CHAPTER I

The black sedan bounced along the rough gravel fire road leading deeper and deeper into the wooded hills. From time to time the driver glanced nervously into the rearview mirror, trying to gauge the body language of the hooded individual in the back seat.

“How much further? This road looks like it’s about to run out….”

“Shut up and keep driving…until I tell you to stop.”

The steely nose of a half-concealed revolver was pointed directly at the back of the driver’s head.

Peering through the gathering dusk, the driver could see the road veering off sharply to the right, just above a deep gorge hidden by a thick bramble of undergrowth and close-bound trees. All save the firs were now denuded of their leaves in anticipation of the winter to come.

The road narrowed even further and the ruts grew deeper. The driver struggled to compensate against the car’s steering mechanism…then lost the battle.

“What are you doing…?” A hoarse shout erupted from the back seat.

But it was too late.

The car slid sideways in the damp gravel and poked its nose over the brink. In spite of a last valiant effort by the driver to regain control, first the hood, then the body of the car careened down the side of the abyss into the darkness below.

One wheel continued to spin crazily for a moment or two…then silence.

The driver gradually regained consciousness. At first he believed he was at home in his own bed, in that dreamless state just before waking, when one is safe and all is well—his soul longed to linger in that split second before the harsh reality of daylight intruded on shadowed eyelids.

It was almost comfortable, lying to one side like this, belly and shoulder still harnessed in. It seemed restful and still…and yet…the awareness that something was terribly wrong began to sink in.

At last, struggling to an upright position, he turned and glanced into the back seat.

His unwanted passenger was twisted in the seat, the head cocked back in an unnatural position. The gun had fallen harmlessly to one side. There was no sound of breathing, and the driver could detect no rise and fall of the chest to indicate there was still respiration.

Gradually maneuvering his girth, the driver examined the seat belt fastener, and after a few manipulations, it clicked open easily.

Good! Now to get free of the car.

The automobile had come to rest against the driver’s door, which was caved in from the impact and would not open. Gingerly sliding across the gearbox to the passenger’s side of the front seat, the driver tried the door. It opened a crack, but was snug up against a stout fir limb. He laid back and began kicking at it, trying to muster all possible strength.

Finally, after several minutes of concentrated effort, first there was a cracking sound then the whole door and tree branch give way. There was just enough room to slide out, feet first, on to solid ground.

Before exiting, the driver cautiously reached over the back seat and grabbed for the gun lying just out of reach of the inert passenger’s hand.

Can’t be too careful, he thought, easing out through the passenger door onto the uneven leaf-carpeted dirt.

My captor might not be dead. I don’t know exactly where I am…or how long it will take to get out of here.

I’ve got the advantage now, and I intend to keep it until I’m safe.