A Woman Involved (57 page)

‘All right. We’re going to get out of this. Remember, they are not trying to kill us now. They want to take us alive.’

Her eyes were suddenly glistening. ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

He felt his eyes burn.

‘I love you too.’

She whispered: ‘With all my heart.’ Then two tears welled over and rolled down her cheeks. ‘We had a lovely time here, didn’t we?’

He wanted to weep. ‘We did …’

She said: ‘We’re going to come back here, aren’t we? After this is all over.’

‘Yes. We are.’

‘And we’ll do the house up properly, won’t we? And build a proper duck pond. And get two horses?’

‘Yes. We will.’

Two more tears rolled over her eyelids and down her cheeks. ‘Do you promise?’

His throat was thick. ‘I promise.’

She wiped her eyes, then took his cigarette from him and took a deep drag. She blew it out.

‘Okay. A promise is a promise. So let’s get on with it …’

He crouched up one last time, and poked the sten gun out into the dusk, and he squeezed the trigger. There was the shattering clatter of it, and he swept it through the dusk,
da-da-da-da –
raking the orchard blindly, then he swung around and swept the fire down towards the river,
da-da-da-da-
and the shattering noise and the stink of cordite filled the cold dusk.

Then he turned, and scrambled down the ladder.

He clattered down the steps, into the hall. Anna was behind him, with the pistol. He strode through the dining room, into the kitchen. It was dark inside the house, now.

He peered through the kitchen windows, into the back yard. He could not see Danziger. He turned to the outer kitchen door. He lifted out the iron bar.

He turned to her. Her face was white. He took the pistol from her, checked the magazine, handed it back to her. He put a new ammunition clip into the sten gun.

‘Ready?’

She nodded, gaunt. He took a shaky breath.

‘Okay. Side by side. We run down to the river on the path, not in the stream bed. No point, now it’s dark. Once we get onto the path you run ahead of me.’

She nodded.

He took her in his arms and clutched her tight. Her breath trembled. He squeezed her once more, then let her go.

‘Okay …’ He slipped the catch back on the lock. He
clutched the sten gun in his right hand, and flung open the door.

They came bursting out of the door, into the darkness. They ran flat out through the walnut trees, onto the path. He looked desperately behind and she ran ahead.

She ran flat out down the path, her hair flying, the pistol in her hand, every moment expecting the shattering gunfire. She ran and she ran, the snow flying from her pounding feet. He ran five yards behind her, eyes darting desperately ahead in the darkness. They ran, and ran, the black banks of the river only sixty yards ahead now. Now fifty, now forty.
Please God Please God Please God –
now the black river was only thirty yards ahead, now twenty, now ten …  When they were five yards from the river the shot rang out, and Anna lurched and contorted, her arms upflung, and she crashed.

The shot that got Anna Hapsburg was not intended to kill her, only to pull her down. She sprawled headlong, ploughing up the snow, and Morgan crashed over her. He scrambled up, shocked, horrified, and cried ‘
Anna!
–’ He snatched up her pistol and he seized her arm and he tried to heave her up, and she was a dead weight. He shouted ‘
Get up!
’ and he wrenched, and he dragged her.

He dragged her through the snow, grasping and heaving, stumbling, slipping, and he came to the bank. He plunged her down it. He crashed into the shallow icy water, feet first, and she crashed in after him. He crouched down and tried to wrench her up into his arms. He shook her: ‘
Anna! –
’

She lay in the water, in his arms. She whimpered, ‘
Go – you go …
’

And he wanted to weep his relief that she was alive. ‘
Where’re you hit?
’ His hands clutched over her body.

‘In the back – you go –’

His hand was bloody, and he felt the wound in her spine. And he wanted to bellow his hate and outrage to the sky. He crouched and heaved her arm over his shoulder. He slung his arm holding the sten gun around her waist, and he heaved her up. She hung from his shoulder, her legs limp.

He staggered through the icy water, slipping and stumbling
on the stones, half carrying her, half dragging her, rasping, gasping.

He staggered with her to the edge of the waterfall. He released her, and she collapsed in the icy rushing water, and he jumped down into the shallow pool below. He reached up frantically and grabbed her arm. He heaved her over the waterfall.

She came with a splashing crash. He wrenched her arm up around his neck again. He ploughed her across the pool, grunting, gasping, stumbling, praying
Please God Please God
… He looked wildly over his shoulder. He plunged her on. Then the pool shallowed off, and the bend in the river was only twenty yards ahead. He went stumbling across the pool, dragging her; then he was in rapids. He staggered and lurched her on, his heart pounding from the exertion. Now the bend was ten yards ahead, now eight, now six, and he prayed
Please God only ten more seconds.
He dragged her, and dragged her – and then they were at the bend, and he staggered around it.

He collapsed back against a big rock, gasping, clutching her, the water swirling around his knees.

Then he crouched down again. He slid one arm under her knees, and he heaved her up in his arms.

He laid her on the cold stones between the boulders, whimpering; then he furiously grabbed the sten and scrambled across the rocks. He crouched behind the big boulder. He peered through the darkness, upriver, rasping. He did not feel the icy cold, all he knew was the desperate fury and the fear for her. And with all his furious heart he just wanted the bastards to show themselves so he could just blast out his hate hate hate and kill kill kill.
And oh God God God just help me now to save her, save her
– he swept his eyes furiously, desperately up and down the banks, and he saw nothing.

He scrambled back across the stones. He whispered hoarsely: ‘Anna? …’

She opened her eyes. She gave an exhausted smile and she whispered:

‘What’s the plan?’

