“Only non-perishable food, I don’t go there often. Anyway, yes.” He paused to check his watch and then gazed at the sky. “There’s also warm water.”
“Warm water …” She’d let those words escape in a dreamy tone. She could take a shower, maybe there was something else to wear. She had to throw away what remained of her suit. The sooner she did it, the faster she would forget her pain at having destroyed such a beautiful outfit. Then something even more desirable than a shower occurred to her. “Is there a phone, too?”
“Yes.” As he spoke, Mike kept looking in front of him distractedly, leading their strides. From time to time he pulled or pushed her sideways, or gestured with his arm, so that she could avoid an obstacle. And she had learnt to follow those hints automatically. So much for always hating to go hiking. “But …” he added, like he was correcting himself. “There’s no signal in that area.”
Okay, his last remark had left her even more disoriented. “And what use is a phone with no signal?”
“It works if you move three miles westwards.” It sounded easy.
But Amelia was still confused. “Convenient.”
“Well, usually I don’t go there by foot and that phone is just a spare one. Normally, if I needed it, it’d be no big trouble to drive three miles by car.”
No, that explanation was still absurd, but she decided to overlook it. Spy business. She didn’t want any part of it. “Okay,” she said, hardly convinced.
“This story with Goldberg and the murders is bigger than what you at the police can handle. You should have kept out of it.” He had addressed her with a frown.
So she was right. Mike was involved in some investigation. He hadn’t ended up there by chance. Maybe in the end she wasn’t the one they wanted to kill. In that case, they really had let her go, even if the mysterious dynamics of what had happened in the cottage kept unsettling her thoughts.
“Murders occurring in the City are the business of the City of London Police, we couldn’t stay out.” She liked to refer to the police in the first person plural, it made her feel part of something important, gave her a sense of authority.
“I know that.” He offered her a serious gaze. “I was referring to you, only you.”
Amelia felt embarrassment together with a hint of indignation. “Hey, I’m a trained officer. If they give me orders, I obey, and I can perfectly handle any situation.”
“Yes, I’ve seen you know your way around.” Mike nodded, ill-concealing his amusement. “Except when you were about to earn a bullet in your head, because you decided to chase a killer on your own.”
She was caught by regret for her recklessness. In that case she hadn’t followed orders at all and had been about to be killed. And she would’ve succeeded, if he hadn’t intervened.
“Anyway this isn’t the point,” he continued, without lingering on that subject that humiliated her a bit. “Let’s say …” He hesitated. “It would’ve been a shame if you’d ended up killed because of this circumstance. It would’ve been a waste.” And he cracked a smile at her.
Was he flirting? Not that she disliked the idea, actually! But perhaps he was just trying to distract her so that she wouldn’t ask more inappropriate questions or think too much about his involvement in that mess. And he was definitely succeeding.
A loud noise over their heads. They turned their gazes upwards by instinct. But it hadn’t been thunder that caused it.
“Is it your friends?” Amelia asked, at the very moment that Mike dragged her under a tree, away from the sight of the helicopter.
It wasn’t his friends.
“I said they wouldn’t give up.”
Mike was leaning against the trunk and holding her from behind, holding her around the waist with both arms. The cold she’d felt until a second earlier vanished as if by magic.
“Don’t move, be quiet.” He was whispering with his mouth near her ear.
Why should she move? She was feeling so good there.
The noise became louder. The helicopter was exactly over them. Amelia held her breath. She couldn’t say whether it was because of her fear of being glimpsed from above or from excitement caused by prolonged contact with him. The aircraft was so close that the trees were shaken by the air swept by the blades, as if it was a strong wind. At times she could catch sight of it through the foliage, then it disappeared again. The hatch was open and a dark silhouette stuck out from the inside. They were so close that she could see what they were holding. It was a rifle, a precision one with a gun sight. If they had located them, they could kill them with little effort from that distance. Their bodies would rot there in the woods for who knew how long, until a hiker chanced upon them, finding only two human skeletons.
Amelia was shaken by a shiver, as she released her breath.
Mike crossed an arm over her body, placing a hand on her shoulder and holding her tighter. “Don’t worry.”
All of a sudden the rain increased. A proper wall of water formed before them. Looking up was impossible, because their eyes were flooded by that intense pouring. There was an umpteenth flash, followed by a roll of thunder. The crackling caused by a million drops impacting the leaves and branches almost surpassed the din coming from the helicopter’s rotor. It became more confused. The air vortex could do nothing against the deluge that seemed able to absorb it. The aircraft’s noise became less intense, until it faded away beyond their position.
Emitting a sigh, Amelia allowed herself to relax.
But he didn’t let her go immediately. “I don’t like this story.” He was still whispering, even if there was no reason.
“What story?”
“They are heading to the hunting lodge. If they find it before it gets dark, they could set a trap for us.” He was speaking normally now. He cleared his throat. “There aren’t any visible buildings for a range of fifteen miles, to my knowledge.”
“Just what we needed.”
Mike loosened his grip on her and made her turn. He was just a bit taller than her. He looked her in the eye. “We’ll have to be careful, when we get closer to the lodge.”
