Running Blind by Desmond Bagley

‘I’l do my best.’

HI

The next day seemed very long.

At breakfast Sigurlin read the paper and suddenly said, ‘Wel , wel !

Someone tied up the cable transport on the Tungnaa just the other side

of Hald. A party of tourists was stranded on the farther side for

several hours. I wonder who could have done that?’

‘It was al right when we came across,’ I said blandly. ‘What does it

say about the tourists? Anyone hurt?’

She looked at me speculatively across the breakfast table. ‘Why should

anyone be hurt? No, it says nothing about that.’

– I changed the subject quickly. ‘I’m surprised that Elin is stil asleep.’

Sigurlin smiled. ‘I’m not. She didn’t know it, but she had a sleeping

draught last night. She’l be drowsy when she wakes and she won’t want

to jump out of bed.’

That was one way of making sure of Elin. I said, ‘I noticed your garage

was empty – don’t you have a car?’

‘Yes. Gunnar left it at the stables.’

‘When wil he be back?’

‘In two days – providing the party doesn’t get saddle-sore.’

‘When I go to Geysir I’d just as soon not use the Land-Rover,’ I said.

‘You want the car? All right ? but I want it back in one piece.’ She

told me where to find it. ‘You’l find the key in the glove locker.’

After breakfast I regarded the telephone seriously and wondered whether

to ring Taggart. I had a lot to tel him but I thought it would be

better to let it go until I heard what Jack Case had to say. Instead I

went out to the Land-Rover and cleaned Fleet’s rifle.

It real y was a good tool. With its fancy hand-grip and free-style stock

it had obviously been tailor-made to suit Fleet, whom I suspected of

being an enthusiast. In every field of human endeavour there are those

who push perfection to its ultimate and absurd end. In hi-fi, for

example, there is the maniac who has seventeen loud-speakers and one

test record. In shooting there is the gun nut.

The gun nut believes that there is no standard, off-the-shelf weapon

that could be possibly good enough for him and so he adapts and chisels

until he final y achieves something that looks like one of the more

far-out works of modern sculpture. He also believes that the ammunition

manufacturers know damn-al about their job and so he loads his own

cases, careful y weighing each bullet and matching it with an amount of

powder calculated to one-tenth of a grain. Sometimes he shoots very wel .

I checked the ammunition from the opened box and, sure enough, found the

tel tale scratches from a crimping tool. Fleet was in the habit of

rolling his own, something I have never found necessary, but then my own

shooting has not been of the type necessary to get a perfect grouping at

x-hundred yards. It also explained why the box was unlabel ed.

I wondered why Fleet should have carried as many as fifty rounds; after

al , he was a good shot and had brought us to a standstil with one

squeeze of the trigger. He had loaded the rifle with ordinary hunting

ammunition, soft-nosed and designed to spread on impact. The closed box

contained twenty-five rounds of jacketed ammunition – the military load.

It’s always seemed odd to me that the bullet one shoots at an animal is

designed to kil as quickly and as merciful y as possible, whereas the

same bullet shot at a man is il egal under the Geneva Convention. Shoot

a hunting load at a man and you’re accused of using dum-dum bullets and

that’s against the rules. You can roast him to death with napalm,

disembowel him with a jump mine, but you can’t shoot him with the same

bullet you would use to kil a deer cleanly.

I looked at the cartridge in the palm of my hand and wished I had known

about it earlier. One of those going into the engine of Kennikin’s jeep

was likely to do a hel of a lot more damage than the soft-nosed bullet

I had used. While a .375 jacketed bullet with a magnum charge behind it

probably wouldn’t dril through a jeep from end to end at a range of a

hundred yards, I wouldn’t like to bet on it by standing behind the jeep.

