S Bolton: Sacrifice

And something weird had got into my head that night, because it seemed to me these rocks were sentient, that the human drama taking place before them was hardly new, and that they watched, coldly curious, waiting to see how the act would be played out this time.

After ten minutes or so we left them behind and Richard picked up speed again. Still no sign of Duncan, but we were travelling away from help. We had to move soon. I wondered if Duncan, down in the cabin, might not realize which direction we were going in. In any case, we couldn't wait much longer. I moved along the deck until I could step into the cockpit. Glancing down the companion-way, I could see Richard at the helm, chart at his elbow. If he turned, he would see me. I just had to hope he wouldn't. I raised the lid of the portside locker and looked inside: several coils of rope. I chose the shortest and closed the lid. Then I moved across the cockpit to the steps. I wasn't going to hide again. When he turned, he would see me. So be it.

I stepped into the companion-way, put my foot on the top step.

Richard didn't move.

Holding the guard-rail with my free hand, I lowered myself on to the next step down. Then the next.

The third step was damp and my trainer slipped a fraction. It made a faint squelching sound.

'Good evening, Tora,' said Richard quietly.

All the wind went out of me and I sat down, hard, on the steps. He turned and we looked into each other's eyes. I'd expected anger, exasperation, maybe even a cruel sort of triumph. What I saw was sadness.

We stared at each other for a long time. Then his eyes flickered over my shoulder to the port-side cabin. Did he know already that Duncan was on board too? I glanced to one side. The door was closed tight. I turned back to Richard. He pulled back the throttle and the boat slowed almost to a halt. He reached over and switched on the auto-pilot. Then he stood and took a step towards me.

'I wish you hadn't,' he said.

I felt my eyes sting and my jaw start to tremble. Please let me not be about to cry, not now.

'I suppose Emma gave me away?' I asked, praying that was the case. If Emma had told them, they might not know I'd met up with Duncan. Richard might not know he was on board. And where the hell was he, anyway? I pressed my right hand against my chest, felt the reassuring hardness beneath my waterproofs.

'Yes, she mentioned your visit. And then it was a simple matter of checking video footage to confirm it was you. Not that any of us had any doubt. You've been very brave, my dear.'

I pushed myself up and jumped down into the cabin. Richard took a step back. Again his eyes flickered to the door behind me, but I wasn't about to be distracted.

'OK, less of the "my dears"; you and I have never been close, nor are we likely to be in future, given where you're going. I think the GMC might have a few questions about the services you offer at that clinic of yours. That's when the police have finished with you.'

Richard stiffened. 'Please don't presume to preach at me. Those babies would have died before birth – would have been murdered before birth – without us. Because of us they will have a good life, with parents who love and want them.'

I was close to speechless. 'It's totally illegal.'

'The law is a complete mess, Tora. The law allows us to inject potassium chloride into an infant's heart, right up until the moment of birth. Up to twenty-four weeks we can do it for no other reason than that the pregnancy is inconvenient to the mother. Yet if a child of twenty-four weeks is actually born, we have to do everything in our power to preserve its life. Where's the sense in any of that?'

'We don't make the law,' I said, knowing I was sounding lame. 'And we certainly don't exploit its weaknesses for commercial-'

'Do you have any idea how many terminations go wrong every year, when the babies come out alive, often severely handicapped?' Richard came back at me angrily. 'Because I've come across several in my time; babies whose mothers abandoned them even before birth. What kind of life are they going to have? Surely our way is better than that.'

'You're trading in human beings,' I almost hissed at him.

'We help women out of difficult situations. We provide childless couples with hope for the future. And we save dozens of babies who would otherwise be murdered for social expediency. We are preservers of life.'

I couldn't believe he was seriously trying to take the moral high ground. 'And Dana? Are you planning on preserving her life?'

He seemed to shrink a little into himself. 'Sadly, no. That's out of my hands. I hear she was a fine young woman. I'm sorry she had to get involved.' Then he pulled himself up again. Although, frankly, if anyone's responsible for Miss Tulloch's death, it's you. If you hadn't been so determined to meddle in the police investigation, she'd never have learned enough to put her life in danger.'

'Out of your hands, you sick shit? It's your hands that will be weighting her down and throwing her overboard.'

Richard shook his head, as though dealing with an unreasonable child. I began to wonder if he was mad. Or if I was.

'This is so typical of you, Tora. You can't reason your way out of an argument, so you resort to abuse. Is it any wonder we've never been close?'

'Shut up! This is not family therapy time. I can't believe you're preaching to me about saving lives. You tried to kill me last Sunday. You sabotaged my boat and my life jacket.'

'Actually I knew nothing about that.'

'Stop lying to me. You're about to kill me: the least you can do is tell me the truth.'

'He isn't lying. I sawed though the mast.'

I whipped round. Stephen Gair stood in the doorway of the port cabin. His face was crumpled, slightly red. My eyes dropped to his feet. Black brogues.

'Jesus,' he said. 'What do you have to do to get some decent kip around here?'

I DROPPED THE ROPE AND BACKED UP OUT OF GAIR's REACH, AND came up sharply against the chart table. Gair stepped to one side and leaned against the steps. No way out. 'You look like you've seen a ghost, Tora,' he said, smiling sleepily.

I took hold of the zip on the pocket of my waterproofs and started to inch it down. 'Don't tell me,' I said, 'reports of your death have been exaggerated. Where's Duncan?'

'Duncan had a change of heart. He won't be joining us tonight.'

I risked taking my eyes off Gair to look at Richard.

'What have you done with Duncan?' I demanded.

Richard leaned over and fumbled on the shelf that ran around the cabin's interior. He straightened up again and I thought I saw the wrapping of a hypodermic concealed in his large hand.

'And no one's about to kill you,' said Gair, his arms stretching high above his head. 'At least, not any more,' he continued when he'd done yawning. 'You're going back to Tronal.'

I stared at him, not sure what he meant. Then I got it; as a strong, cold hand took a grip on my heart, I got it.

'Not this time,' I managed. 'I think one or two people might just notice I'm gone.'

Gair shook his head, seemingly unable to take the grin off his face. 'That boat you stole will be found drifting some time in the next couple of days,' he said. 'Some of your things will be discovered in the cabin, traces of your blood on the deck. People will assume you had an accident and went overboard. They'll look for your body, of course. Hold a very tasteful memorial service when they don't find it.'

I bit my tongue to keep from blurting out about the note I'd left for Helen. If they knew about that, they'd break into Dana's house before dawn and destroy it. Without the note, without Duncan, who would doubt that I'd taken out a boat in storm conditions – for unfathomable reasons of my own, but I had been pretty disturbed of late – and hadn't made it back? Without the note, the bastards might just get away with it. I couldn't let them know about the note.