Aces High (14 page)

Adrian was hoping to find explosives, either left there when the shaft was abandoned or brought more recently because the mine was due to be worked again. Even if armed—and Skye had to assume he was—the international terrorist and assassin felt naked without explosives. It was his single weakness, tactically speaking, and Skye had exploited that once before.

He would again.

Less than ten minutes later Derek came out of the farmhouse holding a large map. “This was on the kitchen table,” he explained to the others. “Someone was looking at it.”

Dane was frowning slightly, and then he turned suddenly and stared off to the west. “The mine. Daniel said there was a mine nearby.”

“About a mile away,” Kelsey said, studying the map. “But why in God's name would Adrian go for it? If he heads cross-country, he'll hit a town sooner or later, even if he doesn't know the area. He could get some wheels and pretty much disappear. If he heads for the mine, he's got a lot of hellish terrain and no chance at all of making any time.”

“Explosives,” Dane said flatly.

“But he must be armed,” Katrina objected in a voice she tried hard to hold steady. “And if he heard the helicopter, wouldn't he just run?”

Derek looked at her, his hard eyes softening as they took in her pale, taut features. “I doubt either of them heard the bird,” he told her quietly. “We came in from the east, and between the dense forest and all these hills, the sound was probably muffled.”

“And Adrian has a weakness when it comes to explosives,” Dane said. “He's never long without them. If he knows about the mine, he might have decided to take the chance.”

She gazed at him blindly, then took a firmer grip on the automatic in her hand and said evenly, “Then we'd better try the mine. Anybody bring a flashlight?”

Kelsey was already striding toward the silent helicopter they had set down near the house. He caught up with them when they were about twenty yards from the house, carrying a big five-cell flashlight. He said, “If we have to go into that mine, we'll have to be careful with the light; anybody holding one is a target.”

No one offered a comment.

Dane found the tracks left by his brother and Adrian about thirty yards farther along, and with their guess confirmed they were able to move faster. None of them was dressed for hiking, but although the area was thickly forested, the underbrush was sparse and the footing was fair. As Kelsey had observed, the terrain was hellish, but they all managed to move very swiftly.

It took almost half an hour for them to reach the dark, timber-shored opening in the side of a deceptively small hill. Katrina would have instantly gone forward and into the earthly maw without a thought, but Dane caught her hand firmly and looked at the other two men.

“What do you think?” he asked softly.

They had approached the mine obliquely, and now stood a few yards away behind the cover of a riotous clump of bushes.

Eyeing a trickle of water that escaped a narrow ventilation shaft low on the side of the hill and had worn a deep trench, Kelsey said with a sigh, “All I think is that if we go in there, we're going to get our feet wet.”

“They went in,” Derek observed. “You can see prints near the entrance. Any idea how deep the shaft is?” he asked Dane.

“No, but it was worked for years. My guess is that there are dozens of separate tunnels, at least half of them flooded.”

After a moment Derek said, “I noticed something back in the house. There was a big hurricane lantern on the mantel in the living room, filled with kerosene. Most of these remote houses keep that kind of thing around in case the power goes.”

“Makes sense,” Dane said, and then, his eyes sharpening, added, “There should have been two of them?”

Derek nodded. “I checked, because the mantel looked unbalanced. The place was a bit dusty, but there was a clear circle at the other end of the mantel, and it matched the base of the lamp.”

Kelsey was staring toward the mine. “So whichever of them has the lamp has the edge…or just may present a nice, clear target.”

“We have to go in,” Katrina said impatiently.

“Easy,” Dane said to soothe her. “We will. But we have to be careful how we do it. Skye might still be looking for Adrian somewhere in one of those tunnels.”

“He might be hurt.” She choked.

“He isn't.” Dane's voice was calm and certain. “Not yet, anyway.”

Kelsey eyed him. “It's like that with you two?”