I fil ed the magazine of the rifle with a mixed load, three soft-nosed

and two jacketed, laid alternately. Then I examined McCarthy’s Smith &

Wesson automatic pistol, a more prosaic piece of iron than Fleet’s

jazzed-up rifle. After checking that it was in order I put it into my

pocket, together with the spare clips. The electronic gadget I left

where it was under the front seat. I wasn’t taking it with me when I

went to see Jack Case, but I wasn’t going empty-handed either.

When I got back to the house Elin was awake. She looked at me drowsily,

and said, ‘I don’t know why I’m so tired.’

‘Wel ,’ I said judiciously. ‘You’ve been shot and you’ve been racketing

around the /Obyggdir/ for two days with not much sleep. I’m not

surprised you’re tired. I haven’t been too wide awake myself.’

Elin opened her eyes wide in alarm and glanced at Sigurlin who was

arranging flowers in a vase. I said, ‘Sigurlin knows you didn’t fall on

any rock. She knows you were shot, but now how or why ? and I don’t want

you to tel her. I don’t want you to discuss it with Sigurlin or anyone

else.’ I turned to Sigurlin. ‘You’l get the ful story at the right

time, but at the moment the knowledge would be dangerous.’

Sigurlin nodded in acceptance. Elin said, ‘I think I’l sleep al day.

I’m tired now, but I’l be ready by the time we have to leave for Geysir.’

Sigurlin crossed the room and began to plump up the pil ows behind

Elin’s head. The heartless professionalism spoke of the trained nurse.

‘You’re not leaving for anywhere,’ she said sharply. ‘Not for the next

two days at least.’

‘But I must,’ protested Elin.

‘But you must not. Your shoulder is bad enough.’ Her lips compressed

tightly as she looked down at Elin. ‘You should real y see a doctor.’

‘Oh, no!’ said Elin.

‘Wel , then, you’l do as I say.’

Elin looked at me appealingly. I said, ‘I’m only going to see a man. As

a matter of fact, Jack Case wouldn’t say a word in your presence, anyway

– you’re not a member of the club. I’m just going to Geysir, have a chat

with the man, and then come back here – and you might as wel keep your

turned-up nose out of it for once.’

Elin looked flinty, and Sigurlin said, ‘I’l leave you to whisper sweet

nothings into each other’s ear.’ She smiled. ‘You two are going to lead

interesting lives.’

She left the room, and I said gloomily, ‘That sounds like the Chinese

curse – “May you live in interesting times.'”

‘All right,’ said Elin in a tired voice. ‘I won’t give you any trouble.

You can go to Geysir alone.’

I sat on the edge of the bed. ‘It’s not a matter of you giving trouble;

I just want you out of this. You disturb my concentration, and if I run

into difficulties I don’t want to have to watch out for you as wel as

myself.’

‘Have I been a drag?’

I shook my head. ‘No, Elin; you haven’t. But the nature of the game may

change. I’ve been chased across Iceland and I’m pretty damn tired of it.

If the opportunity offers I’l turn around and do a bit of chasing myself.’

‘And I’d get in the way,’ she said flatly.

‘You’re a civilized person,’ I said. ‘Very law-abiding and ful of

scruples. I doubt if you’ve had as much as a parking ticket in your

life. I might manage to retain a few scruples while I’m being hunted;

not many, but some. But when I’m the hunter I can’t afford them. I think

you might be horrified at what I’d do.’

‘You’d kil ,’ she said. It was a statement.

‘I might do worse,’ I said grimly, and she shivered. ‘It’s not that I

want to – I’m no casual murderer; I don’t want to have any part of this

but I’ve been conscripted against my wil .’

‘You dress it in fine words,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to kil .’

‘No fine words,’ I said. ‘Just one – survival. A drafted American

col ege boy may be a pacifist, but when the Viet Cong shoot at him with

those Russian 7.62 mil imetre rifles he’l shoot right back, you may

depend on it. And when Kennikin comes after me he’l deserve al he runs

into. I didn’t ask him to shoot at me on the Tungnaa River – he didn’t

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