Black Mountain (12 page)

She sat down beside him, and Alex opened one eye and watched her for a minute. She never relaxed, never once closed her eyes and surrendered to the warm sunshine. She was always on guard, on duty; her eyes never stopped moving, from the line of dunes, to the crystal-clear water, to the small stand of trees . . .

He tapped her leg to get her attention. ‘Do you miss them?’

She looked at him quizzically. ‘Miss who?’

‘Whoever it is you keep looking for.’ He grinned at her, still keeping one eye shut against the glare of the sun.

She laughed and lay down, propping herself on one elbow. ‘I just keep a lookout for you.’

‘I’m right here,’ he said, brushing some sand from her jeans and letting his hand remain on her thigh. ‘It’s hot. Bring a swimsuit?’

‘Very, and no.’ She leaned forward, her dark eyes containing amusement and desire.

Alex recognised the gaze, but in a flash Adira’s face had morphed into that of another woman, with finer features and soft blue eyes. He tried to put a name to the face, but the prickling he’d felt behind his eyes turned to white-hot pain. He winced and sat up. Something was happening, or about to – he could sense it, he knew it.

Adira pulled back from him and stood quickly. ‘Come on, let’s get out of the sun. You need to rest.’ She sounded disappointed.

*

Adira woke to the sound of crashing and Alex yelling. She switched on the hall light and stood in his doorway, just able to make out his shape sitting on the bed holding his head.
The migraines again
, she thought. He seemed to suffer them most when he tried to reach back into his memory and recover who he was. His past was still locked away from him – behind a red-hot door of pain.

‘Are you okay, Alex?’

She waited a few seconds for him to respond. When he didn’t, she walked into the room and sat on the bed beside him. She poured him a small cup of water and lifted it towards his lips. ‘Here.’

He held her hand and the cup, draining it.

‘I see faces in my dreams.’ His voice was slow, as though he wasn’t fully awake. ‘I see a soldier, grey-haired and mean-looking. And an old woman on a porch . . . there’s a mountain in the background. I know her . . .
I know her
.’

Alex looked at Adira, but she wasn’t sure he actually saw her or whether his mind was still somewhere else. It was hot in the room, hotter than usual, and his body was an unnatural temperature. She had been told to expect it as his metabolism worked well above the normal average range. She used the cuff of her long-sleeved T-shirt to wipe his brow.

‘There are other things.’ His tone was becoming insistent. ‘Things that hide in the dark, or crawl on insect legs – monsters, maybe, from my imagination . . . but they seem so real.’

Adira had seen one of those monsters on a mission with Alex in the Iranian desert. They’d been attacked by something that should never have existed outside of a nightmare – and it wasn’t only
his
sleep it haunted.

He grabbed her wrist. ‘Something’s reaching out to me, calling me – it won’t stop.’ He pulled her closer and stared into her face.

She brushed the damp hair from his forehead. ‘
Shhh
, you’re safe here, Alex.’

‘You’re all I’ve got left.’ He drew her even closer and she let him. ‘You don’t know how much I . . .’ He found her mouth, and the kiss that started softly became hungrier and more urgent.

She clung to him, feeling a warm bloom spread in her belly. Deep down, she knew this was what she had wanted almost since she’d first met him. ‘Alex, Alex . . .’ She kissed him again and again, on the mouth and neck, tasting the salt of his perspiration. It excited her even more.

She wasn’t supposed to let anything complicate her mission objectives. She never had before, and it had been easy: she was always a soldier of Israel first. She
was
her duty.

His mouth found hers again.

This is different
, she thought.
This is something I want
. . .
something that’s just mine
.

She lifted her T-shirt up over her head, and he pulled her down on top of him. The warmth in her belly spread lower.

*

The night was at its darkest; it would be morning soon. Sleep was impossible. She lay on top of the sheets, feeling the perspiration trickle from her temples into her hair. There was a fluttering sensation in her stomach that made her feel euphoric and apprehensive at the same time. The values she held dear and the things she’d thought she wanted suddenly seemed far less important compared to the selfish desires she now harboured. Throughout the night, silly half-dreams of going away together, somewhere far from either of their countries, somewhere no one would find them, had played over in her mind.

