He said, ‘Nikola?’
The chuckle, the one he’d thought and hoped he’d never hear again.
‘Martin. I was so hoping you’d call.’
Calvary pressed himself back into the seat, his head pinned against the headrest. His fists gripped the phone and the steering wheel. His stomach roiled emptily. Bile felt as if it were sludging his throat closed.
Llewellyn had the upper hand.
THIRTY-ONE
The sun had risen an hour earlier and hung low and watery in a pale cocoon of cloud. It would have been warmer to sit in the car with the engine running, but Calvary needed to keep moving to loosen up the joints and get the blood through the muscles. He paced slowly and steadily beside the vehicle. Gaines sat in the passenger seat, glancing about.
The field lay on the outskirts of the city, to the north west. A potholed mudstreaked track curved down from the main road to a gate in a low stone wall. Calvary had pulled through the gate and driven some way in and swung round to face the gate, a hundred yards or so from it. Behind, sweeping up to the road, was a grassy bank with a drainage ditch separating it from the field. Off to the left, half a football pitch’s length away, was the edge of a pine forest.
Every time the noise of a car came down from the road he turned to look, but each one swept by without slowing. Calvary wasn’t all that conspicuous, a man standing next to a car in a field, but he assumed it was private property and didn’t know how likely it was that whoever owned it would find him there.
His phone said it was seven fifteen. He’d synchronised it with Llewellyn an hour before.
*
‘A straight swap. You and Gaines for the young lady.’
Gaines frowned and blinked in the seat beside him.
When Calvary didn’t answer Llewellyn said, ‘Oh, come on, Martin. It’s nothing personal. You know that.’
He’d screwed up, in two ways. By asking Llewellyn to run a check on Nikola and the others earlier, he’d allowed the man to find out her address. And by telling Nikola the battle was over, he’d given her the green light to return home. Llewellyn had already guessed what Nikola meant to Calvary.
‘How long have you been in Prague?’ His voice grated like an unoiled hinge.
‘Since yesterday morning. As soon as you told me the mobsters had taken Gaines, I decided to come over.’
With how much backup? Calvary had no idea. There’d be SIS agents here in the city. How many were affiliated with the Chapel?
Llewellyn went on: ‘Let me give you the location of the rendezvous. There’s a –’
‘No. I decide.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Do you think I’m stupid? If you set it up it’ll be an ambush.’
‘You’re hardly in a position –’
‘To be dictating terms? Aren’t I? if this exchange doesn’t happen, I have the girl’s fate on my conscience. You on the other hand lose both me and Gaines. I don’t think you’d like that.’
The smile was there again in Llewellyn’s voice. ‘Fair enough. Name your place.’
‘I will once I’ve decided on it.’
‘Within the hour.’
‘That’s not possible. It’ll take me two hours at least to get back to Prague.’ It was an exaggeration, but it would buy him time. ‘I’ll call you.’
*
It was seven thirty-five when two vehicles turned and began to lumber down the track towards the gate. A Skoda saloon and a minibus.
Calvary tapped on the roof of the car. Gaines clambered out and they watched the vehicles pass through the gate. Calvary gestured at them, indicating that the drivers should move deeper into the field so that they were closer to the gate than he was. The drivers complied; it was insurance and Llewellyn understood it. When the Skoda and the minibus were a hundred yards or so away, Calvary held up a palm and they stopped.
Llewellyn stepped out of the passenger seat of the Skoda. He raised his chin, beamed. The driver emerged as welclass="underline" nobody Calvary knew, an impassive functionary. Two men appeared from the back of the minibus, helping Nikola step down through the sliding door. Calvary could see she was pale, gaunt, her hair straggling over her face.
Calvary drew the Makarov from the back of his waistband and held it away from him so that it was clearly visible. At the same time, casually, the two men from the minibus stepped forward in front of Llewellyn. They drew handguns of their own, as did the driver.
Llewellyn led Nikola forward by the arm, not roughly. She was staring across, but Calvary wasn’t sure if she recognised him. Had they drugged her?
Calvary had phoned Llewellyn nearly an hour earlier from the field, giving him the location, referring to a few distinctive features he’d spotted on the way to make it easier to find. He’d ended by saying: ‘The girl gets swapped for Gaines first. I need to know she’s safe, before you take me.’
Calvary raised his hand, waving it until it caught Nikola’s gaze.
‘Nikola. Start walking forward, slowly. Don’t run, but don’t stop, either.’
Slowly, as if stepping on a path of stones across a pond, she began to pick her way forward across the wet grass.
Calvary said, ‘All right, Sir Ivor.’
The older man started moving towards her.
Calvary raised the gun and aimed it at arm’s length at Llewellyn. Gaines’s pace was a fraction quicker than Nikola’s. Calvary muttered to him to slow down a bit.
Nikola seemed to be taking ever smaller steps. Calvary reflected that anyone driving by on the road above who gave them even a cursory glance would see the guns. He didn’t want to panic her so he said, loudly enough to be heard, ‘You’re doing great, Nikola. Just a bit further.’
He kept his eyes on her, but on the borders of his vision he saw Llewellyn standing motionless a little behind the other three men, who held their guns pointing down at their sides. For a few moments the only sounds were the susurration of a light wind in the pine trees off to the left and the faint mulchy noise of Gaines’s and Nikola’s footsteps, and the slow intake and outlet of Calvary’s breathing.
They would pass each other in ten seconds, he estimated.
He watched Gaines angle inwards a fraction so that he passed directly by Nikola as they drew parallel. Beyond, Llewellyn’s men tensed visibly. Calvary couldn’t hear the older man’s murmur, hoped it had come.
Nikola advanced, her eyes fixed on Calvary’s now.
The crack arced across the flat expanse of the field.
Gaines gave an oddly high-pitched cry and was flung off his feet to land in a sprawl with his neck twisted and his face pressed against the grass.
Calvary yelled at Nikola to run but she had stopped and was standing with her hands pressed to the sides of her head. Across the field there was bewilderment and shouting as the men assimilated what had happened and the three with guns turned to look at the forest. Hoarseness rasped in Calvary’s voice, and at last Nikola’s gaze swung from the body on the ground back to Calvary. She took off at a scramble toward him, feet slithering for an instant on the wet grass.
The men across the field were swinging to stare in their direction again when a second crack lashed the air and Nikola went down.
A third, two seconds later. Calvary bounced off the door of the Mazda, his face hitting the sodden grass.
*
He’d landed on the passenger side of the Mazda, which was angled out of the line of sight of Llewellyn and his men. From beneath the car he watched the turmoil across the field, Llewellyn ducking inside the Skoda alongside his driver while the remaining pair of men crouched facing in the direction of the trees, weapons levelled but not firing – there was nobody they could see to fire at – and backing towards the minibus.
Much nearer, Nikola’s face was turned towards him on the grass. He caught her eye. Gave a nod, which she returned.