by Dan Latus
‘For God’s sake!’ I grabbed the coverlet from the bed and threw it over her. ‘Get out of here!’ I said angrily.
Then I turned back to the window, something suddenly jarring me even harder than the provocative sight of a wonderful female body.
‘How did you get here?’ I demanded.
‘By car. How do you think?’
‘Did you pass anybody on the road – any person or vehicle?’
‘Of course not. There’s nobody who lives up the valley. Not a single farm or cottage. Nothing until you get to The Chesters. Surely you know that?’
‘We’ve got to go back,’ I said, turning back to her. ‘Get dressed!’
‘What? What do you mean? You’ll come with me, after all?’
‘A whole procession of vehicles has headed up the valley while I’ve been talking to you, Martha. Where the hell are they going, do you suppose? Get dressed!’
She understood then. She grabbed her clothes and dressed quickly. We were out of there in two minutes.
‘Do you think…?’ she began as we headed for her car.
‘No time for that,’ I snapped. ‘Let’s just hope we’re not too late.’
Martha drove. She knew the car and I wasn’t about to ask her to surrender the keys.
‘Who’s there at the moment?’ I asked as she let out the clutch and we took off.
‘Andrei’s there. And Roman and Boris.’
‘Not Olga? Dag, Petr?’
‘Olga’s gone to join Leon in Switzerland. The men have gone to Newcastle.’
Thank God Olga wasn’t there! So just the architect and my two guys. No-one else. Good, and bad.
Martha could drive. A car, I mean, as well as other things. I couldn’t have got us up that road as fast as she did.
‘What are you expecting to find?’ she shouted over the noise of the racing engine.
‘No idea,’ I said, shaking my head.
That wasn’t true. I was living on hope. My fear was that Bobrik had somehow discovered what was going on at The Chesters. If he had, what happened next wasn’t in doubt: carnage and destruction. I just hoped it wouldn’t be like that.
‘You know the IT centre on Teesside?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Heard from them tonight?’
‘No. There was no reason.’
‘Phone them.’
She glanced at me, and I could feel the question she didn’t ask.
‘Go on – call them!’
She fiddled with the phone set-up on the dashboard. It lit up and she pressed a speed dial button.
The phone began to ring. It rang for a long time before she stopped it. I felt her glance at me again.
‘Who, or what, did you phone?’
‘The twenty-four hour reception desk that’s manned every day of the year.’
I grimaced.
‘They should have answered,’ she said, as she ripped through the gears and the engine roared.
‘If things were OK, they would have answered.’
‘It’s connected, isn’t it?’
To this, here, she meant. She didn’t need me to reply. Things were looking bad.
As we clattered across a badly potholed section of road, she said, ‘What the hell went on when you were away in Europe with Leon?’
‘He hasn’t told you?’
She shook her head.
‘It’s a long story,’ I said, and left it at that. Leon could tell her what he wanted her to know.
I could see Martha’s face clearly now, I suddenly realized. There was more light in the car. There was more light everywhere, in fact. I could see things off to the side of the road. Not well, but I could make out the outline of trees and walls. We rounded a bend in the road and I saw why. The sky ahead was lit up like a football stadium with a game in progress.
Martha braked to a stop. We both stared.
‘Oh, God! It’s the house,’ she said aghast.
I didn’t bother replying. My stomach had plummeted. I grimaced and felt sick.
We gaped for a few more moments. Then I said, ‘Drive on, but slowly. Let’s get closer.’
‘Oh, the poor men!’ she said breathlessly.
I didn’t think there was much to wonder about in respect of them. Not now. Neither side was in the habit of taking prisoners in this war.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
WE FOUND THE FIRST body just before we reached the pinewood and the vehicles parked alongside the road. Martha braked. I got out to look. It was Boris. He’d been shot. There was a lot of blood on his chest.
‘Is he dead?’ Martha asked fearfully.
‘Yeah. Turn the car round, ready to get out of here. I’ll look a bit further.’
I made my way quickly along the road, flinching at times at the roaring and crackling of the fire. When I reached the edge of the wood, I stopped. I could see everything there was to see from there. The house was ablaze, and in the light from the flames, I watched the figures milling around in front of it for a few moments.
Their work was done now. They were getting ready to leave. It was hard to believe how fast they had been, and how quickly they had disposed of a thousand years of history. There were two more bodies on the grass in front of the house. I wasn’t in any doubt who they were, or that anyone else in residence would have ended up the same way.
I turned and jogged back to the car. There was no time to waste, not if we wanted to live. There was nothing anyone could do here now except sweep up when the flames died down.
I literally bumped into Martha. She clutched my arm as she emerged from the shadows of the wood. ‘What’s happening?’ she demanded.
‘I’ll tell you later. No time now. We’d better get out of here before anyone spots us.’
As we turned a bend, I saw that we were too late. Not all the attack party were gathered around the house. Two or three figures were clustered around Martha’s car. I grabbed her and pulled her back into the trees. A shout and torches pointed in our direction indicated we hadn’t been quick enough.
