The Darkfall Switch (15 page)

He arrived at the Brown Palace and asked for Foster at reception. The clerk told him that he had returned his room key and had gone to the coffee shop. Then she added a phrase that raised Worzniak’s curiosity, ‘He’s with Ms Coleman.’

Ms Coleman? Who the fuck was she? Had the Brit picked up a bit of tail here? He wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. Worzniak had a grudging admiration for Foster’s urbane self-assurance. With that, and his English accent, yes, he could see the broads out here going for that.

He entered the coffee shop just in time to see Foster sitting with an attractive, dark-haired woman. And with them was Joel Matthews. Worzniak almost punched the air in exultation. He’d been right! Ignoring the
maitre
d
’s querying looks, he stationed himself carefully where he was hidden from their view and settled back to watch.

When Matthews handed the disk to Foster, Worzniak gritted his teeth in silent rage.

He knew now that he’d have to cancel his flight. This had to be dealt with. And dealt with fast.

After Matthews had left they returned to their room and Foster sent an email to Grant in London, filling him in on what he had found so far and saying that he would make a copy of the disk, which he’d mail to Arnold Coward’s offices. Meanwhile, he said, he would remain in Denver to work on the original disk. He had decided to change his original plan of taking a few days’ leave. Instead, he could work on the disk out here. What he hoped to be able to do could just as easily be done here as on his boat – perhaps it could even be more effective. He told Grant that staying in Colorado would enable him to revisit PPD if any more information were needed.

‘That’s that, then,’ he said as he finished. ‘We’ll check out of here later on this morning. I’ll look into some places we can stay.’ Then he looked at her with a mischievous grin on his face and asked, ‘By the way, do you ride?’

‘Well yes. Though it’s a long time since I was on a horse. It wasn’t to hounds either, just a friend who lived on a farm. Why do you ask?’

‘Well, there’s no better way of seeing the Rockies than on horseback, and there are lots of dude ranches hereabouts. We could stay at one.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ she said, excitement already showing in her face. ‘Though I’m not sure what a dude ranch is.’

‘It’s a working farm where they hire out horses to dudes – that’s amateur riders like us. It’s great fun.’

‘OK,’ she said, ‘but I’ll need to do some shopping first. I wasn’t
planning on being a cowgirl, you know.’

But Foster had some important tasks to complete before they could leave. He used his laptop to make two copies of the disk. He put the original that Joel had given him in the drawer of his bedside cabinet and slipped one of the copies into his grip. Then he took the second copy down to the concierge with a request for him to mail it to London. He gave him a slip of paper with Grant’s name at Arnold Coward’s address.

Then he went to the reception desk and told them he would be leaving the room for a day or two. The receptionist agreed to hold the room for them.

Afterwards, they strolled along the streets, looking into shop windows and eventually bought jeans and shirts for both of them. Foster also bought her a hat – a white Stetson. She held it to her head and laughed, ‘How’s this look?’

‘Perfect! You look fabulous.’

As he looked at her with her dark hair cascading down from under the wide brim of the Stetson, he felt a welling up of emotion. When they’d first made love, it had been the fulfilment of a raw, basic, passionate, animal need. It was just sex. Although neither of them admitted it to the other, within themselves they both knew that it had been a simple release of pent-up need. And perhaps because of that knowledge, their first coupling had been wild and uninhibited. Even over the next few days, it had stayed strictly physical, becoming increasingly explosive as they explored each other’s bodies, and their preferences. It was as though they had said to each other: ‘No emotion. No hangups. No involvement. Let’s just have a great time!’

But now, in that ordinary store in that extraordinary city, he began to feel that things between them were beginning to change, and from the look in her eyes he sensed that she felt the same way. They stood there, each looking deep into the other’s soul.

The spell was broken by the shop assistant giving a discrete cough and asking if they wanted anything else.

They grinned at each other foolishly and set about adding a few things to their collection: elaborately tooled high Western boots and wide belts.

‘Don’t we just look the typical cowboy couple!’ she exclaimed, feigning an American accent.

Foster laughed. ‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘this clothing is really practical. You’ll need all of it. The brush will tear at your legs as you ride through it, and at this altitude the sun can burn quickly, even this late in the year. Hence the hat.’

When they returned to their room Foster looked around and frowned. There was something slightly odd about it. He couldn’t have sworn to it, but he sensed that things had been moved and replaced, but not exactly where they’d been left. He was about to shrug it off as a delusion when he opened the drawer of his bedside table and swore.

