by Keith Dixon
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
OUT OF THE UNICORN I turned right and edged between the cold metallic bodies of the executive vehicles in the car park. At the far end of the field was a gate that I pushed open and went through, stepping immediately onto a gravel and pebble path that crunched and spat underfoot as I headed upwards.
It was shortly after eight, so dark that hedges and tree trunks appeared blue, and the air was cold enough to make my cheeks burn inside five minutes. A muted, visceral throb came from the hotel behind me, but that soon vanished and for a moment I heard nothing except my own feet crackling through bracken and grass that was beginning to freeze.
Then I began to hear the sporadic splatter of Dungeon Ghyll Force, the waterfall that ran down the face of the hillside, dropping vertically in a couple of places and then finding a level amongst rocks and rapids before plunging downwards again.
After a few minutes I reached a small plateau with a view of the waterfall and a wooden bench from which to enjoy it. I stood there, listening to the intricate patterns created by the waterfall, and inhaled the smell of the land, a rich, dark aroma that hit the back of my throat so that I tasted more than smelled it. Despite the accumulating layer of frost, the tenacious odour of soil, tree bark and animal fertilizer punched through to the more primitive parts of my brain, invigorating my senses.
I looked up at the waterfall and to the left, where the pale stone of the cliff face was broken by the dark shadows of trees that huddled together, spreading upwards from the base of the outcrop. Massive rocks, edged silver by moonlight, squatted bulkily at the base of the cliff. They were jagged and brutal and made something in my stomach twist.
Outlined against the sky I could see a figure wearing what I could tell by moonlight was a red jacket, waving a torch in my direction and making slow figures-of-eight with it. I set off upwards again.
The ground was carpeted by small rocks and pebbles. My feet stumbled and slipped despite the outsized grip of the Canadian boots. My breath became shallower as I slowly picked my way upwards. Raising my head, I saw the path continue to wind upwards by the side of the waterfall until it made its way to the top, a hundred feet or more overhead. I pressed on, my breath beginning to rasp in my ears and the sweat gathering in the folds of my clothes.
Another ten minutes and I’d arrived at the top, breathing hard, blood pumping through my chest, my legs aching. The sound of the waterfall was loud and had lost whatever romantic musical quality I’d lent it when I was at the bottom. Turning to my left, towards the cliff face, I could see across the Langdale valley to the hills on the far side, silhouetted and blank against a sky now made bright by the moon.
On the edge of the cliff stood the figure in the red jacket, waiting passively for me to approach. He’d turned off the torch so I saw nothing but the outline of his shape, hunched and surprisingly slim.
It was at that moment of realisation that I felt an arm round my neck and my right hand being grabbed and twisted behind my back. The noise of the waterfall had covered his approach. I heard myself grunt as I was half lifted from my feet and pushed forward, towards the cliff. At the same time, something was being looped around my wrists. When I tried to turn, I suddenly found that my hands were bound together by rope. It had the tension and spongy grip of 10 millimetre climbers’ rope; it wouldn’t give. As I struggled, the loops wrapped around my wrists were being attached to another rope, like a lead, and this was swiftly pulled tighter. In a moment I’d been tied so that I was turned away from my attacker and helpless to fight back.
I was suddenly pushed forward, then pulled stumbling backwards towards him. The lead was being tested.
‘First rule of warfare,’ said Hampshire’s voice close to my ear, ‘never put your back to the enemy.’
I turned my head to look at him, and received a vicious clout on the side of my face. My cheek stung, and fear began to rise in me as I saw the cliff edge coming closer with each step.