Conscious Decisions of the Heart (17 page)

§ § §

Gabby was in the children’s section, reading to a group of toddlers.

She’d been the first person Ben had thought of when he’d realised he needed local maps. He
was
eight and he
was
running to his mother, but who was going to call him on it?

Amy was at the counter. She gave Ben an odd look and busied herself with stamping books. He realised, with a pang of guilt, that since Nikolas had arrived he’d not been to the library once. He’d dropped his new friends as if they meant nothing. Was this some kind of divine punishment for being so wholly consumed by Nikolas Mikkelsen that he was taken from him? That he was to lose Nikolas for worshiping him above all things?

Ben felt faint with confusion, guilt and fear.

He tried to catch Gabby’s eye. She gave him a little wave but finished the book she was reading to her avid audience.

When the last of her little flock had departed, she gave Ben a quick, embarrassed hug and held both his hands. “How are you, sweetie? It’s just so awful.” She brushed a finger over his split lip.

“You’ve heard?”

She smiled faintly. “This is a very small island, Ben. News travels fast. I’m sure they’ll catch him.”

“Catch him? Catch who?”

She placed her fingers briefly on his lip again. “The man who attacked you!”

“I wasn’t attacked! That’s—He’s—I—He’s gone
missing
. Look, I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry. Have you got some maps? I need the lake area—maps that show where the houses are, cabins, hunting lodges—
anything
.”

“He’ll be off the island now, Ben, surely?”

“Maps?”

“No, we don’t have anything like that. I’m sorry.”

He almost stamped his foot in frustration, watching as she brushed a strand of greying hair behind her ear. “Look, can you wait a bit? I think I might know where I can get some maps—a local historian.”

He grabbed her arms. “Thanks. I’ll come with you.”

She shook her head. “I’ll meet you. I’ll bring them to you. Do you know the little restaurant by the harbour?”

“Alan Lund’s? Of course, but I need them
now
, Gabby.”

She walked back to her desk and began to pack her handbag. “I’ll be as quick as I can. What time shall I meet you tonight?”

“As soon as you can! I’ll wait for you there.”

§ § §

Nikolas next woke to find he’d been left a plate of food. His captor had come and gone while he’d been fucking sleeping like a fucking baby. He was about to kick the plate away but thought better of it.
Rule 3: Never refuse anything you’re offered, you mightn’t be offered it again
. Food was fuel and power; a very wise child had told him that once. It had taken him a while to believe it and to act on that belief, putting the horror of the feeding in the gulags behind him. Now, he’d never been so grateful to have some more muscle and fat on him, chained as he was in this freezing shed.

Unfortunately, he had to kneel and eat like a dog off the plate, but he wasn’t proud. He’d once had to fuck three men at the same time to be allowed to share a piece of dog, and then they’d not given it to him when they were done with him. Eating a ham sandwich from a china plate decorated with little blue flowers chained on his knees in a butcher’s shed was a surreal experience—but surreal was okay.

When he was finished, he began on his project for escape—he wasn’t sure what this was yet, but thinking about it was good. He had some vague idea to use the blanket to form a rope he could snag one of the tools with, but this depended on being able to convince his captor to allow him to have his arms fixed to the front. And, of course, as soon as he persuaded someone to release him enough to make that exchange, he was as good as free. That meant staying awake long enough to speak with them the next time they came (Rule 1). Which was proving more difficult than he’d thought it would. Every time he lay down, he fell asleep. This, and the fact his head was hurting so much, made him think he probably had a concussion from whatever had hit him in the first place. He could feel the blood matted and sticky on the side of his head, and he couldn’t put this area to the ground without a sensation of worrying squishiness.

When he brought up the sandwich, he knew he was in trouble. Concussion in freezing conditions killed people quickly. But there wasn’t much he could do but endure. That he felt he deserved everything that was happening to him only added to his growing sense of helplessness.
Rule 4—the strong survived by being righteous in their innocence
—wasn’t looking good for him. It was so long since he’d been innocent of anything, his guilt tasted worse than the vomit in his throat.

§ § §

Gabby came to the restaurant as promised. She’d procured some maps, but they were geographical ones and only showed a few dwellings—and those in no detail. But they were topographically detailed of the lake. Ben took them from her and began to study them.

“Shall we have a drink?”

Ben nodded absently but didn’t look up, circling the few properties he could identify.

“Well, I’ll order some wine, shall I? Can I help? I know the area quite well, of course. Not so much the lake but certainly around the town.”

Ben looked up. “Do you have a boat?”

She turned away, waving toward the bar for the bartender to come over. “No, of course not.”

“Damn, I need to borrow one.”

“Oh. I could ask around at work, maybe? I’m sure someone will have one.” She ordered some wine—red when she couldn’t elicit any preference from Ben. She waited for him to pour then giggled and did it herself. “What
can
I do to help? Have you got somewhere to stay? I’ve got a spare room, and you’re―”

“No, I’m good. But thanks, Gabby, I really appreciate this. I need to go.”

“Go? But you haven’t had your wine! We haven’t ordered yet! You must eat, Ben!”

