p&c.thunderhead-第82节

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　Sloane　took　a　deep　breath；　trying　to　calm　herself。　She　had　to　think　things　through；　act　with　care　and　deliberation。　She　knew　Nora　was　not　an　immediate　physical　threat：　Sloane　herself　had　the　spare　gun。　On　the　other　hand；　Nora　might　stumble　across　Swire；　or　Bonarotti；　out　there　in　the　night。　
　She　drew　the　back　of　her　hand　across　her　forehead；　scattering　raindrops。　Where　were　Swire　and　Bonarotti；　anyway？　They　weren't　in　the　city；　and　they　weren't　in　the　camp。　Surely；　they　wouldn't　be　standing　around　somewhere；　in　the　darkness　and　pouring　rain。　Not　even　Swire　was　that　muleheaded。　It　made　no　sense。　
　Her　mind　wandered　back　to　the　magnificent　discovery　they　had　just　made。　A　discovery　even　more　astonishing　than　Quivira　itself。　A　discovery　that　Nora　had　tried　to　prevent。　At　this　thought；　Sloane's　anger　increased。　Things　had　been　going　better　than　she　could　ever　have　hoped。　Everything　that　she　had　ever　wanted　was　up　in　that　kiva；　waiting　for　her　to　claim　its　discovery　as　her　own。　All　the　hard　work　was　done。　Bonarotti；　even　Swire；　could　be　brought　around。　Sloane　realized；　almost　with　surprise；　that　things　had　gone　too　far　to　turn　back：　particularly　with　Aragon　and　Smithback　dead。　The　only　thing　that　stood　in　her　way　was　Nora　Kelly。　
　There　was　a　faint　cough　in　the　darkness。　Sloane　pivoted；　instinctively　yanking　the　pistol　from　her　belt。　It　had　e　from　the　direction　of　the　medical　tent。　
　She　moved　toward　the　tent；　pulling　her　flashlight　from　a　pocket　and　cupping　its　end　to　shield　the　glow。　Then　she　stopped　at　the　entrance；　hesitating。　It　had　to　be　Swire；　or　perhaps　Bonarotti：　there　was　nobody　else　left。　Had　they　overheard　Nora？　Something　close　to　panic　washed　over　her；　and　she　ducked　inside；　gun　drawn。　
　To　her　immense　surprise；　there　lay　Smithback；　sleeping。　For　a　moment；　she　simply　stared。　Then　understanding　flooded　through　her。　Nora　had　only　mentioned　Aragon's　death。　Somehow；　both　she　and　Smithback　had　survived。　
　Sloane　slid　to　her　knees；　letting　the　flashlight　fall　away；　resting　her　back　against　the　sopping　wall　of　the　tent。　It　wasn't　fair。　Things　had　been　working　out　so　perfectly。　Perhaps　she　could　have　found　a　way　to　deal　with　Nora。　But　now　Smithback；　too　。　。　。　
　The　writer's　eyes　were　fluttering　open。　〃Oh；〃　he　said；　raising　his　head　with　a　wince。　〃Hi。　And　ouch。〃　
　But　Sloane　was　not　looking　at　him。　
　〃I　thought　I　heard　shouting　just　now；〃　Smithback　said。　〃Or　was　I　just　dreaming？〃　
　Sloane　waved　him　silent　with　her　gun　hand。　
　Smithback　looked　at　her；　blinking。　Then　his　eyes　widened。　〃What's　with　the　gun？〃　
　〃Will　you　shut　up？　I'm　trying　to　think。〃　
　〃Where's　Nora？〃　asked　Smithback；　suspicion　suddenly　clouding　his　face。　
　At　last；　Sloane　looked　back　at　him。　And　as　she　did　so；　a　plan　began　to　take　shape　in　her　mind。　
　〃I　think　she's　hiding　in　the　rockfall　at　the　end　of　the　canyon；〃　she　replied　after　a　moment。　
　Smithback　tried　to　ease　himself　up　on　one　elbow；　then　slumped。　〃Hiding？　Why？　What　happened？〃　
　Sloane　took　a　deep　breath。　Yes；　she　thought　quickly：　it's　the　only　way。　
