Psych: The Call Of The Mild Part 18

"Would that be the same technology that was stolen from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory?" Gus said.

"That's great. You guys figured out a piece of it," Mathis said. "Just enough to get Archie Kane killed."

"We're not the ones with guns and badges," Gus said. "We're not the ones with the entire power of the federal government behind them. We didn't even know who Archie Kane was until he was dead, let alone that he was working with the FBI."

"He wasn't," Mathis said. "I couldn't break cover with him. But I did put a little pressure on the guy, and he snapped."

"If by 'snapped' you mean dressing up as a mime and holding innocent people hostage in a public restroom, I think that's a fair a.s.sessment," Shawn said.

"I mean he tried to take care of the problem on his own to protect his mentor, and it got him killed," Mathis snapped. "I've got that kid's blood on my hands, and the only way they're coming clean is when I pop the guy who did him."

"Then we all want the same thing," Gus said.

"Not entirely," Mathis said. "Not unless you're secretly harboring a yearning for a stint at Gitmo."

"Agent Mathis," Shawn said soothingly. "Special Agent Mathis. Very Special Agent Mathis. What my rock-happy friend is saying is that we have a common goal. We all want to catch the person who committed these crimes. If we work together, we can figure it out before the rescue chopper shows up."

"There's not going to be a rescue chopper," Mathis said.

"Once we use one of the beacons, there will be," Shawn said.

"You're not using the beacons. n.o.body is. One of those four lawyers sucking down sorrel soup is a murderer and a traitor. That person has given up all rights to be free in civil society. So whichever one it is, he or she is not going back to civilization except in handcuffs."

"I understand that," Gus said. "But there are three other lawyers, as well as the two of us and you, and we haven't murdered or, um, traitored anyone. What happens if we get to the end of the trail and you still haven't figured out who the bad guy is?"

"I'll sacrifice you all and myself if that's what it takes," Mathis said. "The spy is never going to walk free again."

"Say," Shawn said. "I'm not suggesting that the knock on the head has left you the slightest bit crazy or anything like that. But it sounds an awful lot like you're talking about letting five innocent people die so you can catch one criminal."

"Is that what it sounds like?" Mathis said. "Then I guess that must be what it is."

"You can't do that," Gus protested. "You work for the government. You have rules. Laws. Statutes. Regulations."

"None of which applies in the wilderness," Mathis said. "There's only one law out here. And that's me."

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

Gus lay wide awake on the feather bed, staring up through the darkness at the tent ceiling. He thought back to the start of this day, when his only problem was that Shawn wouldn't share his theory of who'd killed Ellen Svaco. Somehow he'd managed to convince himself that that had been a problem worth getting worked up about.

That was before he'd found himself on a five-day nature hike with a quintet of psychopathic lawyers, one of whom was also a murderer who seemed to have no compunction about killing to keep his or her ident.i.ty a secret. At least two people were already dead, and Gus couldn't imagine why the killer would feel any hesitation to continue with the spree.

But now even that seemed like the good old days. Because that killer was likely to attempt murder only if it looked like he or she was about to be revealed. Mathis, the FBI agent, had claimed he'd kill them all if he didn't unmask the killer. Which meant that someone was going to try to kill Gus, Shawn, and who knew how many others no matter which way things worked out.

There was a light snore from the bed next to his. Shawn was sleeping peacefully-as always. And he'd eaten well, too, knocking back two bowls of soup and at least three helpings of lamb, along with a couple of chocolate souffles. Nothing seemed to bother him-not their impending doom, or the impossibility of their situation, or guilt at having gotten them into this death march in the first place. Even when Gus had told him the entire story of his long search-and-rescue mission, starting with his baffling discovery upon stepping out of the bathing pavilion, through the searches of the other sleeping quarters and the supply tent, through his treacherous journey across the rocky hillside, Shawn sounded more entertained than impressed. By the time he was done, Gus suspected he'd hit the wrong person with the rock.

He was feeling around on the ground next to him for something to chuck at Shawn when he heard noises from outside. It was a rustling, followed by the sound of a zipper being undone. It took Gus a moment to realize that it was coming from the supply tent behind them. Maybe one of the servers had decided that sleeping outside was no fun and was going to make a bed among the next morning's food.

