Run for Home (7 page)

The woman behind the bar had switched channels to catch a news bulletin. A photograph, a headshot, dominated the screen: it was of Lisa. No question about it.

Harry stumbled forward and caught the tail end of the opening commentary. A little girl was missing, believed abducted, in Prague.

The view switched to a street scene he knew only too well. He stood still, his stomach lurching, his heart pounding, and tried to concentrate on what was being said. He watched in anguish as the reporter spoke to an elderly woman, Babička. She was distraught and spoke only in monosyllables, aided by a younger woman who was described as a neighbour.

It had happened that afternoon, the younger woman said, while her friend’s granddaughter was outside playing with her own daughter. Men, she said. Two men had arrived in a car and taken her.

The bulletin moved on to consider the result of an ice hockey game between Pardubice and Most. Heavy snow was forecast for much of the country. Blizzard conditions. Gas supplies from Russia. …

He wheeled away and sat heavily in a chair, sweating, panicking. His brain was racing out of control, doing no good
at all. The nightmare he had worked for so many years to avoid had descended and paralyzed him.

‘Harry? Harry, look at me!’

He felt Lenka’s hands on his face. He looked up.

‘Hang on, Harry!’ she said softly. ‘Hang on!’

His head stopped spinning. His eyes began to clear.

‘I’m all right,’ he said.

He wasn’t, but he rallied and tried to get his brain in gear. A big question floated to the surface: how had Lenka known it was his daughter? Never mind, he thought. Leave it! Just leave it for now.

‘I must speak to Babička,’ he added, his voice a rasp he didn’t recognize, ‘and find out exactly what happened.’

‘She has been living with her grandmother all this time?’

He nodded. ‘It seemed the best arrangement.’ He paused, took stock. ‘So you were right, Lenka. About the threat. But who the hell has taken her?’

She shook her head. ‘But whoever it is, we know what they want, don’t we?’

He didn’t bother replying. The kidnappers wanted him. It was obvious. He was the last piece in the jigsaw, last man standing.

Back in his room, he stared out of the window while Lenka worked her phone. She was trying to find out more, but he didn’t bother listening. She would tell him anything she learned. His mind, surprisingly, was focused and cool now. He had got over the shock, the dreadful, gut-gripping fear that had come with seeing Lisa’s photograph on the television screen. He knew now what he had to do.

First, he had to speak to Babička. He had to hear directly from her what had happened. Then. … Then he would have
to trade – himself for Lisa.

Lenka finished her phone calls.

‘Anything?’ he asked, looking round.

She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’ She scrutinized him. ‘How are you, Harry?’

‘I’m OK. I’ve just been working out what to do. First, I need to talk to Babička.’

‘Yes?’ Lenka looked dubious. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I spoke to her? They may be waiting for you to turn up.’

‘She wouldn’t speak to you, Lenka. She doesn’t know you. It has to be me.’

‘Then we should go together,’ she insisted.

‘Is that wise – for you?’

She shrugged. ‘Is any of what we do completely wise?’

‘Probably not, no.’ He hesitated and then added, ‘I’ll phone her first.’

‘And is that wise?’

Of course it wasn’t! He shook his head, irritated with himself.

‘What’s wrong with me? I’m not thinking straight.’

‘You have had a terrible shock, Harry. That’s all. There is nothing wrong with you. But two heads are better than one in a situation like this.’

He glanced at his watch. Gone eleven. Late for Babička, but she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, any more than he would be himself.

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

Babička lived in Holešovice, once a separate town, way out in the north-eastern part of Prague. They drove there in Lenka’s little Skoda, travelling fast. They crossed the Vltava via Čechův Most, one of the big bridges, and sped along the
northern bank of the river, leaving the bright lights of the central area behind. The roads were quiet. As midnight approached, the city was drifting off to sleep.

The old house where Babička had lived all her married life was a detached, two-storey building that had long been divided into two apartments, one up, one down. It was shabby, run-down even, but spacious and still pleasant. Better to live there than in a modern tower block, he had always thought. The surrounding garden, with its mature shrubs and trees, added to the house’s character. Lisa had been fortunate to live in such a place, as had her mother been before her.

