The Call of the Mild p-3 Read online

  “That brings up an important question,” he said. “About the whole ‘as soon as we get back home’ thing. And that is: how?”

  “Well, once we’re off the mountain, it shouldn’t be a problem at all,” Shawn said. “We left your car at Rushton’s office, but I’m sure we can get someone to give us a ride over there. Worst-case scenario, we can get a cab from the police station, if Lassiter won’t arrange for a squad car to drive us. Do I smell pancakes?”

  Shawn started out of the tent, but Gus jumped up and grabbed his arm. “Once we’re off the mountain?”

  “I don’t think we can get Lassiter to send a squad car all the way up here,” Shawn said. “Yes, he owes us for all the cases we’ve solved, but I don’t think he’ll be willing to spring for the extra mileage.”

  “Maybe I didn’t phrase my question precisely enough,” Gus said. “When I asked how we were going to get home, I meant how we were going to get home from here. Which would include the sub-question of exactly how we were going to get down from this mountain.”

  “The way I see it, we have two choices,” Shawn said. “We can set out on a hard, grueling trek through the blasted wasteland, facing the constant threat of thirst, hunger, bears, or desperate villains protecting their illegal marijuana fields.”

  “You mean hike down,” Gus said.

  “Or we can stay here and gain weight,” Shawn said. “I’ll go whichever way you want. We can think about it over bacon.”

  Gus had known Shawn long enough to realize that if he didn’t feel like explaining, nothing was going to make him do so, not even the hundreds of lightning strikes Gus was wishing down on him from the heavens. He followed Shawn out of the tent and to the table and allowed one of the waiters-it was either Coty or Bismarck; Cody was off juicing oranges, and waitress Miranda was nowhere to be seen-to slide a plate of fried eggs, bacon, and hash browns in front of him. There was a small bowl of ketchup in the center of the table, but as much as Gus usually liked to put the stuff on his potatoes, somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do so today.

  As they ate, the table began to fill up. Gwendolyn was first to arrive, and Bismarck or Coty presented her with a plate. A few moments later, a smiling Balowsky took a chair, and almost immediately was presented with a brimming mug of coffee by Miranda, who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.

  “It is a grand morning, isn’t it?” Balowsky boomed cheerily. “I feel like I’ve been sleeping on a cloud.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Gwendolyn said. “I’ve never seen one up close, but I always assumed a cloud would be a little less bony.”

  “Pierced to the heart,” Balowsky said, clutching at an imaginary arrow through the organ. “Your great wit has claimed another victim. Just like my great-”

  “Hi, everybody,” Jade said as she came shyly up to the table. “I hope everyone slept well.”

  “If we didn’t, it’s only because we found something more relaxing to do,” Balowsky said.

  To Gus’ surprise, Jade seemed to be blushing as she took her seat. She stared down at the tablecloth, apparently trying to hide a smile.

  “Funny,” Gwendolyn said. “I wouldn’t have thought you had all that peaceful a night.”

  “Really?” Jade was staring at the table even harder now. “What would make you say something like that?”

  “I thought you were having a nightmare.”

  “You weren’t there,” Jade said. “You were sleeping outside.”

  “Under the stars, that’s true,” Gwendolyn said. “But I walked past our tent when I got up to use the bathroom in the night, and I could have sworn it was rocking.”

  “Must have been the wind,” Jade mumbled as Savage strode up to the table, the grin on his face a double of Balowsky’s.

  “Wind is the word for it,” Gwendolyn said. “And now that we’ve all answered the call of the wild, maybe we can start to talk about how we’re going to get the hell out of here.”

  Shawn pushed his plate away and stood. “I’m glad you brought that up,” he said. “I’ve got a plan.”

  “How nice for you,” Gwendolyn said, then turned back to the lawyers. “We need to formulate a strategy, and then-”

  Shawn lifted his empty plate and dropped it on the table with a crash. “As I was saying,” he said, once all the lawyers had turned in his direction, “I have a plan. More important, I also have the map. So unless your strategy includes growing wings and flying off this mountain, you might want to pay attention.”

