I shuffled forward one pace, then another. My knees were slightly bent, ready to throw myself to the ground at the tiniest noise or flare of light. Nothing happened. I took one more half pace, then reached out with steady fingers. The cold smoothness of wire connected with my skin. I wrapped my hand around its thin, twisting length, then ran it through my fingers. Within inches I came to a sudden end, slicing my thumb on sheared metal. Holding tightly to that edge, I waved my hand to the left. Empty air. I allowed myself the briefest of smiles, then walked forward through the gap that had been cut for me.
Abruptly everything around me was flooded with blinding white light. Startled, I reacted instinctively, throwing myself to the ground.
“Jesus Christ!” I hissed.
What had gone wrong? Samuel had told me I should be able to sneak through here undetected, so long as I kept to the narrow path, and I had. My heart hammered in my chest, my confident calm shattered. I knew in seconds I would be surrounded, guns pointed at my head. Turning my head to the side, I squinted against the glare, trying to see if there was anything coming for me. I locked eyes with something just ten feet away; something huge and terrified, motionless as a statue. The stag’s antlers streaked black lightning against the white.
I relaxed and froze in the same instant. I hadn’t been detected, but was my friend about to get us both shot? I held my breath and waited.
The sound of a screaming engine cut through the quiet thud of my pulse. Brakes screeched as the car rollicked to a stop less than a hundred metres away, at the road’s end. I heard car doors open and close, three, maybe four of them. Enough men to kill me several times over.
“What do you see?” The call was loud and deep.
“Another bloody deer. This one’s huge.”
“Shoot the bugger. I’ll radio and tell them to kill the floods.”
I waited for the shot to ring out, still staring at the stag – who hadn’t moved an inch – but it never came. Instead I listened to the car doors open and close again, and the rumble of an engine starting up. Moments later I was doused in darkness. Not wanting to give the wildlife another opportunity to expose me, I crawled quickly forward on my hands and knees. Once I knew I’d cleared the wire, I stood and scanned the wall in front of me, trying to get my bearings. The curved tower that I had likened to a lighthouse was dead ahead. Instead of heading straight for it, I cut across the grass at a forty-five degree angle. Samuel had told me that the tufted grass was peppered with mines, and my path, slicing diagonally like a bishop on a chessboard, was the only safe route to the base of the border wall. I had to pick up my pace, breaking out into an all-out sprint to avoid the beam of light sweeping towards me, chasing the shadows that kept me hidden. At last, however, I crashed into the solid concrete that was my target.
Now for the most frightening part: I risked exposure by flicking to life my little torch, shining it left and right, hunting for the tiny ‘X’ that would tell me where to drop the bomb. It had to be exactly right, exactly opposite the Davis mob’s package, or the mighty wall would withstand our assault. I found it, then killed the light and listened intently. Had anyone seen that? I couldn’t hear anything over the thrum of the electric wire high above my head. There was nothing to do but carry on, and hope.
I dropped to my knees, wondering if there was another person just feet away on the other side, doing exactly the same as me. Caught in a mad moment of fancy, I lifted a hand and pressed it to the wall, imagining my counterpart mimicking my movements, but the grey concrete was cold and rough, and it jerked me out of my fantasy. Shaking my head to regain my focus, I wrenched off my backpack and nestled it firmly against the base of the wall, digging a little way into the mud and grass that had accumulated over the foundations, to ensure it didn’t budge an inch. Then I unzipped it, reached in and exposed the device. I’d done all my preparation beforehand. All I had to do was set the timer.
The faded green light of my cheap digital watch told me it was 9.17 p.m. I was cutting it close. Trying not to rush and make my fingers clumsy, I set the timer to thirteen minutes. Was that time enough to get back to Cameron, back to the car and start speeding away? It would have to be.
However, there was no time to check my work for the umpteenth time, though I’d planned to. I just had to trust in my earlier handiwork. I’d done it right; I knew I had. Without wasting another second, I clicked a button to activate the device, reassured when it started flashing and the timer began to wind its way down.