He felt desperate tears burn. ‘Are you in pain?’

‘No pain. I can’t feel a thing. I’m cold, that’s all. Now tell me the plan …’

And the rage welled up in his breast, the red-black fury that the bastards had done this to her, smashed her spine and now she was cold, and he wanted to bellow his outrage to the sky and go charging out there to kill kill kill …  She whispered: ‘We’ve had it, haven’t we, darling?’

He shook his head and started to deny it, to say he knew not what, oh God, just anything to make her feel a little better, and she smiled: ‘Okay, I’ve got a plan …’

He half-sobbed: ‘What’s your plan?’

She whispered: ‘Central Africa …  They’ll never find you in Central Africa …’

A sob choked his throat and two tears rolled out and she gripped his shirt and she whispered urgently: ‘You must do it, then run, darling.’

And he wanted to shake her and bellow that he could never do that,
never never could he do that
– and she whispered: ‘They’ve got us nailed down here, they just have to wait it out and then take us alive, and they’ll do terrible things to us, and then they’ll put a bullet through our heads – so what’s the point? …’ He started to speak and she went on urgently: ‘
Listen tome
…  I can’t run …  But you can …  You can get out of here, with your kind of luck …’ She closed her eyes and she shook her head: ‘And I’m not going to live with you with a broken back …’ He opened his mouth and she cried: ‘No way! …  And it’s not going to happen anyway because after they’ve taken us alive they’re going to kill us …  So let’s finish it now, and then you run, darling …’

And he felt the love and the anguish rage up and he wanted to seize her and shake her and shake her to make her run run run with him,
make her run
– he pulled her up in his arms and clutched her tight and he rasped:

‘
I’m going to get us out of this
…
I’m going back up the river
to finish the bastards and then we’re going to live happily ever after … 
’

And he turned on his haunches, and she grabbed his wrist and gasped, ‘No! Run!’ He pulled his arm free and he scrambled furiously across the rocks. He snatched up the sten gun, and he leapt over the boulders, back into the river. She cried:

‘
Run, Jack …
’

And she knew there was only one way to make him do it; she heard him splashing back up the river, looking for the bastards: and she lifted her frozen fist to her head, clutching the pistol, the tears rolling down her face. She cried out once more, ‘
Run, Jack
…’  and she closed her eyes tight and she whispered, ‘
God forgive me …
’

She squeezed the trigger.

The shot rang out, and he gasped, as if he had felt the blow himself;, then he turned around, aghast. He went plunging wildly back down the river to the boulders. He scrambled up over them, whimpering: then he saw her lying on the stones, her arm outflung, clutching the pistol, the blood running out of the hole in her temple.

Morgan stared, horrified, uncomprehending. Then he felt it roar up from inside him, the outrage and the grief grief grief. And his mind reeled red-black with hate hate hate, and he filled his lungs and bellowed his outrage and grief to the sky. He clutched the sten gun and turned to go charging up there blazing to kill the bastards who had killed her – and a voice shouted out of the darkness:

‘
Jack! Don’t be a fool, man! We’ve got you surrounded!
’

Morgan crouched, the tears running down his face.

Carrington! That was Carrington’s voice
…  And he felt his mind reel in hate and outrage again. He filled his lungs and bellowed:

‘I’m going to kill you, Carrington! …
’

Carrington shouted out of the darkness:

‘
Jack – what do you think you’re doing, shooting policemen? They’ll hang you for that!
’

‘
They aren’t policemen – they’re your hit men! And I’m going to kill every one of them and I’m going to kill you! …
’

Carrington shouted: ‘
Jack, I haven’t come to kill you! I’ve come to talk some sense into you! But if you fight you’ll be gunned down like a mad dog!
’

Morgan crouched, sobbing; he bellowed: ‘
You’re the mad dogs, Carrington! Didn’t you get the message from the Vatican?
’

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack! See reason, man! You’ve got the goods we sent you for! We must have them! We’ve got to know you’re on our side!
’

Morgan bellowed: ‘
The goods are destroyed, you fool! You got my letter!
’

‘
Jack, we can’t believe you, man. We can’t afford to leave this hanging in mid-air, it’s too important! See reason! And the Comrades won’t believe you either, they’re coming for you too, Jack! So join our side, where you belong, man.
’

The sobs choked up in Morgan’s throat again. Carrington shouted:

‘
Jack – think about it …  It’s cold out here, man! We’ll give you fifteen minutes to talk about it with Anna.
’

The tears choked up, and he dropped his head. He turned and crouched back to her body, the tears running down his face; he knelt beside her, and he pulled her up in his arms. He clutched her tight, and his heart broke.

He dropped his head over hers, clutching her, his sobs choking and racking.

For a minute he held her, rocking her, weeping; then he laid her down on the cold stones. He filled his lungs and he shouted hoarsely into the night:

‘
Fifteen minutes you’ll give us to talk it out?
’

‘
Yes
.’

He sobbed out loud. He turned her over, onto her back. He folded her hands across her chest, one by one, in the sign of the cross. Then he took a lock of her hair, and draped it across the bullet hole in her temple. And the sobs racked up him once more, and he bent and kissed her one last time. He clutched her, and rocked her, and rocked her, and the grief and the pity, pity, pity came sobbing out.

Then he laid her down, and turned away. He picked up the
sten gun. He scrambled blindly across the rocks; and between the boulders; and he scrambled down into the water.

He started blindly down the river, towards the bridge and the motorcycle, the tears running salty into his mouth.

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