THE HEART OF DANGER (63 page)

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able to skirt the waiting troops. All the time the sight of the

shadow

shapes drew him forward, and the ache of the tension was in his legs

and there was the hammer of his heart, and he wondered how it was

possible for Ulrike to hold, all that time, the knife blade so steady

against the beard and throat of Milan Stankovic with cold certainty.

There was vomit in his throat, from fear. He depended on Milan

Stankovic, on the desperation of the man. Would the knife go in if

the

man stumbled and a twig broke? Would the knife go in if the man

spluttered once? It would be in Milan Stankovic's mind that if he

stepped heavily, grunted once, then they were gone ... He was trying

to

evaluate how desperate the man was .. . And if the man made a noise

and

Ulrike stabbed him in cold cruelty, then he and Ulrike were gone ..

.

They were in the hands of their prisoner, dependent on the desperation

of their prisoner .. . The vomit was in Penn's throat and sliding

forward and he could not spit and he did not dare to swallow. They

were so close to the shadow shapes, and to the voices, and once a

metal

water bottle rattled against a rifle barrel, and he trembled, and

did

not know how the faster panting of his breath had not been heard ..

.

The shadow shapes turned. So still again, so frozen against a tree's

trunk, so quiet, and the shadow shapes had gone away and past them,

retreating until he could no longer see the blurred half-images.

Weakness dribbled in him. They went off the path. He glanced at

his

watch. He estimated it had taken one hour and forty-seven minutes

to

cover one mile. And he should, too bloody right, have listened

better

to Ham, and he could not remember the details that Ham had given him

of

ambush positions. He should have listened better because there

would

be ambush positions to a depth of a mile, and then there would be

tripwires, and then there would be the patrols moving on the bank

of

the river, and then there would be the bloody river. Her hand came

to

him. She took his shoulder and she squeezed it hard, as he had

squeezed her. She squeezed the bone of his shoulder as if to tell

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him

that she thought he had done well. He knelt. Penn brushed the floor of the forest with his hand until he had found a small branch. He

held

the branch ahead of him, making a blind man's progress, going towards

the river. "It's Hamilton, I want, Sidney Hamilton. I expect you

call

him "Ham". I'm his friend The warning was there, quick. Marty Jones was at the sandbagged entrance to the old police station, and the

sentry had come out of the protected san gar to block him, and the

corporal was reaching for the field telephone in the guardhouse. The

sentry was aggressive, and the corporal was evasive. Marty Jones

hesitated. He knew it had gone foul and the aggression and evasion

were the evidence. He hesitated and he did not know what his response

should be, and then in front of him was the blast of the horn and

the

flashing of headlights. Two jeeps and a car lined up and trying to

get

the hell out of the inner courtyard of the old police station, and

the

barrier was down and blocking their leaving. The corporal abandoned

discipline and the field telephone and came out to lift the barrier.

Two open jeeps came by him, and he saw the flashes on the tunic arms

of

the guys and he knew they were Special Forces, and there was a big

Rover tailing them out under the raised barrier. The barrier came

down

and the corporal was reaching again for the field telephone, and Marty

was running. They could just as well have shouted a warning at him.

Marty Jones ran to where he had parked the car, flung himself inside,

twisted the ignition and hit the gears. Not until he had caught them,

could see the lights of the Rover and the two jeeps, going down the

big

avenue, out of Karlovac, towards the river where there were the tanks'

teeth of concrete beside the wide road, and the artillery-damaged

apartment blocks from the war gone by, and the bazooka defence

bunkers,

did he kill the lights and let them lead him. He hissed to Mary

Braddock, through his teeth, "I don't know what it is, I just know

it's

gone bad .. ." He was trying to concentrate, but his mind was leaping

.. . Two more hours gone, and he reckoned a mile covered for each

hour.

And no longer the surety of the moon to guide him with the flow of

silver light. He had found one tripwire. The taut wire checking

the

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motion of the stick, and crouching until his fingers brushed the wire,

and Ulrike and himself lifting the weight of Milan Stankovic over

the

wire and the knife blade never leaving his beard and his throat. The

last stretch before the river, and facing the last patrols .. . and

the

concentration came harder and his mind leapt faster. The wind

rising,

and cloud scudding across the moon's face. Too much damn well

surging

in his mind, and that was danger. Danger was distraction from the

gentle loose hold on the stick that wavered in front of his footfall..

. Penn took them off the path that ran down alongside the planted

mines, and on towards the river bank ... It was a place where brambles

were thick, near to the path, and the moonlight was at that moment

gone

from above the tree canopy. A mile from the river bank .. . His mind

leaping, concentration failing, danger .. . The flashing of the

torch,

shaded, and the ripple sounds of Ham edging the inflatable into the

current of the Kupa river. The drive to Zagreb, the prisoner given

over. A taxi for the airport, first flight out. She was so strong

and

there was no future for them. He would not know what to say to her.

Gazing into her eyes, staring into the depth of them, wondering if

she

would cry, if she would laugh, if she would kick him on the shin.

