Running Blind / The Freedom Trap

by Desmond Bagley

  When I got back to the house Elin was awake. She looked at me drowsily, and said, ‘I don’t know why I’m so tired.’

  ‘Well,’ I said judiciously. ‘You’ve been shot and you’ve been racketing around the Óbyggdir for two days with not much sleep. I’m not surprised you’re tired. I haven’t been too wide awake myself.’

  Elin opened her eyes wide in alarm and glanced at Sigurlin who was arranging flowers in a vase. I said, ‘Sigurlin knows you didn’t fall on any rock. She knows you were shot, but not how or why—and I don’t want you to tell her. I don’t want you to discuss it with Sigurlin or anyone else.’ I turned to Sigurlin. ‘You’ll get the full story at the right time, but at the moment the knowledge would be dangerous.’

  Sigurlin nodded in acceptance. Elin said, ‘I think I’ll sleep all day. I’m tired now, but I’ll be ready by the time we have to leave for Geysir.’

  Sigurlin crossed the room and began to plump up the pillows behind Elin’s head. The heartless professionalism spoke of the trained nurse. ‘You’re not leaving for anywhere,’ she said sharply. ‘Not for the next two days at least.’

  ‘But I must,’ protested Elin.

  ‘But you must not. Your shoulder is bad enough.’ Her lips compressed tightly as she looked down at Elin. ‘You should really see a doctor.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ said Elin.

  ‘Well, then, you’ll do as I say.’

  Elin looked at me appealingly. I said, ‘I’m only going to see a man. As a matter of fact, Jack Case wouldn’t say a word in your presence, anyway—you’re not a member of the club. I’m just going to Geysir, have a chat with the man, and then come back here—and you might as well keep your turned-up nose out of it for once.’

  Elin looked flinty, and Sigurlin said, ‘I’ll leave you to whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear.’ She smiled. ‘You two are going to lead interesting lives.’

  She left the room, and I said gloomily, ‘That sounds like the Chinese curse—”May you live in interesting times.”‘

  ‘All right,’ said Elin in a tired voice. ‘I won’t give you any trouble. You can go to Geysir alone.’

  I sat on the edge of the bed. ‘It’s not a matter of you giving trouble; I just want you out of this. You disturb my concentration, and if I run into difficulties I don’t want to have to watch out for you as well as myself.’

  ‘Have I been a drag?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, Elin; you haven’t. But the nature of the game may change. I’ve been chased across Iceland and I’m pretty damn tired of it. If the opportunity offers I’ll turn around and do a bit of chasing myself.’

  ‘And I’d get in the way,’ she said flatly.

  ‘You’re a civilized person,’ I said. ‘Very law-abiding and full of scruples. I doubt if you’ve had as much as a parking ticket in your life. I might manage to retain a few scruples while I’m being hunted; not many, but some. But when I’m the hunter I can’t afford them. I think you might be horrified at what I’d do.’

  ‘You’d kill,’ she said. It was a statement.

  ‘I might do worse,’ I said grimly, and she shivered. ‘It’s not that I want to—I’m no casual murderer; I didn’t want to have any part of this but I’ve been conscripted against my will.’

  ‘You dress it in fine words,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to kill.’

  ‘No fine words,’ I said. ‘Just one—survival. A drafted American college boy may be a pacifist, but when the Viet Cong shoot at him with those Russian 7.62 millimetre rifles he’ll shoot right back, you may depend on it. And when Kennikin comes after me he’ll deserve all he runs into. I didn’t ask him to shoot at me on the Tungnaá River—he didn’t need my permission—but he can’t have been very surprised when I shot back. Hell, he would expect it!’

  ‘I can see the logic,’ said Elin. ‘But don’t expect me to like it.’

  ‘Christ!’ I said. ‘Do you think I like it?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Alan,’ she said, and smiled wanly.

  ‘So am I.’ I stood up. ‘After that bit of deep philosophy you’d better have breakfast. I’ll see what Sigurlin can offer.’

