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Finally, they reached the other side, where a few pines stood sentinel between the boulders. Sam held on to one of the trees, peering into the dark crevice. Lightning flashed, and, in that brief moment, he caught a glimpse of rope puddled on the ground about twenty feet below.

10

Thunder rumbled above them as Sam pointed toward the rope. “Down there!”

Remi took a quick look, then stepped back as Sam leaned over, shouting, “Karl! Brand! Can you hear us?”

He waited.

Only the wind and rain. He dropped to his belly for a better view. Unfortunately, the angle prevented him from seeing much of anything. Sam anchored his rope to one of the trees, lowering himself into the crevice. “Karl! Brand!”

One of the boys stepped into view, brushing his wet hair from his face as he looked up toward Sam. “Mr. Fargo? What are you doing here?”

“Your uncle called. Where’s your brother?”

Brand stepped in beside Karl, soaked through.

“Either of you hurt?” Sam asked.

Karl shook his head. “We’re fine. Cold, wet, hungry, but good.”

He rappelled down, glad to see the two still wore harnesses, recalling that their uncle said that they were experienced climbers. That would make their return much easier. “What happened here?”

“We’re not sure,” Brand said. “We were up on the ridge, on our way home, when someone started shooting at us.”

“Did you see who it was?”

“No,” he said. “We came back down here to get away. The only thing we can think is that whoever it was followed us and unknotted our rope so we couldn’t get out. The good news is, we found the plane.”

“Where?”

“Behind the camel’s head. It’s a bit of a climb down.”

Sam looked up at Remi. “See if you can get a call to their uncle. I’m going down to take a look at that plane.”

A light rain started to fall as he followed Karl and Brand along the ledge, then down the rocks toward the aircraft. No wonder the plane had never been found before now. It had crashed behind the massive rocks that formed the base of the camel’s head. The left wing had been sheared off. What was left of the fuselage was protected by the overhang of the massive rock outcropping it rested beneath. Between that and the scrub that had grown up around it, it was well camouflaged.

Whether or not anything left inside had survived the decades of weather remained to be seen. “Have either of you been in it?”

“Not any farther than the hold,” Brand said. “We used it for shelter from the rain. It doesn’t seem very stable.”

He was right about that. The plane was wedged beneath the outcropping, the right wing, what was left of it, having dropped into a deep crevice, with the body of the plane perched precariously over the same space, the nose tilted down.

Sam took out a flashlight and aimed it inside. Karl moved next to him as they peered into the opening where the tail had sheared off. The area near the door was slick with red mud where Karl and Brand had taken shelter from the rain. Beyond that, the interior was surprisingly dry, protected from the elements by the overhang. A thick layer of red dust covered the floor, marred down the middle by waffle boot prints. “Those yours?” Sam asked, recalling the footprints down by the creek bed.

Karl shook his head. “They were already there.”

Sam followed the trail with his light. “Wonder if he found anything.”

“If so,” Karl said, “he left something behind.” He pointed to what looked like a book stuck between the pilot and the copilot’s seats. “We wanted to get to it, but didn’t think it was safe.”

Sam placed one foot against the plane, pressing on it, thinking that even if it did fall, it wasn’t going far. The crevice it was wedged in seemed too narrow. Still, no telling what might happen, and so he retrieved Karl and Brand’s rope, then, brushing the rain from his face, waited for Remi, who was rappelling down from the boulders.

“Your uncle is anxiously waiting your return,” she said when she joined them, taking a closer lo

ok at the plane. “That thing looks like it’s going over any second.”

“I don’t think it’ll go far. It’s wedged pretty tight, never mind someone’s been in there.” Sam showed her the boot prints. “Same as down in the ravine.”


Tags: Clive Cussler Fargo Adventures Thriller