  “Actually,” Gus said, “even if they did grow wings, the map would still come in handy.”

  “My partner makes an excellent point,” Shawn said. “Although if you were going to grow wings, you might get a homing sense, too.”

  “We’ll listen to your plan,” Balowsky said. “Just as long as we don’t have to listen to any more of this drivel.”

  “I can live with that,” Shawn said, then turned towards the stove, where Helstrom was gathered with his waitstaff. “You need to hear this, too. You’re stuck here with the rest of us.”

  Helstrom came over and stood at the head of the table. Cody, Coty, and Bismarck joined him. Miranda went over to where Balowsky was sitting and leaned against him. He slipped an arm around her thighs.

  “As you may have noticed, we have been stranded on top of this mountain,” Shawn said. “It seems to me we have two choices. We can send an expedition to get the hatch open, or we can take our chances with the Others. But I’m still concerned about the polar bear and the cloud monster. Plus, what are we going to do when Claire’s baby is due? I don’t know nothing about birthing no babies.”

  “What hatch?” Gwendolyn said.

  “What Others?” Balowsky said.

  “None of this makes any sense at all,” Jade said. “It’s like you’re taking concepts at random and jamming them together, hoping your audience will do the work of making sense of them.”

  “You know, that’s exactly what I yell at the TV every week,” Shawn said.

  Gus could see that the lawyers were getting restless. Jade was staring deeply into Savage’s eyes, while Balowsky was practicing his Rolfing techniques on the small of Miranda’s back. Gwendolyn was absently playing with the spreader she’d taken from the butter dish as if planning how she could sharpen it into a shiv.

  Gus stood up next to Shawn. “Please, we need your attention for just a few minutes. Shawn-focus.”

  Shawn fluttered his eyes, then reared back as if he’d been slapped. “Sorry, apparently the spirit of the mountain stepped out and left the spirit of the island in his place,” Shawn said. “And that spirit just says anything that will keep the story going on for another week, no matter how little sense it makes. The spirit of the mountain, on the other hand, is extremely specific about what needs to be done.”

  “Like you sitting down and shutting up?” Gwendolyn said.

  “You know, it’s funny,” Shawn said. “As I look around this table, everyone here seems to have made a new friend except you. Why do you think that is?”

  Gwendolyn fingered the spreader as if calculating the exact speed and trajectory she’d need to propel it so that it would lodge in Shawn’s trachea.

  “As I was saying,” Shawn said. “We are stuck up here and we need to formulate a plan.”

  “Why don’t we just walk down the mountain?” Savage said. “That’s what we all signed up for.”

  “Not all of us,” Helstrom said.

  “I say we wait,” Balowsky said. “Rushton may be an evil old bastard, but I don’t believe he’s insane. If we don’t show up on time, he’ll send choppers up to look for us.”

  “Quite possibly,” Shawn said. “And I know that I’m eager to risk my life on a gamble that the man who hired a troupe of actors-slash-waiters to play terrorist and kidnap us all isn’t insane.”

  “And one actor-slash-chef,” Helstrom said. “We’re not all waiters here.”

  “That’s a good point,” Shawn said. “And it’s good to h
ave a chef with us as long as we’re stuck up here. It will be especially useful when our food runs out and we have to start eating each other. Bron will be able to cook us up in ways so that we all taste like chicken.”

  “Chicken is one of my specialties,” Helstrom said.

  “Good to know,” Gus said. “Say, Chef, how many days’ worth of food do we have up here?”

  Helstrom did a quick count of the people sitting and standing around the table. “Let’s see, there are eleven of us,” he said. “We might be able to stretch it out through tomorrow night’s dinner, as long as we don’t eat a big lunch.”

  Something was wrong in those calculations. Gus knew it, but he couldn’t put a finger on the problem. And Shawn was moving on.

  “Plus we’ve got the freeze-dried food in our packs, which should be enough for each of us for six days,” Shawn said. “As long as we don’t mind watching Bron and his staff starve to death while we feast.”

