Десмонд Бэгли - Running Blind

‘You’re not thinking of Slade,’ he said. ‘You’re thinking of yourself. You’re thinking of the bullet in your head.’

‘Maybe I am, but you’d better think of Slade because if I’m dead then so is he.’

He nodded shortly. ‘Three hours,’ he said. ‘Not a minute more.’

Kennikin was a logical man and susceptible to a reasoned argument. I had won Elin another hour in which to convince the top brass at Keflavik. ‘She goes alone,’ I said. ‘No one follows her.’

‘That is understood.’

‘Then give her the telephone number she is to call. It would be a pity if she walked out without it.’

Kennikin took out a notebook and scribbled down a number, then ripped out the sheet and gave it to her. ‘No tricks,’ he said. ‘Especially no police. If there is an undue number of strangers around here, then he dies. You’d better know that I mean it.’

In a colourless voice she said, ‘I understand. There will be no tricks.’

She looked at me and there was something in her eyes that made my heart turn over, and then Kennikin took her by the elbow and led her to the door. A minute later I saw her through the window, walking away from the house up towards the road.

Kennikin returned. ‘We’ll put you somewhere safe,’ he said, and jerked his head at the man who held a gun on me. I was led upstairs and into an empty room. Kennikin surveyed the bare walls and shook his head sadly. ‘They did these things so much better in medieval times,’ he said.

I was in no mood for light conversation but I played along with him. I had the idea that, perhaps, he wouldn’t mind at all if Slade didn’t show up. Then he would be able to get down to the delightful business of killing me — slowly. And I had put the idea into his mind; I had tried to antagonize him towards Slade. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea.

I said, ‘What do you mean?’

‘In those days they built with stone.’ He strode to the window and thumped on the exterior wall. It responded with a wooden hollowness. ‘This place is built like an eggshell.’

That was true enough. The chalets around Thingvallavatn are holiday cottages, not designed for permanent occupancy. A timber frame, skinned on each side with thin planking and with a filling of foamed polystyrene for insulation, finished off with a skim of plaster maybe half an inch thick on the interior to make the place look nice. The nearest thing to a permanent tent.

Kennikin went to the opposite wall and rapped on it with his knuckles. It echoed even more hollowly. ‘You could get through this partition wall in fifteen minutes, using nothing more than your hands. Therefore this man will stay in here with you.’

‘You needn’t worry,’ I said sourly. ‘I’m not Superman.’

‘You don’t need to be Superman to tangle the feet of the incompetents I’ve been given for this operation,’ said Kennikin, equally sourly. ‘You’ve proved that already. But I think the orders I give now will penetrate the thickest head.’ He turned to the man with the gun. ‘Stewartsen will sit in that corner. You will stand in front of the door. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘If he moves, shoot him. Understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘If he speaks, shoot him. Understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘If he does anything else at all, shoot him. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ said the man with the gun stolidly.

Kennikin’s orders weren’t leaving much room for manoeuvre. He said musingly, ‘Now, have I forgotten anything? Oh, yes! You said that Slade had a hole in him — right?’

‘Not much of one,’ I said. ‘Just in the hand.’

He nodded, and said to the guard, ‘When you shoot him, don’t kill him. Shoot him in the stomach.’ He turned on his heel and left the room. The door slammed behind him.

I looked at the guard and the guard looked right back at me. His gun was trained on my belly and didn’t deviate a hair’s-breadth. With his other hand he gestured wordlessly towards the corner, so I backed into it until my shoulder-blades touched and then bent my knees until I was squatting on my heels.

He looked at me expressionlessly. ‘Sit!’ he said economically.

I sat. He wasn’t going to be bluffed. He stood in front of the door about fifteen feet away and he was impregnable. He had the look of a man who would obey orders to the letter; if I rushed him I’d catch a bullet and I couldn’t even con him into doing anything stupid. It was going to be a long three hours.

Kennikin had been right. Left alone in the room and I’d have gone through the partition wall, and it wouldn’t have taken me any fifteen minutes either. True, once through the wall I would still be in the house, but I’d be in an unexpected place, and surprise, as all generals know, wins battles. Now that Elin was gone I was prepared to do anything to get away, and Kennikin knew it.

I looked at the window. All I could see was a small patch of blue sky and a fleecy cloud drifting by. The time oozed on, maybe half an hour, and I heard the crunch of tyres as a car drew up outside. I didn’t know how many men had been in the house when I arrived, although I knew of three, but now there were more and the odds had lengthened.

I turned my wrist slowly and drew back the cuff of my jacket to look at my watch, hoping to God that the guard would not interpret that as an unnatural action. I kept my eye on him and he looked back at me blankly, so I lowered my gaze to see what time it was. It had not been half an hour — only fifteen minutes had passed. It was going to be a longer three hours than I had thought.

Five minutes after that there was a tap at the door and I heard the raised voice of Kennikin. ‘I’m coming in.’

The guard stepped to one side as the door opened. Kennikin came in and said, ‘I see you’ve been a good boy.’ There was something in the way he said it that made me uneasy. He was too damned cheerful.

‘I’d like to go over what you told me again,’ he said. ‘According to you, Slade is being kept with friends of yours — Icelandic friends — I think you said. These friends will kill him unless they get you in exchange. I think that was the argument. Am I right?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘Your girl-friend is waiting downstairs. Shall we join her?’ He waved largely. ‘You can get up — you will not be shot.’

I stood up stiffly, and wondered what the hell had gone wrong. I was escorted downstairs and found Elin standing in front of the empty fireplace flanked by Ilyich. Her face was pale as she whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Alan.’

‘You must think I’m stupid,’ said Kennikin. ‘You don’t suppose I thought you had walked here? You tramped up to the front door and immediately I wondered where you had left your car. You had to have a car because this is no country for walking, so I sent a man to look for it even before you rang the bell.’

‘You always were logical,’ I said.

He was enjoying himself. ‘And what do you suppose my man found? A large American car complete with key. He had not been there long when this young lady came up in a very great hurry, so he brought her — and the car — back here. You see, he was unaware of the agreement we had reached. We can’t blame him for that, can we?’

‘Of course not,’ I said flatly. But had he opened the boot? ‘I don’t see that this makes any difference.’

‘No, you wouldn’t. But my man had standing orders. He knew we were looking for a small package containing electronic equipment, and so he searched the car. He didn’t find the package.’

Kennikin stopped and looked at me expectantly. He was really relishing this. I said, ‘Do you mind if I sit down? And for God’s sake, give me a cigarette — I’ve run out.’