Then I turned and ran.
All the way across the grass I expected to hear a crack of gunfire, or to feel the burning agony of a bullet tearing through my flesh, but nothing came. I could only assume that Samuel’s decoy, miles away at Monmouth, had been successful. Or perhaps I was just lucky.
How long would I remain so?
Not willing to leave my life to chance, I pushed myself harder. I was running blind, just hoping my feet would find the safe route, that God or fate or fortune would lead me to the gap in the wire. It didn’t. I missed the wire, but I hit the light, triggering the motion detectors and dazzling myself. I threw one hand to my forehead, narrowed eyes desperately searching, but all I saw were the curls of barbed wire.
Where the hell was the gap?
I knew I had only seconds before the men in the car came hurtling back, guns drawn. Left or right? Left or right? I could only guess.
Left. Please God let it be left. I skirted the wire, my presence blindingly obvious to anyone looking from the height of the wall. How far did their guns reach? It was impossible to know. I heard a puttering sound, like gravel on the underside of a car, and the ground around me exploded in little puffs of grass and mud. That was my answer.
Where the hell was the gap?
There! There, right in front of me! I headed for it, running at full tilt, hoping the lights and my speed would make me a blur to the snipers trying to fix me in their sights.
Through the coils, I kicked left, skirting along the line of wire. I was still within reach of the guns, still in sight, but getting less so every second. Then I was at the road, the glare of headlights nowhere in view. Only the black of the tarmac.
My feet pounding onto solid concrete, I stepped up a gear, flying away from the border, heading to Cameron. And safety. Please, please still be there, I thought desperately.
The route back seemed to take much longer. It felt like I was running uphill, though I hadn’t noticed a decline on my way there. But there was only one road, so this had to be it; I had to be almost there.
How far now? How many leg-burning, lung-bursting paces before I saw the car? With every step I felt safer, with every pump of my arms I inflated the hope in my chest that was beginning to believe I’d got away with it. Impossible, but I was still moving, still breathing.
At last I saw the car, a faded gleam of metal in the moonlight, just metres away.
“Cameron!” I gasped, hauling open the passenger door. “Let’s go.”
Then two things happened at once. Behind me, the world exploded in a cacophony of noise and light. In front of me, the windscreen shattered and the silhouette of Cameron was blasted backwards, slamming into the headrest.
I hit the ground, though from the force of the explosion or my own survival instinct I couldn’t be sure.
“Cameron,” I hissed in the open door. “Cameron!”
But I knew he was dead.
And if I stayed there, in a few seconds I would be too.
That thought got me back on my feet, got me moving. Foolishly ignoring the car – a much faster mode of transport than my exhausted legs – I ran, not knowing if I was headed for the wall, or safety, or straight into trouble. I didn’t know who was here, but I knew it wasn’t shrapnel from the bomb that had torn through the windshield and murdered Cameron. We’d been found.
I was more obvious on the road, so I darted right, vaulting a drystone wall and cutting across a field. My feet sank into the softness of recently ploughed mud, the undulatin
g surface testing the strength of my ankles. Behind me, in front of me, echoing all around, I heard the sound of dogs. The noise sent a shiver through me, and though my ankle had healed, I felt the ghost of a twinge shoot through my leg as I sprinted. This time it wasn’t the shrill yaps of a chihuahua. These were gruff barks, rumbling in deep chests. Alsatians, or Dobermanns. The GE were going to hunt me out.
Crying in between gasps, I tried to push myself faster through the heavy dirt, but it was like one of those dreams where you know you need to get somewhere, can see it, are reaching for it, but find you’re running through treacle. No matter how hard you try, your limbs just won’t move fast enough. How long before the dogs caught my scent? How long before a sniper’s dot found its mark on my back?
I was running so hard I hit the barbed wire fence before I saw it. The force of impact sent the tiny barbs straight through my clothing, into my flesh. I yelped, the sound dragged out of my mouth as my torso wrapped around the top wire.
