‘Drugging people, tying them up. Killing people.’
‘Shut up,’ Eve’s voice. ‘They’ll hurt you.’
A roar from the dozer. A creak of frames and shackles as the main cable beneath the sledge took up and jerked them ahead again. Bell would stand on the ice until the living vans drew level, then simply step on board.
Eve’s voice, closer: ‘I’ve made two lots.’
Cain opened his eyes, tried to sit. He found it difficult to focus. The drug still had him woozy. They’d taken off his parka to make it easier to tie him. He gazed blearily around the van.
A partition half-hiding a cooking space, a drop-down table with a cleaner Raul and Mullins on a bench beside it — Mullins fearfully removing his boot. Food and supply racks across from the table with windsuits roughly stuffed into them. At the near end, behind him, a field leader’s work station set up for communication, navigation and probably the monitoring of fuel and stores. One high double window, the wind-out outer shutter raised to let in light.
He assumed John would be in the other van, retained as Raul’s only living evidence, and that Zia’s glassy corpse would be somewhere on the load. And the men they’d shot? Down a crevasse?
The barrels of two M–4s projected over the table.
Hunt? He couldn’t see her.
‘Ah!’ Raul said. ‘Cain’s rejoined us.’ He resumed rubbing ointment on the scabby frost-burns covering his nose — unaware that first-aid manuals warned DO NOT APPLY OINTMENTS, LOTIONS OR GREASY DRESSINGS.
‘You’re a work of art,’ Cain said. ‘I take care of you and…’
‘You needed our manpower.’
‘I kept you alive.’
‘And trusted me. Mistake.’
‘Now you’ve killed noncombatants.’
‘No. Bell did that.’
Cain blinked to try and clear his vision. ‘You can’t hide shooting civilians, Raul. Too much evidence. Too many witnesses.’ He tried to sit again and pain stabbed up his spine through his head.
‘Ignore him,’ Mullins said. ‘Bastard’s past it.’ The big soldier sat next to Raul, probing his swollen grey foot but the skin wasn’t moving on the bone. ‘Jeez, this looks… There’s no feeling.’ He peered at huge blisters on his right hand. The hand itself was now swelling. He pulled out his sheath knife, thought better of it.
DO NOT BURST BLISTERS.
‘You’ll feel that hand soon,’ Cain said, ‘and it’ll just about kill you.’
‘Shit, I’m rooted,’ Mullins said. ‘I want compensation, Raul.’
The other looked at him with contempt. ‘You were warned it was going to be dangerous.’
‘But I didn’t sign on to spend days in a blizzard. Not my idea of fun.’
‘You wanted fun?’ The other’s arch look.
‘Got it in one.’ He used his good hand to pour scotch into tumblers.
Raul recapped his ointment. ‘I’ll give you fun.’
‘You’d bloody better.’
Eve plonked plates on the table. A casserole with whipped potato, peas. ‘We’ve kept enough for the others on the stove.’ She had a bruise on the side of her face as if she’d been hit. She looked down at Cain, frightened to see him tied up. ‘He has to eat, too.’
A scraping outside. The insulated door opened on what must have been a tiny slush-excluding cold porch. Against the glare, someone pushed back his hood and knocked frost off his clothes. The outer door shut, the inner door slid back. Bell came through, nose and cheeks scabbed. ‘Food. Warmth. Wonderful.’ He put his M–4 on the table with the others, dropped his balaclava, woollen gloves and goggles on a rack, shucked off his open parka, unzipped his ventiles, shoved them in with his other gear.
Raul handed him a tumbler of spirit.
Bell half-drained it, flopped on a bench.
Raul looked around. ‘Joining us, ladies?’
The morose Eve and Nina came forward and sat.
Raul poured for them. ‘To rescue.’ He raised his glass. ‘And to vibrant, unpredictable life.’
They swigged and attacked the food.
Bell ate, looking thoughtful, then asked Raul, ‘So when we get to the other train, what then? If we grease the second crew we can’t operate these rigs.’
‘We’ve hours to ponder that.’
Eve moaned, ‘You murdered those innocent men. You’ll get life.’
Raul laughed. ‘Odd that if you kill someone they give you life. But they don’t if you have money and influence. The law’s the lapdog of the rich.’
‘You don’t realise who he is,’ Bell added. ‘You don’t know how many thousands of people would protect him. You don’t know how many millions we have to fight with. He has governments in his pocket, friends in high places everywhere. No one can touch Gustave.’
‘If he’s got all that loot, he owes me compensation.’ Mullins lurched up, went to the console, checked the heading on the compass. ‘Driver’s still being a good boy.’
‘Good,’ Raul said. ‘And Nina’s being a good girl, too. Aren’t you, you living horror?’ He glared at Nina who kept rebellious eyes on her plate. ‘You’re not in control of it, are you? It just uses you when you get upset. But it’s nothing you can rely on.’ He beckoned Mullins back. ‘Come and have another drink.’
Cain recalled the manual — DO NOT GIVE ALCOHOL — happy to see the bastards screw themselves.
‘So what about Karen?’ Bell asked too loudly, whisky deadening his brain.
Raul piled food neatly on his fork, composing his words. ‘Have you considered direct destruction of body tissue without immediate homicidal intent?’
Bell absorbed that. ‘I have. For some time.’
‘What’s your wish, my loyal friend?’
‘To anticipate your needs. To do your will.’
‘Did I wish you to shoot three men?’
Bell protested. ‘I shot them to save you.’
‘But did I tell you to kill them?’
‘No. But you…’
‘And have I told you to torture and kill Karen?’
‘N-not directly.’
‘So everything’s your interpretation. Now what if I blame this whole demeaning excursion on you?’
‘Then I’m ready to take the blame.’
‘Excellent.’ Raul nodded at him. ‘You’ve killed three men. There are two EXIT agents here that could kill you. All of us are damaged — are going to lose fingers, toes, feet. Are we ready for life with a tin nose, mechanical foot, one hand? How do we live in the face of that? Are we prepared to take what comes?’
‘Fuck no. Hell.’ Mullins poured himself another slug. ‘I want compensation.’
‘So what do I do?’ Bell pleaded. ‘You know what’s best.’
‘You’re a typical follower, Peter — always want to be told what to do. There’s great security in that. And stupidity.’ Raul smiled at him, aware Bell longed to bask in his approval. ‘I thought I’d just suggested that you do what you think. That way, you create your life as you decide.’
‘Touch Hunt,’ Cain said, ‘and you’ll create your death.’
Mullins half-lifted his M–4, glanced at Raul. ‘Junk him?’
Eve yelled, ‘No!’
‘You’re a dangerous EXIT person, Cain,’ Raul said, ‘whom we can kill in self-protection.’
‘Hardly logical when I’m trussed like a chook.’
‘I agree there’s an element of control without any notion of trust or consent. Just consider it as conflict resolution.’ He chuckled. ‘You’ve gone soft, my friend.’
‘In the head,’ Mullins jeered.
‘You’re a burnt-out case.’ Raul was enjoying this. ‘A worn-out warhorse ready to be butchered.’
‘Exactly, exactly.’ Bell gazed adoringly at Raul, eager for attention. ‘And what animal am I?’
‘A dog. Stupidly faithful.’
Bell swallowed his discomfort.