  “We can pool our resources,” Savage said. “We’re expected in four days. If we’re not in by then, they’ll have choppers up the next day.”

  “Except that Rushton gave us all extra rations in case we wanted to take a little extra time to enjoy the scenery,” Gus said. “Does that really sound like your boss to you?”

  It didn’t-not to anyone at the table.

  “I knew he was up to something,” Balowsky said. “But even I never dreamed it would be this diabolical.”

  Gwendolyn jammed the blade of the spreader into the table. “That bastard,” she said. “He knew it was going to take at least six days to get down the mountain.”

  “Probably seven,” Shawn said. “Six with full food, and one last day on empty, just to put the fear into you all.”

  “I can gather seeds and nuts,” Savage said.

  “Apparently,” Gwendolyn said with a glance at Jade. “You’re already halfway there.”

  “We’ve got to get word down,” Shawn said. “Then they can send up the rescue team.”

  Savage nearly jumped out of his seat. “One of us needs to hike down to summon help,” he said. “I’ll volunteer.”

  “And then you can have a good laugh on us with Rushton when you get there,” Gwendolyn said. “For all we know, you’re the one who had the safe word.”

  “I’m thinking of a word now,” Savage said. “But it’s not a particularly safe one.”

  “Two people have to go,” Gus said.

  “How about Jade?” Savage said. She blushed furiously.

  “Because we know she won’t do absolutely anything you ask her to do,” Gwendolyn said.

  “There were some things…” Savage said.

  Jade blushed even more deeply. “It was our first date.”

  “The second can wait,” Balowsky said. “Sending the two of them would be worse than letting him go alone. At least he wouldn’t be stopping every five minutes for some quality time.”

  “Unless we gave him a mirror,” Gwendolyn said.

  Gus shot Shawn a look-his partner was losing control again. And there was something else nagging at Gus. He wished he could remember what it was.

  Shawn clutched his forehead. “What’s that, O spirit of the mountain? You say the wilderness asks for the mighty huntress to accompany the great woodsman?”

  “Tell the spirit to put a sock in it,” Gwendolyn said. “I’m not spending a week alone on a trail with Captain Nature.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Balowsky said. “If either one of you turns out to be Rushton’s spy, the other will never let him get away with it.”

  “Or her,” Savage said.

  “It’s not me,” Gwendolyn said.

  “I’m not thrilled about this,” Jade said. “But if they run out of food, Gwendolyn can kill something.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Shawn said. “With two people gone, we should be able to stretch the food to cover the rest of us. But to make sure this is absolutely fair, we should take a vote. Everybody in favor of the plan?”

  The hands of the waitstaff and the chef were up before Shawn finished his sentence. One by one the lawyers raised their hands until the only one without an arm in the air was Gwendolyn.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  “That’s it, then,” Shawn said. “Eleven to nothing.”

  Gus suddenly knew what was wrong. “Twelve,” he said.

  “No, I just counted,” Shawn said. “Four waiters, one guerrilla commando, four lawyers, and the two of us. That’s eleven.”

  “There should be five lawyers,” Gus said. “Or at least four lawyers and one grumpy FBI agent.”

  The realization hit them all at the same time, but it was Jade who spoke first. “Where’s Mathis?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Gwendolyn said. “I didn’t feel the need to hook up with the nearest loser last night.”

  “Who was sharing a tent with him?” Shawn said.

  “I was,” Savage said. “But I chose to sleep outside last night.”

  “As did I,” Balowsky said.

  “Has anyone been back in that tent this morning?” Shawn said.

  Savage and Balowsky shook their heads. Everyone turned to stare at the blue-and-white-striped tent assigned to Mathis.

  “This is ridiculous,” Gwendolyn snapped. “He’s probably in there sulking because we wouldn’t all do what he wanted us to.”

  “Or he’s left,” Jade said. “Set out into the wilderness on his own.”

