S Bolton: Sacrifice

Then he convulsed – just once – and his grip relaxed, releasing the pressure on my throat. My lungs started pumping, desperate for air, but my throat had been damaged by the pressure of Richard's strong hand. Like a dented pipe, it couldn't let enough air flow through and the darkness in my head continued to grow.

Richard fell forwards towards me; his eyes met mine but were expressionless. His weight shifted, my lungs made a gigantic effort and air flooded in once more. I managed to raise both hands to fend him off and as he collapsed I shoved hard.

He rolled to one side and I pushed against him, without a clue what was happening but grasping at any chance to be free. He fell face-down on the floor of the cabin. A circle of blackness stained the thick white hair on the back of his head and, as I watched, a small bubble of blood rose from the wound and burst as it reached the air. Tearing my eyes away, I looked at the figure kneeling above him. Eyes met mine and I thought I saw a brief glimmer of recognition before they glazed over. There was a heavy thud as the humane killer, the thick iron-bolt stained dark with Richard's blood, fell to the floor.

Pushing myself up, I reached over and felt for a pulse in Richard's neck. There was nothing. I pulled myself to my feet, stepped over him and peered up the companionway steps. Gair was nowhere in sight but I could make out flickers of light as he signalled to another boat.

I bent down, picked up the weapon and reloaded the bolt. Then, at last, I reached out and touched the face of Richard's killer. Eyes dazed with drugs looked back emptily into mine. Then I saw a gleam of intelligence and Dana's lips stretched into a smile.

'Can you understand me?' I whispered, feeling myself smile in response. She nodded, but didn't seem able to speak.

'Stephen Gair is up there,' I said, gesturing towards the cockpit. 'He is very dangerous.' No surprise in her eyes. 'Can you watch the steps? When he appears, let me know?'

She nodded again and I stood up and limped over to the helm. I could see no immediate hazards ahead; the depth gauge was unable to read the depth – always a reassuring sign – and I flicked the boat on to auto-pilot. Then, I picked up the radio and switched to channel 16.

'Mayday, mayday, mayday,' I said as loudly as I dared, knowing Gair would hear the crackle of the response and hoping he would think it was the other boat talking to Richard.

'Mayday, mayday, mayday,' I repeated. 'This is motor launch Arctic Skua, Arctic Skua. We are in Shetland waters, travelling south down the eastern coast of Tronal island. We require urgent medical and police assistance.'

There was a crackle of static. No response.

I glanced round. Dana's eyes hadn't left the companionway steps. I could hear footsteps above us.

'There are six people on board,' I said into the mouthpiece. 'Two of us are injured. Three have been drugged. Only one is able-bodied and he is a danger to the rest of us. We need help urgently. Repeat, urgently.'

Another crackle. Still no response.

It was close to hopeless. Even if anyone were listening – which the Shetland coastguard, at least, certainly should be – they would never get to us in time. The second Tronal boat would be here any second and the other women and I were going overboard. All I could do was make sure we didn't disappear without a trace.

'We are Tora Hamilton, Richard Guthrie, Stephen Gair and Dana Tulloch. Repeat Dana Tulloch, who is alive and well.' Not for much longer, though – I could definitely hear another engine getting closer. Also two other women whose real names I don't know. We have been abducted and held prisoner by Richard Guthrie and Stephen Gair. Both men are extremely dangerous.'

That was stretching it a bit. Richard hadn't moved and looked anything but dangerous. Gair was another matter. If he came below he would kill me. He would have no choice. Without Richard, he would be unable to administer the drugs that would keep me insensible until we got back to Tronal. The baby would have to be sacrificed. He would kill me and throw me overboard. Dana too. The other two women might survive the trip, but for what? Another eight months of imprisonment and a violent death. I could not let Gair come below. I had to go up and tackle him head on.

Except I couldn't do it. I was weak from loss of blood and dizzy from pain. I'd spent most of the night running on adrenalin and the tank was empty. I couldn't fight him; couldn't even climb the steps. I would wait, hide inside one of the sleeping cabins, jump on him when he came back down. It was the only possible way.

A noise above. Someone had leaped on the roof of the cabin.

'Hey, ladies!'

Gair's face hung upside-down in the companionway. He was lying on the cabin roof staring down at us. Veins bulged on his forehead and I could see his large white teeth. I realized that he and sanity had parted company. His eyes darted to Richard's body and narrowed. Then he looked back at me.

'Get up here, Tora,' he said.

UNABLE TO TEAR MY EYES FROM GAIR'S FACE, I SHOOK MY head. I wasn't going anywhere near him. He terrified me.

His head disappeared. I heard him striding along the roof and I stepped closer to Dana. She reached out and held my ankle as I gripped the gun tight.

Then Gair's face appeared again.

'I'm opening the seacocks, Tora,' he sneered. 'You'll have about ten minutes before the boat sinks like a stone. If you want to save your three friends, you come up top now.'

He strode off towards the bow of the boat. I staggered to the companionway and pulled myself up the steps. Gair was bent over the anchor locker. He saw me, straightened up and moved towards me.

I stood my ground. He was wounded too, although not as badly as I, and I still had the gun. I wasn't giving in just yet. He climbed on to the cabin roof and stood there, legs apart for balance, towering above me. The wind whipped his clothes against him, showing the lean, strong lines of his body. His face gleamed white against the night sky and his teeth were bared in a hideous attempt at a smile. He no longer looked like a wolf. He looked like a demon.

I backed away until I came up against the cockpit steering wheel. The contents of my bowels turned to mush and the muscles were no longer able to hold them in place. Evil-smelling warmth started to pour down my legs. Legs that had turned to straw and would hold me no longer. I sank to the cockpit floor.

Gair held something in one hand; a short length of chain. He swung it round and it crashed against the cabin roof. Then he caught hold of the other end with his left hand and pulled it tight. It was about three feet long and the links must have been a quarter of an inch thick. He stood at the edge of the cabin roof, poised to leap down. The boat rocked and he steadied himself. Below, I thought I could hear Dana's voice, repeating the mayday call I'd given earlier. I even thought I heard a faint crackle of response. It was too late, though – too late for me, at any rate.

Just off the port bow loomed a massive shape, for a split second almost as terrifying as the man about to leap at me. Another granite stack, dangerously close. I dropped the gun and reached my right hand back through the spokes of the steering wheel, stretching up and back, towards the centre of the wheel where I knew the instruments must be. My fingers felt buttons and I began pressing. The buttons beeped at me in response. I had no idea what they were, I just had to hope.

Gair raised himself on tiptoe. I reached high again, grabbed a spoke at the top of the wheel and pulled down as hard as I could.

The boat responded; one of the buttons I'd pressed had disengaged the auto-pilot and I was in control of the helm. Travelling at speed, the launch almost tipped over under the force of the abrupt turn. Below, objects rolled across the cabin floor and I heard Dana cry out. Gair staggered, almost slipped, grasped for something to steady himself and then miraculously regained his balance.