Десмонд Бэгли - Running Blind

I sipped from the glass and then transferred it from one hand to the other. When I had finished wriggling about the butane cylinder was tucked in between the cushion and the arm of the chair. I toasted Gregor again and then looked at the hot-burning peat fire with interest.

On each refill cylinder of butane there is a solemn warning: EXTREMELY INFLAMMABLE MIXTURE, DO NOT USE NEAR FIRE OR FLAME. KEEP OUT OF THE REACH OF CHILDREN. DO NOT PUNCTURE OR INCINERATE. Commercial firms do not like to put such horrendous notices on their products and usually do so only under pressure of legislation, so that in all cases the warnings are thoroughly justified.

The peat fire was glowing hot with a nice thick bed of red embers. I thought that if I put the cylinder into the fire one of two things were likely to happen — it would either explode like a bomb or take off like a rocket — and either of these would suit me. My only difficulty was that I didn’t know how long it would take to blow up. Putting it into the fire might be easy, but anyone quick enough could pull it out — Gregor, for instance. Kennikin’s boys couldn’t possibly be as incompetent as he made them out to be.

Kennikin came back. ‘You were telling the truth,’ he said.

‘I always do; the trouble is most people don’t recognize it when they hear it. So you agree with me about Slade.’

He frowned. ‘I don’t mean that stupid story. What I am looking for is not in your car. Where is it?’

‘I’m not telling you, Vaslav.’

‘You will.’

A telephone bell rang somewhere. I said, ‘Let’s have a bet on it.’

‘I don’t want to get blood on the carpet in here,’ he said. ‘Stand up.’ Someone took the telephone receiver off the hook.

‘Can’t I finish my drink first?’

Ilyich opened the door and beckoned to Kennikin, who said, ‘You’d better have finished that drink by the time I get back.’

He left the room and Gregor moved over to stand in front of me. That wasn’t very good because as long as he stood there I wouldn’t have a chance of jamming the butane cylinder into the fire. I touched my forehead and found a thin film of sweat.

Presently Kennikin came back and regarded me thoughtfully. ‘The man you were with at Geysir — a guest at the hotel, I think you said.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Does the name — John Case — mean anything to you?’

I looked at him blankly. ‘Not a thing.’

He smiled sadly. ‘And you are the man who said he always told the truth.’ He sat down. ‘It seems that what I am looking for has ceased to have any importance. More accurately, its importance has diminished relative to yourself. Do you know what that means?’

‘You’ve lost me,’ I said, and I really meant it. This was a new twist.

Kennikin said, ‘I would have gone to any length necessary to get the information from you. However, my instructions have changed. You will not be tortured, Stewartsen, so put your mind at ease.’

I let out my breath. ‘Thanks!’ I said wholeheartedly.

He shook his head pityingly. ‘I don’t want your thanks. My instructions are to kill you immediately.’

The telephone bell rang again.

My voice came out in a croak. ‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘You are getting in the way.’

I swallowed. ‘Hadn’t you better answer that telephone? It might be a change of instruction.’

He smiled crookedly. ‘A last-minute reprieve, Alan? I don’t think so. Do you know why I told you of these instructions? It’s not normally done, as you know.’

I knew all right, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him. The telephone stopped ringing.

‘There are some good things in the Bible,’ he said. ‘For instance — “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.” I had everything planned for you, and I regret my plans cannot now be implemented. But at least I can watch you sweat as you’re sweating now.’

Ilyich stuck his head around the door. ‘Reykjavik,’ he said.

Kennikin made a gesture of annoyance. ‘I’m coming.’ He rose. ‘Think about it — and sweat some more.’

I put out my hand. ‘Have you a cigarette?’

He stopped in mid-stride and laughed aloud. ‘Oh, very good, Alan. You British are strong on tradition. Certainly you may have the traditional last cigarette.’ He tossed me his cigarette case. ‘Is there anything else you would like?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I would like to be in Trafalgar Square on New Year’s Eve in the year 2000.’

‘My regrets,’ he said, and left the room.

I opened the case, stuck a cigarette in my mouth, and patted my pockets helplessly; then I stooped very slowly to pick up one of the paper spills from the hearth. I said to Gregor, ‘I’m just going to light my cigarette,’ and bent forward to the fire, hoping to God he wouldn’t move from the door.

I held the spill in my left hand and leaned forward so that my right hand was screened by my body, and thrust the cylinder into the embers at the same time as I lifted the flaming spill and returned to my seat. Waving it in a circle to attract Gregor’s eyes from the fire, I applied it to the tip of the cigarette, drew in smoke and blew a plume in his direction. I deliberately allowed the flame to burn down so that it touched my fingers.

‘Ouch!’ I exclaimed, and shook my hand vigorously. Anything to keep him from looking directly at the fire. It took all the willpower I had to refrain from glancing at it myself.

The telephone was slammed down and Kennikin came stalking back. ‘Diplomats!’ he said in a scathing voice. ‘As though I don’t have enough troubles.’ He jerked his thumb at me. ‘All right; on your feet.’

I held up the cigarette. ‘What about this?’

‘You can finish it outside. There’ll be just enough...’

The blast of the exploding cylinder was deafening in that enclosed area, and it blew the peat fire all over the room. Because I was expecting it I was quicker off the mark than anyone else. I ignored the red-hot ember which stung my neck, but Gregor found he couldn’t do the same with the ember which alighted on the back of his hand. He gave a yell and dropped the gun.

I dived across the room, seized the pistol and shot him twice through the chest. Then I turned to nail Kennikin before he could recover. He had been beating red-hot bits of peat from his jacket but now he was turning at the sound of the shots. I lifted the pistol and he grabbed a table-lamp and threw it at me. I ducked, my shot went wild, and the table-lamp sailed over my head to hit Ilyich straight in the face as he opened the door to find out what the hell was going on.

That saved me the trouble of opening it. I shouldered him aside and stumbled into the hall to find that the front door was open. Kennikin had given me a bad time, and much as I would have liked to have fought it out with him this was not the time for it. I ran out of the house and past the Volkswagen which was minus all four wheels, and on the way took a snap shot at the big Russian to encourage him to keep his head down. Then I ran into the darkness which, by now, was not as dark as I would have liked, and took to the countryside fast.

The countryside thereabouts consisted of humpy lava covered by a thick layer of moss and occasional patches of dwarf birch. At full speed and in broad daylight a man might make one mile an hour without breaking an ankle. I sweated over it, knowing that if I broke my ankle, or as much as sprained it, I would be picked up easily and probably shot on the spot.

I went about four hundred yards, angling away from the lake shore and up towards the road, before I stopped. Looking back I saw the windows of the room in which I had been held; there was a curious flickering and I saw that the curtains were going up in flames. There were distant shouts and someone ran in front of the window, but it seemed that no one was coming after me. I don’t think any of them knew which direction I’d taken.