“Yes. A blessing at the moment, but remind me to tell you about the time Skye dropped everything and flew two thousand miles to get home because I'd broken a finger.” Before anyone could comment, he said, “We'll have to stay together and take care with the light. Once we're in there, we may hear something. We don't even know if Adrian's aware he's been followed, so we can't make any noise to alert him.”

They moved forward cautiously, slipping around the splintering timbers bracing the opening and remaining close to the wall. They went a good twenty feet into the tunnel before Kelsey turned on the flashlight and narrowed the beam with his fingers, directing it downward so that it provided only enough faint light to prevent them from tripping over fallen timbers and rubble.

And the dark, musty earth swallowed them.

Katrina was only vaguely aware that Dane still held her hand firmly, and she didn't think much about the darkness or close walls. She didn't feel smothered or panicked. She wouldn't realize until much later that the most powerful and paralyzing fear of her life was gone, driven out forever by a greater fear.

All her senses were reaching, probing the darkness in an intense, desperate need. She could hear only the hollow, incessant dripping of water; she was aware of the clammy, chilly sensation of damp; and the dark, musky smell of the buried earth filled her nose. Like the others except for Derek, who was apparently unarmed, she held her gun ready.

They found the first branching in the shaft about fifty feet inside, but their silent exploration ended quickly when the tunnel led into a pool of black water. They retraced their steps and went on. The second offshoot curved gently for thirty feet and ended back in the main shaft. A third and fourth tunnel were each blocked, one by a cave-in and the other by water.

The footing beneath them was increasingly damp, but it was obvious that the water that had once flooded the main shaft had washed away the rubble that littered the floor closer to the entrance. They had less worry of falling over something, but it became more and more difficult to walk without slipping, and the walls sweated.

An occasional creaking groan shattered the quiet from time to time as the earth settled on the shoulders of ancient timbers. The hollow
plunk
of dripping water was louder now, and they gradually became conscious of a rushing sound, almost beneath the level of awareness at first. It was like the sound heard when one holds a big seashell to the ear: the ghostly echoes of a phantom ocean trapped for eons.

Dane, who was leading the way, stopped suddenly and stiffened. Instinctively Katrina tried to penetrate the darkness and see his face, because she had heard nothing that might have alerted him and she was terrified that he had felt something. His hand tightened around hers briefly, and then he was moving swiftly forward again, sacrificing caution for speed.

They hadn't gone a half-dozen steps before the sharp reports of gunfire bounced off the walls. Almost as quickly, the sounds stopped with chilling abruptness.

Katrina caught the sound of a curse from Kelsey, no louder than a breath, and then Dane was slowing, moving cautiously once again. The mine shaft curved to the left, and as they went another few feet they could see a dim glow ahead of them; it brightened slightly until Kelsey could turn off the flashlight he carried. Dane slowed even more, moving with absolute silence. Then he stopped.

The others all eased toward him, peering around him to see what had stopped him.

It was a cavern fully fifty feet across and possibly more; the light from a hurricane lantern perched precariously on a boulder reached only that far. This was without a doubt the source of the mine's failure. It was obvious that water had been in this place a long time, and it still moved sluggishly with whispering sounds, perhaps still fed by an underground river.

There were a number of boulders, possibly freed by the explosion that had ripped an opening into the cavern, and the water level had receded at least thirty feet from the doorway. Between the doorway and the water the floor glistened wetly, and it was clear to each of the four that it was very slippery.

The two men struggling twenty feet away could hardly keep to their feet.

Katrina wanted to race forward, to do something,
anything
except stand there with her heart in her throat and fear for Skye clawing her mind. But Dane's whisper, inaudible from a foot away, held her motionless.

“Are you a good enough shot?” he asked her. “I'm not.” He looked at Kelsey, who instantly shook his head even though the big automatic in his hand was leveled and ready; he wasn't willing to try it either, as long as he had a choice.

