of much use in this kind of job, so I said, ‘What about making coffee –
we could do with something hot.’
I took the wheel off, rolled it away and replaced it with the spare. The
whole operation took a little under ten minutes, time we couldn’t afford
– not there and then. Once we were farther south we could lose ourselves
on a more-or-less complex road network, but these wilderness tracks were
too restricted for my liking.
I tightened the last wheel nut and then looked to see what had caused a
blowout and to put the wheel back into its rack. What I saw made my
blood run cold. I fingered the jagged hole in the thick tyre and looked
up at the Budarhals ridge which dominated the track.
There was only one thing that could make a hole like that – a bullet.
And somewhere up on the ridge, hidden in some crevice, was a sniper –
and even then I was probably Sin his sights.
Chapter III
/How in hel did Kennikin get ahead of me?/ That was my first bitter
thought. But idle thoughts were no use and action was necessary.
I heaved up the wheel with its ruined tyre on to the bonnet and screwed
it down securely. While I rotated the wheel brace I glanced covertly at
the ridge. There was a lot of open ground before the ridge heaved itself
into the air -at least two hundred yards – and the closest a sniper
could have been was possibly four hundred yards and probably more.
Any man who could put a bullet into a tyre at over four hundred yards –
a quarter mile ? was a hel of a good shot. So good that he could put a
bullet into me any time he liked – so why the devil hadn’t he? I was in
plain view, a perfect target, and yet no bullets had come my way. I
tightened down the last nut and turned my back to the ridge, and felt a
prickling feeling between my shoulder blades – that was where the bullet
would hit me if it came.
I jumped to the ground and put away the brace and jack, concentrating on
doing the natural thing. The palms of my hands were slippery with sweat.
I went to the back of the Land-Rover and looked in at the open door.
‘How’s the coffee coming?’
‘Just ready,’ said Elin.
I climbed in and sat down. Sitting in that confined space gave a
comforting il usion of protection, but that’s al it was – an il usion.
For the second time I wished the Land-Rover had been an armoured car.
From where I was sitting I could inspect the slopes of the ridge without
being too obvious about it and I made the most of the opportunity.
Nothing moved among those red and grey rocks. Nobody stood up and waved
or cheered. If anyone was stil up there he was keeping as quiet as a
mouse which, of course, was the correct thing to do. If you pump a
bullet at someone you’d better scrunch yourself up smal in case he
starts shooting back.
But was anybody stil up there? I rather thought there was. Who in his
right mind would shoot a hole in the tyre of a car and then just walk
away? So he was stil up there, waiting and watching. But if he was
stil there why hadn’t he nailed me? It didn’t make much sense – unless
he was just supposed to immobilize me.
I stared unseeingly at Elin who was topping up a jar with sugar. If that
was so, then Kennikin had men coming in from both sides. It wouldn’t be
too hard to arrange if he knew where I was – radio communication is a
wonderful thing. That character up on the ridge would have been
instructed to stop me so that Kennikin could catch up: and that meant he
wanted me alive.
I wondered what would happen if I got into the driving seat and took off
again. The odds were that another bullet would rip open another tyre. It
would be easier this time on a sitting target. I didn’t take the trouble
to find out -there was a limit to the number of spare tyres I carried,
and the limit had already been reached.
Hoping that my chain of reasoning was not too shaky I began to make
arrangements to get out from under that gun. I took Lindholm’s cosh from
under the mattress where I had concealed it and put it into my pocket,
then I said, ‘Let’s go and . . .’ My voice ‘came out as a hoarse croak
and I cleared my throat. ‘Let’s have coffee outside.’
Elin looked up in surprise. ‘I thought we were in a hurry.’
‘We’ve been making good time,’ I said. ‘I reckon we’re far enough ahead
to earn a break. I’l take the coffee pot and the sugar; you bring the
cups.’ I would have dearly loved to have taken the carbine but that
would have been too obvious; an unsuspecting man doesn’t drink his
coffee ful y armed.
I jumped out of the rear door and Elin handed out the coffee pot and the
sugar jar which I set on the rear bumper before helping her down. Her
right arm was stil in the sling but she could carry the cups and spoons
in her left hand. I picked up the coffee pot and waved it in the general
direction of the ridge. ‘Let’s go over there at the foot of the rocks.’
I made off in that direction without giving her time to argue.
We trudged over the open ground towards the ridge. I had the coffee pot
in one hand and the sugar jar in the other, the picture of innocence. I
also had the /sgian dubh/ tucked into my left stocking and a cosh in my
pocket, but those didn’t show. As we got nearer the ridge a miniature
cliff reared up and I thought our friend up on top might be getting
worried. Any moment from now he would be losing sight of us, and he
might just lean forward a little to keep us in view.
I turned as though to speak to Elin and then turned back quickly,
glancing upwards as I did so. There was no one to be seen but I was
rewarded by the glint of something – a reflection that flickered into
nothing. It might have been the sun reflecting off a surface of glassy
lava, but I didn’t think so. Lava doesn’t jump around when left to its
own devices – not after it has cooled off, that is.
I marked the spot and went on, not looking up again, and we came to the
base of the cliff which was about twenty feet high. There was a straggly
growth of birch; gnarled trees al of a foot high. In Iceland bonsai
grow natural y and I’m surprised the Icelanders don’t work up an export
trade to Japan. I found a clear space, set down the coffee pot and sugar
jar, then sat down and pulled up my trouser leg to extract the knife.
Elin came up. ‘What are you doing?’
I said, ‘Now don’t jump out of your pants, but there’s a character on
the ridge behind us who just shot a hole in that tyre.’
Elin stared at me wordlessly. I said, ‘He can’t see us here, but I don’t
think he’s worried very much about that. All he wants to do is to stop
us until Kennikin arrives ? and he’s doing it very wel . As long as he
can see the Land-Rover he knows we aren’t far away.’ I tucked the knife
into the waistband of my trousers – it’s designed for a fast draw only
when wearing a kilt.
Elin sank to her knees. ‘You’re sure?’
‘I’m positive. You don’t get a natural puncture like that in the side
wal of a new tyre.’ I stood up and looked along the ridge. I’m going to
winkle out that bastard; I think I know where he is.’ I pointed to a
crevice at the end of the cliff, a four-foot high crack in the rock. ‘I
want you to get in there and wait. Don’t move until you hear me cal ?
and make bloody sure it is me.’
‘And what if you don’t come back?’ she said bleakly.
She was a realist. I looked at her set face and said deliberately, ‘In
that case, if nothing else happens, you stay where you are until dark,
then make a break for the Land-Rover and get the hel out of here. On
the other hand, if Kennikin pitches up, try to keep out of his way – and
do that by keeping out of sight.’ I shrugged. ‘But 111 try to get back.’