　〃Why　is　Nora　hiding？〃　Smithback　asked　again；　more　sharply；　concern　crowding　his　voice。　
　Sloane　looked　at　him。　She　had　to　be　strong　now。　
　〃Because　I'm　going　to　kill　her；〃　she　replied　as　calmly　as　she　could。　
　Smithback　gasped　painfully　as　he　again　tried　to　rise。　〃I'm　not　following　you；〃　he　said；　sinking　back　again。　〃Guess　I'm　still　delirious。　I　thought　you　said　that　you　were　going　to　kill　Nora。〃　
　〃I　did。〃　
　Smithback　closed　his　eyes　and　groaned。　
　〃Nora's　left　me　no　choice。〃　As　she　spoke；　Sloane　tried　to　detach　herself　from　the　situation；　to　rid　herself　of　emotion。　Everything；　her　whole　life；　depended　on　pulling　this　off。　
　Smithback　looked　at　her。　〃Is　this　some　kind　of　sick　joke？〃　
　〃It's　no　joke。　I'm　just　going　to　wait　here　for　her　to　return。〃　Sloane　shook　her　head。　〃I'm　truly　sorry；　Bill。　But　you're　the　bait。　She'd　never　leave　the　valley　without　you。〃　
　Smithback　made　a　mighty　effort　to　rise；　then　collapsed　again；　grimacing。　Sloane　checked　the　cylinder；　then　closed　the　gun　and　snapped　the　cylinder　lock　back　in　place。　The　weapon　had　no　safety；　and　she　cocked　the　hammer　as　a　precaution。　
　〃Why？〃　Smithback　asked。　
　〃Incisive　question　there；　Bill；〃　Sloane　said　sarcastically；　anger　returning　despite　her　best　efforts。　〃You　must　be　a　journalist。〃　
　Smithback　stared　at　her。　〃You're　not　sane。〃　
　〃That　kind　of　talk　just　makes　what　I　have　to　do　easier。〃　
　The　writer　licked　his　lips。　〃Why？〃　he　asked　again。　
　Suddenly；　Sloane　rounded　on　him。　〃Why？〃　she　asked；　the　anger　rising。　〃Because　of　your　precious　Nora；　that's　why。　Nora；　who　every　day　reminds　me　more　and　more　of　my　own；　dear　father。　Nora；　who　wants　to　control　everything　down　to　the　last　iota；　and　keep　all　the　glory　for　herself。　Nora；　who　wanted　to　just　walk　away　from　the　Sun　Kiva。　Which；　by　the　way；　contains　an　incredibly　important　find；　a　treasure　that　none　of　you　had　the　faintest　conception　of。〃　
　〃So　you　did　find　gold；〃　Smithback　murmured。　
　〃Gold！〃　she　snorted　derisively。　〃I'm　talking　about　pottery。〃　
　〃Pottery？〃　
　〃I　see　you're　no　smarter　than　the　rest；〃　she　replied；　picking　up　the　disbelief　in　Smithback's　voice。　〃Listen。　Fifteen　years　ago；　the　Metropolitan　Museum　paid　a　million　dollars　for　the　Euphronios　Krater。　That's　just　one　beat…up　old　Grecian　wine　jug。　Last　month；　a　little　broken　bowl　from　the　Mimbres　valley　sold　at　Sotheby's　for　almost　a　hundred　grand。　The　pots　in　the　Sun　Kiva　are　not　only　infinitely　more　beautiful；　they're　the　only　intact　examples　of　their　kind。　But　that　doesn't　matter　to　Nora。　She　told　me　that；　when　we　get　back　to　civilization；　she's　going　to　accuse　me　of　murder；　see　that　I'm　ruined。〃　
　She　shook　her　head　bitterly。　〃So　tell　me；　Bill。　You're　a　shrewd　judge　of　humanity。　I　have　a　choice　to　make　now。　I　can　return　to　Santa　Fe　as　the　discoverer　of　the　greatest　archaeological　find　of　the　century。　Or　I　can　return　to　face　disgrace；　and　maybe　even　a　lifetime　behind　bars。　What　am　I　supposed　to　do？〃　
　Smithback　remained　silent。　
　〃Exactly；〃　Sloane　replied。　〃It's　not　much　of　a　choice；　is　it？　When　Nora　returns　for　you；　she's　dead。〃　