  IV

  I left Laugarvatn at eight that night. Punctuality may be a virtue but it has been my experience that the virtuous often die young while the ungodly live to a ripe age. I had arranged to meet Jack Case at five o’clock but it would do him no great harm to stew for a few hours, and I had it in mind that the arrangement to meet him had been made on an open radio circuit.

  I arrived at Geysir in Gunnar’s Volkswagen beetle and parked inconspicuously quite a long way from the summer hotel. A few people, not many, were picking their way among the pools of boiling water, cameras at the ready. Geysir itself—the Gusher—which has given its name to all the other spouters in the world, was quiescent. It has been a long time since Geysir spouted. The habit of prodding it into action by tossing rocks into the pool finally proved too much as the pressure chamber was blocked. However, Strokkur—the Churn—was blasting off with commendable efficiency and sending up its feathery plume of boiling water at seven-minute intervals.

  I stayed in the car for a long time and used the field-glasses assiduously. There were no familiar faces to be seen in the next hour, a fact that didn’t impress me much, however. Finally I got out of the car and walked towards the Hotel Geysir, one hand in my pocket resting on the butt of the pistol.

  Case was in the lounge, sitting in a corner and reading a paperback. I walked up to him and said, ‘Hello, Jack; that’s a nice tan—you must have been in the sun.’

  He looked up. ‘I was in Spain. What kept you?’

  ‘This and that.’

  I prepared to sit down, but he said, ‘This is too public—let’s go up to my room. Besides, I have a bottle.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  I followed him to his room. He locked the door and turned to survey me. ‘That gun in your pocket spoils the set of your coat. Why don’t you use a shoulder holster?’

  I grinned at him. ‘The man I took the gun from didn’t have one. How are you, Jack? It’s good to see you.’

  He grunted sourly. ‘You might change your mind about that.’ With a flip of his hand he opened a suitcase lying on a chair and took out a bottle. He poured a heavy slug into a tooth glass and handed it to me. ‘What the devil have you been doing? You’ve got Taggart really worked up.’

  ‘He sounded pretty steamy when I spoke to him,’ I said, and sipped the whisky. ‘Most of the time I’ve been chased from hell-and-gone to here.’

  ‘You weren’t followed here?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Taggart tells me you killed Philips. Is that true?’

  ‘If Philips was a man who called himself Buchner and Graham it’s true.’

  He stared at me. ‘You admit it!’

  I relaxed in the chair. ‘Why not, since I did it? I didn’t know it was Philips, though. He came at me in the dark with a gun.’

  ‘That’s not how Slade described it. He says you took a crack at him too.’

  ‘I did—but that was after I’d disposed of Philips. He and Slade came together.’

  ‘Slade says differently. He says that he was in a car with Philips when you ambushed it.’

  I laughed. ‘With what?’ I drew the sgian dubh from my stocking and flipped it across the room, where it stuck in the top of the dressing-table, quivering. ‘With that?’

  ‘He says you had a rifle.’

  ‘Where would I get a rifle?’ I demanded. ‘He’s right, though; I took the rifle from Philips after I disposed of him with that little pig-sticker. I put three shots into Slade’s car and missed the bastard.’

  ‘Christ!’ said Case. ‘No wonder Taggart is doing his nut. Have you gone off your little rocker?’

  I sighed. ‘Jack, did Taggart say anything about a girl?’

  ‘He said you’d referred to a girl. He didn’t know whether to believe you.’

  ‘He’d better believe me,’ I said. �
�That girl isn’t far from here, and she has a bullet wound in her shoulder that was given to her by Philips. He was within an ace of killing her. Now, there’s no two ways about that, and I can take you to her and show you the wound. Slade says I ambushed him. Is it likely I’d do it with my fiancĂe watching? And why in hell would I want to ambush him?’ I slid in a trick question. ‘What did he say he’d done with Philips’s body?’

  Case frowned. ‘I don’t think the question came up.’

  ‘It wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘The last I saw of Slade he was driving away like a maniac—and there was no body in his car. I disposed of it later.’

  ‘This is all very well,’ said Case. ‘But it happened after Akureyri, and in Akureyri you were supposed to deliver a package to Philips. You didn’t, and you didn’t give it to Slade either. Why not?’

