had the idea that, perhaps, he wouldn’t mind at al if Slade didn’t show
up. Then he would be able to get down to the delightful business of
kil ing me -slowly. And I had put the idea into his mind; I had tried to
antagonize him towards Slade. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea.
I said, ‘What do you mean?’
‘In those days they built with stone.’ He strode to the window and
thumped on the exterior wal . It responded with a wooden hollowness.
‘This place is built like an eggshel .’
That was true enough. The chalets around Thingval avatn are holiday
cottages, not designed for permanent occupancy. A timber frame, skinned
on each side with thin planking and with a fil ing of foamed polystyrene
for insulation, finished off with a skim of plaster maybe half an inch
thick on the interior to make the place look nice. The nearest thing to
a permanent tent.
Kennikin went to the opposite wal and rapped on it with his knuckles.
It echoed even more hollowly. ‘You could get through this partition wal
in fifteen minutes, using nothing more than your hands. Therefore this
man wil stay in here with you.’
‘You needn’t worry,’ I said sourly. ‘I’m not Superman.’
‘You don’t need to be Superman to tangle the feet of the incompetents
I’ve been given for this operation,’ said Kennikin, equal y sourly.
‘You’ve proved that already. But I think the orders I give now wil
penetrate the thickest head.’ He turned to the man with the gun.
‘Stewartsen wil sit in that corner. You wil stand in front of the
door. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘If he moves, shoot him. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘If he speaks, shoot him. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘If he does anything else at al , shoot him. Understand?’
‘Yes,’ said the man with the gun stolidly.
Kennikin’s orders weren’t leaving much room for manoeuvre. He said
musingly, ‘Now, have I forgotten anything? Oh, yes! You said that Slade
had a hole in him -right?’
‘Not much of one,’ I said. ‘Just in the hand.’
He nodded, and said to the guard, ‘When you shoot him, don’t kil him.
Shoot him in the stomach.’ He turned on his heel and left the room. The
door slammed behind him.
Chapter II
I looked at the guard and the guard looked right back at me. His gun was
trained on my bel y and didn’t deviate a hair’s-breadth. With his other
hand he gestured wordlessly towards the corner, so I backed into it
until my shoulder-blades touched and then bent my knees until I was
squatting on my heels.
He looked at me expressionlessly. ‘Sit!’ he said economical y.
I sat. He wasn’t going to be bluffed. He stood in front of the door
about fifteen feet away and he was impregnable. He had the look of a man
who would obey orders to the letter; if I rushed him I’d catch a bullet
and I couldn’t even con him into doing anything stupid. It was going to
be a long three hours.
Kennikin had been right. Left alone in the room and I’d have gone
through the partition wal , and it wouldn’t have taken me any fifteen
minutes either. True, once through the wal I would stil be in the
house, but I’d be in an unexpected place, and surprise, as al generals
know, wins battles. Now that Elin was gone I was prepared to do anything
to get away, and Kennikin knew it.
I looked at the window. All I could see was a smal patch of blue sky
and a fleecy cloud drifting by. The time oozed on, maybe half an hour,
and I heard the crunch of tyres as a car drew up outside. I didn’t know
how many men had been in the house when I arrived, although I knew of
three, but now there were more and the odds had lengthened.
I turned my wrist slowly and drew back the cuff of my jacket to look at
my watch, hoping to God that the guard would not interpret that as an
unnatural action. I kept my eye on him and he looked back at me blankly,
so I lowered my gaze to see what time it was. It had not been half an
hour – only fifteen minutes had passed. It was going to be a longer
three hours than I had thought.
Five minutes after that there was a tap at the door and I heard the
raised voice of Kennikin. ‘I’m coming in.’
The guard stepped to one side as the door opened. Kennikin came in and
said, ‘I see you’ve been a good boy.’ There was something in the way he
said it that made me uneasy. He was too damned cheerful.
‘I’d like to go over what you told me again,’ he said. ‘According to
you, Slade is being kept with friends of yours – Icelandic friends – I
think you said. These friends wil kil him unless they get you in
exchange. I think that was the argument. Am I right?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
He smiled. ‘Your girl-friend is waiting downstairs. Shal we join her?’
He waved largely. ‘You can get up – you wil not be shot.’
I stood up stiffly, and wondered what the hel had gone wrong. I was
escorted downstairs and found Elin standing in front of the empty
fireplace flanked by Ilyich. Her face was pale as she whispered, ‘I’m
sorry, Alan.’
‘You must think I’m stupid,’ said Kennikin. ‘You don’t suppose I thought
you had walked here? You tramped up to the front door and immediately I
wondered where you had left your car. You had to have a car because this
is no country for walking, so I sent a man to look for it even before
you rang the bel .’
‘You always were logical,’ I said.
He was enjoying himself. ‘And what do you suppose my man found? A large
American car complete with key. He had not been there long when this
young lady came up in a great hurry, so he brought her – and the car –
back here. You see, he was unaware of the agreement we had reached. We
can’t blame him for that, can we?’
‘Of course not,’ I said flatly. /But bad be opened the boot?/ ‘I don’t
see that this makes any difference.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. But my man had standing orders. He knew we were
looking for a smal package containing electronic equipment, and so he
searched the car. He didn’t find the package.’
Kennikin stopped and looked at me expectantly. He was real y relishing
this. I said, ‘Do you mind if I sit down? And for God’s sake, give me a
cigarette – I’ve run out.’
‘My dear Alan – but of course,’ he said solicitously. ‘Take your usual
chair.’ He produced his cigarette case and careful y lit my cigarette.
‘Mr Slade is very angry with you. He doesn’t like you at al .’
‘Where is he?’
‘In the kitchen having his hand bound up. You’re a very good
diagnostician, Alan; he /does/ have a headache.’
My stomach felt as though it had a bal of lead in it. I drew on the
cigarette, and said, ‘All right; where do we go from here?’
‘We carry on from where we left off the night we came here from Geysir.
Nothing has changed.’
He was wrong – El in was here. I said, ‘So now you shoot me.’
‘Perhaps. Slade wants to talk to you first.’ He looked up. ‘Ah, here he is.’
Slade looked bad. His face was grey and he staggered slightly as he
walked in. When he came closer I saw that his eyes had a curiously
unfocused appearance and I guessed he was stil suffering from
concussion. Someone had bound up his hand neatly with clean gauze
bandages, but his clothes were rumpled and stained and his hair stood on
end. As he was a man who usual y cared very much for outward
appearances, I guessed he was probably very disturbed.
I was right, and I found out how much he was disturbed pretty damned quick.
He walked up and looked down at me, and gestured with his left hand.
‘Pick him up and take him over there ? to the wal .’
I was grabbed before I could move. Someone put a hammer lock on me from
behind and I was dragged from the chair and hustled across the room. As
I was slammed against the wal , Slade said, ‘Where’s my gun?’
Kennikin shrugged. ‘How should I know?’
‘You must have taken it from Stewart.’
‘Oh, that one.’ Kennikin pulled it from his pocket. ‘Is this it?’
Slade took the pistol and walked over to me. ‘Hold his right hand
against the wal ,’ he said, and held up his bandaged hand before my
eyes. ‘You did that, Stewart, so you know what’s going to happen now.’