Lenka stopped at the end of the road, near the exhibition ground containing the Bruselsky Pavilion, which he knew had something to do with the 1958 Brussels World Fair. They considered how best to approach the house. It was possible, likely even, that it was being watched by somebody.

‘Perhaps you could get in at the back, through the garden?’ Lenka suggested.

He shook his head. ‘Not in the dark. It’s jungle down there. Fifty years’ worth.’

‘But if you approach the house directly, from the front, you might just as well give yourself up.’

He grimaced, knowing she was right. ‘You’re going to have to go instead, Lenka.’

‘Yes, but how do we persuade her to trust me?’

‘Just tell her Mr Harry needs to speak to her. That’s what she usually calls me. Say he doesn’t trust the phone, and is waiting in the exhibition ground. And tell her Marika was your friend. Keep it simple,’ he added. ‘We don’t want to risk confusing her.’

‘Where exactly shall we meet in the exhibition ground? It is a big place.’

‘Don’t worry about that. Just get there. I’ll come to you.’

He left the car and slipped into the shadow cast by a high hedge. He waited until Lenka drove away. Then he turned and walked back to the exhibition ground.

The place was empty, deserted. Not entirely dark, but lit only by occasional and feeble street lamps. He walked across the vast parking area near the entrance, empty acres of tarmac stretching away before him. In the near distance, there were buildings that could have been part of a funfair, and beyond them he could see the outline of the main conference hall against the night sky. All was in darkness now.

The night was bitterly cold. He shivered, pulled up the hood of his jacket and headed for the shadowy buildings around the edge of the parking area. He slipped, recovered his balance; realized a veneer of ice had formed on the wet surface of the tarmac.

Looking for shelter, he moved into the doorway of a lapidarium, a museum for stones and gems, and stood there to wait. They wouldn’t be long. Either Babička would come instantly, or not at all. If she was there, he didn’t think she would take much persuading.

A breeze stirred, catching something loose at the corner of the building, making it rattle. Guttering, perhaps. A few bits of white fluff floated into the doorway. Then more came. He glanced up and saw the stars disappearing. It looked as if the forecast was right, and the warnings justified. The snow was arriving a little early this year. He shivered again and wriggled his shoulders. It was cold. He was cold.

Ten minutes later, a car turned into the entrance. He tensed. It could be Lenka’s Skoda, but he needed to be sure. The headlights swept across the empty tarmac, reflecting
off patches of ice and gleaming pools of winter rain. The car crept slowly into the centre of the open space, circled, and drew to a halt outside a kiosk that was shuttered up for the winter.
Zmrzlina
ice-cream: a giant white cone, with red and yellow swirls spiralling down it. And snowflakes, drifting down more heavily now, just before Lenka cut the lights.

He waited a little longer. But no other vehicle came through the entrance. It looked as if they had not been followed. Either the watchers had been taken by surprise, or they were just short-handed, and had no one available to follow when Babička left the house unexpectedly at such a late hour.

He strode quickly across to the car, ducking his head against a sudden flurry of snowflakes. Lenka spotted him coming and opened her door to climb out.

‘All right?’ he asked.

‘I think so. She was still up. A bit traumatized, I think. I’ll let you speak to her. Snow?’ she added, looking round and giving a little shiver. ‘Already?’

‘What a country!’ he said.

He got into the car and closed the door, leaving Lenka outside to keep watch.

‘Babi!’ he said gently. ‘How are you?’

She turned to him and he wrapped her in his arms. She gave a little sob and said, ‘Oh, Mr Harry! I am so sorry.’

‘Ssh! It wasn’t your fault, Babi. I shouldn’t have left her with you so long.’

She sniffled and tried to compose herself. ‘Everything was fine. Life was normal. Then – poof!’

He waited for her to calm down. Then he released her and gently took hold of her hand.

‘Tell me,’ he said gently. ‘Just tell me what happened.’

‘First, I have something for you. They left an envelope with my neighbour’s little girl.’

He took the envelope from her and tore it open. In the faint glow from the instrument panel, he read the typed message on the small sheet of paper. It was brief and to the point:

Four o’clock tomorrow afternoon. The girl will be at the entrance to St Peter and St Paul in Všehrad.

