Conscious Decisions of the Heart (21 page)

Ben lay back very carefully. His heart was pounding. It’d been so real. He’d found Nikolas. His
mother
had found him. He swallowed deeply, biting his lip. You didn’t cry when you were sharing a bed with another man.

§ § §

In the morning, before the others arrived, he asked Ingrid, “Can I cross you off my list of possible suspects?”

“I think so, dear. I can’t even imagine what Aleksey would be like if you held him against his will. He’s bad enough when he’s being petted and spoiled by everyone. I suspect he’s rather cross by now.” She chuckled. “Oh, yes, whoever took him didn’t know him very well at all. Actually, if I was going into the kidnap business, I think I’d take you.” She patted his knee. “Well, after Radulf, of course.”

“So, you think he’s still al—I mean…”

“We can’t say, Ben. That’s for God to decide now.”

“He doesn’t believe in God.”

“Well, it’s a cliché, but let’s hope God believes in him. Now, I’m going to make you some breakfast, and you’re going to eat it. And didn’t we both think I’d never have to say those words? Is your oddly named friend up yet?”

Ben nodded. “He took Radulf out for a run about an hour ago. He said they had secret operational business to conduct.”

“Are you going back to the lake today?”

“What else can I do? I know it’s a complete waste of time, but if I don’t do it, I feel like he’d have been in just the next place if only we’d kept going.”

“Would it be quicker, perhaps, without the boat?”

“It’s too difficult to get to the abandoned places by vehicle. The snow has drifted too high on the tracks.”

She nodded and patted his arm again. Ineffectual, but welcome.

Ben made a call to Kate to give her the names on his list. He’d wanted to catch her before she left home, given the awkwardness of having Gabby’s name on as well. She had to be included for thoroughness, but he didn’t want her to see he’d done so. Kate apparently didn’t share his tact and asked him bluntly how long he’d known Gabby.

“Since I got here, why?”

“What do you actually know about her, Ben?”

“She’s a librarian?” He didn’t mean to imply
what
else is there to know
, but Kate clearly took it this way and he heard a huff of annoyance. “I’m not sure I could have stayed in Denmark as long as I have without her. She hasn’t got any kids of her own. She’s adopted me, I think—honorary son. What’s wrong?” There was the slightest hesitation on Kate’s end. Ben heard Gabby’s cheerful greeting in the background, and Kate replied brightly, “Ignore me, see you later.”

Ben was about to tell her not to hang up, but he heard a loud noise outside and then some shouting. Ben and Ingrid opened the door and stared. Squeezy was straddled on the back of a snowmobile. He’d apparently had the same thought as Ben, what they were attempting to do needed better transport. Ben actually smiled. Squeezy shouted out for him to dress, and within a few minutes, they were on the one machine, heading back to where Squeezy had left Radulf at the hire shop. He’d rented two top-of-the-range sport utility snowmobiles, so instead of the cumbersome use of the boat—tying it up, the long walk from the lake to some of the properties, having to leave sheds that they could see but were just too far to reach—now they were truly mobile. The only problem was Radulf. As Squeezy pointed out, Daddybark was vital to the operation and mustn’t be left behind. Radulf solved the problem for Ben by jumping up onto the broad seat behind him and sitting there almost as happily as he did in his preferred vehicles. He fell off a few times when they hit very high snow banks, but he bravely extracted himself and loped alongside the vehicles until they stopped once more to pick him up.

By lunchtime, they’d covered three times the number of dwellings they’d done by the same time the previous day. They stopped for a brief lunch, which was desperately needed. They were consuming vast numbers of calories to fend off the cold and keep going at the rate they were. While they were waiting for their tins of stew to heat, Squeezy handed Ben a large bar of chocolate.

“So…” Ben rolled his eyes privately. He’d had a feeling this conversation mightn’t be over. “This fucking gay thing then. That something anyone can get into?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t get me fucking wrong, I’m not saying I’m thinking of becoming fucking gay, but if I wanted to get some of this action you reckon is so bloody good, like—when the bloody girlfriend’s not in the fucking
mood
,” he made unnecessary air-quotes, “what’s the way to go about it, like?”

Ben tipped his head to one side. “Seriously? You seriously just asked me that?”

“Ack, you pussy, don’t go all fucking gay on me. What’s the way to start, yeah? I mean, I guess you wouldn’t be up for―?”

“No.”

“Jeez, okay. And Mergers, when we find him, he wouldn’t―?”

“No.”

“Blimey, you’re not much of a mate, mate. So, maybe I’ll just fucking try it on one night in a pub. Chance my arm, like.”

Ben had an evil thought. “Your ethical stance needs improving.”

“My fucking what when it’s at home?”

Ben ignored him, deep in his misery again. He eased the tins of food off the stove and handed one to the other man. If they weren’t hot enough—well they’d just have to do. He couldn’t bear not to be moving forward, one more shed, one more house. He consulted his maps as they ate, pushing down the horrible thought he was just completely wasting his time.

§ § §

Nikolas woke from a painful sleep. He couldn’t breathe. His nose was completely out of action and his throat swollen from vomit and dehydration. He pulled his knees up to his chest and concentrated on not panicking, just slowly getting some air in and out. He felt himself drifting off again, his body unable to combat the cold, blood loss, and pain. The metal shackles had dug into his swollen wrists so much now he couldn’t feel his fingers at all. Through his pain and slow slide into nothingness, he heard a noise…engines in the distance, a two-stroke whine dipping in and out. He climbed to his knees in agony and tried to shout, but it only came out as a croak. The noise faded, but the door swung open, and a brilliant white light flooded the room. He squinted against it and saw Ben, hair flowing freely like a halo around his head. Ben smiled but didn’t speak. He came over and embraced Nikolas, lifting him effortlessly. They were just about to leave together, to where all light came from, when the door slammed open and Anna came in.