Adira could hear Alex’s soft breathing beside her, rhythmic like a machine. The feelings of apprehension rose again. She couldn’t count on his memory never returning. What would he think when he found out that he was someone completely different from the person she’d told him he was? He’d hate her – she’d lose him.

Her objective was to get Alex Hunter to reveal the elusive element that made the Arcadian treatment work. Science alone was unable to deliver it. Her success would give Israel access to a source of security for the future. Her country was a mere eight million souls surrounded by an Arab world numbering nearly three hundred million, most of whom wanted Israel erased from the map. But once that door in Alex’s mind was opened, other corridors back to his past would be available to him.

She groaned and rolled towards him, but couldn’t make out his profile in the blackness of the room. When she was a little girl, her uncle, now the general, had told her of a famous Israeli saying:
Alone we are weak, but together we are iron
. She would not abandon Israel, but how could she do that and not lose Alex?

She reached out and touched his shoulder, feeling the heat. She had been faithful to Israel her entire life. Didn’t that count for something?

This will not end well
, she thought, and closed her eyes.

ELEVEN

Chief Logan stood in the afternoon chill and watched Forensic Services finish up their examination of the Wilson place. He’d managed to persuade Helen and Clark Wilson to stay in a motel in town for the evening so they wouldn’t be following the officers around during their investigation. His men needed the freedom to probe everything, from under the beds to the surrounding woods. It would be stressful for the parents if nothing was found; even worse if something was.

An hour earlier, one of his officers had returned from the far tree line at the foot of the mountain carrying a small red sweater in a plastic bag. It matched the description of the clothing Emma was wearing when she disappeared. It was intact, and there was no blood or other signs that could be associated with an animal attack.
At least that’s something
, Logan had thought as he watched the head of Forensics, Ted Brandon, open the bag.

Brandon had sniffed the contents then recoiled slightly.

Logan had frowned. ‘What?’

Brandon shook his head, shrugged and resealed the bag. He’d thrown it to one of his team and wandered over to Logan.

‘What was it?’ Logan had asked again.

‘Funny smell is all.’ Brandon had looked distracted.

‘Got something, Chief!’

The shout from the woods startled Logan back to the present. He should have felt elated at the discovery of a clue, but for some reason he was dreading any news at all.

‘Whatta you got, Ollie?’ he yelled back.

Officer Markenson pointed at several spots amongst the grass and dirt in a clearing. ‘Tracks . . . plenty of ’em.’

Logan and Ted Brandon moved quickly to where the men had formed a ring around where Markenson was pointing with a flashlight. Brandon crouched down and rested his forearms on his knees. After a moment he nodded. ‘Yep.’

Logan went down beside him, squinting at the disturbed soil and twigs. Brandon reached out with one hand and spread his fingers over a group of scuffs and indentations.

‘Big pug marks – ten inches at least. Here’s your escaped lion, Chief.’

Logan drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

Markenson raised his flashlight and pointed back into the trees. ‘Came in from there,’ he moved the torch towards the mountains, ‘and goes out there. This is as close as it got, I think.’

Logan nodded. ‘Good man.’

He felt a glimmer of hope that the tracks didn’t come within a hundred feet of the house.

Brandon moved some twigs. ‘It was here a while. What was it doing . . . just watching?’

Markenson shook his head. ‘Lying in wait probably. They do that, you know.’

Logan shook his head. ‘Unlikely.’ The Kringle Brothers had told him the lion had never attacked anyone in its life.

Markenson crouched down with him and pointed the light at Logan’s face. ‘I was doing some reading before I came up, Chief. Adult lion eats up to twenty pounds of meat a day. That little Wilson girl was just over forty wringing wet. If it did take her, in a couple of days, there ain’t gonna be much left.’

‘That’s enough of that talk. We don’t know the lion took her.’

‘It’s true, Chief,’ Officer Parsons said from behind them. ‘And they don’t eat their prey right away. They usually take it somewhere quiet and secluded. They like to eat where they –’

Logan shot to his feet. ‘Shut the fuck up, both of you.’

Brandon rose slowly, wiping his hands on his thighs. ‘Bill, they’re right. Big cat, hungry, probably confused and scared. Used to people or not, all bets are off, I reckon.’