She nodded, trying to focus on being careful, but in vain. The water flowed on their faces as if they were under a shower; and there it was, the fantasy of being under a real shower with him, peeking out at the edge of her thoughts. She felt herself blushing.
“Let’s go,” he said at last, releasing her.
Hours later, the remainder of the twilight was dimmed by the clouds still covering the sky. They had walked so much that Amelia’s legs were now on automatic pilot. It seemed to her that the distance covered was much longer than twelve miles, but she couldn’t say it with any certainty. What did she know about hiking in the woods? Three times a week, before going to work, she used to run for five miles, but on the hard and almost always flat surface of a park’s path, or along the river. Moving on a bumpy terrain, under pouring rain, often circumventing obstacles, was much more difficult and strenuous.
“We’re almost there,” Mike said, in a tone that sounded encouraging. He looked anything but tired. Perhaps he used to run every day.
Amelia withdrew her thoughts from the bizarre image of the man doing cross country in the middle of the city, jumping over little walls and challenging cars, and returned her attention to the three words he’d just pronounced. How did he know they were almost there? Everywhere looked all the same, all the more now that it was getting dark and, as much as she tried to check where she placed her feet, that task was becoming more and more arduous. “Don’t you have a torch or something like that in your magical rucksack?”
She heard him smile. Seeing it was almost impossible. “We’d better not use artificial lights. They’d be detected from many miles away in the dark.”
She would’ve liked to retort that, on the other hand, this way they risked getting lost, but her instinct was telling her that there was no such risk. Even in the darkness Mike gave the impression he knew every inch of these places. After all, w
hat sort of secret agent would he have been, if a wood and a little darkness had been enough to stop him? She laughed under her breath.
“Now what is it?”
“Nothing, nothing.” She felt a bit silly, more than usual, yet she still couldn’t help giggling.
At once he stopped.
That made Amelia wince and she almost bumped into him. Couldn’t one even laugh now? But then she hypothesised she hadn’t been the cause of his reaction. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry again, in spite of all the water that had fallen from the sky.
“Wait for me here.”
“What …” She attempted a shy protest, but then heard a rustling and sensed an air stream, followed by the black outline of the man walking away.
No, fuck, where was he going? He could have given her an explanation.
She crouched down, feeling that she had to hide, which was absurd because as the minutes passed it got darker and darker, soon making her invisible.
After a while that position became unbearable and she decided to sit on the ground. She crossed her legs and waited. She had nothing to fear. She repeated that to herself every five seconds. He’d told her to wait for him; he would come back.
At the beginning she could just hear her own breath, but soon that started distressing her, so she forced herself to prick up her ears so that she could detect other external noises. Yes, because a few seconds were enough for her to realise that the silence wrapping her wasn’t silent at all. It was all rustling, creaking, crawling, sounds caused by the breeze amongst the fronds, or at least she hoped so, to which the chirping of crickets and the occasional tweeting of the night birds was added.
How could people go camping? She’d always wondered that and the experience she was currently living now confirmed that it really wasn’t her cup of tea. Her impression as a child, growing up in cotton wool, proved correct.
A sudden buzz started up by her right ear, and she jumped to shoo it away. A strange sound, similar to a suction, burst on her left. She turned with a jerk, her heart in her throat, but she didn’t see anything. She couldn’t see anything, just shadows and silhouettes with a far from reassuring appearance. As she turned to look forward, where Mike had disappeared, she surprised two tiny lights, close to her, too close. Eyes? She choked back a shout and retreated, scooting backwards by using her hands. And the lights disappeared.
Panting, she curled up, placing her legs against her chest and holding them with her arms. Mike, Mike. Why didn’t he come back?
She felt someone covering her mouth with a hand. Her blocked shouts turned into a moan of terror, as her eyes saw sparks in the darkness and her struggling was made useless by an arm wrapping around her shoulders and chest. She was about to pass out and found herself wishing it would happen soon.
“Ssshhh, calm down, it’s me.”
Mike’s voice forced her away from that desire and turned her fear to rage.
“I’ll remove my hand now, don’t shout.”
“What the fuck …” she exclaimed in a low voice, as soon as her mouth was free. “You almost gave me a damn heart attack!”
“Sorry.” She could guess the details of his face which was partly lit by a faint glare reflected by the clouds. “I realised you were upset and it was the only way to prevent you from making some noise.”
She wanted to retort, by asking him how he could have possibly noticed in the dark that she was upset, but it was a pointless question. He wouldn’t answer anyway. “Where have you been? Never leave me alone this way again!” She couldn’t help herself, even if she was well aware she was nagging.
“I walked around the hunting lodge, to make sure there was nobody waiting in ambush.”
“Have we arrived?” Her joy wiped away any rage.
“Come,” he said, standing up and helping her to rise.
Not even ten steps further the trees made room for a little clearing, where a big dark shape stood out. They reached it in a moment.
“Careful, there are three steps here.”