In the flickering light of the lamp they could see the violence of the struggle, both men twisting and striving to overpower the other. There was no clear target, no chance of getting Adrian without hitting Skye as well. And Katrina knew why they couldn't just rush in to help Skye. His face was taut with utter concentration, and if he were distracted by anything at all, it was likely that Adrian would be able to stab him with the long, wicked knife that was poised just inches from Skye's chest.

Neither man was making a sound, and their total silence was more horrifying than any curses they could have voiced. It was a grim, deadly struggle, a battle of sheer brute strength, and it was obvious that the two were evenly matched.

The knife had blood on it. Katrina saw the blood, and she choked back a cry of pain and fear when she saw more blood on Skye. He had taken off his jacket at some point, and she could see that somewhere beneath his concealing black T-shirt he was wounded, because there was blood on his left arm, too much blood.

And that, she realized numbly, was why the big men were evenly matched. Skye had lost a great deal of blood, somehow Adrian had wounded him, and his strength was draining away, his luck deserting him. Adrian, uninjured and as icily soulless as Skye was fierily alive, focused all his madman's strength in the implacable intention of destroying his enemy.

But Skye's luck hadn't entirely deserted him. Adrian, trying to brace his feet to get more leverage for his straining arms, was just unbalanced enough so that when his shoe came down on an especially slippery place he began falling. And Skye instantly fell, with him, landing on him hard.

With the knife between them.

That was when Dane released Katrina's hand and ran forward into the cavern. All of them ran because the two men had fallen behind a boulder, and they couldn't see what had happened….

Skye didn't feel any pain. He had at first, when the knife had gone into him, a hot agony that had taken his breath. But then the struggle with Adrian had demanded all his concentration, and he hadn't had time to feel the pain. Some distant, detached part of his mind had warned that he was losing blood fast, and the easy strength that had never been a conscious thing had gradually required his fierce will to hold steady. His muscles had quivered and the breath had rasped in his throat, and exhaustion had battered at him as relentlessly as his enemy did.

Furious at the ebbing of his strength, he had fought the black wave threatening to wash over him and forced his trembling muscles to offer their last ounce of power. And then he had felt himself falling, and he thought he had wrenched the knife aside at the last moment, but he wasn't sure because everything was so utterly dark and silent.

He was very tired, and not much interested in doing anything about the darkness. He would have let it carry him peacefully away, except that something tugged at him, resisting. And, gradually, he felt a surge of impatience at the darkness. It hid things from him, and he didn't like things hidden.

He felt the tug again, and obeyed it this time, ignoring the seductive darkness as he began fighting his way toward the light. He was aware of movement first, and the sensation of coldness, and he heard an annoying roar that was too loud because someone was saying something to him and he couldn't hear it.

But he was warmer now, and the darkness was less intense, and whatever had pulled him this far was holding on tight. There was something familiar about that, and he considered the matter idly. It was…a connection…to someone. A link. That was it. But it wasn't the link he remembered, it was a new connection, a different and stronger one, and he thought he wasn't accustomed to it yet. It was disturbing, but he had the notion that it was something he had wanted terribly.

He didn't feel alone anymore.

He was aware of a deep surge of satisfaction. He'd gotten it, finally. He wasn't entirely sure what it meant, except it made him happier than he could ever remember being. There was someone he was connected to, someone who couldn't hide from him anymore.

Skye was lucky, but he was also human. He had been injured before in the line of duty. Given his recklessness, if he had escaped injury in ten years it wouldn't have been remarkable, it would have been a miracle. But Dane hadn't been wrong in saying his brother believed he was made of iron. It wasn't a conscious thing, but like all men gifted with extraordinary luck, Skye was always surprised when it deserted him. And he was shocked, on some deep level of himself, to find himself vulnerable.

So when he fought his way to consciousness with only a vague memory of what had happened, his first and strongest emotion was sheer annoyance. “Damn,” he muttered hoarsely, forcing his eyes to open. Matching eyes were looking down at him, and an almost-matching face wearing a mustache looked grimly amused by the curse.

