street and no one would take much notice.
I looked him in the eye and then put a bullet into the back of his right
hand. He jerked his hand convulsively and a strangled cry broke from his
lips as the muzzle of the pistol centred on his head again. The noise of
the shot hadn’t even rattled the windows.
I said, ‘I may not shoot to kil you but I’l cut you to pieces bit by
bit if you don’t behave yourself. I hear from Kennikin that I’m a fair
hand at surgical operations too. There are worse things than getting
yourself shot dead. Ask Kennikin some time.’
Blood oozed from the back of his hand and stained the carpet, but he lay
stil , staring at the gun in my hand. His tongue came out and licked dry
lips. ‘You bloody bastard!’ he whispered.
The telephone rang.
We stared at each other for the time it took to ring four times. I
walked around him, keeping clear of his legs, and I picked up the
telephone whole and entire complete with base. I dumped it next to him,
and said, ‘You’l answer that, and you’l remember two things – I want
to hear /both/ ends of the conversation and that there are plenty of
other parts of your fat anatomy I can work on.’ I jerked the gun. ‘Pick
it up.’
Awkwardly he picked up the handset with his left hand. ‘Yes?’
I jerked the gun again and he held up the telephone so that I could hear
the scratchy voice. ‘This is Kennikin.’
‘Be natural,’ I whispered.
Slade licked his lips. ‘What is it?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘What’s the matter with your voice?’ said Kennikin.
Slade grunted, his eye on the gun I held. ‘I have a cold. What do you want?’
‘I’ve got the girl.’
There was a silence and 1 could feel my heart thumping in my chest.
Slade went pale as he watched my finger curl around the trigger and
slowly take up the pressure. I breathed, ‘Where from?’
Slade coughed nervously. ‘Where did you find her?’
‘At Keflavik Airport – hiding in the Icelandair office. We know her
brother is a pilot, and I had the idea of looking for her there. We took
her out without any trouble.’
That made it true. ‘Where now?’ I whispered into Slade’s ear and put the
gun to the nape of his neck.
He asked the question, and Kennikin said, ‘In the usual place. When can
I expect you?’
‘You’l be right out.’ I pressed the muzzle harder into his fat and felt
him shiver.
‘I’l leave straight away,’ said Slade, and I quickly cut the contact by
depressing the telephone bar.
I jumped back fast in case he tried to start something but he just lay
there gazing at the telephone. I felt like screaming, but there was no
time for that. I said, ‘Slade, you were wrong – I /can/ kil you. You
know that now, don’t you?’
For the first time I detected fear in him. His fat jowl developed a
tremor and his lower lip shook so that he looked like a fat boy about to
burst into tears. I said, ‘Where’s the usual place?’
‘He looked at me with hatred and said nothing. I was in a quandary; if I
kil ed him I would have got nothing out of him, yet I didn’t want to
damage him too much because I wanted him fit to walk the streets of
Reykjavik without occasioning undue attention. Stil , he didn’t know my
problem, so I said, ‘You’l stil be alive when I’ve finished with you,
but you’l wish you weren’t.’
I put a bullet just by his left ear and he jerked violently. Again the
noise of the shot was very smal and I think he must have doctored the
cartridges by taking out some of the powder to reduce the bang. It’s an
old trick when you want to shoot without drawing notice to yourself and,
if done careful y and the gun is fired at not too great a range, the
bullet is stil lethal. It’s much better than using a silencer which is
a much overrated contraption and dangerous to the user. A silencer is
good for one quiet shot – after that the steel wool packing becomes
compressed and the back pressure builds up so high that the user is in
danger of blowing off his own hand.
I said, ‘I’m a good shot, but not al that good. I intended to put that
bullet exactly where I did, but only you know the accuracy of this
popgun. I’m inclined to think it throws to the left a bit, so if I try
to clip your right ear you stand a fair chance of stopping one in the
skul .’
I shifted the gun a little and took aim. He broke – his nerve gone
completely. ‘For God’s sake stop!’ This sort of Russian roulette wasn’t
to his taste.
I sighted on his right ear. ‘Where’s the usual place?’
There was a sheen of sweat on his face. ‘At Thingval avatn.’
‘The house to which I was taken after Geysir?’
‘That’s it.’
‘You’d better be right,’ I said. ‘Because I have no time to waste in
chasing about Southern Iceland.’ I lowered the gun and Slade’s
expression changed to one of relief. ‘Don’t start cheering yet,’ I
advised. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m going to leave you here.’
I went to the stand at the bottom of the bed and flipped open the lid of
his suitcase. I took out a clean shirt and tossed it to him. ‘Rip some
strips off that and bind up your hand. Stay on the floor and don’t get
any smart ideas such as throwing it at me.’
While he tore up the shirt awkwardly I rummaged about in the suitcase
and came up with two clips of . 32 ammunition. I dropped them into my
pocket then went to the wardrobe and took out Slade’s topcoat, the
pockets of which I had already searched. ‘Stand up facing the wal and
put that on.’
I watched him careful y, alert for any trickery. I knew that if I made
one false step he would take ful advantage of it. A man who could worm
his way into the heart of British Intel igence hadn’t done it by being
stupid. The mistakes he had made weren’t such as would normal y have
discommoded him and he had done his damnedest to rectify them by
eliminating me. If I weren’t careful he could stil pull it off.
I picked up his passport and his wal et from the bed and pocketed them,
then threw his hat across the room so that it landed at his feet. ‘We’re
going for a walk. You’l keep that bandaged hand in your coat pocket and
you’l behave like the English gentleman you’re not. One wrong move from
you and I’l shoot you dead and take my chances, and I don’t care if it
has to be in the middle of Hafnarstraeti. I hope you realize that
Kennikin did exactly the wrong thing in taking Elin.’
He spoke to the wal . ‘Back in Scotland I warned you about that. I told
you not to let her get involved.’
‘Very thoughtful of you,’ I said. ‘But if anything happens to her you’re
a dead man. You may have been right about my inability to kil before,
but I hope you’re not counting on it now because one of Elin’s nail
parings is of more importance to me than the whole of your lousy body.
You’d better believe that, Slade. I protect my own.’
I saw him shudder. ‘I believe you,’ he said quietly.
I real y think he did. He knew he had encountered something more
primitive than patriotism or the loyalty of a man to his group. This was
much more fundamental, and while I might not have kil ed him because he
was a spy I would kil without mercy any man who got between me and Elin.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Pick up your hat and let’s go.’
I escorted him into the corridor, made him lock the door, and then took
the key. I had one of his jackets draped over my arm to hide the gun,
and I walked one pace behind him and to the right. We left the hotel and
walked the streets of Reykjavik to where I had left Nordlinger’s car.
‘You’l get behind the wheel,’ I said.
We performed an intricate bal et in getting into the car. While
unlocking it and getting him settled I had to make sure that never for
one moment could he take advantage and, at the same time, our antics had
to look reasonably normal to passers-by. At last I managed to get him
seated and myself behind him in the rear.
‘Now you’l drive,’ I said.