said, ‘You’re in this as much as I am now, so you’ve got a vote. What do
you think I should do?’
She lowered the towel and looked at me thoughtful y. ‘I should do
exactly what you are doing. You’ve made the plan. Meet this man at
Geysir and give him that . . . that whatever-it-is.’
I nodded. ‘And what if someone should try to stop us?’
She hesitated. ‘If it is Slade, then give him the gadget. If it is
Kennikin . . .’ She stopped and shook her head slowly.
I saw her reasoning. I might be able to hand over to Slade and get away
unscathed; but Kennikin would not be satisfied with that – he’d want my
blood. I said, ‘Supposing it is Kennikin – what would you expect me to do?’
She drooped. ‘I think you would want to fight him – to use that rifle.
You would want to kil him.’ Her voice was desolate.
I took her by the arm. ‘Elin, I don’t kil people indiscriminately. I’m
not a psychopath. I promise there wil be no kil ing unless it is in
self defence; unless my life is in danger -or yours.’
‘I’m sorry, Alan,’ she said. ‘But a situation like this is so alien to
me. I’ve never had to face anything like it.’
I waved towards the knoll. ‘I was doing a bit of thinking up there. It
occurred to me that perhaps my assessment of everything has been wrong –
that I’ve misjudged people and events.’
‘No!’ she said definitely. ‘You’ve made a strong case against Slade.’
‘And yet you would want me to give him the gadget?’
‘What is it to me?’ she cried. ‘Or to you? Let him have it when the time
comes – let us go back to living our own lives.’
‘I’d like to do that very much,’ I said. ‘If people would let me.’ I
looked up at the sun which was already high. ‘Come on; let’s be on our way.’
As we drove towards the fork I glanced at Elin’s set face and sighed. I
could quite understand her attitude, which was that of any other
Icelander. Long gone are the days when the Vikings were the scourge of
Europe, and the Icelanders have lived in isolation for so many years
that the affairs of the rest of the world must seem remote and alien.
Their only battle has been to regain their political independence from
Denmark and that was achieved by peaceful negotiation. True, they are
not so isolated that their economy is separated from world trade – far
from it -but trade is trade and war, whether open or covert, is
something for other crazy people and not for sober, sensible Icelanders.
They are so confident that no one can envy their country enough to seize
it that they have no armed forces. After al , if the Icelanders with
their thousand years of experience behind them stil find it most
difficult to scratch a living out of the country then who else in his
right mind would want it?
A peaceful people with no first-hand knowledge of war. It was hardly
surprising that Elin found the shenanigans in which I was involved
distasteful and dirty. I didn’t feel too clean myself.
Chapter II
The track was bad.
It was bad right from where we had stopped and it got steadily worse
after we had left the river and began to climb under Vatnajokul . I
crunched down into low gear and went into four-wheel drive as the track
snaked its way up the cliffs, doubling back on itself so often that I
had a zany idea I might drive into my own rear. It was wide enough only
for one vehicle and I crept around each corner hoping to God that no one
was coming the other way.
Once there was a slide of rubble sideways and I felt the Land-Rover slip
with rear wheels spinning towards the edge of a sheer drop. I poured on
the juice and hoped for the best. The front wheels held their grip and
hauled us to safety. Soon after that 1 stopped on a reasonably straight
bit, and when I took my hands from the wheel they were wet with sweat.
I wiped them dry. ‘This is bloody tricky.’
‘Shal I drive for a while?’ asked Elin.
I shook my head. ‘Not with your bad shoulder. Besides, it’s not the
driving – it’s the expectation of meeting someone around every corner.’
I looked over the edge of the cliff. ‘One of us would have to reverse
out and that’s a flat impossibility.’ That was the best that could
happen; the I
worst didn’t bear thinking about. No wonder this track was one way only.
‘I could walk ahead,’ Elin said. ‘I can check around the corners and
guide you.’
‘That would take al day,’ I objected. ‘And we’ve a long way to go.’
She jerked her thumb downwards. ‘Better than going down there. Besides,
we’re not moving at much more than a walking pace as it is. I can stand
on the front bumper while we go on the straight runs and jump off at the
corners.’
It was an idea that had its points but I didn’t like it much. ‘It won’t
do your shoulder much good.’
‘I can use the other arm,’ she said impatiently, and opened the door to
get out.
At one time in England there was a law to the effect that every
mechanical y propel ed vehicle on the public highway must be preceded by
a man on foot bearing a red flag to warn the unwary citizenry of the
juggernaut bearing down upon them. I had never expected to be put in the
same position, but that’s progress.
Elin would ride the bumper until we approached a corner and jump off as
I slowed down. Slowing down was no trick at al , even going down hil ;
al I had to do was to take my foot off the accelerator. I had dropped
into the lowest gear possible which, on a Land-Rover, is something
wondrous. That final drive ratio of about 40:1 gives a lot of traction
and a lot of engine braking. Driven flat out when cranked as low as that
the old girl would make al of nine miles an hour when delivering
ninety-five horsepower – and a hel of a lot of traction was just what I
needed on that Icelandic roller-coaster. But it was hel on fuel
consumption.
So Elin would guide me around a corner and then ride the bumper to the
next one. It sounds as though it might have been a slow job but
curiously enough we seemed to make better time. We went on in this
dot-and-carry-one manner for quite a long way and then Elin held up her
hand and pointed, not down the track but away in the air to the right.
As she started to hurry back I twisted my neck to see what she had seen.
A helicopter was coming over Trolladyngja like a grasshopper, the sun
making a spinning disc of its rotor and striking reflections from the
greenhouse which designers put on choppers for their own weird reasons.
I’ve flown by helicopter on many occasions and on a sunny day you feel
like a ripening tomato under glass.
But I wasn’t thinking about that right then because Elin had come up on
the wrong side of the Land-Rover. ‘Get to the other side,’ I shouted.
‘Get under cover.’ I dived out of the door on the other side where the
cliff face was.
She joined me. ‘Trouble?’
‘Could be.’ I held open the door and grabbed the carbine. ‘We’ve seen no
vehicles so far, but two aircraft have been interested in us. That seems
unnatural.’
I peered around the rear end of the Land-Rover, keeping the gun out of
sight. The helicopter was stil heading towards us and losing height.
When it was quite close the nose came up and it bobbed and curtsied in
the air as it came to a hovering stop about a hundred yards away. Then
it came down like a lift until it was level with us.
I sweated and gripped the carbine. Sitting on the ledge we were like
ducks in a shooting gal ery, and al that was between us and any bullets
was the Land-Rover. It’s a stoutly built vehicle but at that moment I
wished it was an armoured car. The chopper ducked and swayed and
regarded us interestedly, but I could see no human movement beyond the
reflections echoed from the glass of the cockpit.
Then the fuselage began to rotate slowly until it was turned broadside
on, and I let out my breath in a long sigh. Painted in large letters
along the side was the single word -NAVY – and I relaxed, put down the
carbine and went into the open. If there was one place where Kennikin