Stephen Leather - The birthday girl

Tim pointed at the wedge of pines. 'Once we're over the trees I can use the valley winds to take us around the rocky outcrop. They won't be expecting that, and we should pick up some speed.'

'Then you drop us off? I'm still not sure that's a good idea,'

Freeman said.

'You'll be fine,' Tim assured him. 'The winds at ground level aren't much more than five miles per hour. I can take this baby down to a few feet above the ground and you can drop into the snow. The drifts are about six or seven feet – you won't get hurt. I'll hit the burners and go way up. All you have to do is lie still. The guys in the snowmobiles won't have a clue what's happened and they'll chase me as far as the ridge. Then I'll be free and clear.'

'If you can find a place to land,' Mersiha said.

Tim ran his finger across the chart. 'I can make it to here with just me on board.'

'Are you sure?'

Tim smiled, obviously pleased at her concern. 'Trust me,' he said. Below, the buzzing of the snowmobiles grew louder.

Kiseleva took his left hand off the brake lever and fumbled in his pocket for the transceiver. The handlebars vibrated and he gripped tighter with his right hand, trying to steer as straight a course as possible. He was crossing a large snowfield and heading towards a forest of snow-covered pines. The skis slipped sideways as he drove across an incline and he felt the machine slip away from him. He started to fall but before he completely lost his grip he smacked his right hand down on the engine cut-off toggle. It died immediately and the machine came to a halt within a few yards with Kiseleva still hanging on grimly with one hand.

'What the fuck happened?' Ostrovetsky shouted over his shoulder. The other snowmobile continued to race after the balloon, though Kiseleva could see that Vincenti was making a mistake in heading directly towards the trees. They'd have to go round, so it made more sense to approach the forest at an angle and then skirt around it.

'I've gotta speak to the blonde bitch,' Kiseleva said, switching on the transceiver and pressing it to the side of his face. His breath fogged around his mouth as he spoke. 'You there?' There was no reply. His hands were tingling and trembling and his arm muscles ached like they did after he'd done a hundred push-ups. 'You there?' he repeated. 'Yeah, what's the problem?' It was the woman. She sounded as if she were a million miles away, her voice faint and crackling. Even through the static, he could hear the contempt in her voice.

'The balloon's coming down. They're half as high as they used to be. I think they're trying to land. Where are you?'

'Still heading down the hill. The trail's a bitch.'

Yeah, thought Kiseleva sourly, so are you, sweetheart.

'They're coming down on the other side of a valley. There's a sort of forest between two hills.'

'Hang on. I've got a map here. How far away are you from the balloon?'

Kiseleva peered up into the sky. Distances out in the open meant nothing to him. Drop him in the middle of Manhattan and he'd know to a block where he was, and how long it would take to get anywhere in a cab, assuming he was lucky enough to get a driver who could speak a close approximation of English. But out in the hills with everything covered in a thick layer of snow, he didn't have a clue. 'Six miles,' he guessed. 'Maybe seven.'

The transceiver crackled and he had to ask her to repeat herself. 'Yeah, I think I see it. Okay, once I hit the road, I'll get over there. In the meantime, get the hell after them.'

'Yeah, what the fuck do you think I'm doing?' he shouted, but he didn't press the transmit button as he said it. He knew better than to antagonise her.

'Everything okay?' Ostrovetsky asked.

'Everything's just fine,' Kiseleva said bitterly.

'Think we'll make it?'

'Damn right.' He sat down astride the snowmobile and pulled the D-ring savagely, imagining it was the blonde's hair he had in his hand. Nothing happened. He pulled again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

'The engine cut-offs still in,' Ostrovetsky said.

Kiseleva glared at him. 'I was just warming it up,' he said. He flicked out the red toggle, pulled the D-ring, and the engine burst into life. 'See?' he said, daring his passenger to argue. He pulled his scarf up over his face and tied it behind his neck as protection against the biting wind. Way off in the distance he could see Vincenti's snowmobile approaching the forest. Kiseleva could see that he'd soon realise his mistake and would have to veer off to the right. He gunned the engine. It was his chance to take the lead. He patted the silenced automatic, snug in its leather holster under his left armpit. Soon, he thought. Soon.

According to the variometer the balloon was descending at about two hundred feet a minute, but to Freeman it hardly felt as if they were moving downward at all. The only sensation of movement was forward, over the forest. Tim had been right. The lower they went, the less the drift to the right. Even so, he could see that they were only clipping the edge of the wedge of pines, and one of the snowmobiles was already moving off to go around the obstruction. Mersiha bit her lip nervously and Freeman squeezed her shoulder. 'It's going to be okay,' he said.

She smiled, wanting to believe him, but they both knew that Tim was cutting it close. Her face began to crumple as if she had only just realised the danger they were in. Tm so sorry, Dad,' she said. 'If I hadn't been so stupid…'

'Hush,' he said, pressing a finger to his lips. 'You were only trying to help.'

She shook her head fiercely. 'No. You were right. Violence never solves anything. It only makes things worse. And that's what I've done. I've made it worse.' She began to shake.

Freeman pulled her to him and hugged her as she sobbed quietly into his chest. 'It's all right,' he said.

'I promise I'll never do anything like that again. I really promise. On my life.' She crooked her little finger on her left hand and offered it to him. Freeman smiled and did the same.

They linked little fingers. He stroked her hair with his other hand and looked questioningly at Tim. The pilot shrugged. Freeman could see from the look on his face that he was worried.

'It'll be touch and go,' he said. 'Literally. Twenty seconds at most. So when I tell you to jump, you'll have to go right away.

No hesitation. And once you're in the snow, lie still. Don't sit up to check that she's okay, don't say anything, just lie exactly where you are. I'll hit the burners and hopefully they'll be too busy watching me to realise that you aren't in the basket.' Freeman nodded. He rested his chin on the top of his daughter's head.

He could see himself and Mersiha reflected in the twin lenses of the pilot's sunglasses, their faces weirdly distorted. 'It might not be so bad,' Tim said. 'The lower we go, the more distance we'll put between them. So long as they're the other side of the trees, they won't see us.' He fingered the dark blue rip-line. 'When I pull this, we'll drop like a stone.'

'When do we do it?' Freeman asked.

Tim looked down at the pursuing snowmobiles. They were still some distance away. He did a quick calculation in his head.

'Three minutes, maybe four.'

'I'm ready,' Freeman said.

'It might be an idea if you and your daughter sat down in the bottom of the basket, so that they get used to not seeing you standing up.'

Freeman nodded. 'Come on, pumpkin,' he whispered in Mersiha's ear. 'Let's sit down.' She'd begun to shake again, and Freeman didn't think it was from the cold. She slowly slid down against the side of the basket and clutched her knees with her arms. Tears were running down her cheeks though her eyes were tightly closed. Freeman sat down next to her and patted her shoulder, overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness. Now it was all down to Tim.