Десмонд Бэгли - Running Blind

I looked him in the eye and then put a bullet into the back of his right hand. He jerked his hand convulsively and a strangled cry broke from his lips as the muzzle of the pistol centred on his head again. The noise of the shot hadn’t even rattled the windows.

I said, ‘I may not shoot to kill you but I’ll cut you to pieces bit by bit if you don’t behave yourself. I hear from Kennikin that I’m a fair hand at surgical operations too. There are worse things than getting yourself shot dead. Ask Kennikin some time.’

Blood oozed from the back of his hand and stained the carpet, but he lay still, staring at the gun in my hand. His tongue came out and licked dry lips. ‘You bloody bastard!’ he whispered.

The telephone rang.

We stared at each other for the time it took to ring four times. I walked around him, keeping clear of his legs, and I picked up the telephone whole and entire complete with base. I dumped it next to him, and said, ‘You’ll answer that, and you’ll remember two things — I want to hear both ends of the conversation and that there are plenty of other parts of your fat anatomy. I can work on.’ I jerked the gun. ‘Pick it up.’

Awkwardly he picked up the handset with his left hand. ‘Yes?’

I jerked the gun again and he held up the telephone so that I could hear the scratchy voice. ‘This is Kennikin.’

‘Be natural,’ I whispered.

Slade licked his lips. ‘What is it?’ he asked hoarsely.

‘What’s the matter with your voice?’ said Kennikin.

Slade grunted, his eye on the gun I held. ‘I have a cold. What do you want?’

‘I’ve got the girl.’

There was a silence and I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. Slade went pale as he watched my finger curl around the trigger and slowly take up the pressure. I breathed, ‘Where from?’

Slade coughed nervously. ‘Where did you find her?’

‘At Keflavik Airport — hiding in the Icelandair office. We know her brother is a pilot, and I had the idea of looking for her there. We took her out without any trouble.’

That made it true. ‘Where now?’ I whispered into Slade’s ear and put the gun to the nape of his neck.

He asked the question, and Kennikin said, ‘In the usual place. When can I expect you?’

‘You’ll be right out.’ I pressed the muzzle harder into his fat and felt him shiver.

‘I’ll leave straight away,’ said Slade, and I quickly cut the contact by depressing the telephone bar.

I jumped back fast in case he tried to start something, but he just lay there gazing at the telephone. I felt like screaming, but there was no time for that. I said, ‘Slade, you were wrong — I can kill you. You know that now, don’t you?’

For the first time I detected fear in him. His fat jowl developed a tremor and his lower lip shook so that he looked like a fat boy about to burst into tears. I said, ‘Where’s the usual place?’

He looked at me with hatred and said nothing. I was in a quandary; if I killed him I would have got nothing out of him, yet I didn’t want to damage him too much because I wanted him fit to walk the streets of Reykjavik without occasioning undue attention. Still, he didn’t know my problem, so I said, ‘You’ll still be alive when I’ve finished with you, but you’ll wish you weren’t.’

I put a bullet just by his left ear and he jerked violently. Again the noise of the shot was very small and I think he must have doctored the cartridges by taking out some of the powder to reduce the bang. It’s an old trick when you want to shoot without drawing notice to yourself and, if done carefully and the gun is fired at not too great a range, the bullet is still lethal. It’s much better than using a silencer which is a much overrated contraption and dangerous to the user. A silencer is good for one quiet shot — after that the steel wool packing becomes compressed and the back pressure builds up so high that the user is in danger of blowing off his own hand.

I said, ‘I’m a good shot, but not all that good. I intended to put that bullet exactly where I did, but only you know the accuracy of this popgun. I’m inclined to think it throws to the left a bit, so if I try to clip your right ear you stand a fair chance of stopping one in the skull.’

I shifted the gun a little and took aim. He broke — his nerve gone completely. ‘For God’s sake, stop!’ This sort of Russian roulette wasn’t to his taste.

I sighted on his right ear. ‘Where’s the usual place?’

There was a sheen of sweat on his face. ‘At Thingvallavatn.’

‘The house to which I was taken after Geysir?’

‘That’s it.’

‘You’d better be right,’ I said. ‘Because I have no time to waste in chasing about Southern Iceland.’ I lowered the gun and Slade’s expression changed to one of relief. ‘Don’t start cheering yet,’ I advised. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m going to leave you here.’

I went to the stand at the bottom of the bed and flipped open the lid of his suitcase. I took out a clean shirt and tossed it to him. ‘Rip some strips off that and bind up your hand. Stay on the floor and don’t get any smart ideas such as throwing it at me.’

While he tore up the shirt awkwardly I rummaged about in the suitcase and came up with two clips of .32 ammunition. I dropped them into my pocket then went to the wardrobe and took out Slade’s topcoat, the pockets of which I had already searched. ‘Stand up facing the wall and put that on.’

I watched him carefully, alert for any trickery. I knew that if I made one false step he would take full advantage of it. A man who could worm his way into the heart of British Intelligence hadn’t done it by being stupid. The mistakes he had made weren’t such as would normally have discommoded him and he had done his damnedest to rectify them by eliminating me. If I weren’t careful he could still pull it off.

I picked up his passport and his wallet from the bed and pocketed them, then threw his hat across the room so that it landed at his feet. ‘We’re going for a walk. You’ll keep that bandaged hand in your coat pocket and you’ll behave like the English gentleman you’re not. One wrong move from you and I’ll shoot you dead and take my chances, and I don’t care if it has to be in the middle of Hafnarstraeti. I hope you realize that Kennikin did exactly the wrong thing in taking Elin.’

He spoke to the wall. ‘Back in Scotland I warned you about that. I told you not to let her get involved.’

‘Very thoughtful of you,’ I said. ‘But if anything happens to her you’re a dead man. You may have been right about my inability to kill before, but I hope you’re not counting on it now because one of Elin’s nail parings is of more importance to me than the whole of your lousy body. You’d better believe that, Slade. I protect my own.’

I saw him shudder. ‘I believe you,’ he said quietly.

I really think he did. He knew he had encountered something more primitive than patriotism or the loyalty of a man to his group. This was much more fundamental, and while I might not have killed him because he was a spy I would kill without mercy any man who got between me and Elin.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Pick up your hat and let’s go.’

I escorted him into the corridor, made him lock the door, and then took the key. I had one of his jackets draped over my arm to hide the gun, and I walked one pace behind him and to the right. We left the hotel and walked the streets of Reykjavik to where I had left Nordlinger’s car. ‘You’ll get behind the wheel,’ I said.

We performed an intricate ballet in getting into the car. While unlocking it and getting him settled I had to make sure that never for one moment could he take advantage and, at the same time, our antics had to look reasonably normal to the passers-by. At last I managed to get him seated and myself behind him in the rear.