Dillinger (v5) by Jack Higgins

Author:Jack Higgins
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-16T03:09:22+00:00

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 distance nobody could miss at. 'This is it,' he'd thought, but the policeman's gun clicked, a misfire, and Dillinger had kicked the weapon out of the cop's hand, jumped on the running board of the waiting car that took him on the grit road to safety. That was the time he decided never to do a job without the protection of a bullet-proof vest.

A bullet-proof vest, even if he'd had one on, is no protection against a mine cave-in. Dillinger lurched forward, groping his way through clouds of dust. He tripped and fell on his hands and knees. He lay there for a moment, coughing and choking, and then scrambled up a sloping ramp of rubble to where light gleamed between stones.

He pulled at them with his fingers and Fallon and Rojas appeared on either side of him, the Mexican obviously gripped by fear. A few minutes later the gap was wide enough and they crawled out into the sunlight followed by four Indians.

A crowd was already running toward them from the ore shed and Father Tomas came over the hill behind them in his buckboard. He reined in a few yards away and jumped to the ground.

'How bad is it?'

Fallon's face was a mask of dust. 'I think the whole damned mountain's fallen in.'

Dillinger took the bottle of tequila from his pocket, swallowed some and passed it to Fallon. Rojas was sitting on a boulder, his head in his hands, dazed. Dillinger handed him the bottle of tequila and said roughly, 'Get some of that down you and pull yourself together.'

Rojas took a long swallow, coughing as the fiery liquid burned into his stomach. He got to his feet and wiped his mouth.

'How many men are still inside?' Dillinger demanded.

'I'm not sure. Twenty or so.'

Fallon scrambled on top of the boulder and addressed the crowd in Spanish. 'Those men in there haven't got long. If we're going to do anything it's got to be now. Get pick-axes, shovels, baskets - anything you can lay your hands on.'

Dillinger and Fallon led the way up the slope and started to pull boulders away from the entrance. Everyone joined in, even the old priest, forming a human chain to pass the earth and stones backwards as they progressed farther into the tunnel.

The gap through which they had made their escape was widened until it would admit a dozen men with equipment. Lanterns were passed through and Dillinger stripped off his shirt and examined the wall of rock that filled the rear of the tunnel.

It was hot. The air was heavy with the settling dust. Fallon moved beside him. 'We've got to keep on digging.

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