‘You can either trust me or not,’ he replied evenly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He gestured towards the rucksack. ‘You’ll find eight thousand rand in the bag, plus a clean mobile phone. With your skill, I’d have thought that would be more than enough to give you a head start.’
Bear ignored the compliment and instead rummaged through the bag, pulling out the contents one by one. ‘How do I know the phone’s clean and that you’re not tracking me again?’
‘You don’t. But it doesn’t make sense for me to be busting you out of the farm like this if so. Don’t kid yourself. The Americans would have got the information out of you eventually and found that flashcard.’
Bear looked across at him, a flash of genuine fear passing across her eyes. She had already reached rock bottom in that terrifying room and would have told that interrogator anything he wanted to hear, but then events had overtaken them and instead she had passed out. Now the mere mention of the farm made the muscles of her back go rigid. She knew that she would do anything to avoid being dragged back into that room. There was nothing but despair to be found there.
She continued rifling through the bag. There were some more clothes, mostly man-sized T-shirts, a charger for the phone, and a small, razor-sharp knife in a leather pouch. She weighed up the contents and, despite Bates’ assurances, wondered if this would be enough to get her beyond the reaches of the Americans. The storm would only last so long. Soon, as the satellite communications came back up again, they would know that she had escaped.
The painkillers were starting to take effect and Bear eased herself back in the seat. The release from continual pain allowed her to contemplate other things and she wondered where she could go. There was really only one place – the Congo. Although the Americans might anticipate she would return to her home country, the very lawlessness of the Congo meant she had a better chance of disappearing without trace there. It was the one place on earth where she might be able to tilt the playing field against them.
For the longest time, they continued travelling in silence. There was only the bouncing of the van as it rolled on and on along the dirt road. With each kilometre that passed the storm gradually abated until they reached the outer limits of the Karoo Desert and eventually turned on to a tarmac road. At the junction, Bates swung the vehicle round and parked at a desolate farm stall, manned by a charming Afrikaans couple in their late-seventies. They were horrified that anyone should be attempting to drive in such conditions and repeatedly pressed them to stay until the worst of the storm had passed. Both Bates and Bear smiled awkwardly before managing to excuse themselves and leave, this time armed with more provisions and diesel.
Six hours later they came down the winding turns of Sir Lowry’s Pass and on to the N2 motorway heading past Somerset West. Ahead of them was Cape Town itself, with the wide expanse of Table Mountain spread across the horizon, for once free from its habitual cloud. As they kept to the speed limit along the last stretch, Bates turned in his seat.
‘I’ll take you into the bus terminal in the centre of town. After that you can connect to where you need to go. I’m afraid I couldn’t get you a passport. Even with my connections, they’d piece it together too soon.’
Bear stared at him, still unsure whether or not to trust him. Could this be a trick, the whole escape part of an elaborate scheme to get her to lead them to the flashcard? But as she stared back at the man before her, she realised that Bates was risking everything to break her out of the farm. And if the Americans found out, they would hunt him down with equal zeal.
Ahead Bear could see the smoke trails of a heavy 747 jet coming in to land at Cape Town International. She watched as the plane’s landing gear unfurled from its bulbous undercarriage and the pilots flared the nose before touching down. On the other side of the motorway, just past the offices of Interjet, she spotted the first line of ramshackle shacks.
There was Nyanga. She could feel her pulse begin to quicken.
‘Pull up here,’ she whispered. Bates looked confused before suddenly twisting round in his seat to look at her.
‘What?’ he asked incredulously. ‘You’re going back?’
‘Slow the car,’ Bear ordered, trying to keep her voice from wavering. ‘Do it!’
He released his foot from the accelerator and as he drifted across the lanes, the car gradually slowed to a halt. Before the wheels had even stopped moving, he had turned fully to face her.
‘This is madness!’ he protested. ‘You nearly died in there, for Christ’s sake! You can’t be thinking about going back in.’