The men began to move fast in our direction. Martha didn’t need any persuading. I pulled her after me and we set off through the wood, changing direction as we ran. My one thought was that we couldn’t afford to be caught. I knew there wouldn’t be any discussion or argument. We would be collateral damage.
I found a path I recognized and we ran hard along it, desperation lending wings to our heels. The path took us the length of the wood. Before breaking out into the open, we paused a moment, both of us heaving for breath.
‘You OK?’ I gasped over my shoulder.
Martha nodded and said something that might have been a yes. I held on another second or two before we left the shelter of the wood, trying to listen for sounds of pursuit. It was impossible. The roar of the raging fire was all I could hear. They weren’t close behind, but I didn’t doubt they would be there.
The way ahead was clear in the light from the flames. I scanned the route up the hillside that I had scouted earlier. Back then, I had worried about strangers coming down it. Now the strangers had arrived, and it was our escape route.
I turned my face away from the heat of the fire and led the way across the open ground to the lower slopes of the hillside, running fast. To my relief, Martha seemed to have no difficulty keeping up with me. It was a desperate time. Any moment might bring discovery, and disaster.
As we climbed, I glanced back a couple of times without seeing anyone following close behind. I just hoped they’d given up. There was a chance they had. Their priority now would surely be getting out of there fast before people came to see what was going on. And there was no doubt people would come. The light from the fire would be visible for many miles, and at night especially there are always watchful eyes on the lookout for unusual happenings.
‘Where are we going?’ Martha gasped when we paused halfway up the hillside.
‘Up to the moor,’ I panted. ‘We can get across. Five miles, and we’re into the next vall
ey.’
‘What then?’
‘No idea.’ I gasped hoarsely, fighting for breath. I sensed she was thinking about her car, and I wanted to put a stop to that. ‘We’ll just have to see. Come on!’
She was still staring downslope.
‘We can’t go back down there, Martha. They’ll kill us!’
‘What about the others?’
‘Dead. Tell you later.’
I was thankful she didn’t complain or object. She got on with it then, and together we forced our way up the hillside. No flagging. Martha surprised me with her strength and resilience. She did well.
I looked back when we got to the top. There was no sign of anybody following, and we’d have been able to see them if they had been. The whole valley was lit up by the towering flames.
‘That lovely old house,’ Martha gasped. ‘I can’t believe it!’
Nor could I. But I just shrugged. I was in no mood to wax sentimental about The Chesters. Some good men had died tonight.
‘What about my laptop?’ she demanded, sounding distracted.
‘Buy another one.’
‘But it had all the plans for the house on it!’
‘Well, they wouldn’t be much use now, would they?’ I said brutally. ‘Think yourself lucky you’re not down there with it.’
‘My iPad, as well. And my clothes – my car!’
‘For chrissake, shut up, Martha! We’ve got more to worry about than that.’
‘Why? What do you mean?’
‘Leon’s enemies play for keeps. We’re not safe yet. We’ve got to get away from here.’
‘But where can we go?’
I shook my head wearily. ‘A bit at a time, if you don’t mind. Let’s just get across the moor first.’
I was right about that. We didn’t need to worry about much else for the next few hours. Once we were away from the edge of the escarpment, and the light from the fire, darkness closed in on us. Under low cloud, in the middle of the night, with intermittent rain, visibility was just about zero. I tried to keep us going in a straight line but it wasn’t easy, or even possible in places. There were too many holes and ditches to fall into, boggy stretches to wade through, and other, sometimes unidentifiable, obstacles to overcome.
We both stumbled and fell many times, and we both got very wet. Thankfully, the temperature was not sub-zero, but in our condition and in the rain and wind, hypothermia was a real danger. As for the risk of broken legs and sprained ankles, avoiding them was going to be a matter of luck. We simply had to keep moving.
At one point, Martha fell heavily behind me. I winced, fearing the worst, when she yelped, and I turned to help her back to her feet.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘Not too badly.’ She gave a brave little laugh and added, ‘Why? What would you do if I was – leave me, or carry me?’
I gave her a hug to encourage her and said with relief, ‘For the moment, that’s a hypothetical question. I don’t need to answer it just yet.’
‘Oh? You’re a prevaricator?’
‘You bet!’
‘You’d be no good as a manager.’
‘Something I never aspired to be.’
‘Just as well.’
‘That’s enough of that. Come on! Keep moving.’
The exchange seemed to have lifted us both. I smiled in the darkness. Who would have thought Martha had a sense of humour?
It took us over three hours to get across the moor. When I’d thought of the route as a possible line of escape, I’d estimated two hours max, but I hadn’t reckoned on what it would be like in the dark on a wet night. I hadn’t reckoned on Martha’s company, either. Possibly I could have done it faster alone, and certainly I could have done it a lot faster in daylight.
Martha did well, though. Scarcely a complaint escaped her lips, and she kept going. I didn’t bother asking about her feet, which were clad only in light shoes and bound to be wet and cold. Wet feet can be a serious problem, but there was nothing I could have done about hers.
Suddenly we found ourselves going steadily downhill on a broad, gravelled track. I couldn’t really see it, but I could feel and hear it under my feet. It was a welcome change.
‘Easier going than floundering through wet heather,’ I remarked.
