THE TUNNEL DID INDEED LEAD to the house but the whole system was more extensive than I thought. About 100 metres in, a narrower passage joined the main track from the right. I figured it led to an extra escape hatch; it was too tight for more than one body at a time to squeeze through. Although also underground, this maze of passages had quite a different feeling from the military monumentality of the Terra-One base where I had been captive. Once through the main storage mound, which although covered with earth wasn’t below ground level, these tunnels seemed like something out of Stalag 17 — low, tight, with no more work in them than absolutely necessary. I looked at the sturdy poles and the solid two-by-six boards supporting the uneven ceiling. Good lumber, sparingly used. Thin coating of gravel underfoot on the seldom-used pathway. This wasn’t a hideout for any army of guerrillas. Just normal precautionary measures for the ‘local leadership’ cell, built by locals with gopher blood in their veins.
Slowly I followed my cone of light along the main passage, listening for approaching sounds. A final bend and I was brought up short by the house foundation, a wall of cement and concrete blocks. A hole had been cut and a door installed. Horizontally above the solid door ran a new steel rail, replacing the destroyed foundation support at this point.
Very nice, I thought, putting my ear to the door. Beyond it must be the actual basement of the house. Voices. But not immediately behind the door. The door wasn’t locked, just latched by a simple farmer’s latch, such as one finds in stables and barns. I pressed and pushed, my heart hammering. The door swung open on newly-oiled hinges. I was in the furnace room. Homely clutter. Orienting myself to the plan of the house I noted two doors. One was a regular house door to the main part of the basement. The voices came from there. I heard steps going up the cellar stairs to the main floor. And shots. Nice to know Nancy and Artemis were out there making a racket. The other door, small and old, caught my attention. It was padlocked. Why? I put my ear to it. Small sounds like that of mice or other small rodents. It didn’t take long to break off the flimsy hardware on the door jamb. Inside, surrounded by shelves of pickles and jams, lay Rita, semi-conscious and bound with her own belt and laundry cord. Next to her was Sid. He lay on his back, his hands held awkwardly in front of him on his belly. He stared at me with eyes like little grey lumps of stone against his pasty face. I could see him concentrating on me. His lips moved, revealing bloody gums.
“What he managed to spill out from them.
“Helen. Helen Keremos, Sid. Remember me? It’s OK. Will get you out of here. Just sit tight.”
There was nothing I could do for him right there. I bent down to untie Rita. She moaned and started to come to. With what must have been tremendous effort Sid grabbed my arm and pulled himself to a sitting position.
“A gun, gimme a gun,” he babbled through his mangled mouth.
“I only have the one. But if you can get yourself out of here and along that tunnel, there’s a roomful of all the weapons you can possibly want waiting for you. Including Uzis.”
“Uzi,” he repeated.
“Yeah. Can you walk?”
A minute later he was standing up holding onto the wall. His breath bubbled out of his lungs and out between his lips. Red saliva dribbled down his chin. I don’t know how long he would have stayed vertical. By now Rita was awake, sitting holding her head and groaning.
“Come on, Rita,” I said. “There is no time. You’ve been knocked out. But you’re OK. This is Sid. Israeli agent. He’s far from OK. You must get out of here and help him. Hey, look at him. And you think you’ve been hurt!” It might have been cruel but compared to Sid, Rita was in fact not hurt. I couldn’t take the time to commiserate with her. She staggered onto her feet, wobbled for a while, then nodded and said, “All right. Here, Sid, hold on to me. Helen, point us in the right direction.”
“Out that door. Down the tunnel. It will be hard but follow it all the way. You will come to the armoury. Then out across the yard towards the barn. There is a place between the barn wall and the side of the ramp which is relatively safe. Nancy and Artemis should join you there very soon. Got that?”
Sid made a sound.
“Hush. Quiet. There are baddies on the other side of that door. Go!”
I helped them out of the cellar, through the big door into the dark tunnel. Reluctantly I relinquished my flashlight. Guess I would leave through the upstairs door. If I left alive.
Closing the door behind them, I concentrated on sounds from next door and upstairs. There was some coming and going, some shots, but it was clear that Artemis and Nancy had not completely succeeded in drawing everyone out of the basement. There were people, a number of them, still in there, talking.
