Chapter Eleven

Jack's head was still spinning as he came to, but he realised that the room was now empty, and the door stood ajar. Dragging himself to his feet, he staggered out and around the side of the building. Squinting, he looked up at the mineshaft.

And went cold.

He could only have been unconscious for a few minutes, but in that time, Cosworth had got Phryne into his car and driven up the hill to the mine entrance. As he watched, Cosworth hauled her apparently lifeless body into the crew transport. Moving to the controls he set it in motion – down to the blast site.

Jack's head cleared miraculously and he was running before he knew it. Gunning the motorbike and flicking up a couple of gears, he leaned to pluck a length of wood from a pile of supports with his left hand and steered up hill to the mine entrance. It was an inelegant approach. Being partly blinded by fear will do that to a motorcyclist.

On hearing the engine, Cosworth turned. When he saw Jack heading up the hill, he pulled out his pistol, and took careful aim. Jack slung the beam at his head, and didn't even bother to watch it connect.

Then Jack shouted – more of a scream, straight from the solar plexus. Wake up and jump, God damn you, woman.

"PHRYNE!"

No response, and the transport was starting to build momentum. Jack had to duck his head and tip the bike to follow it into the tunnel and down the tracks, but accelerated, and when he was close enough, abandoned the bike and scrambled on to the back of the transport, hauling with all his weight on the brake. The gradient was already against him, but he managed to halt it, and half-ran, half fell down its side to reach her.

Her eyes were still closed and she was slumped in the footwell. Reaching to lift her out, simple physics betrayed him, until he could tuck a foot under the edge of the truck for purchase.

Then he carried her out of the tunnel.

Up a 1:1 slope, while suffering a mild concussion, at something which approximated to a run except for the moment when he inexplicably collapsed and had to pick them both up to press on.

On reaching daylight, he simply placed one arm round her waist and the other at the back of her head, and rolled them both as far down the hill as he could.

The earth rumbled its applause.

No, not applause. That was the blast.

For a few seconds, there was no sound beyond a slight ringing in his ears.

Then he turned his attention to her.

She was breathing.

"Phryne. Darling Phryne, are you okay? Talk to me? Please, Phryne?

No response for a few moments; but then, a very small smile appeared and angels sang selected excerpts from Handel's Messiah overhead. Then a whisper.

"Handily done, Jack."

Thus reassured, he responded by placing his head on the ground next to hers and passing out again.