‘What?’ Janet asked at the sound.

‘The disk,’ he answered. ‘The one Joel gave me; it’s gone.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. I’d put it in the top drawer here, but it’s not there now.’ She looked at him with a worried frown. ‘Who—?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘but I thought there was something odd about the room when we came back just now. Somebody’s been looking through our things.’

‘And they’ve taken the disk.’

‘Yes. Fortunately it’s the original one that Joel gave me. I took two copies….’ He stopped suddenly, reached for his case, and looked inside. ‘Thank God!’ he breathed. ‘I suddenly realized I’d left the other copy here, in my grip. Looks like they were so excited when they found the one in the drawer they just skedaddled – didn’t look further.’

‘You said there was another.’

‘Yes, it should be on its way to England by now.’

‘Will you tell the hotel?’ she asked. ‘After all, it’s theft.’

‘I don’t think I’ll bother. Whoever took it got what they wanted and will be long gone by now. We didn’t lose anything personal.’

She shuddered. ‘I don’t like the thought of somebody snooping through our room.’

‘Neither do I. But these things happen.’

Rattled by the discovery, they returned to packing their new acquisitions into their cases, and went down to find his rented Buick in the car-park.

Within a few minutes they were rolling out of Denver on I-25 and half an hour later they stopped to have lunch in Boulder. Throughout the journey, Janet had gazed out of the windows in silent awe, transfixed at the beauty of the mountains rising ahead of them, their approach transforming
them from distant blue shapes to massive bulks of rock and forest.

They had stopped at a small store for coffee and doughnuts and while they were eating she asked him if he had any idea of where they were going, or was he just meandering along, hoping to spot somewhere to stop?

‘A bit of both,’ he admitted. ‘I thought I’d find a place in Estes Park. It’s near the Colorado National Park.’

‘Sounds nice.’

‘The park’s glorious – and big. I can’t quite remember the exact size but I think its several hundred square miles.’

‘Golly!’

‘There’s a highway running through it that crosses the Continental Divide. There’s a notice-board beside the road, showing where it is. I remember thinking once that if I straddled the line and pee’d on the ground on one side it would end up in the Gulf of Mexico: on the other side it would head for the Pacific.’

She smiled. ‘I’ll put that image behind me. But if the surrounding scenery’s like this it’ll be fabulous!’

‘It’s even better. A fair bit of the park’s forested, but a lot of it’s well above the tree-line.’

‘How high?’

‘Very. I think that one of the roads climbs to over twelve thousand feet.’

‘Gosh!’ She thought for a while and then asked, ‘How come you know all this?’

He laughed. ‘My parents moved around a lot. My dad was in the oil industry. I was actually born in Houston and lived there for the first twelve years of my life.’

‘That explains it,’ she said. ‘I thought you had a faint American accent.’

‘I’ve lost most of it,’ he said. ‘In fact, whenever I come back here, for some reason my accent gets more British than the British!’

They finished their coffee and rejoined the car.

They were both intoxicated with the beauty of the scenery, and lost in thought, so they didn’t notice that a black Chevrolet Blazer SUV had been following them for the entire journey. The occupants had remained in it while they had been eating but now, as they set off, the car followed them again.

They found a room in a motel in Estes Park and, after unpacking, they explored the facilities. The establishment sported an outdoor pool and a splendid indoor hot tub. Both offered spectacular views of the surrounding mountains, the hot tub through huge windows.

Janet snuggled against Foster as they looked at the hot tub. ‘Pity we have to share this with other people,’ she whispered impishly. A couple were enjoying the tub with their two pre-teen children.

Then they went out into the small township. As they left the motel, they passed two men sitting in the lobby, intently reading newspapers. Though Foster saw them, and thought that they seemed out of place here in their smart grey business suits, he had no reason to give them much attention.

As they left, one of the men followed them and kept a discrete distance behind them as they wandered through the town.

They found a small antique store on the next block, and Janet showed interest in a delicate pair of Navajo ear-rings in silver and gaspeite. The assistant extolled the virtues of the jade-green stone, and its alleged healing powers. Janet smiled and said she’d buy them. ‘To send home to Tina,’ she said to Foster, ‘by way of thanks for introducing us.’

Foster suddenly remembered a few other items that they’d need, so they went into a small store and bought a rucksack, high-factor sunscreen and sunglasses.

They retired to the motel for dinner. The dining room was small, but the food was good, and they retired to their room tired and happy.