  ‘The operation stank,’ I said, and went into it in detail.

  I talked for twenty minutes and by the time I had finished Case was pop-eyed. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple jumped convulsively. ‘Do you really believe that Slade is a Russian agent? How do you expect Taggart to swallow that? I’ve never heard such a cock-and-bull story in my life.’

  I said patiently, ‘I followed Slade’s instructions at Keflavik and nearly got knocked off by Lindholm; Slade sent Philips after me into Asbyrgi—how did he know the Russians were holding a fake? There’s the Calvados; there’s…’

  Case held up his hands. ‘There’s no need to go through it all again. Lindholm might have been lucky in catching you—there’s nothing to say all the roads around Keflavik weren’t staked out. Slade says he didn’t go after you in Asbyrgi. As for the Calvados…’ He threw up his hands. ‘There’s only your word for that.’

  ‘What the hell are you, Jack? Prosecutor, judge and jury, too? Or have I already been judged and you’re the executioner?’

  ‘Don’t fly off the handle,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m just trying to find out how complicated a cock-up you’ve made, that’s all. What did you do after you left Asbyrgi?’

  ‘We went south in the wilderness,’ I said. ‘And then Kennikin pitched up.’

  ‘The one who drinks Calvados? The one you had the hassle with in Sweden?’

  ‘The same. My old pal, Vaslav. Don’t you think that was bloody coincidental, Jack? How would Kennikin know which track to chase along? But Slade knew, of course; he knew which way we went after we left Asbyrgi.’

  Case regarded me thoughtfully. ‘You know you’re very convincing sometimes. I’m getting so I might believe this silly story if I’m not careful. But Kennikin didn’t catch you.’

  ‘It was nip and tuck,’ I said. ‘And the bloody Yanks didn’t help.’

  Case sat up. ‘How do they come into this?’

  I pulled out Fleet’s pass and skimmed it across the room into Case’s lap. ‘That chap shot a hole in my tyre at very long range. I got out of there with Kennikin ten minutes behind.’ I told Case all about it.

  His mouth was grim. ‘Now you really have gone overboard. I suppose you’ll now claim Slade is a member of the CIA,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Why should the Americans hold you up just so Kennikin could grab you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said feelingly. ‘I wish I did.’

  Case examined the card. ‘Fleet—I know that name; it came up when I was in Turkey last year. He’s a CIA hatchetman and he’s dangerous.’

  ‘Not for the next month,’ I said. ‘I cracked his skull.’

  ‘So what happened next?’

  I shrugged. ‘I went hell-for-leather with Kennikin and his boys trying to climb up my exhaust pipe—there was a bit of an affray at a river, and then I lost him. I suppose he’s around here somewhere.’

  ‘And you’ve still got the package?’

  ‘Not on me, Jack,’ I said softly. ‘Not on me—but quite close.’

  ‘I don’t want it,’ he said, and crossed the room to take my empty glass. ‘The plan’s changed. You’re to take the package to Reykjavik.’

  ‘Just like that,’ I said. ‘What if I don’t want to?’

  ‘Don’t be a fool. Taggart wants it that way, and you’d better not annoy him any more. Not only have you loused up his operation but you’ve killed Philips, and for that he can have your hide. I have a message from him—take the package to Reykjavik and all is forgiven.’

  ‘It must be really important,’ I said, and checked my fingers. ‘Let’s see—I’ve killed two men, damn near shot the leg off another, and maybe fractured a couple of skulls—and Taggart says he can sweep all that under the carpet?’

  ‘The Russkies and the Americans can take care of their own—they bury their own dead, if any,’ said Case brutally. ‘But Taggart—and only Taggart—can clear you on our side. By killing Philips you set yourself up as a legitimate target. Do as he says or he’ll set the dogs on you.’

  I remembered I had used a phrase like that when speaking to Taggart. I said, ‘Where is Slade now?’

  Case turned away from me and I heard the clink of glass against bottle. ‘I don’t know. When I left London Taggart was trying to contact him.’

  ‘So he could still be in Iceland,’ I said slowly. ‘I don’t know that I like that.’

