Free Running Blind / The Freedom Trap by Desmond Bagley Page A

said, ‘All right; I’ll go and see Slade. We’ll have you out of here in no time.’
    ‘Slade said…’ Graham paused and began again. He seemed to have difficulty in swallowing and he coughed a little, bringing bright red bubbles foaming to his lips. ‘Slade said…’
    The coughing increased and there was sudden gush of red arterial blood from his mouth and his head fell sideways. I put my hand to his wrist and knew that Graham would never tell me what more Slade had said because he was dead. I closed his staring eyes, and stood up. ‘I’d better talk to Slade.’
    ‘He’s dead!’ said Elin in a shocked whisper.
    Graham was dead—a pawn suddenly swept from the board. He had died because he followed orders blindly, just as I had done in Sweden; he had died because he didn’t really understand what he was doing. Slade had told him to do something and he had tried and failed and come to his death. I didn’t really understand what I was doing, either, so I’d better not fail in anything I attempted.
    Elin was crying. The big tears welled from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t sob but just stood there crying silently and looking down at the body of Graham. I said harshly, ‘Don’t cry for him—he was going to kill you. You heard him.’
    When she spoke it was without a tremor, but still the tears came. ‘I’m not crying for Graham,’ she said desolately. ‘I’m crying for you. Someone must.’
II
    We struck camp quickly and loaded everything into the Land-Rover, and everything included the body of Graham. ‘We can’t leave him here,’ I said. ‘Someone will be sure to stumble across him soon—certainly within the week. To quote the Bard, we lug the guts into the neighbour room.’
    A wan smile crossed Elin’s face as she caught the allusion. ‘Where?’
    ‘Dettifoss,’ I said. ‘Or maybe Selfoss.’ To go over a couple of waterfalls, one the most powerful in Europe, would batter the body beyond recognition and, with luck, disguise the fact that Graham had been stabbed. He would be a lone tourist who had had an accident.
    So we put the body in the back of the Land-Rover. I picked up the Remington carbine, and said, ‘Give me half an hour, then come along as fast as you can.’
    ‘I can’t move fast if I have to be quiet,’ she objected.
    ‘Quietness won’t matter—just belt towards the entrance as fast as you can, and use the headlights. Then slow down a bit so I can hop aboard.’
    ‘And then?’
    ‘Then we head for Dettifoss—but not by the main road. We keep on the track to the west of the river.’
    ‘What are you going to do about Slade? You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?’
    ‘He might kill me first,’ I said. ‘Let’s have no illusions about Slade.’
    ‘No more killing, Alan,’ she said. ‘Please—no more killing.’
    ‘It might not be up to me. If he shoots at me then I’ll shoot back.’
    ‘All right,’ she said quietly.
    So I left her and headed towards the entrance to Asbyrgi, padding softly along the track and hoping that Slade wouldn’t come looking for Graham. I didn’t think it likely. Although he must have heard the shot he would have been expecting it, and then it would have taken Graham a half-hour to return after searching for the package. My guess was that Slade wouldn’t be expecting Graham for another hour.
    I made good time but slowed as I approached the entrance. Slade had not bothered to hide his car; it was parked in full sight and was clearly visible because the short northern night was nearly over and the sky was light. He knew what he was doing because it was impossible to get close to the car without being seen, so I settled behind a rock and waited for Elin. I had no relish for walking across that open ground only to stop a bullet.
    Presently I heard her coming. The noise was quite loud as she changed gear and I saw a hint of movement from inside the parked car. I nestled my cheek against the stock of the carbine