Алистер Маклин - Time of the Assassins

She moved to the open door but the black man who had driven the car suddenly appeared in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He ran his eyes the length of her body then grinned to himself.

She stepped away from the door then went to the chest of drawers and picked up the tablets. She poured some water into the plastic mug on the basin and washed down the aspirin.

Bernard called out to the man. When Rosie looked round he had disappeared from the doorway. She peered cautiously out into the hall. It was deserted. Then she noticed the door at the end of the hall. It had to be the front door. But was it locked? There was only one way of finding out. She could hardly contain her excitement as she hurried towards it. It was only on a Yale lock but when she unlocked it, it only opened a couple of inches. Damn, it was on a chain as well. She hadn’t seen that.

‘Rosie!’ Bernard shouted from the doorway of the lounge.

She didn’t look round. She fumbled desperately with the chain, half expecting to be ripped away from the door at any moment. She managed to unhook the chain and waited until he had almost reached her then, sidestepping his outstretched hand, she jerked the door back as hard as she could. The edge caught him in the face and he stumbled back against the wall, blood pouring from a gash above his right eye. She darted out and slammed the door behind her. She found herself on a porch. A wood surrounded the house as far as the eye could see but there was a two-hundred yard clearing before she reached the first of the trees. She bounded down the stairs, ran down the narrow path, and wrenched open the gate before sprinting across the clearing towards the trees.

Bernard pulled open the door and emerged onto the porch. The front of his shirt was already streaked with blood and his sleeve was stained from where he had used it to wipe the blood from his face. The second man appeared behind him and aimed his Walther .38 at Rosie.

Bernard pushed the man’s arm down angrily. ‘Put the gun away, Elias!’ He hurried to the gate and cupped his hands around his mouth. ‘Rosie, listen to me. Don’t go into the woods. They’re full of animal traps.’

She kept running.

‘Rosie, don’t go in there!’

Elias came up behind Bernard and handed him a torch. ‘Animal traps?’ he said in hesitant English then closed his hands together to represent the jaws of a trap snapping shut.

‘Yes. The wood’s full of them. If she stands on one of those it could take her foot off.’

‘What can we do?’ Elias asked, switching to Arabic.

‘We go after her,’ Bernard retorted then sprinted towards the section of the woods where he had seen Rosie disappear seconds earlier.

Elias stared after Bernard, reluctant to go near the trees.

Bernard stopped and looked round angrily at Elias. ‘Go round the side, cut her off,’ he shouted breathlessly then continued to run towards the trees.

Elias swallowed nervously. What was worse, the animal traps or Bernard’s wrath if he refused to obey him? It wasn’t a difficult choice. He moved towards the trees.

Rosie paused for breath when she reached the edge of the trees. The wood looked dark and forbidding by the light of the moon. She had heard Bernard’s warning but had it been a bluff? Or was he telling the truth? She had once seen a television documentary on the appalling injuries incurred by animals who had been caught in these traps. It had left her in tears. She looked back at the approaching silhouette of Bernard. She had to make a decision – and quickly. She had to go on. She picked up a branch then began to move further into the wood, using the branch to prod the ground in front of her. One mistake and she could be crippled for life. If, in fact, there were traps. But she couldn’t afford to take the chance.

She ducked behind a tree and listened carefully for the sound of Bernard behind her. It was silent. Not that she was surprised. He was obviously a professional. If only she could find somewhere to hide until daybreak. Then she could make her way safely through the wood. She was about to move further in the wood when she saw a light cut through the darkness to her left. She pressed herself against the tree, not daring to even wipe the sweat from her face.

She tried to blink it away as it stung her eyes. The beam scythed across the darkness then went out as suddenly as it had come on.

‘Rosie?’ Bernard called out.

The voice came from behind her. The torch light had come from a different direction. Were they trying to close in on her from different directions? She wiped her forearm across her face then moved tentatively to her right, the branch still scraping the ground in front of her. It was noisy, but there was nothing she could do about it. She heard a rustle in front of her and ducked behind a tree a split-second before the torch beam sliced through the darkness again, panning the trees around her. Elias shouted something in Swahili and she heard him approaching the tree. Had he seen her? Or was he trying to force her to break cover? The footsteps came closer then stopped and the torch went out. Where was he? She swallowed nervously and ran her tongue across her dry lips. The silence was agonizing. Where the hell was he?

Keeping her back pressed firmly against the tree, she turned her head slightly and peered cautiously into the darkness behind her. Nothing. At least he wasn’t on the other side of the tree. Then she heard another noise, this time to her right. It had to be Bernard. But did they know where she was? She forced herself to control her ragged breathing. She had to keep silent. It was her only chance. Then a torch beam shone onto a cluster of trees thirty yards away from her. They didn’t know where she was! She felt a surge of relief flow through her. Bernard called out her name again. It came from the direction of the torch beam. The light became fainter as he moved further into the wood.

She screamed in terror as someone grabbed her arm from behind and yanked her away from the tree.

Elias switched on his torch then shouted to Bernard that he’d caught her. His voice seemed to bring her out of her shock. She lashed out with the branch, catching him on the side of the face. The Walther fell to the ground as he clutched his face in agony. She turned to run but he grabbed her roughly round the neck and threw her to the ground, winding her. He kept the torch beam trained on her as he felt in the darkness for the Walther. There was a sickening crunch of bone as the jaws of a trap, hidden under a pile of leaves, snapped over his wrist. He screamed in agony and the torch fell from his grasp as he slumped to his knees where he clawed desperately at the serrated edges of the trap in a frantic attempt to release his mangled wrist. Bernard reached them and shone his torch onto the trap. Rosie turned away sharply and clutched her stomach as she vomited against the tree.

‘Help me!’ Elias screamed at Bernard in Arabic.

‘Why? You’re no use to me now,’ Bernard said disdainfully and shot him through the head.

Rosie huddled against the tree as the gunshot echoed across the silent wood. Bernard grabbed her arm roughly and hauled her to her feet. She purposely averted her eyes from the body at her feet.

‘Have you finished playing games now?’ Bernard snapped, bolstering his automatic.

She could only nod mutely.

‘Then let’s get out of here before we have another accident,’ he said then tightened his grip on her arm and marched her back to the house.

‘That’s better,’ Bernard said after he had handcuffed her to the radiator in the bedroom.

She tugged angrily at the handcuffs then slumped back against the wall. He left the room, closing the door behind him, and went to the main bathroom to attend to the cut above his eye. The bleeding had stopped and the area around the eye was already swollen and puffy. It would be closed by morning. He wet a cloth and dabbed it gingerly against his eyebrow. The wound turned out to be deeper than he had originally thought. He washed his hands and face then found some disinfectant and cotton wool in the wall cabinet above the basin. He sprinkled some of the disinfectant onto the cotton wool then pressed it against his eyebrow. His face remained expressionless as the disinfectant seeped agonizingly into the wound. He discarded the swab then went to his bedroom and changed into a clean shirt.