All was indisputably clear. There was no room at all for uncertainty. It really was him they wanted.

‘Go on,’ he said, turning back to Babička. ‘Exactly what happened?’

There wasn’t much to tell. Lisa had been playing outside on the street with her friend from a nearby house. The girls played together most days. This time they had been using their scooters. It was a safe street, normally. Not much traffic to speak of. Only residents’ cars. So Babi had never had qualms about Lisa playing there.

‘She is a growing child,’ she explained. ‘She cannot be kept indoors or in the garden all the time.’

‘No, of course not. You have looked after her very well.’

Babi sighed. ‘She was so happy, Mr Harry, knowing you were near, and that she would see you soon.’

He nodded. ‘What happened?’ he pressed again.

‘I did not see it myself. Terezka, my neighbour’s daughter, said a big black car arrived, and stopped. Two men got out. They picked Lisa up and put her in the car. Then they gave the other girl the envelope. That is all.’

Babi sniffled. He squeezed her hand gently. He didn’t blame her; she had performed wonders, looking after Lisa alone these past several years. It hadn’t been easy for her, not least because she was no longer a well woman. Time had caught up with her.

‘We’ll get her back,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, Babi.’

She looked round at him, her face tear-streaked in the reflected light. ‘You think so?’

He nodded. ‘Don’t worry,’ he repeated. ‘I know who has her, and I know what they want. I’ll get her back.’

He was sure of that, at least. He had no idea how he would do it, but he was certain that he would. Any other outcome was unthinkable while he still had breath in his body.

It was too cold to sit in the car and do nothing but wait. So every once in a while, Murphy turned on the engine, and the heater. The trouble with that, apart from the noise, was that the warm air fogged up all the windows. But the alternative was to die of hypothermia.

Jackson blew into his cupped hands and said, ‘Switch it on again.’

Murphy turned the key. Engine and heater came back to life.

‘Do you think he’ll come tonight?’ Murphy asked.

‘He’ll come.’ Jackson nodded emphatically and added, ‘I agree with the boss. He’ll want to know what happened.’

When Murphy didn’t respond, Jackson said, ‘What do you think?’

‘I think it’s fucking cold!’

Jackson chuckled. ‘Orkney was too rainy, and now it’s too cold!’

‘Why don’t they run to Mexico any more?’ Murphy said plaintively. ‘That was a good place to go.’

‘Yeah. It was a pity we found him as fast as we did, that guy. I wouldn’t have minded if it had taken another month. Mexico, eh? Good country.’

‘Maybe we should go there? You know – afterwards, when we get the money?’

Jackson frowned and pretended to give it a little thought. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said reluctantly. ‘The place is a war zone these days, what with the drug gangs and the government attacking each other. Switch the wipers on a minute, can you?’ he added.

‘See something?’

Jackson peered through the windscreen as the wipers started working. After a few moments, he shook his head and settled back in his seat. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘But it’s started to snow.’

‘What we needed,’ Murphy said.

Jackson wasn’t sure what he’d seen, the windscreen was so fogged up. Had it been movement?

‘Tell you what,’ he said to Murphy. ‘Why don’t you wait outside? You’ll have a better view.’

‘And you wait here, in the warm and the dry?’

‘That’s it.’

‘I don’t think so, thanks. I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we call it a night, and clear off?’

‘Soon,’ Jackson said. ‘Just give it a bit longer.’

The snow became heavier. Murphy wondered if anyone else in Prague was as stupid as them. There were times when all the money in the world didn’t seem worth it.

‘Damn!’ Jackson said, leaning forward. ‘How did she get out?’

Murphy peered hard through the windscreen and saw what Jackson meant. An old woman was closing her gate and turning to walk up the garden path. There was no doubt who it was.

‘There must be another way in and out,’ Jackson said,
tapping the dashboard with his fingers. ‘Gibson could have been and gone while we’ve been sitting here.’

‘It’s hard to see any damn thing in this weather,’ Murphy said, already planning what they could say to the boss. ‘But we’ll get him tomorrow, if not tonight.’

Jackson nodded. ‘Let’s go. I’ve had enough of this.’