“Don't try to move,” Dane warned, then sighed as Skye of course did and bit back a groan. “In case you've forgotten, Adrian stuck a knife into you. You lost a hell of a lot of blood. Now, for God's sake,
be still.
”

Skye closed his eyes until the wave of sick dizziness passed. He felt appallingly weak, and the pain in the region of his left shoulder throbbed as if someone were still stabbing him, again and again. He thought he'd been almost conscious a few times before this, but he wasn't sure; his fuzzy mind held only the dim recollection of voices and touches and pain. In any case, he was fully awake now. And the pain was a constant thing. After a few moments he opened his eyes cautiously and ignored the pain. He was in bed, he realized. In Katrina's bed. “Where's Trina?” he asked his brother.

Dane nodded toward the closed door leading to the den. “Talking to the doctor. I told her you were too mean to die on her, and once the doctor confirmed the truth of what I said, I think she made up her mind to kill you herself.”

Skye frowned, trying to make sense of that. Katrina had been angry, he remembered, but that had happened long before he'd left the park, and he had been certain he'd managed to win her forgiveness. “She's mad at me?”

Leaning back in the armchair that had been placed by the bed, Dane surveyed his twin with rueful amusement. “I suppose it never occurred to you that she would be?”

“No.” Skye was baffled. “I knew she was a little upset, but she didn't seem to be mad when I left.”

“My mistake, I suppose,” Dane said.

After staring at him for a moment, Skye said, “How did I get back here? Adrian—”

“Is back at the house, with Daniel and a couple of his marshals standing guard. He has a concussion because he hit his head on a rock when you both went down. And you got back here through no doing of your own.”

Despite the curve of firm lips that most people would have taken to be a smile, Skye wasn't deceived. Taking note of and correctly reading the steely light in the eyes so like his own, he prudently remained silent while he hastily considered his options. He had seen Dane truly enraged so rarely that he could have counted the occasions on the fingers of one hand even after thirty-five years; but massive earthquakes, Skye had decided, seldom rocked the same section of real estate more than once in a century.

Dane's temper was like an earthquake, and though Skye was all too apt to wave red flags at bulls of all varieties, he tended to avoid angering his brother. This time, however, it was obvious that he had outdone himself.

“I'm a wounded man,” Skye offered, eyeing Dane warily.

“I realize that.” Dane's voice was deceptively polite. “I could hardly help but realize it, since hauling your carcass out of that mine shaft is destined to be one of my more enduring memories.”

Skye winced. “Sorry,” he said, and there was real remorse in his voice. He could imagine what Dane had gone through.

Dane wasn't quite ready to forgive. “Between trying to stop you bleeding to death and at the same time get you out of that hole in the ground as quickly as possible, Katrina, Derek, and I had our hands full. Kelsey just slung Adrian over one shoulder since he was out cold, but we had to be a bit more careful with you.”

“Katrina?” Skye stared at him, forcing his sluggish mind to begin working again. “She was there? Wait a minute. This doesn't make sense.”

“You're telling me.”

Oddly enough, Skye had never lost his own temper with his brother, and didn't now. “Dane, what happened?”

After a moment Dane said, “Katrina came straight to me after you'd left. I was out in the park, with Derek and Kelsey. We decided to take the helicopter Josh had standing by in case it was needed. Katrina said she was coming with us, and I had better sense than to argue with her. When we got to the house, we found the map, and I remembered the mine. After that it was just a matter of getting there and inside, and trying to find you. We were close when we heard the gunfire, but by the time we reached the cavern, it was impossible to get a shot at Adrian without hitting you as well. We had to wait.”

Skye was staring at the ceiling, his eyes holding a strange, vibrant light. Absently he said, “The bastard must have known someone was following him, though I'll swear I never made a sound to alert him. He'd hidden in the cavern with his lamp on a boulder and the flame turned down low. When I came in, he threw a knife at me. Got me too, damn him. While I was pulling the knife out, he turned up the lamp and started shooting.”

