He was waiting in the loading bay, just as the note had said. He stood just out of the light falling in from the window, but visible enough that she recognized him at once. She had encountered the young corporal several times since that first meeting at the roadblock. It was the young Gordon Highlander, Corporal Callum Ainsley.
“You?” she said in disbelief. “You sent me the note?”
“Yes,” he said. He twisted his cap in his hands. Out of the uniform, he still looked every inch a soldier, wearing civvies wasn’t going to fool anyone. “I’m sorry, I know it’s risky, still I had to take the chance.”
“You had no right to take the chance for me,” she said in a low hiss. “I have two small children. If anyone was to see me talking to a British soldier, I could be executed. You ought to know that by now. If you were bleeding to death in the street and I came across you, I’d have to step over your body or I could be killed for showing you any compassion. You have been here long enough to understand that. You don’t have the right to risk my life and the lives of my children because you think you have information for me.”
“I’m sorry, but I can hardly ring you up on the telephone, now can I?”
“I apologize,” she said. “This scares me, it would be bad for you too, you know, if anyone were to see us.”
“I do know, I thought it was worth the risk.”
“Well,” she said briskly, “get on with it.”
“Can we sit?” he said.
There were two crates that he had obviously set out for that reason. He had covered them with old flour sacking, and while it made for a damp seat, it was relatively clean and comfortable. She clasped her hands in her lap to keep from twisting them in nervousness.
“After we met you those few times going through the roadblock, it occurred to me that there was never a man in the vehicle with you. I wondered where he was, your children are so young and all. And forgive me, but you seemed sad. So when I heard some of the officers mention a woman whose husband had gone missing—one of those ‘IRA bastards’ to quote—I had a feeling it might be you. So I listened more closely and managed to catch his name. It matched yours, so I knew it had to be your husband.”
“All right,” she said warily, “but this is hardly earth-shattering news, I know all this after all.”
He smiled. “I know, I wouldn’t ask you to meet unless I’d heard something that really got my attention. Something I feel you ought to know.”
“For heaven’s sake, what is it?” She was aware she sounded angry, but didn’t care.
“I was in our captain’s office a week back. Sometimes when you’re a squaddie like me, you’re just a bit of furniture in the room. They forget that you’re there. Also, they have no way of knowin’ that I know you. So they were discussin’ this man who had disappeared, and saying that they knew someone who had put the word out on him, thinking he was an informant. Someone in his organization. They hadn’t managed to get to him, though they had set up a date for one of their interrogations and expected him to show for it.”
“What?” she asked, feeling sick to her stomach. Often IRA interrogations went on until the person broke and admitted to things they hadn’t done, just to make it end. “How…how did they know this?”
“Well, that’s the interesting bit, isn’t it? If they know it’s because whoever told them is an informant who is more highly placed up the ladder. It’s not beyond them to sacrifice a lower level informant to protect a higher placed one. It’s happened before.”
“My husband wasn’t a tout,” she said. “Yes, we had a friend who was a British soldier. He was sometimes a go-between for elements in the IRA who wanted to explore possible peace with the British government. In return he was given names from the soldier to pass along to the republican elements about hits that were about to take place. They saved several lives between the two of them. That was as far as it went.”
That might not be strictly true, as she now knew, but the young corporal didn’t need to know that.
“Anyway, it seems to me it can’t have been the IRA that disappeared your husband, nor the Army because clearly neither knows why he disappeared before his scheduled interrogation took place.”
“That’s not an answer to what happened to him. If anything it leaves me with more questions.”
“I thought maybe I could poke around a bit, see if there’s anything more that the captain knows. If there’s a file on your husband. It just sounded like there was more to the story, but then the man in there with him seemed to realize I was listening and shtummed up.”
“And what would you want in return?” she asked. There were never any free answers, not when it came to the security forces here.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I know my bosses would look favorably on any information about Noah Murray that might come their way.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I would be sticking my head in the noose and begging him to tighten the rope. He’s a very smart man, corporal. I have children to look after; I can’t risk my own neck in that way. I don’t see what is in that deal for you, unless you’re looking to head down the intelligence path.”
He opened his mouth to speak and was cut off as the air around them cracked, like someone had broken a plastic comb on the edge of a table.
“Gun,” he said and pulled her to the floor. “Keep your head down.”
She did as she was told, though she put her head up far enough to see what he was doing. He was crab walking toward one of the windows, likely to scout out the area and see if he could spot the shooter. He needn’t have bothered, for a voice, clear and succinct, came through the window.
“We’ve got ye surrounded, so come out slowly an’ if ye’ve hurt the woman, we won’t hesitate to kill ye.”
She sat up abruptly, a blind panic lighting her nerve endings. “Oh my God,” she said, “it’s Noah.”
“Noah Murray?” Corporal Ainsley looked like he might get sick on the spot. She couldn’t blame him one bit.