Bear stared past him towards the sea of iron roofs. She tried to steady her breathing, but her heart was pounding in her chest.
‘Bear,’ Bates said. ‘Listen to me. You’re in no state to go in there and I can’t come and rescue you again. If you walk out of this car, there’s no going back.’
‘I’ve got to get the flashcard. The only way this means anything is if that bastard Pearl goes down.’
‘You go back in and they’ll kill you. I can’t protect you any more.’
‘Then we’ve got nothing left to talk about,’ she replied, grabbing hold of the rucksack he’d given her. Just as she clicked open the car door and the noise of the traffic suddenly filled the interior, Bates grabbed her arm. Bear went rigid at the contact.
‘Take this,’ he said, reaching under the seat and pulling out his Glock 9mm pistol. He handed it to her, followed by a spare magazine. Bear hesitated for a second before reaching forward and taking the weapon, the dulled black metal weighing heavily in her hands.
‘Goodbye,’ she said, the word flat with finality. Checking back across the stream of traffic, she limped across the dead area on the opposite side of the motorway before slipping through the line of broken concrete pillars that marked the boundary of the township.
Bates watched her go, knowing that whatever happened from now on, he would never see Beatrice Makuru again.
Chapter 31
LUCA STARED THROUGH the opening in the hatch, eyes narrowed against the gloom. Somewhere below them, Vidar Stang was silently searching the base.
‘Close it,’ Dedov warned, his voice no more than a low hiss. Luca looked up briefly before wiping the sweat from his eyes. He inched the hatch down, but left it unlocked so that there was a thin crack through which he could make out a stretch of the corridor below.
His gaze switched between the three other men in the darkness. Next to Dedov was Katz and slightly set back from them both was Joel’s wiry frame. Their faces dipped in and out of the shadows as a weak light filtered down from the glass porthole directly above. For want of any other hiding place, they had all clambered up into the attic space that Hiroko had inhabited and now lay on top of the piles of meticulously folded plastic bags, their limbs cramping in the confines of the narrow room.
Dedov had his hand firmly clamped across Joel’s mouth. The injured man was now conscious, but struggling to understand what was happening. The sudden move and hushed whispering had done little to relieve his sense of confusion and he stared from one person to the next, squinting without his glasses.
Beside him, Katz was seated with his arms folded across his chest. Despite having already been told about Stang and the generator house, he was still insistent that there was a better alternative to hiding.
‘Look,’ he whispered, ‘there are four of us, right? So I say, we go down there and reason with him. It’s not like before. We were sleeping then and he was able to sneak around.’
Dedov’s gaze remained fixed on the hatch. ‘The man down there is not here to reason or to talk. He is here to silence us.’
‘But we could overpower him,’ Katz persisted. ‘I mean, it’s four to one.’
‘He is a monster of a man. And last time I saw him on barrier, he carried rifle over his shoulder. This is not a man who can easily be overpowered. He is a trained hunter.’
The news was greeted by silence, with Luca checking down through the crack in the hat
ch once more. When they had first climbed up into the attic, he had taken a light bulb off the wall and carefully cracked it under his boot. He had then spread the glass across the narrow corridor, hoping that if anyone tried to sneak up on them, they would hear him first.
‘Is there anything we can use as a weapon in the base?’ he asked.
Dedov shook his head. ‘This is science station. We do not keep them.’ His eyes widened then as a flash of inspiration came to him. ‘But we have some flare cartridges in hangar unit. We use them for runway emergencies.’
Luca thought about how ineffectual a flare would be against a rifle in the hands of a trained killer. It was hardly a fair fight. But they were going to have to do something as there was only so long they could hide unnoticed. Stang knew that they were somewhere in the base. It was only a matter of time before he figured it out.
Picking up one of the hundreds of carefully folded plastic bags at his feet, Luca ripped it open and checked inside. Holding the contents up to the light, it took him several seconds to realise that it was a collection of jam-jar tops that had been wrapped in tissue paper as if part of a Christmas present. He let his hand drop to his lap, allowing the contents to scatter across his thighs. For all the hundreds of bags Hiroko had collected, he was sure not one of them would be of any use.