‘A lot easier. What’s that light, Frank?’
I’d had my eye on that for a couple of minutes. It looked like the external light on a farmhouse.
‘Somebody must have forgotten to switch it off before they went to bed,’ I suggested.
‘Or they’re up awfully early.’
She could be right, I realized. I’d lost track of time, but now it was the early hours, rather than late at night.
Martha was right. As we drew closer, I could see movement around a building, almost certainly a farmhouse. A dog barked. A door slammed. A vehicle started up. Then the vehicle moved towards us, and stopped. It was a van. A man got out to open a five-bar gate.
He saw us in his headlights and shouted, ‘What are you up to?’
‘You won’t believe this,’ I called back. ‘We got lost while we were out walking – lost on the bloody moor!’
He studied us for a few moments before saying, ‘Do you want a lift?’
My heart lifted.
‘That would be great!’
‘I don’t believe it, either,’ Martha whispered beside me.
We moved closer and waited for the man to drive the van through the gateway. I shut the gate for him.
‘Thanks,’ he said through the open window. ‘Jump in. I know what it’s like in these hills. No mobile signal, either, is there?’
‘None at all.’
We both got into the van and joined him on the front seat.
‘Don’t bother about them,’ he said, as I fiddled in the dark with seat belts. ‘I’m going into Berwick. That any good to you?’
‘Perfect,’ I told him. ‘Anywhere near the railway station?’
‘I can drop you right outside.’
He glanced sideways at us and said, ‘You’ll have had a rough night, up there?’
‘I don’t even want to think about it,’ Martha said quickly, ‘never mind talk about it. It was the worst night of my life,’ she added.
‘Aye, well. We all have one or two of them behind us. You’ll soon get over it.’
‘You’re up early?’ I suggested, anxious to get the discussion away from us, and what we’d been doing.
‘No more than usual. It’s the job.’
‘Oh?’
‘I do a daily bread round for a bakery in town. 154 miles. Shops and hotels, and that. I start off at this time every day of my life, except Sundays.’
I began to relax. ‘There was I, thinking you must be a shepherd, up this early.’
‘I’m that, as well,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘I start on the shepherding when I get back from the bread round.’
‘Lucky for us,’ Martha said.
Amen to that, I thought. Better a workaholic than an alcoholic any day.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
IT WAS STILL DARK when we were dropped off at Berwick railway station. In the street lights Martha looked a mess. Sodden, exhausted and dirty, she looked very different to the woman who had landed at The Chesters with such an impact. I probably looked much the same, but in my case it wasn’t so far from normal.
We thanked the driver and he waved us goodbye as he set off to start his day’s work.
‘What now?’ Martha asked.
‘What you do next, Martha, is up to you. No doubt you have ideas and plans, as well as responsibilities. Feel free to get on with them. Me? I’m going home.’
‘So this is the parting of the ways?’
I just shrugged.
‘Where’s home – your home?’
‘Cleveland.’
‘And that’s where you’re going?’
‘Just as soon as I can.’
I could see she didn’t know what the hell to do. She was trying to
get herself together, but it was a struggle.
‘I have nothing with me,’ she said plaintively. ‘No money, no phone. Nothing! Just a bunch of car keys.’
‘Maybe you’ll find a car they fit.’
She grinned. At that point I stopped being awkward. She had nothing, while I had everything I needed in my pockets. Finally, I felt sorry for her. More than that, I actually had a grudging respect for her. She was doing her best, and had been ever since she had come to my room in The Black Bull to eat humble pie.
‘I know we got off to a bad start, Martha, but …’ I shrugged, paused and then said, ‘Why don’t you come with me? Come back to my place, and have a rest and sort things out.’
‘Home with you?’ she said cautiously, sounding very uncertain about that.
‘Yes. It’s not much, but it is home – my home. You’re welcome to be my guest, until you’ve sorted something out with Leon.’
‘Thank you, Frank.’ She hesitated and then stepped forward to kiss me on the cheek. ‘In the circumstances, I would like to do that.’
I paid for tickets with a card and we caught a fairly early train that came through not long after. It was from Edinburgh, and bound for King’s Cross. Many of our fellow passengers were headed for work, or meetings at least. Men and women dressed in conventional business suits who were poring over laptops, smart phones and the contents of briefcases. One or two were actually reading newspapers – real ones, printed on paper.
Neither of us seemed to have any taste or energy for small talk. It had been a long, hard night. So we sat quietly with our own thoughts and stared out of the window until we got off at Newcastle, and took the Metro to the airport.
‘Cleveland, Ohio?’ Martha asked.
I smiled and shook my head. ‘I want to pick up my car. It’s in the long-stay car park at the airport.’
‘Isn’t it expensive to keep your car there?’
‘Very.’ I shuddered at the thought and added, ‘I’m going to send the bill to Leon.’
‘Because? What’s Leon got to do with it?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘You said that once before.’
‘Well, for now, let’s just say he diverted me. Without his intervention the bill would have been quite modest.’
She nodded and settled back in her seat. ‘I’m really looking forward to hearing the long story,’ she said, closing her eyes.