Nikolas jerked awake. He could see the intense bright light of freedom from the open door. Dream and reality were too confused to separate now.

“I have to move you. Oh, God.” She came closer, then backed away. Then she went outside and came back with a bucket.

Nikolas tried to rise to his knees. He refused to meet her lying down, but his body betrayed him. He was too weak to get up. She came closer with the bucket. He had the bizarre thought she was going to try and stuff him in it to move him. She upended it over him. Freezing lake water cascaded down around him, chunks of ice raining down upon him. He gasped, initially revived, lapping clumsily at the puddles on the floor, desperate for the water. Then he started to shake—badly. She nipped closer and yanked away his blankets and the mat. She went out, refilled the bucket and came back and repeated his soaking. He couldn’t speak, his teeth were rattling. His extremities began to shut down as blood drained desperately to his heart and other vital organs to keep them warm. When she was satisfied, she came closer, circling him and then knelt behind him and began to unfasten the shackles. They were very hard to remove because his wrists were swollen into them, but she ripped them off eventually.

For the first time since he’d been taken, Nikolas was completely free.

He lay on the ground, shaking, with his arms still in their fixed position behind. He couldn’t get them to move, couldn’t feel his hands. He was confused and so cold he just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. But he didn’t. He watched her with his one good eye as she rose from her knees and went to her bag. She produced a roll of electrical tape and came back to him, clearly planning to strap up his wrists again. She knelt behind him, his window of opportunity disappearing as he lay helpless. But then she cursed slightly and frowned. She couldn’t find the end of the tape. It was a bizarrely ordinary moment in such extraordinary circumstances. She ran her thumb around the roll, trying to feel where it ended, but it was so cold in the shed her hands appeared to have become numb and unfeeling. She picked at the tape ineffectually. All this time, of course, Nikolas was free.

He closed his eyes briefly. He had three options. He could go for the door and the beautiful freedom that lay beyond. He could go for the tool bench and try to arm himself. Or he could go for her. He was Aleksey Primakov, he went for her. He flung himself over onto his back, crying out at the pain in his frozen arms. She was knocked off-balance—and he was on her. He managed to bring one arm forward and grab her ankle—just that, but he held on, wrapping himself around that one lifeline. She kicked at him with her free leg, but he ducked his face away and let the blows land on his skull and shoulders. She began to beat at him with her hands, but he wouldn’t let go.

Suddenly, she seemed to realise the terrible predicament she was in. He was not going to release her.
She
was now the one trapped. Slowly, he began to work his way up her body, dragging himself on her clothing until he could pin her down with his weight. She wriggled, gasping and crying in the filth on the floor. He just carried on, inexorably, until they lay in a grotesque parody of sex, he vast and naked above her, she wriggling and screaming beneath. He lifted his head. Perhaps she thought he was going to kiss her, because for one moment she almost looked coy, relieved, but he came down at her throat—and bit. She screamed, but he held on, his jaws eager and very strong.

Flailing, her hand found his shard of glass. She fastened onto it and brought it down on him—hard. It went into his shoulder. He cried out and released her throat, trying to flinch away. She heaved it out and brought it down again, trying to get his neck but caught him in the back as he lifted his arm to deflect the blow. He cried out again and let her go. It was enough. She kicked free and crawled away.

And then she made her greatest error.

She had three options, too—the same three he’d had, but instead of going back for him and finishing him off while he was weak, or going for a weapon, she chose freedom and the beautiful light and purity outside the hideousness of the killing shed. He watched her stagger outside, heard her car start and knew he had to move and keep moving. She’d be back. Once she’d realised her mistake and saw she had the upper hand again, she’d come back. This time, he wouldn’t be strong enough to fight her. He began to drag himself across the floor, sliding on his own blood. He reached the blessed light. He held onto the doorframe and dragged up to his feet. He staggered outside into the blinding intensity of the fresh snow, and then he saw her. She was sitting in her car at the end of the track. She’d seen him as well. He began to stagger toward the lake. He pictured himself falling into its icy waters where she couldn’t follow. He fell in the snow and dragged himself along, leaving a bright, wide smear of red on the virgin white. He glanced behind, and she was there—standing over him.

She was holding her throat with one hand, an expression of horror on her face, blood seeping between her fingers. And in her other hand she held a tyre iron. She looked down at him. “You’re a very bad man.”

He turned on his back, staring up at the perfect blue sky. “Yes, I am. And you’re a cunt.” With that, she lifted the iron bar and swung it at his head.

Something came out of the snow and caught her arm. She gasped and flung it off, swinging the iron bar at it. It squealed in pain and flailed in the snow, but then it came back before she could hit Nikolas. She hit it again, but it was quicker this time and twisted away, landing on its feet, a massive creature of standing fur and snarl and savage muzzle. She tried to back away a little, raising the tyre iron once more, but it was a fatal move. The thing lunged. It caught her bloodied throat and had her down in the snow. Then it stood on her—and ripped. She hit it again and again and something broke, but it didn’t let go. She flailed once more, weakly trying to lift the bar, but it bit deeper. It ripped and tore, and her throat came away in its mouth. It continued to chew as she lay staring sightlessly up at vast sky above them.

Finally, the creature staggered away from the body, its face caked with blood. It fell on its side, panting and whining for a moment, but then it stood and limped slowly over to Nikolas. He twitched his fingers, which was all he could do, and Radulf came and stood over him. Putting his head back, he let out an ear-piercing volley of barks into the still, silent day. He kept it up until they could hear the sound of engines, and then he allowed himself to fall alongside his human. Nikolas couldn’t see him or feel his failing warmth as the sound of the engines grew closer.