Tom Savage - Mrs. John Doe

She blinked, glanced over at the dead man, then back at her nearly naked husband, and nodded. “I’m Nora. Pleased to meet you, Josef Abrams. Where’s your phone?”

He blushed. “Dead. I used up all the time on it, and I didn’t have a chance to get a new one.”

“You spies and your disposable phones!” Nora said. She went to work on the clothes, determined not to be squeamish, but the corpse was the lesser of her problems. She’d just seen her husband’s arms and legs, which were scored with cuts, long trails of a blade. There were other things, small black marks on his palms and the soles of his feet that could only be cigarette burns. The ribbons of red on the back of his undershirt told her that he’d been lashed, and the bruising inside his left elbow meant they’d even tried drugs on him. And there was something wrong with his right knee. The kneecap was purple, swollen to twice its usual size, the flesh around it an angry red. He’s alive, she kept reminding herself. We’ll patch him up; we’ll fix him. But first, we have to get him the hell out of here.

She handed Josef the articles as she removed them from the guard. She checked the pockets and found a wallet and a handful of coins but no cellphone. Between them, she and Josef quickly dressed Jeff. The shoes were too small, but he forced his size thirteen feet into them. She found her Advil and gave him several of them, gazing nervously at his wounds.

“Don’t panic,” he said. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

When he tried to stand, Nora realized the extent of their problem. His right leg was useless. Josef went around to his right side, virtually holding him up. He’d have to hop on his left leg, with Josef standing in for the right leg.

“Here,” Josef said to her, and he handed her the pistol. She took the weapon, amazed at its sheer weight, and went ahead, holding the door open for them. She hurried down the length of the dark stable, the two men shambling along behind her. When they reached the side door, she held up a hand to stop them, pulled the door open, and peered outside. The woods were empty, as was the drive on her left.

She stepped outside, immediately aware of the light rain that had begun, and crept to her left, to the fence at the edge of the building. She stuck her head out, looking up the drive toward the house. The men were climbing into the trucks. Bill Howard came out onto the porch, followed by a tall, bearded man who could only be Gamal. Craig was behind them, along with a man and woman she assumed were the people from Libya. The man and woman joined the others in the trucks, and Bill and Craig bid farewell to the ringleader, with much smiling and shaking of hands. Nora ran back to the door.

“Hurry!” she said, and she set off toward the wall, the two men behind her.

The rain was growing in intensity, which was both good and bad-it helped to conceal them, but it impeded their progress with her husband. It was bearable here, under the thick leaves, but once over the wall they’d be out in the open. Jeff slipped on the wet grass, and Nora rushed to his left side, propping him up, just before he and Josef would have fallen. She clutched her husband’s arm with one hand and the pistol with the other, and the three of them continued through the trees.

The sounds of the approaching trucks grew louder behind them, and she and Josef managed to flatten themselves against a large trunk, Jeff held up between them. They waited there, the rain from the tree sluicing down on them, as the iron gates automatically swung open and the two trucks went through. The trucks turned left and disappeared down the main road as the gates closed after them.

Now, Nora realized, they definitely had to hurry. Any minute Bill and Craig would make their way upstairs to the bedroom and find that she was gone. When they arrived at the wall, Josef grasped the top and pulled himself up in one fluid move, landing astride it, his legs hanging down. He reached for Jeff’s arms and pulled him up. Nora helped with his legs until he was atop the wall, lying on his stomach. Josef jumped down on the road side. Nora clambered up onto the top beside her husband and helped him lower himself down the other side into Josef’s waiting arms. She jumped down to land beside them.

Nora looked up and down the road. No cars, no houses, no people anywhere. A flash of lightning was followed by a low boom of thunder. The rain was really falling now, and they were soaked.

“How did you get out here?” she asked the young man.

“Motor scooter,” he said, pointing off toward the forest on their right. “A Vespa. It’s in the woods over there. I borrowed it at the train station in King’s Lynn.”

“Well, that’s out,” Nora muttered. A scooter wasn’t going to get three people anywhere. She took charge of the situation. “Okay, the car we came in is this way. Let’s go.” She and Josef each held one of Jeff’s arms, and they moved toward the iron gates. When they arrived there, they stopped while Nora crept forward to peek around the brick column at the side of the entrance and up the drive toward the house.

Her escape had been discovered. The front door of the house burst open, and Craig and the man named Mustapha took off at a dead run toward the barn. Bill Howard came out onto the porch, squinting out through the downpour at the drive and the field, looking for any signs of activity. She ducked back behind the column as his gaze swept across the gates. The sky had darkened considerably with the rain, but she wasn’t taking any bets on Bill Howard’s eyesight, not now. If they tried to move now, he’d see them. She held up a hand to Jeff and Josef, telling them to wait, and peered around the column again.

The two men ran out of the barn toward the house, and Craig was shouting something. Bill threw up his hands and began yelling at them. Then he disappeared into the house, but only for a moment. He emerged immediately with a suitcase and headed for the Aston Martin, calling instructions to the others. Nora couldn’t hear his words through the rain and at this distance, but she got the gist of it: Bill was clearing out, Mustapha was to come with him, and Craig was to remain behind, searching for the Barons. Bill and Mustapha got into the car, and Craig headed back into the farmhouse.

“Now,” she said, and the three of them hurried across the open expanse of the iron gates to the opposite wall. With Jeff between them, she and Josef moved as swiftly as they could, but it wasn’t easy. They were all crouching down as they ran, and the weight of the big man was constantly throwing one or the other of them off balance, threatening to send all three of them down into the mud at the side of the road.

They staggered the length of the red brick wall toward the far end, listening as the roar of the sports car grew in volume behind them. Any minute now, the car would reach the end of the drive and turn into the main road, and they would be in plain sight. She and Josef ran faster, dragging Jeff along. When they got to the end of the wall, they turned and plunged into the trees, dropping to the soggy ground. They lay there, a tangle of wet arms and legs, waiting.

Moments later, the gold Aston Martin sped by, following the route the two trucks had taken a few minutes ago. Josef craned his head out from their hiding place to study the retreating car, then turned back to Nora.

“That leaves only Elder at the farm,” he said. “The guard in the stable was the only other regular here, as far as I could see earlier, when I looked around. I saw Elder carry you out of the woods to the back of the farmhouse-he was making sure the men outside didn’t see you. I told Mr. Baron you were here when I found him, and I was planning on coming to find you in the house as soon as the trucks were gone, but you made that unnecessary. Good show!”