Dillinger - Jack Higgins [37]
'I told you, they closed it in 1893 after the rock came down on more than fifty Indians. Since I've been here we've had so many cave-ins I've lost count. Men get killed all the time.'
'Then the timbering must be at fault. Don't tell me Rivera's trying to save money there, too?'
Fallon shook his head. 'The mountain's just waiting to come down on all of us. Every time you cough in the tunnel a rock comes down. That's why we daren't use any more machinery. The vibration might be all that's needed.'
They paused beside three wooden cabins and he opened the door of the first one. 'This is where we live.'
It was plainly furnished with table and chairs, two bunks and an iron stove in one corner.
'Who uses the other two?' Dillinger asked.
'One of them is the powder store. Rojas lives in the end one.'
'Where is he now?'
'Went into the mine about five minutes ago, looking like murder. I pity any poor devil in there who gets in his way.'
They walked beside the rails past the steam engine, and entered the mouth of the tunnel. Dillinger had expected it to be cooler in the tunnel. Instead, the heat was worse.
'What's wrong with the ventilation in here?'
'The air shaft was blocked by a rock fall a couple of months ago,' Fallon replied. 'Rivera gave orders to leave it alone and concentrate on bringing the ore out.'
'Hell, that sounds dangerous to me. Didn't you tell him that.'
Fallon shrugged. 'He said we hadn't got the time to waste.'
They turned a corner and the sunlight died, leaving them in a place of shadows illuminated by lanterns and guttering candles. When they reached a fork Fallon hesitated. 'There are two faces, north and south. Rojas could be at either.'
They stood to one side as a truck moved past them pushed by half a dozen weary, dust-coated Indians. Fallon lifted a lantern from a hook in the wall and led the way into the darkness.
Gradually, Dillinger was conscious of faint sounds, and a light appeared. The tunnel narrowed until they had to stoop and then it opened into a low-roofed cavern, badly illuminated by several candles.
Ten or twelve Indians crouched at the rock face swinging short-handled picks. Others gathered the ore into baskets, which they emptied into another truck. The air was heavy, thick with dust and almost unbreathable.
Dillinger turned away and moved back along the tunnel. He paused once, leaning against the wall, and coughed harshly, trying to clear the dust from his lungs. There was a sudden slide of pebbles from the darkness above.
'See what I mean?' Fallon said.
Dillinger didn't reply. He turned and moved back along the tunnel. Suddenly a man cried out in pain, the sound echoing flatly through the darkness.
Dillinger started to run, and gradually the light increased as he came out into the main tunnel and saw several Indians crouched against the wall, their truck tipped on to its side, ore blocking the track.
With one hand Rojas kept an old, grey-haired Indian down on his knees. In the other he wielded a whip. It whistled through the air and curved round the thin shoulders, drawing blood. The old man cried out in pain.
When the whip rose again, Dillinger spun Rojas round and sent him crashing back against the wall. The Mexican gave a cry of rage and came up from the floor, drawing his revolver.
Dillinger moved in fast, ramming one arm against the man's throat, grabbing the gun hand and forcing the barrel towards the floor. For a moment they swayed there and suddenly the revolver went off.
The sound re-echoing in the confined space was like a charge of dynamite exploding and the earth seemed to tremble. As the Indians cried out in alarm, the mountain rushed in on them.
9
Dillinger remembered thinking, 'This is it,' as everything seemed to cave in all around him. He'd thought that once before in a small bank, an easy job, and as he'd gone out the door carrying a bagful of bills he saw ten feet ahead of him a man too old still to be a cop pointing his .38 at him from a