Gideon's Corpse

49

Gideon awoke suddenly. The sun was shining brightly into the mouth of the cave. Alida was gone. Something had woken him up.

And then he heard voices outside.

He sat up, immediately wide awake. He could hear the murmur of a man’s voice and the crunch of footfalls coming up the scree slope to the overhang. Had Alida betrayed him again—after everything? It wasn’t possible…or was it? Pulling on his pants, he grasped a heavy branch lying next to the dead fire and rose silently, tense, ready to fight.

The crunching drew closer and a silhouette appeared in the mouth of the cave: the outline of a man. Gideon could see nothing else in the glare. He readied himself for a lunge.

“Gideon?” came the man’s voice—a voice he recognized. “Easy now, it’s just us, Alida and Simon Blaine.”

“Gideon?” It was Alida’s voice. “It’s okay.”

Panic ebbing, he lowered the branch.

Blaine entered cautiously. “I’m here to help,” he said in his Liverpudlian accent. “Is that all right with you?”

Alida followed her father into the cave.

Gideon tossed the branch aside and sat back. “What time is it?”

“About noon.”

“How did you get here?” he asked.

It was Alida who answered. “I hiked toward Cochiti Lake, talked some guy in a trailer into using his phone. Called my dad.”

Blaine stood in front of him, smiling and leprechaunish, in pressed jeans, a workshirt, and a silly looking leather cowboy vest, his white beard trimmed, his blue eyes piercing. Alida stood beside him.

Gideon rubbed his face. He had slept for so long, it was hard to collect his thoughts. Vivid memories of the previous night came flooding back.

“Dad’s going to help us,” she said. “Just like I promised.”

“That’s right,” Blaine added. “My daughter tells me you’ve been framed and that you’re no terrorist—and her word’s certainly good enough for me.”

“Thank you,” said Gideon, feeling enormous relief. “Sorry I trashed your movie set.”

“That’s what insurance is for. Besides, we got a few takes anyway. Now, here’s the plan. I’ve got my Jeep parked on a dirt road about four miles from here. The canyon and river are swarming with FBI and police and God knows who else. But it’s rough, big country, and if we stick to the small side canyons we’ll avoid them. They’re mostly down by the lake, looking for your bodies.”

Gideon looked carefully at Blaine. Concern and anxiety were written all over his face.

“I’m going to bring you both up to the ranch. It’s isolated. They’re all convinced you’re a terrorist, Gideon, and they think my daughter’s in on it. With the crazy atmosphere of terror and fear out there—the whole country is gripped with it—I’m not sure you’d survive being apprehended. You would not believe the panic out there, the irrational panic, and it’s only getting worse. So we’ve got to work fast. We’ve got to figure out for ourselves who framed you, and why. That’s the only way we can save you—and my daughter.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s that cult up at the Paiute Creek Ranch—”

“Maybe. Alida says you might suspect me, as well.” Blaine looked at him with a peculiar expression.

Gideon blushed. “It doesn’t seem likely. But someone Fordyce and I talked to was so alarmed that they tried to kill us…and framed me.”

Blaine nodded. “You need to trust me. And I need to trust you. That’s fundamental.”

Gideon looked at the man. He didn’t really know what to say.

Blaine smiled suddenly, gripped his shoulder. “You’re a skeptic at heart. Fine. Let my actions speak for themselves, then. But let’s get going.”

It was a big Jeep Unlimited and they lay in the back, under blankets, while Blaine kept to remote forest roads and abandoned Jeep trails as he worked his way along the foothills of the mountains to his ranch. The roundabout route took several hours, and they finally reached the ranch in midafternoon. Blaine drove into the barn and Gideon and Alida got out. They stood in the fragrant, hay-scented dimness, talking.

“I’ll need to use a phone,” said Gideon. “I have to call my handlers.”

“Handlers?” Blaine asked.

Gideon didn’t respond. Instead, he followed Blaine and his daughter out of the barn, past Blaine’s isolated writing studio, and down to the ranch house: a rustic, two-story, batten-board building dating from the nineteenth century, with a spacious front porch and a row of dormer windows.

Blaine directed Gideon to a table in the front hall that contained only two items: a telephone, and a framed photo of Blaine himself, signed For my Miracle Daughter, with all my love. Gideon picked up the phone and called Eli Glinn’s number, the one he was instructed never to call except in the most extreme emergency.

Manuel Garza answered. Gideon cleared his throat, tried to compose his voice. “It’s Crew. I need to speak to Glinn.”

“This line is only to be used in an emergency.”

Gideon let a moment pass, and then he managed to say, quite calmly, “You don’t think this is an emergency?”

“You’ve gotten yourself into trouble, but I’m not sure I’d call it an emergency.”

Again Gideon let a beat pass. “Just get him for me, will you, please?”

“Moment.”

He was put on hold. A long minute passed. And then Garza came back on. “Sorry. Spoke to Mr. Glinn. He’s busy, can’t interface with you right now.”

Gideon took a breath. “You actually spoke to him?”

“Exactly what I said. He was very specific that you’re on your own now.”

“That’s a load of shit! You guys hired me for this job—and now you’re just hanging me out to dry? You know I’m not a goddamn terrorist!”

“There’s nothing he can do.” Gideon noted a certain suppressed satisfaction in the man’s voice.

“Pass this message on to him for me, then. I’m done. I quit. And when I get out of this mess, I’m coming looking for him. You know that nice scar he’s got on one side of his face? I’m going to accessorize the other side. And that’s just for starters. You tell him that.”

“I will.”

Gideon hung up. Garza enjoyed that, the fuck.

“Problem?” He found Alida looking at him, an expression of concern on her face.

Gideon swallowed, tried to shrug it off. “No bigger than any of my other problems.” He turned to Blaine. “I’d like to borrow your Jeep, if I may. There’s a fellow I need to visit up at the Paiute Creek Ranch.”

Blaine spread his hands. “Be my guest. Just don’t let the authorities catch you. Can I help you with anything else?”

Gideon paused. “Do you have any firearms?”

A broad smile. “I have rather a nice little collection. Care to take a look?”