“Ordered? Food?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He thought it might have been the stuff he threw up in the cell, but that had been almost twenty-four hours ago. He sat again heavily. “I need to eat. Fucking hell!” He’d added this last in English because it never sounded as good in Danish, but he could see from her expression she understood it quite well. He ordered some food and asked Alan if he could hurry it. Alan jokingly asked him if there was a fire, and Ben replied surprised, “Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“A friend of mine has gone missing. I’m sorry. I assumed you’d know. I seem to have done nothing but talk about it to people since it happened last night.”

“It’s a big island, Ben. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Do you have a boat?”

Alan nodded. “All Danes have boats. Where do you want me to bring it?”

Ben could have kissed him. Instead, he squeezed Gabby’s fingers. There was a glimmer of hope at last. She squeezed back and retained his hand, staring at him over the wine. Then she stood up. “Come here, sweetie, let me give you a hug.”

Ben didn’t need this. It was the last thing he could cope with. He wasn’t used to the sympathy of women as he’d lost his mother so young. Held like this, he felt totally eviscerated, raw and utterly vulnerable. He didn’t need it, but he
wanted
it so much. He wanted nothing more than to bury his pain in this maternal woman’s arms and let her mother him until it all went away. She even stroked his hair, just like his mother used to. Alan brought them some food and explained he’d arranged for his boat to be towed up to Ben’s cabin in the morning. There was nothing anyone could do that night. Ben tried to eat his steak, but it stuck in his throat and sickened him. Gabby was making small talk, trying to cheer him up. She repeated her offer of a bed, and he suddenly agreed, “Actually, I’ve some friends arriving tomorrow. It would be great if they could stay with you.”

She sat back, picked up her handbag and began to rummage in it. “I only have one room…”

“Well, just Kate then.”

“Kate? You never told me about Kate.” She smiled and sipped her wine. “Is she your sister? Oh, Ben, I can’t wait to meet her.”

Ben was looking again at the maps, trying to work out where his cabin was. He mumbled, “Ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh, well. Why is she coming?”

Ben grinned unpleasantly. “She’s bringing my secret weapon.”

§ § §

Nikolas was awake when the door to the shed next opened. It let in a brilliant light from the snow outside. He was totally blinded. He got on his knees, head lowered, showing submission.
Rule 5: Prove you’re no threat
(and not worth killing—he made up that part of the rule, but who was going to call him on it?). He heard the door being closed and looked up cautiously. It didn’t bode well, in his professional opinion, that he wasn’t blindfolded. He blinked a couple of times then exclaimed in a croaky, amazed voice, “Anna?”

She went to the butcher’s table and put a basket on it. “You’ve made a terrible mess! Look at what you’ve done!”

“What? Mess? You fucking psychotic cunt of a fucking bitch! Let me go! You cunt. You fucking ugly, fat whore! I thought I was being held by the fucking
Chechens
! I thought fucking
Special Forces
had taken me down. I thought I was going to be hung up and fucking
castrated
! I thought I was going to be
skinned by electric sanders
! But I’ve been chained by a cunt in a skirt who thinks
she’s in love with my fucking boyfriend
!
Fuck you
!
Fucking come back―!
” He lunged, stretched to the extent of the chains, screaming at her as she left. He couldn’t even reach the basket.

Rule 1 clearly needed a little work.

§ § §

Ben was back at the lake when Alan and his son Jacob drove up with the boat. Overnight, there had been a freezing frost, and all the trees were white, sparkling in the bright sun. It was bitterly cold. They launched the boat into the lake by the dock.

Ben oriented his map and started the engine. It was shockingly loud in the silent calm of the beautiful place. He motored slowly down the southern edge of the lake, marking each house and dock he came to on his map then stopping and checking them out. Firstly, he let Radulf sniff around and then he checked each building. Most of them were empty for the winter, but one or two were occupied. Interestingly, they all reported hearing a boat about the time Nikolas had gone missing. It was too quiet and too cold for a boat on the lake to be missed at this time of the year. He asked each of those he spoke with to phone the police and tell them what they’d heard, and then continued on his slow navigation of the lake.

By lunchtime, he’d covered about one mile of one side of a lake that stretched for over fifteen miles of inlets, small islands and one little village. It was hopeless. He reckoned with the short daylight hours, it would take him weeks to cover the place in the way he was now. He was never so grateful to have his phone ring and see it was Kate. “Where are you?”

“In a place called Aero-esk-o-bing, or something like that.”

“Aeroeskoebing.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“I’ll come get you. Is he with you?”

She laughed. “Unfortunately. He reminds me of someone, and not in the good ways, yeah?” For the first time since Nikolas left him—was taken—Ben felt hopeful.

§ § §

He met Kate at Alan Lund’s. She was standing surrounded by suitcases and exuded glamour. The man standing next to her was hunched against the cold and swearing in a fluid and inventive stream about everything from the cold to the length of the trip to the dumb-assed buildings. But when he saw Ben, he grinned and came over and hugged him. “Fucking Diesel, man. How can you lose a great big fucker like that boss of yours? You dumbnut shithead.” He rubbed Ben’s hair with his knuckles then stood back. “What the fuck do you call that poncy girly shit? Cus that ain’t hair man—that’s just fucking gay.”