Or maybe it was the next morning. Gus' heart sunk at the thought. He could tell through the sleeping tent's fabric that it was still dark out, but that didn't mean it wouldn't soon be time for them to be yanked out of bed. He hadn't slept at all, and now he'd have to get up and face another endless day on the march. Nothing could be worse than that.

Except what happened next.

Chapter Thirty-Nine.

The walls of the tent lit up with blinding flashes of light, and the air was filled with gunfire. Gus could hear Jade screaming. This time there was no chance it was a cry of happy surprise.

Shawn sat up in bed. "What's happening?"

Another burst of gunfire lit up the tents, tearing holes in the nylon at the top.

"Is it the killer?" Gus whispered.

There was another blast of gunshot, this time from the other side of the camp. And then an answering burst from the first side.

"Not unless he's brought friends," Shawn said, grabbing his clothes from the side of his bed and sliding into his shorts.

Gus grabbed his own clothes and started to change out of his pajamas. Even as he was doing it, he didn't know why. It wasn't like the hiking clothes would wick bullets away from his skin like water. But he felt much readier for action as soon as his shorts were zipped. "Maybe he's fighting it out with Mathis," Gus said, pulling his shoes on and tying them tight.

"Mathis isn't Melvin Purvis, and the killer isn't Baby Face Nelson," Shawn said. "And a tommy-gun battle seems a little out of scale for the crimes involved here."

"Then, what?"

Shawn slithered out of his bed and crawled to the tent's front flap. "One way to find out," he said.

"Don't!" Gus whispered. "They'll know we're in here."

"There are three sleeping tents spread over a few hundred feet of ground in the middle of thousands of acres of wilderness," Shawn said. "I suspect they're going to think to look in here no matter what."

"Then let's not be here when they do," Gus said. He gestured to the far corner of the tent where two walls met the floor, then crawled over to it. He tried to lift the tent wall off the floor section, but it was so tightly sewn on it might as well have been one piece of nylon.

Outside, the air was filled again with another burst of automatic gunfire, and now in the silences between they could hear male voices barking orders.

"Get out of there!" one of the voices yelled from across the camp. "You've got one second before I blow your brains out."

"They're rounding up the lawyers," Shawn whispered as he slid in next to Gus.

"They'll be coming for us next," Gus said.

"Maybe not," Shawn said. "We're not lawyers."

"Even if that would make a difference to whoever is blowing up the camp, how are we going to prove it to them?" Gus said, still trying to tear the nylon open.

"Good point," Shawn said. "It's not like we can show them the lack of a license. The bar a.s.sociation should really offer certificates of non-lawyerhood."

"We can suggest that to them if we ever get out of here alive," Gus said, giving the nylon another yank. It was no use. A grizzly bear could probably tear this tent open, but thoughtless hunters had nearly wiped them out a century ago, and now you could never count on finding one when you needed him. And even if you did, he'd be more interested in knocking over suburban garbage cans than helping innocent people escape from insane killers. And when you came right down to it, that was what was wrong with nature.

"Are you all right?" Shawn said gently. "Because you look like your brain is spinning out into some kind of reality-deflecting rant."

"I'm fine," Gus said. "At least I would be if there weren't people firing automatic weapons out there."

"Look on the bright side," Shawn said. "Soon they'll be firing them in here."

"Why do you think I'm trying to tear a hole in this tent?" Gus said.

"I didn't know that's what you were doing," Shawn said. "I thought you were using the tent wall as your blanky."

"I never had a blanky," Gus said. "Or a binky or a noo-noo, or any other stupid piece of cloth to make me feel better. And if I did, it wouldn't have been yellow, nylon, and attached to a tent that gun-wielding maniacs were about to invade."

"I do see how that could defeat the entire purpose of a security blanket," Shawn said.

"I was trying to make a way out for us."

"Oh, if that's what you want," Shawn said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a Swiss Army knife. "Try this. I grabbed it out of my pack. Silly me, I thought it might come in handy at some point."

Gus could have kissed Shawn. Or plunged one of the knife's many blades into his heart. It all depended on whether he decided to focus on Shawn's forethought or on the fact that he'd been sitting there for what seemed like hours watching Gus uselessly tug at the tent fabric.

