Running Blind / The Freedom Trap (23 page)

‘Slade,’ I said.

She stared at me. ‘He’s
here
! Just outside this house!’

‘It was all I could do at short notice,’ I said. ‘I had to act quickly.’

‘But what about you?’

‘Get the CIA man to make the telephone call. You’ll have just on two hours from the time you leave here, so you’ll have to be bloody persuasive. If you can’t do it in time or if the CIA man won’t be persuaded, then make the call yourself and spin Kennikin some kind of yarn. Set up a meeting to exchange me for Slade. It might be phoney but it will buy me time.’

‘What if the Americans won’t believe me?’

‘Tell them you know about Fleet and McCarthy. Tell them you’ll give it to the Icelandic newspapers. That should produce some kind of reaction. Oh, yes; and tell them that all your friends know exactly where you are—just as insurance.’ I was trying to cover all the possibilities.

She closed her eyes briefly as she memorized her instructions. When she opened them, she asked, ‘Is Slade alive?’

‘Of course he is. I told Kennikin the truth about that. He’s damaged but alive.’

She said, ‘I was thinking the CIA might believe Slade rather than me. He might even know the CIA people at Keflavik.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But we have to take that risk. That’s why you must tell the whole story before producing Slade. Get your oar in first. If you pitch it really hot they won’t just let him walk out.’

She didn’t seem too happy about that, and neither was I, but it was the best we could do. I said, ‘Make it fast, but not so fast that you have an accident in that car.’ I put my hand under her chin and tipped her head up. ‘Everything will be all right. You’ll see.’

She blinked rapidly. ‘There’s something you must know. That gun you gave me—I’ve still got it.’

It was my turn to blink. ‘
What!’

‘They didn’t search me. I have it on me—in the holster under this anorak.’

I looked at her. Her anorak was admittedly very loose and no sign of the gun was visible. Someone had slipped. It was unlikely that an Icelandic girl would be armed, but even so it was bad workmanship. No wonder Kennikin went off pop periodically about the quality of his team. Elin said, ‘Can I pass it to you safely?’

‘Not a chance,’ I said regretfully, aware of Kennikin at my back. He would be watching like a hawk, and a Smith & Wesson .38 pistol isn’t something you can palm in your hand like a playing-card. ‘You’d better keep it. Who knows, you might need it.’

I put my hand on her good shoulder and drew her towards me. Her lips were cold and hard under mine, and she trembled slightly. I drew back my head, and said, ‘You’d better go,’ and turned to face Kennikin.

‘Very touching,’ he said.

‘There’s one thing,’ I said. ‘Your time limit is too short. Two hours isn’t enough.’

‘It will have to do,’ he said uncompromisingly.

‘Be reasonable, Vaslav. She has to drive through Reykjavik. The day is getting on and by the time she reaches town it will be just after five o’clock—right in the middle of the rush hour when people are going home. You wouldn’t want to lose Slade because of a traffic jam, would you?’

‘You’re not thinking of Slade,’ he said. ‘You’re thinking of yourself. You’re thinking of the bullet in your head.’

‘Maybe I am, but you’d better think of Slade because if I’m dead then so is he.’

He nodded shortly. ‘Three hours,’ he said. ‘Not a minute more.’

Kennikin was a logical man and susceptible to a reasoned argument. I had won Elin another hour in which to convince the top brass at Keflavik. ‘She goes alone,’ I said. ‘No one follows her.’

‘That is understood.’

‘Then give her the telephone number she is to call. It would be a pity if she walked out without it.’

Kennikin took out a notebook and scribbled down a number, then ripped out the sheet and gave it to her. ‘No tricks,’ he said. ‘Especially no police. If there is an undue number of strangers around here, then he dies. You’d better know that I mean it.’

In a colourless voice she said, ‘I understand. There will be no tricks.’

She looked at me and there was something in her eyes that made my heart turn over, and then Kennikin took her by the elbow and led her to the door. A minute later I saw her through the window, walking away from the house up towards the road.

Kennikin returned. ‘We’ll put you somewhere safe,’ he said, and jerked his head at the man who held a gun on me.
I was led upstairs and into an empty room. Kennikin surveyed the bare walls and shook his head sadly. ‘They did these things so much better in medieval times,’ he said.

