Free Run for Home by Dan Latus Page A

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 goodat 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 haveto 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 thenorthern bank of the river, leaving the bright lights of the central area behind. The roads