I got an empty jar, carefully knocked out the bottom, put it against the door and my ear against the other end. Now the muffled conversation came through loud and clear. I didn’t recognize the woman’s voice.
“We don’t need Huber. We don’t want him and his bunch of hoodlums. Why don’t we take the game away from him now?”
“What game?” This seemed to be Dean. “Game’s over. We’ll be lucky to survive.” Dean’s voice took on a petulant tinge. “Anyway, Ursula, it’s your fault. If you hadn’t bleated on us, we wouldn’t have Huber to deal with. And we would be sitting pretty.”
“If you hadn’t been such idiots we wouldn’t have complained.” Ursula’s tone indicated that this had been said a number of times before. The next voice, also unknown to me, confirmed it. It sounded amused and confident.
“Oh, shut up, children. What’s done is done. No point blaming each other now. Huber’s got the bit between his teeth and is likely to do for all of us. He’ll fix us and deal with Carol and whoever else gets in his way. He’s got his orders, his job to do. We’re small fry but we’ve been disobedient and stupid. At least we shouldn’t have lied about Carol. We will pay, believe it. Remember that nobody gets away with spoiling the organization’s long-range plans and endangering one of its best. Nobody.” In spite of the speaker’s obviously precarious position he sounded proud. Loyal. I figured it would be Shoreman.
“I want to know about these long range plans. We weren’t told anything about this when we agreed to cooperate. I won’t be manipulated by any bunch of foreign white men.” This was Win. The words were strong but the voice seemed uncertain.
“Oh, my, the natives are restless. Our red brother wants to know our plans. Well, well. You’ve sure been a lot of help. What have you done except feed Echo his lines? Damn all. And those ‘foreigners’ aren’t all white. You’d better be careful or you’ll say something terribly politically incorrect.” Shoreman’s icy voice carried both contempt and fear.
“For Christ’s sake! Let’s decide what to do!” Dean again.
There was a step on the stairs.
“Shut up! Paul’s coming back.”
I couldn’t understand the next bit as everyone seemed to speak at once. It took me a moment to isolate Paul’s quiet, decisive, French-accented voice.
“There are just a couple of broads out there. With two rifles. Nothing serious.”
“One of those broads sure winged you good. If it was me I’d have her guts by now without waiting for reinforcements. What’s the matter, Paul, losing your nerve?” Shoreman didn’t exactly go in for making friends. I suspect that meant he was plenty nervous. Lots of people are like that — when they are scared they get obnoxious. Paul must have read him that way too, for all he replied was, “Quiet yourself, Albert. We are not asked for heroics. They will be taken care of without endangering any of our people. If you want to go out there and get shot at like a fool, be my guest. The trucks will be here soon enough. Don’t worry, we will be out of here tonight, leaving everything good and tidy.
“Now that Paul was back the conversation became routine. They were bored and nervous. The really important subjects — what to do about the Sara Ann impersonation and what had been planned for their unit and for the Terra-One base — obviously couldn’t be discussed in front of Paul. I moved carefully away from the wall and squatted down for a moment to consider what I had heard. First of all, where was Huber? It wasn’t him they were waiting for but more trucks, presumably carrying arms. They must have moved all this stuff out of Terra-One during the period when Dean and I were having our confrontation in Kaslo. The evacuation must have been almost complete when I was held there. Most of the equipment would be sacrificed but not the weapons. This farm was the alternate arms dump. With ARC trucks it wouldn’t take long and with Echo on their side feeding Walters whatever they wanted him to know, it would be pretty safe for a while. All that was clear. What next? It seemed to me that we were in a pretty good position to take this whole bunch out of circulation before their reinforcements arrived. Especially as my reinforcements —Jessica, Alice and Frank — could be here any moment. I hoped Rita and Sid had had time to get out of the tunnel and hide as I had suggested. If not, too bad. I checked my gun, stood up, returned to my listening post and cursed. They had turned on the TV, making their own conversation inaudible. All I could hear was a solemn American male voice, intoning. I was at the point of giving up when something rivet ted my attention. The man making the speech was an American Presidential candidate. He was talking about oil and — what else — water! Over the static and the room voices I heard a few phrases — “continental resource strategy", “our northern neighbours", “pipelines", “Alaska oil", “Columbia water system". Then the segment was over and an announcer with perfect diction came on.