I was in no mood for light conversation but I played along with him. I had the idea that, perhaps, he wouldn’t mind at all if Slade didn’t show up. Then he would be able to get down to the delightful business of killing me—slowly. And I had put the idea into his mind; I had tried to antagonize him towards Slade. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea.

I said, ‘What do you mean?’

‘In those days they built with stone.’ He strode to the window and thumped on the exterior wall. It responded with a wooden hollowness. ‘This place is built like an eggshell.’

That was true enough. The chalets around Thingvallavatn are holiday cottages, not designed for permanent occupancy. A timber frame, skinned on each side with thin planking and with a filling of foamed polystyrene for insulation, finished off with a skim of plaster maybe half an inch thick on the interior to make the place look nice. The nearest thing to a permanent tent.

Kennikin went to the opposite wall and rapped on it with his knuckles. It echoed even more hollowly. ‘You could get through this partition wall in fifteen minutes, using nothing more than your hands. Therefore this man will stay in here with you.’

‘You needn’t worry,’ I said sourly. ‘I’m not Superman.’

‘You don’t need to be Superman to tangle the feet of the incompetents I’ve been given for this operation,’ said Kennikin, equally sourly. ‘You’ve proved that already. But I think the orders I give now will penetrate the thickest head.’ He turned to the man with the gun. ‘Stewartsen will sit in that corner. You will stand in front of the door. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘If he moves, shoot him. Understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘If he speaks, shoot him. Understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘If he does anything else at all, shoot him. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ said the man with the gun stolidly.

Kennikin’s orders weren’t leaving much room for manoeuvre. He said musingly, ‘Now, have I forgotten anything? Oh, yes! You said that Slade had a hole in him—right?’

‘Not much of one,’ I said. ‘Just in the hand.’

He nodded, and said to the guard, ‘When you shoot him, don’t kill him. Shoot him in the stomach.’ He turned on his heel and left the room. The door slammed behind him.

I looked at the guard and the guard looked right back at me. His gun was trained on my belly and didn’t deviate a hair’s-breadth. With his other hand he gestured wordlessly towards the corner, so I backed into it until my shoulder-blades touched and then bent my knees until I was squatting on my heels.

He looked at me expressionlessly. ‘Sit!’ he said economically.

I sat. He wasn’t going to be bluffed. He stood in front of the door about fifteen feet away and he was impregnable. He had the look of a man who would obey orders to the letter; if I rushed him I’d catch a bullet and I couldn’t even con him into doing anything stupid. It was going to be a long three hours.

Kennikin had been right. Left alone in the room and I’d have gone through the partition wall, and it wouldn’t have
taken me any fifteen minutes either. True, once through the wall I would still be in the house, but I’d be in an unexpected place, and surprise, as all generals know, wins battles. Now that Elin was gone I was prepared to do anything to get away, and Kennikin knew it.

I looked at the window. All I could see was a small patch of blue sky and a fleecy cloud drifting by. The time oozed on, maybe half an hour, and I heard the crunch of tyres as a car drew up outside. I didn’t know how many men had been in the house when I arrived, although I knew of three, but now there were more and the odds had lengthened.

I turned my wrist slowly and drew back the cuff of my jacket to look at my watch, hoping to God that the guard would not interpret that as an unnatural action. I kept my eye on him and he looked back at me blankly, so I lowered my gaze to see what time it was. It had not been half an hour—only fifteen minutes had passed. It was going to be a longer three hours than I had thought.

Five minutes after that there was a tap at the door and I heard the raised voice of Kennikin. ‘I’m coming in.’

The guard stepped to one side as the door opened. Kennikin came in and said, ‘I see you’ve been a good boy.’ There was something in the way he said it that made me uneasy. He was too damned cheerful.

‘I’d like to go over what you told me again,’ he said. ‘According to you, Slade is being kept with friends of yours—Icelandic friends—I think you said. These friends will kill him unless they get you in exchange. I think that was the argument. Am I right?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘Your girl-friend is waiting downstairs. Shall we join her?’ He waved largely. ‘You can get up—you will not be shot.’

I stood up stiffly, and wondered what the hell had gone wrong. I was escorted downstairs and found Elin standing
in front of the empty fireplace flanked by Ilyich. Her face was pale as she whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Alan.’