Dane was watching him intently. “The shots didn't last long,” he noted.

“No.” Skye's lips twisted. “It would have been funny if he hadn't been trying to kill me. We both slipped. Can you beat that? Professionals sliding like clowns in the mud, and our guns going flying. The guns landed in the water, where I'd thrown the knife. I didn't find out Adrian had a second knife until he charged me with it. I think he got me a couple more times, but not seriously.”

“That first time did the damage,” Dane told him. “Nicked an artery. That's why you were losing blood so fast.”

Skye nodded, then grimaced as the motion sent a jolt of pain through his body. “There seemed to be a lot of it, but I didn't have time to try to stop it. I don't remember much more before I blacked out, except that I was trying to get that damned knife away from him. Did I?”

“More or less. You managed not to stab yourself with it when you fell on him. You cracked three of his ribs, by the way.”

“I think he cracked a couple of mine,” Skye noted, suddenly conscious of a constriction lower than the heavy bandages on his left shoulder and upper chest.

“He did.” Dane sighed. “Once we got you back to the helicopter, we came straight back here. The closest doctor was the one Josh had stashed here just in case. We alerted Josh by radio, and the doctor was waiting for us. He pumped a few pints of blood into you—”

“Not all from you,” Skye objected.

“No. Luckily for you, Derek, Rafferty, and Josh have the same blood type, and they volunteered. Anyway, the doc patched you up and strapped your ribs. He says you can't get up for a week.” Smiling a little, Dane watched that sink in. “So let it be a lesson to you,” he added dryly.

Skye was frowning. “I'll be up by tomorrow.”

“No, you won't,” said Katrina calmly from the doorway.

Turning his head cautiously to look at her, Skye's eyes lit again with that strange, vivid gleam. “Tomorrow,” he repeated in a silky tone.

She was a little pale, but her lovely face was composed and her amber eyes were gazing steadily at him. “If you try to get up before next Friday,” she said in a gentle voice with all the flexibility of tempered steel, “I'll shoot you myself.”

Dane turned a sudden laugh into a cough.

Before Skye could respond to her threat, she added, “Dr. Randall says you can have some soup if you want. Are you hungry?”

“Yes. But not soup.” Skye's eyes were veiled, but through the long lashes they looked brighter than ever.

She ignored that. “I'll call room service.” Stepping back out into the den, she pulled the door shut again.

Dane watched his brother curiously, taking note of the long fingers moving restlessly on the covers. Even his left hand was fidgety, and he shouldn't have been able to move it at all; that arm was in a sling to keep the shoulder immobile.

After a moment Dane said quietly, “She's been with you the whole time. More than twenty-four hours.” He didn't add that Katrina, hollow-eyed and fierce, had refused all help but the doctor's in taking care of Skye.

Skye looked at him, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “You said she—went into that mine?”

“I didn't try to stop her,” Dane admitted. “Couldn't have. She was hell-bent on going in after you.”

A rough breath escaped Skye. “Dane, ever since she was a child, Trina's been claustrophobic.”

Dane returned that intense gaze, then smiled a little. “I don't think she even noticed.” He rose to his feet, and changed the subject. “Do you want to eat lying flat on your back, or would you like to try sitting up a bit?”

The process of being raised and propped up against several pillows brought a film of sweat to Skye's pale face, but with Dane's deft help it wasn't as painful as it might have been. “Thanks,” he muttered, and lifted his right hand to his face experimentally; it shook a bit, and his arm felt leaden, but at least he could move. “I need a shave,” he realized.

“You look like hell,” his twin told him frankly.

The comment reassured Skye somewhat, because he hadn't been sure if his brother was still furious with him. He had no doubt that Dane would swear at him later, but for now he seemed to have calmed down about the situation.

Breathing carefully to avoid jarring his cracked ribs, Skye said, “What about Hagen?”