‘We’re just going to have to make a run for it,’ he said eventually. ‘Somehow create a diversion and get down to the garaging unit. Dedov didn’t get through on the radio to the ship’s captain yet, so unless we are standing at the barrier when the boat arrives, it’ll leave without us.’
‘And without the generators, we’re fucked if we come back here,’ Katz added.
Dedov ignored the comment, instead focusing on Luca. ‘So what do you suggest?’
‘I don’t know yet, but there’s nothing for us here at GARI.’
There was silence as they all tried to think of a way out. They would have to somehow get Stang off the base or, even better, try to trap him in one of the other modules. But that meant sneaking up on a man who moved as silently as a ghost and was armed with a rifle.
Joel signalled that he wanted to speak, gently pulling away Dedov’s hand. He was still incredibly weak from having been unconscious for so long, his skin deathly pale. His eyes slowly sought Luca’s.
‘We need to get help,’ he murmured. ‘There must still be some sat phones in the radio room. They’ll have batteries and we can call . . .’
‘Call who?’ Katz countered. ‘The Ilyushin’s gone! And the nearest overwintering base is the South Africans’ at SANAE. That’s a two-hour flight and we don’t have any goddamn planes!’
Luca surged forward, grabbing Katz by the front of his jacket and dragging him close. ‘Keep your fucking voice down,’ he hissed.
Just as Joel was about to say something more, Luca heard the soft crunch of glass. He raised his hand, signalling for silence, and slowly crouched forward so that his nose was almost touching the hatch itself. He listened, straining to hear anything from the corridor below, but there was nothing. He was about to gesture to Joel to continue when he heard the faintest scrape of a boot nudging the glass carefully to one side, before pressing down its weight. Stang must be there, somewhere below them.
Then Luca saw him.
First, he saw Stang’s brawny legs inching along the corridor, then the dull grey streak of the hunting rifle. Finally, he saw his face. Stang had his chin tilted upwards as he stared out along the corridor, searching for the slightest sign of life. He glided past, moving so steadily as to be almost unnoticeable. Luca had never seen anything like it. The control was like a snake poised to strike. In that one moment he knew that Dedov was right. There was no reasoning with such a man.
The others waited, heartbeats thudding in their chests. They watched as Luca bent his head to one side and lowered it even closer to the opening. Stang had dipped out of sight and was now moving through the anterooms along the corridor, searching every last nook and cranny.
The seconds dragged by interminably, with nothing to do but wait. They had to fight every impulse to flee, knowing that if they did throw back the hatch and make a run for it, Stang would simply pick them off one by one. Even if some of them did make it past him, they would probably end up getting lost somewhere outside in the dark and simply freeze to death.
Seconds became minutes, while all around them the darkness seemed to deepen.
Katz went to move but Luca’s hand shot out, gripping him tight. Finally, there was the slightest squeak of metal as the door at the end of the corridor was opened and a soft wash of cold air ran through the base. Stang was on to the next module.
‘He’s gone,’ Luca whispered, and everyone seemed to breathe for the first time in minutes.
‘Dedov’s right. I saw his rifle. This guy’s only here for one reason.’
The Russian leant forward so that his broad face caught the light. ‘There’s nothing else for it. We’re going to have to split up.’
The four men filed along the corridor, moving as silently as they could. The glass that Luca had sprinkled now came back to haunt them and each movement was dogged by a crunching sound that seemed to reverberate across the entire module, threatening to summon Stang. But the soundproofing of the heavy doors was enough to conceal their passing and, after taking the stairs, they eventually found themselves in front of the internal door to the garaging unit.