Amelia climbed them easily. She felt carefree, close to salvation. She heard him messing about with some keys. Creaking hinges. Mike took her by the hand and led her inside. Then hinges again, and the door closing.
“I’m turning on the light.”
For a split second she wondered why he’d told her, then a light burst on in the room, forcing her to cover her eyes in pain. It took some minutes for her to get accustomed, but then, once her pupils had contracted enough to bring her sight back, she was blinded again, though not literally.
“This is a hunting lodge?” She couldn’t prevent herself from voicing that exclamation.
The place was somehow rustic, but it was just a matter of style. If that was a hunting lodge, her flat right in the middle of the city, the rent of which would have cost twice her salary if she didn’t already own it, was a hovel, at best, if compared to it.
The floor was covered by the most polished of parquets. It looked like nobody had ever walked on it since it’d been installed, which could have been the day before. The wooden walls, or perhaps only veneered with wood, were of a darker colour. The place had the hearth of a fireplace right in the middle; it was open on all four sides, save for the fact that tempered glass panels separated it from the rest of the room and they merged to an enormous hood coming down from the ceiling. Inside it there were already some logs ready to be lit. On the opposite side, a sofa was placed against a wall. It was so inviting that it made her want to collapse on it at once. On the left there was a kitchen nook. A large nook, to tell the truth. Before it, a table and four chairs. More of them were placed in the room, in anything but a casual way. The available space on the right was smaller. There were no pieces of furniture there, but in compensation a large picture with an expensive appearance occupied most of it. Beside it was a door. A second door was on the adjacent wall, not far from the sofa.
“It’s small, but quite comfortable.” Mike had said it with nonchalance, as if he really thought that, then Amelia noticed his sneer.
“Yeah, it should be okay,” she commented in the same tone, under which however she couldn’t conceal a surge of amazement. She turned to him. “You make me feel deeply inadequate, do you know that?”
He addressed her with one of those smiles that would knock out most women, and even a few men. Then he started crossing the room whilst Amelia, concentrating on recovering from the initial astonishment, turned around to catch as many details as she could about that fantastic place. It seemed so absurd to her that in such a godforsaken spot there existed something like this. It seemed even more absurd that she was there. Her police officer’s life of stress was a thousand miles away. The lodge was the antithesis of stress.
“Amelia.”
As she heard Mike calling her, she turned to him; he had reached the door near the sofa and opened it. As she moved to follow him, he walked in. Amelia peeked shyly into the bedroom, which vied with the rest of the house for splendour. She was afraid to soil it with her filthy shoes and clothes, but then she noticed that he, who certainly was no better than her, didn’t have any such scruples.
Mike opened the door of the built-in wardrobe. “Here are some clothes. They’re mine, so they’ll be a bit large for you, but you’re tall. They should fit.” He pointed at the piece of furniture beside it. “There are more trainers. You can throw those ones away.” She looked at her own feet. The shoes certainly needed a wash, but it seemed a waste to throw them away. “Over there, instead …” He pointed out another door on the opposite side of a bed that would comfortably accommodate four people. And, as she looked at Mike, Amelia imagined it could have happened. Of course three more women, besides him. That thought annoyed her a bit. “Over there is the bathroom. You can use all the towels you want, okay?”
She was gawping at him, lingering on orgies in the middle of the woods, until it occurred to her that there was an excessive silence and she nodded unnecessarily vigorously.
“All right.” Mike
turned again to the wardrobe. “I’m taking something to wear and I’ll go wash in the other bathroom, so I leave the coast clear for you.” Doubtful, Amelia looked at him and he, intercepting her eyes, added a further explanation. “Stay here, and wash, dress yourself—in short, take a moment to calm yourself.”
“Oh, yes, okay!”
“Remember not to open the shutters, we don’t want the light to be seen from outside.”
Right, no light. She hoped his punctiliousness on the subject was just an excess of caution. Who would ever come to kill them in this enchanted castle?
“Understood?” Mike was still waiting for an answer.
“Yes, okay, shutter closed, no light.”
He took out some clothes and walked away, closing the door behind him.
Amelia was feeling dazed. The contrast between the hell she had endured during the whole day and this sudden corner of paradise destabilised her. She had a constant worry that she would wake up again tied and hooded in the boot of a car, or who knew where. She shooed that thought away and ventured further into the room. She would’ve liked to sit down for a moment and reflect, but she didn’t want to soil the snow white continental quilt covering the bed. She was exhausted and would rather have had a good sleep, but there were other primary needs to be satisfied before she could rest. Getting rid of that filth, for starters. But she didn’t need the bathroom just for washing herself.
She sneezed. Catching a cold wasn’t exactly what she needed now. Then she sensed her stomach complaining. Here was another primary need.
What would happen next? Mike had said that someone would come to get them. She was torn between the desire to go back home and the desire to enjoy that hunting lodge. And perhaps not only the lodge.
But above all, what would be waiting for her once she’d returned to the city, once she’d given her report to her chief? If she was still a target of the killers, they would not desist. They certainly knew where she lived. She would need protection.
Kindred Intentions Page 6