“Yes.” The words struck her suddenly, and just how carefully Noah had phrased it. He was making the others believe she had been taken hostage by this man.
“I’m a dead man,” he said, face a perfect blank. It was just a statement of fact, he didn’t even sound particularly sorry about it. “I’ll never get out of here alive. How the hell did they know we were in here?”
“He must have followed me,” she said, lips and extremities numb. She wanted to run, but knew there wasn’t a door or window out of this place of which Noah wouldn’t be aware.
“Do you think he’ll torture me first, or just shoot me in the head?”
“I don’t know,” she said faintly, pulling herself up to her feet and feeling a stray nail snag her sweater. She needed to think, and to understand why Noah was making it sound as if she had been taken hostage. He was giving her an out; she just needed to somehow use it to save this young man as well as herself.
“How well do you know the woods around here?” she asked.
“What? I don’t—”
“Listen we don’t have a lot of time—how well do you know the area and how fast can you run?”
“I know it quite well, though I hazard not as well as Noah Murray.”
“Then let’s hope you run a great deal faster than he does.”
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“He’s suggesting you’ve taken me hostage, I suggest we take his advice.”
“Isn’t that bloody dangerous for you?”
“A bit.” It was more than a bit dangerous and he likely knew it as well as she did, it was also the best of her very limited options and far better than having the men out there believing she’d met willingly with a British soldier. A few years ago, a widow and mother of ten had been ‘disappeared’ by the IRA. Rumor had it that her sin had been helping a British soldier who had been shot in front of her, but other stories said she had been working for the British forces. It had never been confirmed that the
re was any veracity in either rumor. The truth was Pamela didn’t know for certain what Noah might do. His words echoed queasily in her head.
“I’m every bit as awful an’ monstrous as yer friend on the hill will have warned ye. Ye’d be advised to remember it, Pamela. I tell ye this as a kindness, don’t ever underestimate how ruthless I am. Don’t ever cross me because I’d rather not prove my words to ye.”
She swallowed down the lump of ice cold fear in her throat. “I wish I had a better solution but I don’t.”
“He’s giving you a way out. That tells me he believes you’re innocent.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, thinking she might actually throw up from fear. “If he thinks anything is off about this, I’ll have to answer for it.”
“But surely—” he began and then stopped as she gave him a withering look.
“No, not surely and you ought to know that well enough by now, Corporal Ainsley. This country does not run on the normal rules. It has its own set and they are brutal. So here it is, you’re going to take me hostage, just as he has suggested that you do.”
“You’re taking an awfully big risk,” he said, though there was a tiny spark of hope in his voice.
She shrugged. “It’s the only option we have at this point. Pull me back toward the line of the forest, when we’re inside the edge of it, throw me down and run like hell.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, grey eyes troubled.
“Just do it, if I get a scraped knee and a couple of banged up elbows out of this it will be a very small price to pay. To make it look real, you’re going to need to be mean and a little desperate, okay?”
“Desperate shouldn’t be difficult,” he said and swallowed, the narrow column of his throat shiny with perspiration. “I’ll do my best.”
“When we go past the windows, put the gun to my head,” she said, swallowing over the fear that rose up like bile in her throat. It tasted like cold and sour metal. She might well get them both killed and she prayed that Jamie wouldn’t be too shocked when her will was read and he discovered she wanted him to raise her children.
She took his hand and gave it what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “Are you ready?”
“I won’t cock it,” he said. “Are you certain about this? We could both end up dying in a hail of gunfire.”
“I know, yet I have to believe Noah won’t allow them to open fire if it looks like I’m being held against my will.” She wasn’t absolutely certain about that actually, but didn’t think it would help the corporal’s nerves to be privy to that knowledge. She swallowed and turned her back to him, presenting him with her all too vulnerable neck. “You better put me in a chokehold.”
He put his arm around her neck and she smelled the sweat of his fear, or maybe it was her own, it was hard to know at this point.
They went down the long corridor in a half crouch, darting past the windows, lest someone take a shot, uncaring which of them was hit. The stairs leading down to the door nearest the wood were narrow and half-rotted, and so they proceeded with great caution. Her nerves almost failed her on the stairs, and she did, indeed stumble. It was only the corporal’s arm around her throat which kept her from plunging to the bottom and breaking her neck.
“Once we’re outside, I’m going to drag you, so stumble a bit and put up a real fight if you can, we need to convince them.”
She nodded, throat too dry to speak. The damp air of the mill clung to her skin, and the corporal’s hands were clammy.
“This is it,” he said grimly and pushed the door open. It squeaked horrendously on its ancient hinges, sounding like something out of a low budget Hollywood horror flick. And then they were outside and she felt more vulnerable and exposed than she had since a night, long ago, on a train. She found she couldn’t breathe, her chest so tight with anxiety she felt like she was choking and black spots were dancing in front of her eyes. Apparently it was possible to faint with fear. Casey had told her once, long ago, how fear delineated one’s surroundings so that every detail seemed outlined in a finely inked line, brought into focus so sharply that everything was heightened and yet slightly surreal at the same time. The breeze was welcome even though she was already chilled with a cold sweat. Twilight was thick, pooling softly at the base of the trees, beseeching night to come and spread its sheltering cloak over the land. She could hear every rustle of the leaves her hearing heightened by fear.