“You have just heard excerpts from a speech by Republican Presidential hopeful Senator Raymond, given last night at a Chamber of Commerce meeting in Milwaukee. Senator Raymond stressed his commitment to a continental strategy and promised that as President he would work with Canada and Mexico towards pooling continental resources in all fields, thus making North America independent and invincible. And now news in sports. The Montreal Expos …” Someone turned the set off. There was a moment of silence, then Win’s voice clear and strong.
“Bastard! ‘Continental resource strategy’ is just another American grab! He mustn’t get elected! If making it public that guerrillas hold his daughter will blow his chances, why doesn’t Huber do it right now? Or why don’t we? What is this deal with Walters? The whole thing stinks!”
“Calm down, Win.” Paul was at it again, keeping this nervous company cooled down. “We have plans for Raymond. Huber knows what he’s doing.”
“Yes, what makes you an expert in international politics, eh? God, you are stupid. Huber wants Raymond elected, you fool! Has been working like a little beaver to make it happen.”
“Shut up, Shoreman! You talk too much.” Paul’s voice cut through Shoreman’s nastiness. “Get out and check on the two prisoners next door. Now! Dean, you go upstairs and relieve Emil in keeping an eye on those two women. Ursula, we want something to eat. Win can help you. Go!”
Nobody dared protest. There was a scraping of chairs. I heard Shoreman’s reluctant steps in the direction of the door behind which I was standing. On the off chance that I could get away with it, I slipped behind the furnace, gun in hand, and stood still. Shoreman walked in and without a glance in my direction stared at the little door with the broken padlock hasp. He made a sound in his throat, flung open the door, took one look at the empty closet and shouted “They’re gone!” and disappeared through the door in the foundation and into the tunnel.
“OK, everybody upstairs,” I heard Paul order. “Time to take out the two broads out there. And I want those prisoners found and everyone accounted for before the trucks get here.” He was calm but the others weren’t. Dean and Ursula kept asking questions. I noticed Win didn’t. Hadn’t he told them I was around, that he’d arrived with three of us, not just two? That would’ve given Paul a clue, he wouldn’t have been quite so sanguine about the situation.
Dean, Ursula and Win went upstairs with Paul bringing up the rear. I followed them. First into the basement room where they had sat. It was fixed up as a family room, with easy chairs, coffee table, TV and even a pool table. Then up the stairs behind them, very slowly and carefully. About halfway up the sound of a fusillade got me running. I was up and in the large farm kitchen in three strides. Outside it seemed like a young war was going on. I moved over to one of the kitchen windows which looked out on the side of the house. Suddenly there came the clatter of fast-moving feet on the stairs from the second floor and Emil appeared behind me. He carried a rifle, his face was red and tired.
“I need more ammo,” he said then recognized me. In a flash the empty rifle hit the floor as he reached for the gun in his belt. Harry’s gun. I shot him just about where the gun would be. He dropped backwards and lay still.
The sound of the Makarov going off had reverberated in the small house like thunder. There was no mistaking a shot inside the kitchen for the noise outside. I had to get out of there before Paul and the others came to investigate. They were on the other side of the house, the side which faced the chicken coop and the barn. That’s where Nancy and Artemis were, possibly Rita and Sid by now. That’s where I had to get. It would be unbelievably stupid to get caught inside a house full of people with guns.
I sprang through the side door, raced over the uneven straw-strewn orchard, dodging between trees as best I could. Once I tripped just in time as the patter of machinegun bullets rustled in the dead grasses around me.
“You’re short, you turd,” I whispered to myself. “Missed me!” A flash of red. Artemis. It was now pretty dark but whatever gleam of light there was made her bright blouse stand out. I looked at myself and was grateful for my blue knitted top, dirty as it was. I realized I hadn’t been out of it for 36 — or was it 48 — hours. Never mind. Time for bed, sleep, bath, food soon. Maybe.
I reached the spot where Artemis had been seconds before. No Artemis. I lay quietly a second, breathing hard. Shooting had stopped for the moment. I looked up at the house. Nothing. I never knew what made me look behind me, back towards the way I had come from the side of the house. What I saw was the shadowy outline of a man holding a gun. Pointed at me.
I had been stalked! Lying on my belly in the grass I could neither run nor get my gun on him. It was Dean.