“Here!” I heard someone yell to my left.
Hissing in pain, I wrenched backwards, tearing my clothes from the snarling knots, and used a fencepost to hurdle the obstacle. A flash of white light lit me from behind for an instant, silhouetting me against the dark. Shots rang out, one of them whizzing past so close to my shoulder that it shredded the sleeve of my jacket. My arm immediately began to burn, but I was too panicked to stop and realise I’d been hit.
On the other side of the fence, my feet found purchase on solid ground. A road! Sobbing in relief I took off, not thinking about direction, just trying to lose the beacon shining on me, telling the GE, the shooters, the dogs, where to find me.
“Where did she go? Can you see her?”
“No. Spread out. She can’t be far.”
Shouts ricocheted in the darkness, though at least they were behind me this time. I was losing them. But I couldn’t hope to hide, not from dogs. I needed some way to move faster. I needed a vehicle.
Hoping desperately that the road I was on ended in a house or a farm, I kept running, trying to ignore the burning, stabbing pains in my chest, my legs, my arm. I was getting tired. I knew I couldn’t keep going much longer.
Then a miracle appeared. Behind a line of trees I hadn’t been able to see in the dark, glowed the square rectangles of life. A building.
“Please, please let there be a car!”
I rounded the invisible trees, feeling the hard dirt road beneath my feet change into the loose gravel of a driveway. A thin filter of light dribbled from a porch, bouncing off the curved roof of a car.
“Oh thank God!”
I headed straight for it, tried the handles. The doors refused to budge.
I didn’t have time to be restrained. The GE were only moments behind. Bending my elbow into a point, I slammed it as hard as I could against the driver’s side window. Nothing happened, but agony shot up my arm, doubling where it hit the ragged cloth ripped to shreds by the shot.
“Christ, open!” I mouthed, pulling frantically on the door and kicking at the front wheel. Spinning, I searched the ground. Most of it was hidden by darkness, but edging the gravelled driveway were little stone statues, including one about twice the size of a brick: a lion. Lumbering over, I snatched it up and threw it at the window. This time it splintered, bending inwards, the glass just about holding together. One more solid jab and it disintegrated onto the seat. I didn’t spend time trying to unlock the door, I just grabbed the roof and undulated my way through the hole I had made.
There were no keys inside, but I scrabbled around at the ignition, ripping out the wires. My Internet research, and Samuel’s coaching on the Bowles’s bombing, had taught me the rudiments, and seconds later the car started.
“Yes!” I squealed.
I’d never been taught how to drive, but I’d watched, and watched carefully. The car, by some mercy, was an automatic. I shoved at the stick until it went to D – which I hoped stood for ‘Drive’ – then I slammed on the pedal. Nothing happened. I shifted my foot over, searched for the other pedal. This time when I pressed down, the car rocketed forward, straight into the darkness. Fingers fluttering at the dash, I hit buttons until the lights exploded into life.
I looked out. There was no time to gasp with horror; I was about to smash into an agent and his snarling beast. They hit the bonnet and the agent bounced over it, his startled face flashing by me before he disappeared over the roof. The dog was less fortunate, rolling beneath my tyres. Squeezing my eyes closed in sympathy, I pushed down harder on the accelerator.
My steering was erratic, causing the car to leap from one side of the road to the other.
Soon enough, the road straightened out – it was little more than a lane I now realised – and I killed the lights. I needed them – it was pitch black – but they made me far too obvious. Fighting against my flight instinct, I slowed down, too, hoping quiet stealth would serve me better than engine-roaring speed. I kept watching the rear view, searching for headlights chasing me down, but there was nothing but darkness. To the side I saw flashlights sweeping across the fields and behind that the smouldering yellow of a fire out of control. I didn’t allow myself to smile, but I felt a slight twitch of relief. At least one thing had gone right tonight.