It was like that, this country, a simple mistake, taking the wrong pathway home, deviating to the right instead of the left and you suddenly found yourself facing death. If it all ended in a few minutes, would she see Casey again and know at last what had happened to him? Mind you, he’d be angry as hell that she had left their babies alone, if he was on the other side of this edge place where she now stood.
It wasn’t hard to put up a real fight, because panic took over in the horrible sudden way that it did. It was like someone had dropped a black, suffocating curtain down over her head and she couldn’t see or breathe properly. Black spots danced like rain in front of her eyes and the bird inside her chest flapped its wings furiously. She couldn’t breathe and she grabbed at the corporal’s arm, trying to pry it away from her throat. She was afraid she would faint for real and then he would be left dragging dead weight. She stumbled backward, with the horrible sense that she was going under murky water and it would close over her head and she would never breathe again. She could feel the round of the gun barrel against her head, hard and cold.
She could, in the few seconds of stumbling toward the trees, see the men only in silhouette, the sinking sun limning them in liquid fire and making them merely black hollows at the center of all that light. She counted four, not that it mattered, one with a weapon would be more than enough to kill them both.
“I’m going to let you go, as soon as we’re in the trees,” he said tersely, “just stay there, down on the ground in case they start to fire.”
It felt like the trees were a thousand miles away, and it took forever to get there, her heart crashing against her ribs. Her feet were clumsy and not obeying the signals from her brain. She could feel the men moving in. Then the trees closed around the two of them, the leaf mold beneath her feet, the scent of the forest floor, filling her lungs with a thick, dark scent. The corporal pulled her with him for several more feet, and she stumbled, choking for air.
Finally he stopped, letting her go. She clutched at her throat, desperate to breathe.
“Are you all right?” he asked, voice broken and thick with panic.
She nodded, flapping a hand at him, indicating that he needed to run like hell. She could hear the men crashing through the underbrush, hot on their heels. She dropped to the ground, just as he had instructed, knocking her head rather sharply on a branch on the way down. She fought for breath, hoping to God none of the men stumbled over her in the twilit gloom of the wood. She couldn’t cry out for help, there was no air in her lungs for it.
The wood around her grew quiet and the shouts of the men moved further off and away from her. She was still struggling to breathe but managed to get up onto her hands and knees, hoping to make it to her feet and see if that would restore her breathing in its entirety. There was little more than a thready whistle moving through her lungs, but she thought if she could just calm herself enough, her breathing would resume. She would focus on something, just as Jamie had taught her to do. There was lichen on a tree trunk in front of her, white with the palest of green along its frilled edges. Jamie had told her about a lichen that only grew in the presence of the human voice. She wished this one would speak to her, it might be enough of a jolt to give her back her breath. The lichen did not speak, however just then a hand hit her on the back, not hard, but not gently either. It did have the effect of opening up her airway though. She drew in a half breath and pushed herself up off her hands. Noah stood over her, his face drawn into severe lines. She couldn’t quite tell if he was furious or sick with worry.
“Can ye stand?” he asked and put a hand out to her. She took it and he drew her up. She was still gulping at air, feeling like her lungs had been starved of oxygen for hours, rather than the few minutes it had been since the panic had seized her.
He rubbed her back firmly and her breathing slowly calmed and took on a regular enough rhythm that she could speak once again.
“I…I…thank you,” she managed to stutter out.
Noah merely shook his head. “Let’s get ye clear of here, ye look like ye’re in a wee bit of shock. Ye need heat an’ some sugar in yer blood.” He took off his coat and threw it around her shoulders.
She felt numb on the way to the car, wondering where in the night his men had dispersed and if Corporal Ainsley had managed to elude them.
His car was sitting in a mess of churned leaves and deep furrows where the tires had spun across the soft ground that led to the mill. He had come after her in haste. She wondered where he had gotten his intelligence, or if one of his people had followed her.
The mill rose up dark and ominous, like an old mausoleum. She shuddered, thinking how easily she might have died in there, if Noah had not told his men to stand down. She followed Noah’s quick strides across the mill yard. He had his rifle in the crook of his elbow, but she had the sense he was still fine-tuned to every movement and noise in the area. When they reached the car he told her tersely, “Get in,” while he scanned the area one more time. He put the rifle between the seats of the car, so that he could easily grab it.
“Stay low,” he said.
“I will,” she stuttered out, feeling the fine tremors of her nerves fibrillating out like narrow wires under her skin. Noah put the heater on full, but kept the lights dowsed while he turned around in the mill yard.
In the Country of Shadows (Exit Unicorns Series Book 4) Page 30