  Case whirled around. ‘What you like has ceased to matter. For God’s sake, what’s got into you, Alan? Look, it’s only a hundred kilometres to Reykjavik; you can be there in two hours. Take the bloody package and go.’

  ‘I have a better idea,’ I said. ‘You take it.’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s not on. Taggart wants me back in Spain.’

  I laughed. ‘Jack, the easiest way to get to the International Airport at Keflavik is through Reykjavik. You could drop off the package on the way. What’s so important about me and the package together?’

  He shrugged. ‘My instructions are that you take it. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know.’

  ‘What’s in the package?’

  ‘I don’t know that either; and the way this operation is shaping I don’t want to know.’

  I said, ‘Jack, at one time I’d have called you a friend. But you’ve just tried to con me with this nonsense about being pulled back to Spain, and I don’t believe a bloody word of it. But I do believe you when you say you don’t know what’s going on. I don’t think anyone in this operation knows what’s going on except, maybe, one man.’

  Case nodded. ‘Taggart has his hands on the strings,’ he said. ‘Neither you nor I need to know much in order to do the job.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of Taggart,’ I said. ‘I don’t think he knows what’s going on either. He might think he does, but he doesn’t.’ I looked up. ‘I was thinking of Slade. This whole weird operation is warped to the pattern of his mind. I’ve worked with him before and I know how he thinks.’

  ‘So we get back to Slade,’ said Case grimly. ‘You’re obsessed, Alan.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But you can make Taggart happy by telling him I’ll take his damned package to Reykjavik. Where do I deliver it?’

  ‘That’s better.’ Case looked down at my glass which had been held, forgotten, in his hand. He gave it to me. ‘You know the Nordri Travel Agency?’

  ‘I know it.’ It was the firm for which Elin had once worked.

  ‘I don’t, but I’m told that as well as running the agency they have a big souvenir shop.’

  ‘You were told correctly.’

  ‘I have here a piece of wrapping paper from the souvenir shop; it’s the standard stuff they gift-wrap with. You have the package neatly wrapped up. You walk in and go to the back of the shop where they sell the woollen goods. A man will be standing there carrying a copy of the New York Times, and under his arm will be an identical package. You make light conversation by saying, “It’s colder here than in the States,” to which he will reply…’

  ’ “It’s even colder than Birmingham.” I’ve been through the routine before.’

  ‘All right; once there’s a mutual identification you put your package on the counte
r, and so will he. From then on it’s a simple exchange job.’

  ‘And when is this simple exchange job to take place?’

  ‘At midday tomorrow.’

  ‘Supposing I’m not there at midday tomorrow? For all I know there may be a hundred Russians spaced out along that road at one kilometre intervals.’

  ‘There’ll be a man in the shop every midday until you turn up,’ said Case.

  ‘Taggart has a touching faith in me,’ I said. ‘According to Slade the Department is afflicted with a manpower shortage, and here is Taggart being spendthrift. What happens if I don’t turn up for a year?’

  Case didn’t smile. ‘Taggart brought up that problem. If you’re not there within a week then someone will come looking for you, and I’d regret that because, in spite of that snide crack you made about friendship, I still love you, you silly bastard.’

  ‘Smile when you say that, stranger.’

  He grinned and sat down again. ‘Now let’s go through all this again, right from the beginning—right from the time Slade came to see you in Scotland.’

  So I repeated my tale of woe again in great detail, with all the pros and cons, and we talked for a long time. At the end of it Case said seriously, ‘If you’re right and Slade has been got at then this is big trouble.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s been got at,’ I said. ‘I think he’s been a Russian agent all along. But there’s something else worrying me just as much as Slade—where do the Americans fit in? It’s not like them to be cosy with people like Kennikin.’

  Case dismissed the Americans. ‘They’re just a problem of this particular operation. Slade is different. He’s a big boy now and has a hand in planning and policy. If he’s gone sour the whole department will have to be organized.’

  He made a sudden sweeping motion with his hand. ‘Jesus, you’ve got me going now! I’m actually beginning to believe you. This is nonsense, Alan.’