Читать книгу Running Blind / The Freedom Trap - Desmond Bagley, Desmond Bagley - Страница 19

We struck camp quickly and loaded everything into the Land-Rover, and everything included the body of Graham. ‘We can’t leave him here,’ I said. ‘Someone will be sure to stumble across him soon – certainly within the week. To quote the Bard, we lug the guts into the neighbour room.’

A wan smile crossed Elin’s face as she caught the allusion. ‘Where?’

‘Dettifoss,’ I said. ‘Or maybe Selfoss.’ To go over a couple of waterfalls, one the most powerful in Europe, would batter the body beyond recognition and, with luck, disguise the fact that Graham had been stabbed. He would be a lone tourist who had had an accident.

So we put the body in the back of the Land-Rover. I picked up the Remington carbine, and said, ‘Give me half an hour, then come along as fast as you can.’

‘I can’t move fast if I have to be quiet,’ she objected.

‘Quietness won’t matter – just belt towards the entrance as fast as you can, and use the headlights. Then slow down a bit so I can hop aboard.’

‘And then?’

‘Then we head for Dettifoss – but not by the main road. We keep on the track to the west of the river.’

‘What are you going to do about Slade? You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?’

‘He might kill me first,’ I said. ‘Let’s have no illusions about Slade.’

‘No more killing, Alan,’ she said. ‘Please – no more killing.’

‘It might not be up to me. If he shoots at me then I’ll shoot back.’

‘All right,’ she said quietly.

So I left her and headed towards the entrance to Asbyrgi, padding softly along the track and hoping that Slade wouldn’t come looking for Graham. I didn’t think it likely. Although he must have heard the shot he would have been expecting it, and then it would have taken Graham a half-hour to return after searching for the package. My guess was that Slade wouldn’t be expecting Graham for another hour.

I made good time but slowed as I approached the entrance. Slade had not bothered to hide his car; it was parked in full sight and was clearly visible because the short northern night was nearly over and the sky was light. He knew what he was doing because it was impossible to get close to the car without being seen, so I settled behind a rock and waited for Elin. I had no relish for walking across that open ground only to stop a bullet.

Presently I heard her coming. The noise was quite loud as she changed gear and I saw a hint of movement from inside the parked car. I nestled my cheek against the stock of the carbine and aimed. Graham had been professional enough to put a spot of luminous paint on the foresight but it was not necessary in the pre-dawn light.

I settled the sight on the driving side and, as the noise behind me built up to a crescendo, I slapped three bullets in as many seconds through the windscreen which must have been made of laminated glass because it went totally opaque. Slade took off in a wide sweep and I saw that the only thing that had saved him was that the car had right-hand drive, English style, and I had shot holes in the wrong side of the windscreen.

But he wasn’t waiting for me to correct the error and bucked away down the track as fast as he could go. The Land-Rover came up behind me and I jumped for it. ‘Get going!’ I yelled. ‘Make it fast.’

Ahead, Slade’s car skidded around a corner in a four-wheel drift, kicking up a cloud of dust. He was heading for the main road, but when we arrived at the corner Elin turned the other way as I had instructed her. It would have been useless chasing Slade – a Land-Rover isn’t built for that and he had the advantage.

We turned south on to the track which parallels the Jökulsà à Fjöllum, the big river that takes the melt water north from Vatnajökull, and the roughness of the ground dictated a reduction in speed. Elin said, ‘Did you talk to Slade?’

‘I couldn’t get near him.’

‘I’m glad you didn’t kill him.’

‘It wasn’t for want of trying,’ I said. ‘If he had a left-hand drive car he’d be dead by now.’

‘And would that make you feel any better?’ she asked cuttingly.

I looked at her. ‘Elin,’ I said, ‘The man’s dangerous. Either he’s gone off his nut – which I think is unlikely – or …’

‘Or what?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said despondently. ‘It’s too damned complicated and I don’t know enough. But I do know that Slade wants me dead. There’s something I know – or something he thinks I know – that’s dangerous for him; dangerous enough for him to want to kill me. Under the circumstances I don’t want you around – you could get in the line of fire. You did get in the line of fire this morning.’

She slowed because of a deep rut. ‘You can’t survive alone,’ she said. ‘You need help.’

I needed more than help; I needed a new set of brains to work out this convoluted problem. But this wasn’t the time to do it because Elin’s shoulder was giving her hell. ‘Pull up,’ I said. ‘I’ll do the driving.’

We travelled south for an hour and a half and Elin said, ‘There’s Dettifoss.’

I looked out over the rocky landscape towards the cloud of spray in the distance which hung over the deep gorge which the Jökulsá á Fjöllum has cut deep into the rock. ‘We’ll carry on to Selfoss,’ I decided. ‘Two waterfalls are better than one. Besides, there are usually campers at Dettifoss.’

We went past Dettifoss and, three kilometres farther on, I pulled off the road. ‘This is as close to Selfoss as we can get.’

I got out. ‘I’ll go towards the river and see if anyone’s around,’ I said. ‘It’s bad form to be seen humping bodies about. Wait here and don’t talk to any strange men.’

I checked to see if the body was still decently shrouded by the blanket with which we had covered it, and then headed towards the river. It was still very early in the morning and there was no one about so I went back and opened the rear door of the vehicle and climbed inside.

I stripped the blanket away from Graham’s body and searched his clothing. His wallet contained some Icelandic currency and a sheaf of Deutschmarks, together with a German motoring club card identifying him as Dieter Buchner, as also did his German passport. There was a photograph of him with his arm around a pretty girl and a fascia board of a shop behind them was in German. The Department was always thorough about that kind of thing.

The only other item of interest was a packet of rifle ammunition which had been broken open. I put that on one side, pulled out the body and replaced the wallet in the pocket, and then carried him in a fireman’s lift towards the river with Elin close on my heels.

I got to the lip of the gorge and put down the body while I studied the situation. The gorge at this point was curved and the river had undercut the rock face so that it was a straight drop right into the water. I pushed the body over the edge and watched it fall in a tumble of arms and legs until it splashed into the grey, swirling water. Buoyed by air trapped in the jacket it floated out until it was caught in the quick midstream current. We watched it go downstream until it disappeared over the edge of Selfoss to drop into the roaring cauldron below.

Elin looked at me sadly. ‘And what now?’

‘Now I go south,’ I said, and walked away quickly towards the Land-Rover. When Elin caught up with me I was bashing hell out of the radio-bug with a big stone.

‘Why south?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘I want to get to Keflavik and back to London. There’s a man I want to talk to – Sir David Taggart.’

‘We go by way of Myvatn?’

I shook my head, and gave the radio-bug one last clout, sure now that it would tell no more tales. ‘I’m keeping off the main roads – they’re too dangerous. I go by way of the Odádahraun and by Askja – into the desert. But you’re not coming.’

‘We’ll see,’ she said, and tossed the car key in her hand.