As they entered, they felt the cold of the bare concrete walls. There were no windows and inside it was pitch black with a pervading smell of old engine oil. They groped forward with hands outstretched until they heard Dedov murmur something unintelligible before heaving open one of the tractor doors. Suddenly, the entire garage was lit up with dazzling intensity as the tractor’s halogen beams shone directly on to the metal runners of the roller door.
The garaging unit was huge, with three massive tractors parked side by side, as well as five Ski-Doos roped down by stretches of tarpaulin. In the far corner they could see the outline of the R-44 helicopter that Pearl had used. Dedov’s men had returned it to the garage before heading up to the runway and now its Perspex windscreen and long tailfin looked pathetically brittle against the heavy machinery parked either side. It would have been the perfect means of escape to the nearest science base but none of them knew how to fly.
Dedov stood on the footplate of the tractor, arm raised like an orator.
‘We drive one tractor out first,’ he said. ‘And bring it round towards the runway. There are some overwintering containers up there with radio equipment and a portable generator. Stang knows this and maybe thinks we try to reach them.’
His gaze turned towards Joel and Katz. ‘Meanwhile, others take Ski-Doo and head in opposite direction towards ice barrier.’
‘We drive the tractor?’ asked Luca.
Dedov stared at him for a moment. ‘I,’ he countered.
Luca moved forward. ‘But there’s no way you are going to outrun Stang in that thing. If he made it over here from the lake, then he must have a Ski-Doo parked somewhere nearby.’
‘I do not need to outrun him. I just need him to follow me.’
‘But you know that if he catches up, you won’t be safe inside the tractor.’
‘Safe?’ Dedov mocked. ‘None of us are safe. But this way, there is a chance for you.’
Luca stared at him, trying to understand the Russian’s motives. It seemed odd for him suddenly to suggest he go it alone. Was it really altruism or could he have some other reason for wanting to split up the group? Katz appeared alongside the tractor and, true to his nature, was obviously having the same doubts.
‘So why head for the runway?’ he asked, edging closer.
‘There is a big ice disturbance on the far side. Is caused by the meltwater in summer and the tractor has big enough tracks to cross over. The Ski-Doo does not and he will get stuck.’
‘That’s if he follows you,’ Katz pointed out.
‘If! If! If!’ Dedov repeated,
slamming his fist into his palm with each word. ‘We have no time for this. Now get me the flares!’
His gaze switched to the emergency kits stacked up against the nearside wall of the garage. ‘I need two. The rest you take for yourself. Now go!’
For the moment Luca and Katz let the issue drop. They moved over to the shelving unit, slid one of the massive bags on to the floor and began spilling out its contents. There were survival rations, tents and sleeping bags, all designed to sustain a crew in case one of the DC-3 planes went down. After a moment more, Katz found the bundle of orange and yellow tubes.
‘I don’t like this,’ he whispered, pressing the flares into Luca’s hands. ‘That Russian knows something. He’s going to stab us in the back the moment those garage doors are opened.’
Luca hesitated, torn as to what to believe. He didn’t understand Dedov’s motivation, but by the same token, couldn’t see how he would gain anything by splintering off and driving up to the runway alone. Stang would surely chase the tractor and, once past the runway, where was there to go?
Moving back to the tractor, Luca passed two of the flares through the window.
‘We were straight with each other before,’ he said, staring directly into the Russian’s eyes. ‘So tell me, why are you doing this? Why not make a run for it with all of us?’
Dedov gave a faint smile. ‘Not this time, Snow Leopard. You must trust that I have my reasons. Just promise me you will tell my son about this. That I am not the one who launched the seed.’
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the old gas lighter that his own father had given him and slipped it into Luca’s hand. The brass was smooth from age and still warm from Dedov’s body heat.
‘Give him that. And whatever you say, he will know that you are telling the truth.’
Luca stared at him, knowing in that one instance that Dedov’s motives were pure. And, as he saw this gesture for what it was, Luca admired the man even more. There was no great speech or fanfare, just the quiet courage of someone prepared to go out into the dark alone.
Beneath the Ice Page 31