In the morning they ate huge breakfasts, after which Foster persuaded the hotel to make up two lunch packs for them before they set off for the nearby national park. In deference to Foster’s English charm they even promised to include proper glasses and china plates.

While these were being prepared he went out to a nearby liquor store and bought a bottle of Californian Chardonnay. The store also sold him an ingenious vacuum-pack to keep the wine cold.

They drove away from the motel feeling happy at the prospect of a pleasant day together in the mountains. As they neared the park, Foster spotted a sign advertising a dude ranch so he made a diversion and soon they were driving through a white wooden arch bearing a sign welcoming them to the Lazy S ranch. As they parked, a tall rangy
man with a white Stetson over a checked shirt and dusty blue jeans emerged from one of the buildings and greeted them with a friendly wave.

While Foster went over to arrange the hire of horses, Janet took in their surroundings. The ranch seemed to comprise just a few rust-red wooden buildings scattered over the gently sloping meadow. Behind them a few handsome-looking horses were standing in a small corral, watching them curiously. At a signal from Foster, Janet joined them.

‘This is Janet Coleman,’ Foster said.

‘Pleased to meet you, Janet,’ the man said putting out his hand to shake hers. ‘I’m Randy.’

Foster saw her eyes widen in surprise as she struggled to suppress a giggle and he quickly interjected, ‘Randy Sanders. The owner of the Lazy S ranch.’

‘Pleased to meet you … Randy,’ she said. Foster could see a tic working at her jaw as she fought to stay serious.

They strolled over to the wooden palings to make their selection. Foster picked out two mares, one a chestnut with a white blaze on her breast. ‘Fine choice,’ the owner said. ‘That’s Starblazer; the other one’s Socks.’ He pointed to the second animal, a black mare with white fetlocks and added, ‘You see why.’

‘Do all your horses have names starting with S,’ Janet asked.

‘Sure do,’ the man grinned. ‘Ranch’s the Lazy S so we reckoned to do that. Run out of ideas sometimes though!’

He left them to fetch the tack and saddle up the horses.

When Sanders was out of earshot she punched Foster on the chest and grimaced. ‘Don’t!’ she said.

‘I saw you fighting to stop laughing,’ he said. ‘But Randy’s his name. I don’t know if he realizes what people think when he introduces himself. Especially the Brits; I’m not sure the Americans see it the same way.’

Just then, Sanders came back. ‘Don’t get lost now,’ he said, as they mounted and he worked to adjust their stirrup leathers. ‘The trails are real easy round here but it’s a big spread and folks sometime lose their bearings. But don’t worry: if you do get lost just let the horses bring you back. They know the way.’

He pulled a map out of his shirt pocket, opened it out and pointed out a variety of trails for them to explore. He identified those that were
easy and those that were more difficult. ‘Keep clear of this ridge,’ he said, pointing to a black line running diagonally across the top corner of the map. ‘It’s kinda steep – more a cliff really. But as long as you keep to this side of the trees you’ll be OK.’

Foster took the map and said they’d start off on a mid-range trail. Sanders described the main features and the landmarks to look out for. When Foster had helped Janet to mount Socks he got on Starblazer. They waved farewell to the owner and set off to climb towards the first of the surrounding low hills.

Within a few minutes the ranch buildings had disappeared from view and they were riding through low scrub towards a craggy outcrop. The only sounds came from their mounts’ hoofs and the occasional metallic clink of the rings against the bits: they rode in silence, both of them awestruck by the stark beauty all around them. At times they were climbing steep slopes, where they had to keep their balance by bending close to the horses’ manes: then they were straining backwards as the animals sure-footedly scrambled down rocky escarpments.

All the while the scenery around them became increasingly rugged and starkly beautiful. At the beginning of their ride the autumnal reds and golds of the aspens had been stunning. Now the trees were thinning out, with only the occasional thicket here and there between massive rocky outcrops. Arching over it all was the cloudless sky, an enormous dome of burnished pale cobalt.

Irrespective of minor rises and falls, the general trend of their ride was upwards, and soon they were high over their starting point, at a place where they could look down on to the ranch. The buildings looked like tiny dolls’ houses far below.

Foster frowned. A white dust-cloud was rising from a black car that had stopped at the ranch entrance. As he watched, he saw it drive off again. He thought briefly that it was an unusual sight: he suspected that vehicles rarely called on the ranch at that time of day. But then he dismissed the thought.