“Hello Helen Keremos,” he said. “Goodbye Helen Keremos.” He lifted his gun. The round barrel stared at me. I threw myself as far as I could to the right. As I did it I knew it was not far enough. His gun jumped in his hand. In fact his whole body jumped. Machinegun bullets passed over me and cut into him. Dean fell all in one piece. Instantly. Standing not five metres on my other side was Sid, an Uzi still pointed my way.
“Christ!” I said as Sid disappeared again behind the ruins of the chicken coop.
The house exploded in machinegun fire. I hugged the earth and wondered whether Paul had found Emil yet. I wondered what he would do next. He’s lost at least three men, he himself was wounded although not badly. Soon it would be too dark to see to shoot, and the sound of our encounter must eventually bring in the outside world. My guess was he would try to skedaddle in the two ARC trucks.
On my belly, knees and elbows I snaked my way in the direction where Sid had vanished.
“Sid, hey Sid! Rita? It’s me, Helen.”
“We’re here.” Hands grabbed me and pulled me into a dusty hollow made by chickens for their dust baths. As I fell I got a powerful hit of the ammonia-laden smell of disturbed chicken shit. I lay on my back staring up at Rita and Sid crouching above me. They had an Uzi apiece.
“Nice place you’ve got here. Could use an air freshener, though.”
Sid grinned without understanding. He didn’t look well at all. In fact he didn’t look like he would last long. There is something about the eyes. They tell it all. I’ve seen it too often in the past to make a mistake. Sid was dying. There was nothing to be done about it.
“Who did for old Ben, Sid? Do you know?”
He stared at me, remembering, then shook his head. His speech was fuzzy, disjointed. “He was already dead. I don’t know how. Then they fired a shot into his belly and took his body away somewhere. Shoreman was in charge.” Sid stopped, reliving those moments in the park. “Harry was dead by then too. Emil shot him. I couldn’t help. They ambushed us.” His face contorted. He stopped. Disconnected sentences did make a kind of sense. It was all I wanted to know right then. Quickly I changed the subject, just a little.
“Well, I got Emil. In the house right now. He’d been the sniper on the roof. They are losing men. Paul must do something. I reckon he’ll try for those trucks. Where’s Artemis and Nancy at, Rita? I thought I saw Artemis back there a while ago.”
“They’ve gone to the car. Your jeep. I wonder if they’ve made it. Shouldn’t your Vancouver friends be here? And how about the neighbours? They must have heard this racket.”
“Yeah. The question is when? When will anyone arrive and who will get here first? They are expecting more trucks with arms. I bet Paul won’t wait. He cannot afford to. What do you think?” I asked, looking at the two white smudges of their faces in the gathering dusk.
“We blow the trucks,” Sid said finally. Rita nodded. We’d all come to the same conclusion.
“OK. How about you stay here and keep them busy and Rita and I will go do in the trucks?” I wasn’t sure he could make it.
“I think it’s too late. Look!” Rita grabbed my arm and the three of us looked at the house. It was dark and silent. I picked up a chicken water-dish and waved it above my head. It glinted in the remaining rays of the sun. No reaction.
“They’ve gone down the tunnel to try to get to the trucks. Shoreman’s already there. Let’s go!” We rose and ran back towards the barn and the farmyard where the two ARC trucks sat like waiting monsters. As we turned the corner by the barn, the same corner Artemis and I had navigated safely a couple of times, a spatter of shots rang out. I felt rather than saw Rita fall. Sid kept going. He almost threw himself between the two trucks and disappeared. I squatted by Rita feverishly trying to gauge where and how seriously she’d been hit. There was black, sticky stuff on her neck, on my hands. Blood pumped steadily out. She was certainly alive but with such a blood loss wouldn’t stay that way for long. I ripped her shirt and wound it around her head. I wasn’t sure whether she wouldn’t be better sitting up so I grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her into the shadow of the barn, propping her up there. Then turned my attention back to the goings-on in the yard.
Sid was either dead or lying doggo. I glimpsed figures running out of the root cellar door in the direction of the trucks. Paul was evacuating, as I’d predicted. Engine in the second truck was running now. It was only a question of seconds before both would be on their way. I took careful aim at the front tire of the nearest truck. Before I could squeeze the trigger the world exploded in front of me. I was flung down like a rag, and it rained dirt, stones and bits of scrap metal for what seemed like hours. Some of this debris must have hit me. I passed out.