Craig felt she really meant it.
"Get over here," she said.
He had no choice. He stepped closer.
"Kneel down."
Craig knelt beside her.
She turned her hateful eyes on Sophie. "Now, you little whore, I'm going to let go of your arm, but don't you try to move away, or I'll shoot you, and enjoy it." She took her left hand off Sophie's arm, but kept the gun pushed into the flesh of Sophie's neck. Then she put her left arm around Craig's shoulders. "Hold my wrist, lad," she said.
Craig grasped Daisy's wrist as it dangled over his shoulder.
"You, lassie, get under my right arm."
Sophie changed her position slowly, and Daisy put her right arm over Sophie's shoulders, managing all the time to keep the gun pointed at Sophie's head.
"Now, you're going to lift me up and carry me to the house. But do it gently. I think I've got a broken leg. If you jog me it might hurt, and if I flinch I might accidentally pull the trigger. So, easy does it… and lift."
Craig tightened his grip on Daisy's wrist and raised himself from the kneeling position. To ease the burden on Sophie, he put his right arm around Daisy's waist and took some of her weight. The three of them slowly stood upright.
Daisy was gasping with pain, and as pale as the snow on the ground all around them; but, when Craig looked sideways and caught her eye, he saw that she was watching him intently.
When they were upright, Daisy said, "Forward, slowly."
They walked forward, Daisy dragging her legs.
"I bet you two were hidden away somewhere all night," she said. "What were you up to, eh?"
Craig said nothing. He could hardly believe that she had enough breath and malice left to rail at them.
"Tell me, laddie," she jeered. "Did you put your finger in her little pussy, eh? You dirty little bastard, I bet you did."
Craig felt dirty when she talked like that. She was able to sully an experience that had been carefree. He hated her for spoiling his memory. He longed to drop her on the ground, but he felt sure she would pull the trigger.
"Wait," she said. "Stop." They halted, and she put some of her weight on her left leg, the one that was not twisted.
Craig looked at her terrible face. Her black-lined eyes were closed in pain. She said, "We'll just rest here for a minute, then we'll go on."
TONI stepped out of the barn. Now she could be seen. By her calculations, there were two of the gang in the house-Nigel and Kit- and either of them might look out of a window at any moment. But she had to take the risk. Listening for the shot that would kill her, she walked as fast as she could, pushing through the snow, to the guest cottage. She reached it without incident and dodged around the corner of the building, out of sight.
She had left Caroline searching tearfully for her pet rats. Elton was trussed up under the billiard table, blindfolded and gagged to make sure that when he came round he could not talk dopey Caroline into untying him.
Toni circled the cottage and approached the main house from the side. The back door stood open, but she did not go in. She needed to reconnoiter. She crept along the back of the building and peeped in at the first window.
She was looking into the pantry. Six people were crammed in there, bound hand and foot but standing: Olga; Hugo, who seemed to be naked; Miranda; her son Tom; Ned; and Stanley. A wave of happiness washed over Toni when she saw Stanley. She realized she had feared, in the back of her mind, that he might be dead. She caught her breath when she saw his bruised and bloody face. Then he spotted her, and his eyes widened with surprise and pleasure. He did not appear to be seriously wounded, she saw with relief. He opened his mouth to speak. Quickly, Toni raised a finger to her lips for silence. Stanley closed his mouth and nodded understanding.
Toni moved to the next window and looked into the kitchen. Two men sat with their backs to the window. One was Kit. Toni felt a surge of pity for Stanley, having a son who would do something like this to his family. The other man wore a pink sweater. He must be the one Kit had called Nigel. They were looking at a small television set, watching the news. The screen showed a snowplow clearing a motorway in the light of early morning.
Toni chewed her lip, thinking. She had a gun now but, even so, it could be difficult to control the two of them. But she had no choice.
As she hesitated, Kit stood up, and she quickly ducked back out of sight.
8:45 AM
NIGEL said, "That's it. They're clearing the roads. We have to go now."
"I'm worried about Toni Gallo," Kit said.
"Too bad. If we wait any longer, we'll miss the rendezvous."
Kit looked at his watch. Nigel was right. "Shit," he said.
"We'll take that Mercedes outside. Go and find the keys."
Kit left the kitchen and ran upstairs. In Olga's bedroom, he pulled out the drawers of both bedside tables without finding any keys. He picked up Hugo's suitcase and emptied the contents onto the floor, but nothing jingled. Breathing hard, he did the same with Olga's case. Then he spotted Hugo's blazer draped over the back of a chair. He found the Mercedes keys in the pocket.
He ran down to the kitchen. Nigel was looking out of the window. "Why is Elton taking so long?" Kit said. He could hear a note of hysteria in his own voice.
"I don't know," said Nigel. "Try to stay calm."
"And what the hell's happened to Daisy?"
"Go and start the engine," Nigel said. "Brush the snow off the windshield."
"Right."
As Kit turned away, his eye was caught by the perfume spray, in its double bag, lying on the kitchen table. On impulse, he picked it up and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
Then he went out.
TONI peeped around the corner of the house and saw Kit emerge from the back door. He went in the opposite direction, to the front of the building. She followed him and saw him unlock the green Mercedes station wagon.
This was her chance.
She took Elton's pistol from the waist of her jeans and moved the safety catch to the unlocked position. There was a full magazine in the grip-she had checked. She held the gun pointing skyward, in accordance with her training.
She breathed slowly and calmly. She knew how to do this kind of thing. Her heart was pounding like a bass drum, but her hands were steady. She ran into the house.
The back door gave onto a small lobby. A second door led to the kitchen proper. She threw it open and ran in. Nigel was at the window, looking out. "Freeze!" she screamed.
He spun around.
She leveled the gun at him. "Hands in the air!"
He hesitated.
His pistol was in the pocket of his trousers-she could see the lumpy bulge it made, the right size and shape for an automatic just like the one she was holding. "Don't even think about reaching for your gun," she said.
Slowly, he raised his hands.
"On the floor! Face down! Now!"
He went down on his knees, hands still held high. Then he lay down, his arms spread.
Toni had to get his gun. She stood over him, transferred her pistol to her left hand, and thrust its nose into the back of his neck. "The safety catch is off, and I'm feeling jumpy," she said. She went down on one knee and reached into his trousers pocket.
He moved very fast.
He rolled over, swinging his right arm at her. For a split second she hesitated to pull the trigger, then it was too late. He knocked her off balance and she fell sideways. To break her fall, she put her left hand flat on the floor-dropping her gun.
He kicked out at her wildly, his shoe connecting with her hip. She regained her balance and scrambled to her feet, coming upright before he did. As he got to his knees, she kicked him in the face. He fell back, his hand flying to his cheek, but he recovered fast. He looked at her with an expression of fury and hatred, as if outraged that she should fight back.