Instead he pulled the longest blade out of its slot and plunged it into the nylon, then ran it along the seam between the wall and the tent. The st.i.tching fell away like ice cream under a blowtorch, and in a second there was an opening big enough to crawl through.

"The supply tent is right behind us," Gus said. "If we can get around that, we'll be in the darkness and they won't be able to find us."

"Unless they brought flashlights," Shawn said.

Gus lifted the tent wall and wriggled through, then rolled until he hit the soft wall of the supply tent. He waited there silently until Shawn rolled against him. There was another burst of gunfire from across the camp. Gus thought he could hear Jade crying. "We've got to help them," he whispered.

"You've got the knife," Shawn said. "Go for it."

"There are at least two people with automatic weapons out there," Gus said.

"And you've got eight blades, plus a screwdriver, corkscrew, tweezers, nail file, and magnifying gla.s.s," Shawn said. "I feel sorry for them."

There was no point in glaring at Shawn in the darkness, but Gus did it anyway. "We can't just let them kill all the lawyers."

"No matter what the b.u.mper sticker says," Shawn agreed. "But charging into the middle of a gunfight waving a magnifying gla.s.s isn't going to help anyone. Unless they're really, really big and having trouble seeing us puny humans."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"First thing, we've got to get out of here," Shawn said. "Just far enough so it's not worth their trouble to look for us too long. Then we follow and see where they take their prisoners."

"What makes you think they're going to take them anywhere?"

"Sometime tomorrow a helicopter is going to land here to take the cook and the waiters away, either back home or to the next rest stop," Shawn said. "The gunmen aren't going to want to be here when that happens."

"Unless their plan is to hijack a helicopter," Gus said.

"There is that possibility," Shawn said. "But I can think of about a million easier ways to do that. And either way, our first step is still the same. We've got to get away from here."

It didn't feel right. It felt like running away and leaving all the others to some horrible fate. But no matter how many scenarios Gus ran in his head, he didn't see one that was even half as logical as Shawn's plan. "Let's go."

Gus pushed himself up on his knees, ready to crawl back around the supply tent. Shawn grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down.

A circle of light, the beam from a flashlight, hit the tent's back wall, then swept across its surface. A gruff voice shouted from inside. "They're not here."

Somewhere past the tent, another voice spoke in threatening tones: "Where are they?"

"I don't know. I don't know!" It was Gwendolyn's voice, and she sounded scared. After all that had just happened, it was the fear in her voice that frightened Gus the most.

"They probably ran off." It was a man's voice. Savage, Gus thought.

"Right off the mountain." That was definitely Mathis. Why wasn't he doing anything? Gus wondered, and then remembered kicking Mathis' gun into the water. "They're probably lying dead at the bottom of a ravine."

"Possibly," the threatening voice said. "Or maybe they're hiding just out of reach of our lights. Let's find out."

"That's a good idea." It was Balowsky, and there was a mild slur in his voice that Gus suspected wasn't entirely caused by fear. "We can wait until the sun comes up. Then we'll be able to see for ourselves."

"I have a better idea," the threatening voice said, and then spoke up loudly. "The two of you who are hiding out there. You have ten seconds to show yourselves. If you do not surrender to me within that period of time, I will kill one hostage. And then I will kill another hostage every ten seconds after that. One. Two."

The voice continued counting down.

Gus got to his feet.

"Are you crazy?" Shawn said.

"No, but I will be if people start dying because I didn't walk fast enough. And so will you."

"Six. Seven."

"Sometimes I hate being a decent person," Shawn said as he got to his feet.

"Fortunately it doesn't come up all that often," Gus said.

"Eight. Nine."

Shawn and Gus stepped around the edge of the yellow tent. "Don't shoot!" Shawn shouted. "We're here."

The five members of Rushton's team were huddled together by the blue tent. Mathis had managed to change into his clothes, or maybe he'd never taken them off, but Savage and Balowsky were still in their pajamas. Gwendolyn and Jade wore robes, presumably over the sheer nightgowns that had been left for them.

Four men wearing camouflage, army boots, and black balaclavas leveled automatic rifles at the lawyers. Their leader stood in the center of the quad, aiming his own weapon at the ground where the four servers and the chef lay facedown.