　he　felt　was　cold；　naked　fear。　It　was　too　dark　to　see　anything。　If　only　he　could　hear；　he　might　be　able　to　act：　but　the　sound　of　the　water　was　like　a　heavy　cloak；　depriving　him　of　his　most　valuable　sense。　All　he　had　left；　in　fact；　was　smell。　And　even　that　wasn't　working　properly：　by　some　trick　of　his　overcharged　brain；　he　felt　surrounded　by　the　beautiful；　delicate　scent　of　morning　glories。　
　Just　then；　to　his　left；　he　saw　a　terrible　movement　of　shadow：　a　violent　wrenching　of　black　upon　black。　Too　late；　he　realized　the　things　had　been　in　the　grove　all　the　time；　watching　and　waiting；　while　he　came　to　them。　He　raised　the　gun　with　a　cry；　but　the　shot　went　wild　and　the　weapon　tumbled　into　the　flood。　As　the　muzzle　flare　died　away；　Swire　saw…or　thought　he　saw…the　blade　of　a　knife；　impossibly　black　and　cold；　slicing　down　through　the　night。　
　
　
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　IN　THE　DEPTHS　OF　THE　HIDDEN　CAVERN；　BLACK　carefully　edged　a　penknife　beneath　the　uppermost　clay　seal；　his　arms　shaking　with　exhaustion　and　excitement。　He　turned　one　hand；　trying　to　apply　an　even　pressure　to　the　seal；　but　his　aching　fingers　twitched　and　the　seal　popped　free；　along　with　a　piece　of　the　plastered　door。　
　〃Easy；〃　Sloane　said　from　her　position　behind　the　large　camera；　some　distance　away。　
　Black　craned　his　neck　toward　the　small　hole；　but　it　was　too　small　and　uneven　to　make　out　anything　within。　From　the　valley　outside　the　city；　there　was　a　faint；　muffled　crump　of　distant　thunder。　
　Black　coughed　into　his　hand；　then　again；　more　violently；　finding　flecks　of　mud　in　the　phlegm。　He　shook　it　away　in　disgust　and　returned　to　the　stone　facade。　Bonarotti；　who　had　now　dug　away　the　piles　of　sloping　dust　around　the　kiva　door；　joined　him　in　the　work。　
　In　another　half　hour；　a　second　seal　came　into　view。　Enough　courses　of　stone　had　now　been　removed　to　expose　over　three　feet　of　plastered　door。　Sloane　came　forward　to　take　a　series　of　photographs。　Then　she　stepped　back　out　of　the　pall　of　hanging　dust；　scribbling　in　her　notebook。　Black　slid　his　knife　beneath　the　second　seal；　pried　it　carefully　away　from　the　underlying　plaster；　and　set　it　aside。　All　that　now　stood　between　him　and　the　crowning　validation　of　his　theory　was　a　thin；　featureless　wall　of　plaster　and　mortar。　He　reached　down　for　a　pick；　hefted　it　in　his　bruised　hands；　then　swung　it　toward　the　wall。　
　A　piece　of　plaster　fell　away。　Black　swung　the　pick　again；　then　again；　enlarging　the　hole　considerably：　a　dark；　ragged　rectangle　in　the　glare　of　the　lights。　Excitedly；　he　dropped　the　pick。　
　Instantly；　Sloane　returned　to　his　side。　Taking　a　flashlight　from　her　pocket；　she　thrust　it　deep　into　the　hole；　pressing　her　face　against　the　plaster。　Black　saw　her　body　tense。　She　remained　still　for　a　minute；　perhaps　more。　Then　she　withdrew；　silently；　her　face　alive　with　excitement。　Black　grabbed　the　light　from　her　unresisting　hand　and　crowded　forward。　
　The　feeble　yellow　gleam　of　the　small　flashlight　could　barely　penetrate　the　murk　within。　But　as　he　played　it　about；　Black　felt　his　own　heart　swell。　Everywhere　the　glint　of　gold。　。　。　。　The　yellow　glimmer　filled　the　kiva；　winking　and　flashing　everywhere；　on　the