No

future for them. Her going back to the Transit Centre. Him going

back

to Alpha Security Ltd, and tramping up the stairs from the street

door

beside the launderette, and seeing Basil and Jim and Henry, and

Deirdre

giving him the post that had accumulated, two weeks of it. No future

for them. Heading back to Jane, and asking shyly how it had been,

and

a cold kiss on his cheek that was formality, and Tom's wet mouth on

his

face that was a stranger's, and nothing .. . But there was no future

for them. And the morning after , .. The morning after he was home

he

would go down to the station at Raynes Park where there was a florist

and he would buy the flowers, big bunch and bright blooms, and walk

them home and fill the little living room of 57B the Cedars with life,

and he would kiss his Jane, and tell her that he was going out of

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her

life. And the morning after, the day after tomorrow, he would catch

the train into London and take the Underground to Goodge Street, and

walk down Gower Street, and sit in the front reception as if it were

his right and not give a shit what the guards thought, and wait for

Arnold bloody Browne to take the lift down .. . The day after tomorrow

he would make Jane laugh, and leave her . The day after tomorrow

he

would tell his story to Arnold bloody Browne and have the pleasure

of

walking out on him .. . He would go to search for space for himself,

go

where the de wed fields were quiet in the morning, and where the trees

threw shadows in the evening ... It was the way that Dorrie had shown

him, and he would go to private places in the months ahead, years

to

come, and he would think of Dorrie and be with Dorrie. It was his

dream .. . The bramble stems clawed at him, held him. He did not

hate

the man. He almost felt a pity for the man. And the man had a wife who had loved him, and a child who fought for him. The man was craven,

bare-arsed and bare-balled because they stripped from him even the

love

of his wife and the pride of his child .. . For what? For principle,

for the God Almighty 'feel good' factor of those who wanted to see

'something done', for Mary bloody Braddock's peace of mind. He

wouldn't get the chance ever to talk with the man, like he would have

talked to the man in a cafe or a bar or on the beach if they, Jane

and

him, had ever come for a holiday in what they called former

Yugoslavia,

and way back, and before the madness .. . For what? For the killing

of

Dorrie Mowat, what else .. . ? Was she laughing, was she bloody

mocking? Dorrie Mowat... up high, up on the bloody mountain, looking

down and laughing, mocking, had caught him. Caught in the brambles

at

the side of the path. His boot kicked at the clinging bloody mess.

Caught him, caught Mary, caught Marty Jones, caught and hurt them

all,

like she'd hurt him, like she'd hurt Milan Stan-kovic, would have

liked

to have talked with the man .. . caught in the brambles' hold .. .

The

wire would have been set across the path that they avoided. His boot

tripped the wire. The wire would have been fastened to a cut peg

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that

had been buried in the brambles' mess. His boot was held for a moment

by the wire as he lurched for balance. The wire might have been

visible if the bloody moon had not been hidden behind the bloody

cloud.

His boot snagged the wire. One movement, throwing himself back.

One

movement, flattening Ulrike and the man. The thunder of the

explosion

numbed his hearing, cut the whistle spray of the grenade's shrapnel.

He

was pulling her up, then grasping for Milan Stankovic, and he felt

the

wet run of blood because the knife blade had been against the man's

beard and throat and the sharpness of the knife's blade had slashed

the

hair of the beard and the skin of the throat. Pulled her up, grasped

and lifted him. Going for the path and running. Clutching back

behind

him for the jacket of Milan Stankovic and dragging him, and Ulrike

was

pushing him. It was the start of the stampede run for the river bank.

High up, above the tree canopy and below the cloud that masked the

moon, away to the east, the first flare burst. He had taken the

telephone call, broken his meeting, charged from his office and gone

like a mad puppy down the stairs to the operations room. The Director

stood in front of the wall map, and the tip of the pointer danced

against the clear sheeting that covered Sector North. The Canadian

colonel said, "It's what we're getting from the monitoring. He's

in

trouble .. . They're in close pursuit. He'll be running for his life,

but there's the river ahead of him. No rendezvous, right, sir ...

?"

In the cause of the greater good .. . The Director nodded, dumb. He

stared up at the map. The Jordanian major asked, knowing the answer,

"No rendezvous, no boat waiting for him?" In the interest of the greater number .. . The Director shuddered, numb. For a few brief

seconds the tip of the wand held the clear-cut line of the Kupa river.

The Argentine captain lit his cigarette, "No rendezvous, no boat

waiting, with or without his prisoner there is not a possibility of

him

coming out. It is what you wanted, sir, yes .. . ?" Penn was

running,

trying to see the path, trying to take the man and Ulrike with him.

Bad

pain .. . His hand was behind him, gripped deep into the material

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of

the man's coat. The pain was the man's teeth buried into his hand.

Penn loosed him. He was crushed by the pain. He staggered free of

the

burden of the man. There was another flare falling behind them, gone

from its summit arc, and the flare threw brilliant white light down

through the trees' canopy, and he could hear shouting and whistles

blowing. He gripped his bitten hand and he was bent and he was

rocking

and he squeezed at the hand as if that way he could shed the pain.

The

pain was his own world and private, and the pain brought smarting

tears

welling from his eyes. Penn turned. Light fell from the flare. It gleamed on the knife's blade. She had lost the knife. Penn stood

and

suffered his private pain and watched. The knife was beyond her

reach,

as if it had fallen clear when the man had moved. She was on the

floor

of the wood, and she was writhing in the leaves, and she clung to

one

leg of the man, and the boot of Milan Stankovic kicked with savagery

at

her body. The flare was guttering, failing. He saw her body bounce away from the impact of the kick, and her hands seemed to have the