  “He wouldn’t get far,” Savage said. “He might be the reincarnation of J. Edgar Hoover, but in the mountains he doesn’t know which way is down.”

  “He didn’t leave,” Gus said. Mathis was willing to see them all die in the wilderness before he’d let his suspect get back to civilization. If there had been a second person missing, Gus could have believed the Fed had taken him out. But there was no way he would simply walk away from the rest of them now.

  “Statistically, we don’t need his vote,” Shawn said. “But in case there’s an inquiry from the Robert’s Rules of Order people, we should try to include him.”

  As the others watched, frozen, Shawn got up from the table and walked to Mathis’ tent.

  “You’re missing breakfast,” he said before he pulled open the flap. Then he stopped and stared.

  “What is it?” Gus said.

  “Well, the good news is we don’t need to save any bacon for him,” Shawn said.

  Gus jumped up from the table and ran over to the tent, followed by all of the lawyers. They pushed around Shawn so they could get a good look.

  A good look at Mathis lying peacefully on his feather bed. And at the kitchen knife protruding from his chest.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chris Rasmussen stalked the mean streets of Isla Vista. He’d loved this town, but now it seemed soiled to him. There had been a criminal conspiracy underneath its manicured lawns, eating at the roots of the community like a gopher destroys an entire field of grass.

  How had he missed it all? Had he been so busy writing jaywalking tickets he had let the real villains go free? Had they been laughing at him all the time?

  However it had happened, he could not let it stand. He’d called Lassiter repeatedly, offering his services, but the detective had said the task force was closed and had hung up on him. No doubt Lassiter was busily figuring out a way to pretend these murders had never happened. He was up against forces greater than himself-and he was folding.

  Henry Spencer had understood that. Rasmussen saw it all now. The great detective could tell that the fix was in, that when the rich and mighty got involved, the pursuit of justice took a backseat to the protection of power. That’s what he had been trying to tell Rasmussen at Ellen Svaco’s house. That’s why he walked away from the case. Detective Spencer thought he was protecting his new protege.

  But Officer Chris Rasmussen neither needed nor wanted protection. He wanted to do his job. His duty. He wanted to see the guilty punished and the innocent protected. That was all that mattered to him.
<
br />   In a way he was touched by Henry Spencer’s desire to shelter him. He supposed the thought was that if Rasmussen walked away from this, he’d survive to protect and serve another day.

  But the law didn’t work like that. You couldn’t simply choose which criminals you’d stop and which you’d let go. Once you started down that path, there was no way back. You weren’t the law anymore. You were just a hired thug with a badge silk-screened on your chest.

  Years ago Rasmussen had rousted a bunch of students who were drinking on the beach long after closing. He confiscated their beer, smothered their campfire, and wrote them all tickets. Normally during an encounter like this he expected some mild-mannered abuse. But this time had been different. The kids were polite, even pleasant. And one of them had offered Rasmussen a bit of wisdom he’d treasured ever since: “The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread.”

  That was the way Chris Rasmussen had always enforced the law, and the way he always would. When a crime was committed, it had to be investigated and the guilty punished, no matter who it was. Maybe the Santa Barbara Police Department didn’t work that way. But that wasn’t going to stop Chris Rasmussen. He had his badge and he had his gun, and that was going to be enough.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Just a few hours earlier, Gus had wanted nothing more than for the bickering among the lawyers to stop. Now that it had, all he wanted was for it to start again. What had replaced it was so much worse: a hostile silence marked only by suspicious glares and the tromping of feet on the forest floor.

  They were marching down the same trail they had taken before. It wasn’t just Savage and Gwendolyn. It was all the lawyers, along with Shawn and Gus.

  Shawn’s plan had been a good one. It would have sent the group’s two strongest hikers down the mountain, almost guaranteeing they’d make it to a rangers’ station. Even if one of them had been the smuggler or Rushton’s spy, the other would have made sure the mission was carried out. And best of all, it removed two of the most annoying bickerers from the campsite, ensuring that the rest of them could enjoy the time they spent waiting for rescue.