‘You must think I’m stupid,’ said Kennikin. ‘You don’t suppose I thought you had walked here? You tramped up to the front door and immediately I wondered where you had left your car. You had to have a car because this is no country for walking, so I sent a man to look for it even before you rang the bell.’

‘You always were logical,’ I said.

He was enjoying himself. ‘And what do you suppose my man found? A large American car complete with key. He had not been there long when this young lady came up in a very great hurry, so he brought her—and the car—back here. You see, he was unaware of the agreement we had reached. We can’t blame him for that, can we?’

‘Of course not,’ I said flatly.
But had he opened the boot?
‘I don’t see that this makes any difference.’

‘No, you wouldn’t. But my man had standing orders. He knew we were looking for a small package containing electronic equipment, and so he searched the car. He didn’t find the package.’

Kennikin stopped and looked at me expectantly. He was really relishing this. I said, ‘Do you mind if I sit down? And for God’s sake, give me a cigarette—I’ve run out.’

‘My dear Alan—but of course,’ he said solicitously. ‘Take your usual chair.’ He produced his cigarette case and carefully lit my cigarette. ‘Mr Slade is very angry with you. He doesn’t like you at all.’

‘Where is he?’

‘In the kitchen having his hand bound up. You’re a very good diagnostician, Alan; he
does
have a headache.’

My stomach felt as though it had a ball of lead in it. I drew on the cigarette, and said, ‘All right; where do we go from here?’

‘We carry on from where we left off the night we came here from Geysir. Nothing has changed.’

He was wrong—Elin was here. I said, ‘So now you shoot me.’

‘Perhaps. Slade wants to talk to you first.’ He looked up. ‘Ah, here he is.’

Slade looked bad. His face was grey and he staggered slightly as he walked in. When he came closer I saw that his eyes had a curiously unfocused appearance and I guessed he was still suffering from concussion. Someone had bound up his hand neatly with clean gauze bandages, but his clothes were rumpled and stained and his hair stood on end. As he was a man who usually cared very much for outward appearances, I guessed he was probably very disturbed.

I was right, and I found out how much he was disturbed pretty damned quick.

He walked up and looked down at me, and gestured with his left hand. ‘Pick him up and take him over there—to the wall.’

I was grabbed before I could move. Someone put a hammer lock on me from behind and I was dragged from the chair and hustled across the room. As I was slammed against the wall, Slade said, ‘Where’s my gun?’

Kennikin shrugged. ‘How should I know?’

‘You must have taken it from Stewart.’

‘Oh, that one.’ Kennikin pulled it from his pocket. ‘Is this it?’

Slade took the pistol and walked over to me. ‘Hold his right hand against the wall,’ he said, and held up his bandaged hand before my eyes. ‘You did that, Stewart, so you know what’s going to happen now.’

A hard hand pinned my wrist to the wall and Slade raised his gun. I had just sense enough and time enough to stop making a fist and to spread my fingers so he wouldn’t shoot through them before he pulled the trigger and I took
the bullet in the palm of my hand. Curiously enough, after the first stabbing shock it didn’t hurt. All I felt was a dead numbness from shoulder to finger-tip. It would hurt soon enough as the shock wore off, but it didn’t hurt then.

My head swam and I heard Elin scream, but the cry seemed to come from a long way away. When I opened my eyes I saw Slade looking at me unsmilingly. He said curtly, ‘Take him back to his chair.’ It had been a purely vindictive act of revenge and now it was over and he was back to business as usual.

I was dumped back into the chair and I raised my head to see Elin leaning against the chimney piece with tears streaming down her face. Then Slade moved between us and I lost sight of her.

‘You know too much, Stewart,’ he said. ‘So you must die—you know that.’

‘I know you’ll do your best,’ I said dully. I now knew why Slade had cracked in the hotel room because the same thing was happening to me. I found I couldn’t string two consecutive thoughts together to make sense and I had a blinding headache. The penetration of a bullet into flesh has that effect.

Slade said, ‘Who knows about me—apart from the girl?’

‘No one,’ I said. ‘What about the girl?’

He shrugged. ‘You’ll be buried in the same grave.’ He turned to Kennikin. ‘He might be telling the truth. He’s been on the run and he hasn’t had a chance to let anyone know.’