“No problem.” Dane touched one finger to the neat mustache adorning his upper lip. “I'll get rid of this and borrow some of your clothes; he won't know the difference. There's nothing much doing until Saturday anyway. Josh was here earlier, and I told him there was no reason to cancel the caper.”

“Of course there isn't,” Skye said. “And I'll be back on my feet in a day or two.”

Dane shook his head slightly, but said, “I'll go and tell the others you're firmly back among the living.”

“It was that close?” Skye was startled.

“Too close.” Dane's voice was grim.

Skye said roughly, “I'm sorry.”

Dane knew Skye wasn't sorry for having risked his life. Given the same situation, Skye would act exactly the same way again. He was sorry only that others had been worried. He couldn't know, Dane thought, that they'd been scared half to death. Sighing, Dane said, “One of these days…”

Skye smiled suddenly, the crooked smile that was as rare and unexpected as it was disarming. “Yeah, I know.”

Dane went to the door and opened it, stepping back to allow Katrina to carry in a tray. Addressing her, he said, “If you need any help keeping that renegade where he's supposed to be, let me know. I'll come and sit on him.”

“Don't worry,” she replied serenely.

Skye looked at her a bit uncertainly as his chuckling brother left and Katrina approached the bed. He had searched her face eagerly the moment he had first seen her, but although what Dane had told him seemed to indicate that she felt a great deal more for him than just desire, he hadn't been able to find any evidence of it in her calm expression or steady eyes.

She wasn't hiding from him exactly, and she wasn't aloof, but he had never seen her so utterly tranquil. Her very calm was like a barrier, rock-steady. And he'd never seen her eyes so dark and still. It puzzled him and made him uneasy, and he could feel his heart clench inside his chest as he wondered if she had somehow put herself totally beyond his reach. He wanted to ask but was afraid to.

Katrina leaned over to set the bed tray across his lap, then straightened. “I don't suppose you'll let me feed you,” she said somewhat dryly.

“Of course not.” He stared at the tray, and worry made him irritable. “I hate soup.”

“Too bad,” she said, sitting down in the chair by the bed. “The doctor says you eat soup, then you eat soup.”

She met his brooding look steadily, and after a moment he picked up a spoon with his right hand and began eating. Hardly conscious of her own exhaustion, Katrina sat quietly in the chair and watched him, resisting the urge to reach over and push the tumbled black hair off his brow. He was pale and clearly annoyed by his physical weakness, and she thought he was probably disgusted by the injuries that reminded him he was vulnerable.

She wouldn't soon forget her own terror at that reminder. Even though she had known he could be hurt, there had been some part of her that had trusted in his amazing inner fire. But he had lain in this bed, utterly still for the first time in her memory, and the vibrant life force inside him had dwindled to only a flickering spark. His skin had been cool to her touch; those incredible eyes closed against her….

Not all the reassurances of Dane or the doctor had convinced her that he wouldn't die, not during those first long hours when she had sat, her eyes fixed on his face, everything inside her willing him not to leave her. Then, gradually, she had seen the change in him, as if the indomitable spirit he held with such careless indifference within him had begun rebuilding the fire. His pulse had steadied and strengthened, and his skin had warmed slowly.

The doctor had suspected a fever at first, and had been surprised. “Odd,” he'd said to Katrina. “His temperature's normal, but his skin—”

“That's normal too,” Katrina had murmured, so weak with relief she had felt faint. “For him.”

“Must have a high metabolic rate,” Dr. Randall had muttered to himself.

After that she had believed Skye would make it. In a natural reaction she had been fiercely angry then that he had dared to risk getting killed. Dane had been sympathetic, listening silently and with twitching lips to her muttered and somewhat incoherent threats against his currently defenseless twin. He had suggested that she take a relaxing shower, since there was no longer a need for someone to be constantly with Skye, and her sudden realization of the dried blood on her clothes had sent her scurrying to the bathroom.