DESMOND BAGLEY
Landslide
COPYRIGHT
HARPER
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by Collins 1967
Copyright © Brockhurst Publications 1967
Desmond Bagley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008211165
Ebook Edition © January 2017 ISBN 9780008211448
Version: 2016-11-23
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Landslide
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
About the Author
By the Same Author
About the Publisher
LANDSLIDEDEDICATION
For Philip Joseph and all good booksellers
ONE
I was tired when I got off the bus at Fort Farrell. No matter how soft the suspension of the bus and how comfortable the seat you still feel as though youve been sitting on a sack of rocks for a few hours, so I was tired and not very impressed by my first view of Fort Farrell The Biggest Little City in the North-Eastern Interior or so the sign said at the city limits. Someone must have forgotten Dawson Creek.
This was the end of the line for the bus and it didnt stay long. I got off, nobody got on, and it turned and wheeled away back towards the Peace River and Fort St John, back towards civilization. The population of Fort Farrell had been increased by one temporarily.
It was mid-afternoon and I had time to do the one bit of business that would decide if I stayed in this backwoods metropolis, so instead of looking for a hotel I checked my bag at the depot and asked where I could find the Matterson Building. The little fat guy who appeared to be the factotum around the depot looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and tittered. You must be a stranger round here.
Seeing I just got off the bus it may be possible, I conceded. I wanted to get information, not to give it.
He grunted and the twinkle disappeared. Its on King Street; you cant miss it unless youre blind, he said curtly. He was another of those cracker-barrel characters who think theyve got the franchise on wisecracks small towns are full of them. To hell with him! I was in no mood for making friends, although I would have to try to influence people pretty soon.
High Street was the main drag, running as straight as though it had been drawn by a rule. Not only was it the main street but it was practically the only street of Fort Farrell pop. 1,806 plus one. There was the usual line of false-fronted buildings trying to look bigger than they were and holding the commercial enterprises by which the locals tried to make an honest dollar the gas stations and auto dealers, a grocery that called itself a supermarket, a barbers shop, Paris Modes selling womens fripperies, a store selling fishing tackle and hunting gear. I noticed that the name of Matterson came up with monotonous regularity and concluded that Matterson was a big pumpkin in Fort Farrell.
Ahead was surely the only real, honest-to-God building in the town: an eight-storeyed giant which, I was sure, must be the Matterson Building. Feeling hopeful for the first time, I quickened my pace, but slowed again as High Street widened into a small square, green with cropped lawns and shady with trees. In the middle of the square was a bronze statue of a man in uniform, which at first I thought was the war memorial; but it turned out to be the founding father of the city one William J. Farrell, a lieutenant of the Royal Corps of Engineers. Pioneers, O Pioneers the guy was long since dead and the sightless eyes of his effigy stared blindly down false-fronted High Street while the irreverent birds made messes in his uniform cap.
Then I stared unbelievingly at the name of the square while an icy shudder crawled down my spine. Trinavant Park stood on the intersection of High Street and Farrell Street and the name, dredged out from a forgotten past, hit me like a blow in the belly. I was still shaken when I reached the Matterson Building.