The narrow road ended with a junction onto a proper highway. I followed the sign for the M5, accelerating up to fifty miles an hour – as fast as I dared – and flicking the lights back on, knowing, now, that I drew more attention to myself without them. I couldn’t relax though, cringing in terror each time another car came my way. Mercifully, none of them were topped with the blue lights of the police, or the altogether more terrifying red flashes of the GE. But rather than calming as the miles passed, I just got more and more tense. That couldn’t be it; I couldn’t be safe. After ten miles I was a nervous wreck, tears shimmering in my eyes and blinding me, my hands shaking so hard they could barely hold on to the wheel. The cold air blasting in through the smashed window didn’t help. I had to pull over. Unable to wait until I came to a lay-by or a side road, I steered the car over onto the grass verge, jolting forward as the wheels sank into a hidden dip, the underside scraping loudly against the ground. As soon as I stopped, I extinguished the lights. The dark was a relief.
What was I going to do? What the hell was I going to do? I dropped my head to rest on the steering wheel, panic paralysing my brain. I felt lost, frightened.
Then a thought occurred to me. Samuel.
With trembling fingers, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and hit dial. A pre-set number jumped up on the screen and I pressed it to my ear, listening to it ring one, two, three times.
“Hello?”
“Samuel?” My voice came out as a frightened squeak. I tried to swallow, but there was something sharp lodged in my throat.
“What’s happened?”
“I… everything! It’s all gone wrong!”
“The job?”
The job? I’d almost forgotten about it in all the panic. I thought about the wave of noise, the riot of colour. So much more spectacular than anything I’d ever constructed before, and I hadn’t even had a second, a moment to look. I’d felt the fiery heat of success, though.
“No, that was fine. It went off. Both sides, I think. But then… Samuel, I don’t know what happened.”
“Tell me.”
I took a deep breath, trying to control the juddering sobs that were shaking my shoulders.
“Cameron’s dead. They shot him through the windscreen. I don’t know who it was, but I think it was the GE. They were everywhere. They had dogs and men with flashlights. They were just… everywhere.”
I squeezed my eyes shut against the memory.
“Christ! Are you all right?”
Yes. No.
“Kind of. I got shot in the arm, but I think it just grazed me. It’s bleeding, but not really badly.”
“Where are you now?”
“In a car. I stole it. I had to, the dogs were chasing me.”
“Don’t worry about the car, Lizzie.”
Just hearing my name made me bubble. I gripped the steering wheel, trying to get a hold of myself. His voice was soothing; I already felt more in control. Reason was returning. With it came a strong desire to see his face.
“I’ll come back. I can drive, I think. The car has plenty of petrol.”
“No,” I could hear the cogs of Samuel’s brain whirring. “It’s better if you don’t arrive on your own. Not right now. I’ll come and get you. Tell me precisely where you are.”
Samuel’s words didn’t make sense, but I couldn’t think straight. In faltering tones I told him exactly where to find me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After I’d hung up I had nothing to do but wait. I was okay at first, concentrating on trying to stem my tears, calm my ragged breathing. But then, as minutes passed and I became subdued, the atmosphere in the car started to turn. The silence was smothering. I felt like I was in a glass bubble, unable to see or hear anything beyond my protective walls, but naked to anyone approaching. The dirt verge I’d pulled into had no cover. Two of my wheels were still angled up onto the rutted tarmac and the passenger window was smashed open. I needed to move, but my hands were shaking so much I knew I’d never be able to start the car, and I wasn’t getting out. Instead I stared out into nothing, recoiling from every imagined shadow or sound. Surely it was only a matter of time before the GE found me?
But no one came.
An hour passed, then another. My senses remained on high alert: ears pricked, eyes wide. This late, this far out into nowhere, there was no other traffic. It was just me and the dark. So when I saw the pinpricks of light appear far off in the distance, my first reaction was terror. It was the GE. I was sure of it. They’d found me. Even if they didn’t know I was here, they’d soon be on top of me, and I was impossible to miss. I had to go, had to hide. I maybe had five minutes, and if I was on foot I needed as much of a head start as possible.
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