Logan looked up at the sky; it was getting dark. He walked a few paces away from the small group and stood with his hands on his hips, looking up into the thick forest cover of the Black Mountain. For the first time in his life, he thought the beautiful peaks seemed secretive, even a little threatening.

They probably
were
right about the lion. Decisions mattered, and even minutes probably counted now. He spun back to the group.

‘Markenson, Parsons – you two just pulled extra duty. We’re going up.’

*

We shoulda done this days ago
, Logan thought miserably as he and his three men moved up the side of the mountain, breathing hard, leaving plumes of hot air behind them. Logan was only just managing to keep pace with Harry Erskine, who was being dragged up the steep incline by the twenty feet of leather lead attached to his tracking hound. The large animal was picking up speed in spite of the increasing slope.

Logan tried to remain upbeat.
She’s going to be okay. She has to be
. . .
No one gets attacked by a lion in North Carolina, for chrissakes. Might as well put up signs at the Fontana Dam warning of sharks.

Nevertheless, he felt himself sagging, fatigue and concern weighing him down.

‘Get your running shoes on, Chief,’ Erskine called. ‘Buzz must be getting close.’

Erskine leaped over a log and nearly slipped on the frozen ground. The leash went taut and jerked him forward once again. Logan looked back and frowned; his two officers had fallen nearly fifty feet behind and looked ready to sit down first chance they got. He swore softly, before yelling back down the hill, ‘Markenson, Parsons, you get your asses up here, pronto. We got contact.’

Markenson looked up briefly, gave his senior officer a thumbs-up, and started taking larger, though not faster, steps. Pete Parsons nodded, but struggled to get his thick thighs moving at any increased speed. He resorted to using the barrel of his shotgun as a hiking stick, which elicited a torrent of foul language from Logan. Parsons lifted the gun and wiped the stock on his jacket sleeve, then put his head down and ploughed forward, breathing hard in the icy air.

Logan followed Erskine into a thicker stand of trees, and nearly crashed into the man’s back. Erskine had reeled the dog in and strapped its snout. It whined softly and danced at his feet, eager to continue the chase and confront whatever it had been tracking for the last few hours.

‘What . . .’ Logan began, but stopped as Erskine held the back of one hand up in front of his face.

‘It’s just through them bushes,’ he whispered without turning, ‘moving in and out of the rocks. Must be a cave or shelter or sumthin’ there.’

Logan followed Erskine’s gaze. After a second or two, he saw movement – something large, fur-covered, moving in and out of the shadows. The dog whined again and pulled on its lead.

‘What’s up?’ Markenson’s voice made Logan jump.

He turned to scowl at the man, put his finger first to his lips, then pointed through the foliage. Markenson nodded slowly, mouthing,
Got it
.

‘Whatta we doin’?’ Parsons gasped as he reached them, his round face the colour of boiled beef.

Logan stood, giving up trying to be quiet. ‘For fuck’s sake, Parsons. Why didn’t you bring your bugle? You coulda belted out the cavalry charge. Whatever it is, it’s through there. I’m going in, but I want you two ten feet further up near that big oak. Keep watching me, and whatever you do, don’t bunch up. And don’t fucking shoot each other . . . or me.’

He paused and reconsidered that last statement. ‘Just stay focused, okay? Keep your barrels to the ground unless you sight something.’

Both men nodded.

Erskine spoke softly out of the corner of his mouth. ‘It’s movin’ again.’ He reached down to pat the dog’s muzzle. ‘Shush up now, boy.’

The dog tried to lick his hand even though its mouth was clamped. Its eyes were rolling in both excitement and fear.

Logan pointed up the slope, then to his men. They hunched down and pushed through the branches of the dark fir trees, which were so tightly packed it was if their stems were woven together. Logan watched them go, then turned back to Erskine.

‘You and Buzz stay here. If anything goes wrong for me and the boys, God forbid, head straight back down to the truck and call Chief Winston in Charlotte.’ He paused, trying to think of something heroic to say, but all that came to mind were General Douglas MacArthur’s wartime quotes – none of which seemed appropriate.