Jon Evans - Dark Places

"Did you bring the gun from England?" I asked.

"From England?" He chuckled. Clearly he was relishing every word of this. "Christ on a pogo stick, they don't have guns in England, Paul, I would have thought you would have known that. Really, if you're going to go shopping for a gun, an illegal gun mind you, d'you reckon you'd seek one out in London or Tangiers? Pretty simple fucking question if you ask me. You wouldn't believe how easy it is to buy a gun in this country. But the haggling, that you probably would believe. The sales clerks in this country's supermarkets of sinful goods, Christ, what tossers. Almost wasn't worth it. Good quality, though. Genuine original Glock manufacture, thirteen bullets in the clip. More than enough to play around with. I reckon you're both desperately praying for a misfire or summat. Well, pray on. Those Czechs make quality killing machines, I can assure you whole-fucking-heartedly."

"You are so fucked in the head," Lawrence muttered. Morgan's face tightened and he swung the gun to bear on Lawrence. I stiffened. Wrong approach.

"You were on the other bus, weren't you?" I asked quickly. "Last night."

Morgan glared at me, then back at Lawrence, then shook his head and lowered the gun again. "A moment, Paul," he said, "I pray your indulgence for a wee moment while I invite our other guest to the party. I have been unforgivably rude." He stepped out from behind the boulder, keeping the gun pointed in our general direction, and untied the gag from Nicole's mouth. His shaved head gleamed in the light, and he seemed absolutely enormous next to Nicole, like a member of a giant alien species. I wondered if even a professional soldier like Hallam could take him in a struggle. He retreated back behind the boulder as Nicole wrinkled her face and spat on the ground.

"I'm sorry," she said to us, dully. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Lawrence said urgently. "Nic. It's okay."

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. She knew it was all over, I could tell. She knew that she was going to die in a few minutes. That we would all die in a few minutes, once Morgan was finished crowing and gloating. I thought she might be right.

But we still had a chance. I could see it from where I knelt near the edge of the trail. Twenty feet below me, up close against the sheer cliff face, about midway between myself and Morgan, was a tiny spark of light. It moved slowly, in quick bobbing motions punctuated by periods of stillness, towards Morgan. It was Hallam. He had followed just behind Lawrence and me, and now he climbed sideways beneath us, illuminating each new hold with the mini-Maglite he held in his mouth, trying desperately to stay silent and invisible while up above a madman gloated about the upcoming rape and torture and murder of his wife. He was an expert climber but I knew this had to be fantastically difficult, climbing barefoot, without chalk or any gear, through the night. A single mistake and he would plummet to his death.

"Now then," Morgan said. "Not to interrupt your spectacularly dull conversation, but the question was, my whereabouts last night, and yes indeed I was on the other bus last night. Actually I thought you might have seen me, Woodsie. Was a little concerned that my master plan had been rumbled. When your bus passed mine I looked out the window and I thought you were looking straight back and I was more than a little concerned. Most relieved that you didn't see me."

"Not consciously," I said, thinking of the dream I had had.

"Any more questions, Woodsie old boy?" he asked. "Any more facts you desperately need cleared up before I dispatch you to the great hereafter? Time's a-wasting, you know."

"One or two," I said, desperately trying to think of some. We had to keep him talking long enough for Hallam to climb past Morgan and come up behind him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lawrence reaching out along the ground, closing his fist around a baseball-sized stone while Morgan's attention was on me. "Those notes you leave, they're not in your writing."

"Oh, please," he said dismissively. "Write them with my left hand. Little detail to keep the authorities off the trail. It's the details that tell in the end. Anything else?"

As he said 'end,' I saw movement below me, and I looked down, and I saw that little spark of light tumble down into the darkness and disappear. I gasped. Morgan didn't notice, or thought I was just panting with fear, as I had on that Indonesian beach.

"You're going to rot in hell," Lawrence said.

I heard two very faint clinks from below. I put together what had happened. A piece of limestone used as handhold or foothold had suddenly come loose, and Hallam had dropped the flashlight. That explained the two noises. But there had been no thud of anything large hitting ground. Hallam still clung to the sheer cliff beneath us. I wondered if he could make his way up to the trail in the dark. I doubted it. Rock climbing is hard enough when you can see what you're doing. Feeling your way up blind would be nearly impossible, even for Hallam. He would try, but I didn't think he would make it. He would make another mistake and fall to his death. We were on our own.

"Hell?" Morgan laughed again. "Heaven and hell. Really, Lawrence, I thought better of you. Such dreamy juvenile notions. Still I can understand them at the moment. No atheist in a foxhole, they do say. Best you ready yourself for whichever one you're heading to in the very near future, though." He sighed theatrically and came out from behind the boulder, shaking his head. "I do wish that Hallam had come though. Still, best-laid plans gang oft agley, hey? Me and Nicole here will have to have some fun without any appreciative audience to watch." He reached down and ruffled her hair fondly, like a child's. "You're a tomcat, aren't you girl? You're not going to beg for your life and offer to do anything I want if I just stop hurting you. Not that like that cunt Mason. You know how I talked her out of that tent of yours, Woodsie, that night in Cameroon? I told her you had a surprise for her. And a surprise she got. She sucked cock like a two-dollar whore, she did — down, boy!" as I came to my feet at those last words, snarling. Morgan leveled his gun at me and took two quick steps back from Nicole, who had tensed for action. For a moment I was going to rush him, but I got hold of myself and crouched back down.

"That's better," Morgan said. "See, I just don't think they'd make up the appreciative audience we deserve, hey Nic old girl? But don't you worry. Even if you're going to be stubborn and uncooperative there's still a good deal of pleasant shenanigans we can get up to. Makes it even better, I must say, a girl who won't give up the fight. It's a rare treat."

"You demented motherfucker," Lawrence said.

Morgan shone a big shit-eating grin in his direction and I knew he was only seconds away from shooting us.

While he looked away Nicole adjusted her position slightly, moving from a sitting position to a crouch.

"It doesn't matter whether you shoot us or not," I said, trying to keep him distracted. "We've told the whole fucking world about you. FBI, Interpol, everyone."

"Oh, come on, Woodsie," Morgan said. "Now you're just being boring. The eighth deadly sin, old boy. I could give them my fucking autobiography and they wouldn't be able to touch me. You know that. And I'm sad to say, but you won't be much more than a footnote, mate." He raised the gun. "Now it's time to write your final — "

Nicole launched herself into the air and drop-kicked him like she was a World Wrestling Federation star. It very nearly worked. A shot exploded from his gun but went miles over our heads. The flashlight flew from his hands and he staggered almost to the edge of the trail before recovering hs balance. He tried to stop the rolling flashlight with an outstretched foot, but he was a fraction of a second too late.