　Smithback　suddenly　rose　on　one　arm。　〃Nora！〃　he　croaked；　as　loudly　as　he　could。　〃Stay　away！　Sloane　is　waiting　here　for　you　with　a…〃　
　With　a　quick　movement；　Sloane　whipped　the　gun　across　the　side　of　his　head。　The　writer　flopped　sideways；　groaned；　then　lay　still。　
　Sloane　stared　down　at　him　for　a　moment。　Then　she　glanced　around　the　medical　tent。　Finding　a　small　battery　lamp　among　the　equipment；　she　snapped　it　on　and　placed　it　in　the　far　corner。　Picking　up　her　flashlight　and　switching　it　off；　she　quietly　unzipped　the　tent　and　slipped　outside　into　the　dark。　
　The　tent　was　pitched　near　a　low；　thick　clump　of　chamisa。　Slowly；　quietly；　Sloane　crawled　into　the　chamisa；　then　turned　around　and　lay　on　her　stomach；　facing　the　tent。　The　lamp　within　it　gave　out　a　subdued　glow；　cozy　and　inviting。　She　was　pletely　concealed　within　the　dark　vegetation；　and　yet　she　had　an　unobstructed　view　of　the　tent。　Anyone　approaching　it　would　automatically　be　silhouetted　by　the　dim　light。　When　Nora　returned　for　Smithback…as　Sloane　knew　she　would…her　silhouette　would　make　a　perfect　target。　
　Her　thoughts　drifted　briefly　to　Black；　sick　and　alone；　waiting　for　her　back　at　the　kiva。　She　tried　to　ready　herself　for　what　was　to　e。　Once　this　business　was　done；　she　could　quickly　drag　Nora　down　to　the　river。　In　seconds；　the　current　would　sweep　her　into　the　narrow　meat…grinder　of　a　canyon　at　the　far　end　of　the　valley。　And　when　Nora's　body　reached　the　Colorado　River…eventually…there　wouldn't　be　enough　left　for　a　postmortem。　It　would　be　the　same　as　if　Nora　had　been　washed　out　by　the　flash　flood　in　the　first　place…as；　by　all　rights；　she　should　have　been。　No　one　would　know。　And　then；　of　course；　she'd　have　to　do　the　same　to　Smithback。　Sloane　closed　her　eyes　a　moment；　unwilling　to　think　about　that。　But　there　was　no　longer　any　choice：　she　had　to　finish　what　the　flood　had　failed　to　do。　
　Resting　both　elbows　on　the　ground；　Sloane　eased　the　pistol　forward；　balancing　it　with　both　hands。　Then　she　settled　down　to　wait。　
　
　
63
　
　AARON　BLACK　LAY　IN　THE　KIVA；　CONFUSED　and　horribly　frightened。　The　fitful　glow　of　the　dying　lamp　still　faintly　illuminated　the　close；　dusty　space。　But　Black's　eyes　were　shut　fast　against　the　darkness；　against　the　overwhelming　evidence　of　his　failure。　It　seemed　that　hours　had　passed　since　Sloane　had　left；　but　perhaps　it　was　only　minutes：　it　was　impossible　for　him　to　tell。　
　He　forced　his　gluey　eyes　open。　Something　terrible　was　happening；　perhaps　it　had　been　ing　on　for　a　while；　and　now　that　the　fevered　digging　had　given　way　to　crushing　disappointment；　it　was　upon　him　at　last。　Perhaps　the　air　was　bad。　He　needed　to　get　out；　breathe　some　fresh　air。　He　mustered　the　energy　to　rise；　staggered；　and　with　astonishment　felt　his　legs　buckle。　
　He　fell　back；　arms　flailing　weakly。　A　pot　rolled　crazily　around　him　and　came　to　rest　against　his　thigh；　leaving　a　snake's　trail　in　the　dusty　floor。　He　must　have　tripped。　He　tried　to　rise　and　saw　one　leg　jerk　sideways　in　a　spastic　motion；　muscles　refusing　to　obey。　The　lantern；　canted　sideways；　threw　out　a　pale　corona；　suffused　by　dust。　
　From　time　to　time；　growing　up；　Black