“You don’t get me, Ed. I’m through.”
“You don’t get me, Joe. You don’t resign from an Underground.”
“There’s no risk. I’ll leave quietly, and let myself be registered as a
straggler. It doesn’t mean anything to the rest of you. I’ll keep my mouth
shut — that goes without saying.”
Morgan took a long breath, then answered, “Joe, I’ve learned by bitter
experience not to trust statements set off by ‘naturally’, ‘of course’, or
‘that goes without saying’.”
“Oh, so you don’t trust me?”
“As Captain of this Company I can’t afford to. Unless you can get the
Company to recall me from office, my rulings stand. You’re under arrest.
Hand over your gun.
Benz glanced around, at blank, unfriendly faces. He reached for his waist.
“With your left hand, Joe!”
Instead of complying, Benz drew suddenly, backed away. “Keep clear!” he
said shrilly. “I don’t want to hurt anybody — but keep clear!”
Morgan was unarmed. There might have been a knife or two in the assembly,
but most of them had come directly from the dinner table. It was not their
custom to be armed inside the mine.
Young Morrie was armed with a rifle, having come from lookout duty. He did
not have room to bring it into play, but Morgan could see that he intended
to try. So could Benz.
“Stop it, Morrie!” Morgan assumed obedience and turned instantly to the
others. “Let him go. Nobody move. Get going, Joe.”
“That’s better.” Benz backed down the main tunnel, toward the main
entrance, weed and drift choked for years. Its unused condition was their
principal camouflage, but it could be negotiated.
He backed away into the gloom, still covering them. The tunnel curved;
shortly he was concealed by the bend.
Dad Carter went scurrying in the other direction as soon as Benz no longer
covered them. He reappeared at once, carrying something. “Heads down!” he
shouted, as he passed through them and took out after Benz.
“Dad!” shouted Morgan. But Carter was gone.
Seconds later a concussion tore at their ears and noses.
Morgan picked himself up and brushed at his clothes, saying in annoyed
tones, “I never did like explosives in cramped quarters. Cleve — Art. Go
check on it. Move!”
“Right, boss!” They were gone.
“The rest of you get ready to carry out withdrawal plan — full plan, with
provisions and supplies. Jerry, don’t disconnect either the receiver or the
line-of-sight till I give the word. Margie will help you. Cathleen, get
ready to serve anything that can’t be carried. We’ll have one big meal.
‘The condemned ate hearty.’ ”
“Just a moment, Captain.” McCracken touched his sleeve. “I had better get a
message into Barclay.”
“Soon as the boys report. You better get back into town.
“I wonder. Benz knows me. I think I’m here to stay.”
“Hm . . . well, you know best. How about your family?”
McCracken shrugged. “They can’t be worse off than they would be if I’m
picked up. I’d like to have them warned and then arrangements made for them
to rejoin me if possible.”
“We’ll do it. You’ll have to give me a new contact.”
“Planned for. This message will go through and my number-two man will step
into my shoes. The name is Hobart — runs a feed store on Pelham Street.”
Morgan nodded. “Should have known you had it worked out. Well, what we
don’t know — ” He was interrupted by Cleve, reporting.
“He got away, Boss.”
“Why didn’t you go after him?”
“Half the roof came down when Dad chucked the grenade. Tunnel’s choked with
rock. Found a place where I could see but couldn’t crawl through. He’s not
in the tunnel.”
“How about Dad?”
“He’s all right. Got clipped on the head with a splinter but not really
hurt.”
Morgan stopped two of the women hurrying past, intent on preparations for
withdrawal. “Here — Jean, and you, Mrs. Bowen. Go take care of Dad Carter
and tell Art to get back here fast. Shake a leg!”
When Art reported Morgan said, “You and Cleve go out and find Benz. Assume
that he is heading for Barclay. Stop him and bring him in if you can.