Who was his partner? Tyne? Chalker? Where had he gone? For how long?

No matter. These were the best odds I’d have.

I threw my legs over the safety bar and slithered to the ground. My knees buckled, but I kept my feet.

“Hold it right there!” The bellowed command bounced off rock and reverberated down the shaft.

All around me was blackness. I suspected we’d descended a ramp, but had no idea its location.

Fast drew closer, the light on his helmet pointed straight at the cart.

I was a sitting duck.

When Fast’s beam was focused on the barrels, I’d noticed a spade propped to their rear.

I pitched into the darkness, rounded the row, dropped to a squat, and peered through a gap.

Fast’s light swiveled left, as though he were searching for something. Then it swung my way. “Get out here. You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

Stall!

“Five syllables. Impressive.” Blood leaping. Sounding much calmer than I felt. “Rocky said you were good with words.”

Fast shifted his feet but held position.

“Fast Moving. Love the double entendre, Phil.” My words leapfrogged one another, as though coming from everywhere at once.

“You’re dead, bitch.”

“Oh, dear. Now there you disappointed me.”

I felt for the spade, talking to cover any sound I might make. “Did you kill Beck?” Wrapping my fingers around the spade handle. “Or did you have your buddy do it?” Taunting to draw Fast closer. “Or have I got that backward? Is he the brain and you’re just the muscle?”

Fast took a few tentative steps, gun aimed in my direction. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I get why you had to eliminate Beck.” I eased the spade from the wall. “But why kill Eric Skipper?”

Fast again glanced left, then inched closer to the barrels. I sensed he was also stalling. Why? What had the other man gone to do? To get?

“Come on, Phil. Obviously, there’s been a glitch. Since we’re chatting here, waiting for your pal to get back so you two can murder me, why not lay out how it went down?”

Arms trembling, I lowered the spade. “OK. How about I give you my version. You just nod yes or no.”

“How about you shut the fuck up.”

Fast was now close enough for me to see his face. His skin looked autopsy-pale in the glow of the light from his helmet. A tangle of curls sparked white on his forehead.

“You learn that Farley McLeod has scored a rich kimberlite pipe. Maybe through Fipke, maybe on his own. You and McLeod and Tyne are all buddies. All ice road drivers together at one time. You know all about McLeod’s mineral claims.”

Fast’s gun hand rose. I visualized his finger tensing on the trigger.