Death In The Caucasus: An International Suspense Thriller

by J. A. Kalis

  Without wasting another minute, he hurried back towards Mike. He saw him stir and a few groans escaped his throat. Patrick bent over him and gently touched his face. Slowly, Mike opened his eyes and looked around, confusion etched on his face.

  ‘What happened? Where are we? Oh, it hurts!’ His features twisted in pain.

  ‘We crashed into a tree. Our car is badly wrecked. I dragged you out. But we aren’t safe yet. We must get a move on, push further into the woods.’

  Mike’s memory returned. He stayed silent for a moment, the events of the last hour flashing before his eyes.

  ‘Can you stand up and walk?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll try.’

  As soon as he began to get up, bracing himself against a tree, he realized his legs were too wobbly to support his body’s weight. Before he was even halfway up, he dropped to the ground. His face contorted with pain. Undeterred, he tried again. This time, with Patrick’s help, he succeeded. He staggered, but steadied himself at the last moment, his hand gripping Patrick’s shirt tightly. Feeling a bit dizzy and weak, he threw his right arm around Patrick’s shoulder for support and they set off.

  Slowly, feet slipping on the wet grass, the thorny branches snagging their clothes, they advanced into the forest, their progress slow. Trees provided some shelter from the rain but also blocked the light. In the forest, it was darker than twilight. After about a quarter of an hour, they paused. Patrick noticed that the wind had dropped and the rain had thinned to a drizzle. Since the crash, he hadn’t heard any thunder or seen any lightning. It looked as if the violent storm was over. He listened, but save for the humming sound of rain hitting the leaves, he could hear nothing. There was an eerie silence all around them.

  Patrick shifted Mike’s arm a little higher on his shoulder. It started to feel numb from supporting the heavy bulk of Mike’s body.

  ‘I think we’re safe now. Let’s have a short rest. Are you all right?’

  ‘I guess I broke my hand.’ He lifted his left hand to show him where it was broken. ‘And my right leg … it hurts so much.’

  ‘Wait! I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.’

  Patrick rummaged in his bag until his fingers closed around a small torch. He always carried one when he travelled, just in case. He was glad he’d remembered to pack it this time as well. As he shone its powerful beam on Mike’s arm, he noticed the wrist was somewhat bent and swollen.

  ‘Can you move your fingers?’

  ‘Hardly … it hurts so much each time I do.’ His face squinted, the words coming between gasps of pain.

  ‘I’m afraid you’re right. It looks like you broke your wrist. What about your leg?’

  ‘I feel pain here.’ He pointed to the outside of his right calf.

  ‘Let me take a look.’ Patrick leaned down to examine the spot. ‘Your trouser leg is soaked with blood. I need to lift it to see what’s there.’

  ‘Okay, but be careful!’

  ‘Stand still … Oh yes, there’s a gash in your leg. Probably a shard of glass from the windshield. It’s still bleeding. It’s deep but it should heal well with time.’

  Checking for any other injuries, Patrick swept the torch beam across the rest of Mike’s body.

  ‘You’ve got some cuts on your face. But they don’t look deep; they shouldn’t leave scars.’

  ‘I’ve got a strange pain here, on my chest, as if I had a couple of broken ribs.’

  ‘It’s not impossible. Let me see. There are some cuts there. None seem very serious. Can you hold the torch for a moment?’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Mike took the torch from Patrick.

  Patrick ignored his question. He produced a T-shirt from his bag. He tore a piece of cloth from it and wrapped it around the open injury on Mike’s leg, in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

  ‘Give me your broken hand.’

  He looped the rest of the T-shirt around the wounded wrist and tied its two ends at the back of Mike’s neck.

  ‘It’s a crude sling but it should do the job of supporting your hand. It’s better than nothing. Otherwise you might damage it even more. Mike, have you got your mobile? Mine is broken.’

  ‘It’s in my bag. Wait, I’ll get it.’ He fumbled in the bag with his unhurt hand until he finally pulled out his mobile. ‘Do you know the emergency number?’

  ‘Yes, I do. But better give me the phone. I’ll call; they might not speak English.’

  He pressed a few digits but the phone didn’t light up.

  ‘It doesn’t work.’

  Mike took it from him and fiddled with it. The phone remained dead.

  Mike gave Patrick a sheepish look. ‘I’m afraid I forgot to charge it. I was so strung out with worry about Carol that I just grabbed it and put in my bag without checking first. I’m sorry.’

  Patrick was unable to disguise an edge of anger in his voice. ‘Your being sorry won’t help us much.’ He took the torch from Mike’s hand and turned it off. Semi-darkness surrounded them, full of threatening shadows. It took a while for their eyes to adjust.

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Switch off the torch?’

  ‘We should use it sparingly, only when we really have to. And besides I don’t want to draw attention to us.’

  ‘Why? Are you afraid that crazy driver might come after us?’

  ‘Aren’t you? Of course, he might. Who knows, maybe he’s looking for us right now. So we shouldn’t let our guard down and we must keep our voices low.’

  ‘I just don’t get it. What possessed the driver to bump us and push us off the road? We did nothing to provoke so much violence. It was clear he did it on purpose. It looked as if he wanted to kill us. Why would anybody want to do something like that?’

  ‘Have you noticed anybody following us since we left Rocamadour?’

  ‘No, I mean I wasn’t looking. And anyway, even if I was I wouldn’t have been able to see much in that terrible weather.’

  Patrick didn’t say anything to that. He was mulling something over. A suspicion began to form in his mind but he chose not to share it with Mike. Not yet. Slowly, they started walking again.

  ‘So, we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, just as I feared. How are we going to get out of here with no car? I told you we should have waited until tomorrow. But you wouldn’t listen to me. What are we going to do now? Spend the night here, in the forest, with a crazy psycho chasing us?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I have no intention of spending the night in the forest. We just had to move deeper into it to get as far as possible from the crash site. But now we must reach the road. Maybe we’ll get lucky and stumble upon someone willing to give us a lift.’

  ‘And if not?’

  ‘We’ll worry about it then. Don’t be so pessimistic. Have you got a better idea?’

  ‘No. We can’t do much else.’

  ‘Before we went off the road, I saw a turn to the left further down. If we head that way, we should arrive at it sooner or later. Mind you, it won’t be an easy walk. We drove down a slope. Now we’ll have to climb it.’

  ‘But if what you say is true and this crazy guy is looking for us, wouldn’t we be better hiding somewhere until the morning?’

  ‘Think about Carol. She might need us right now. We must try to get to the village and find her as soon as possible.’

  ‘You never give up, do you? Now I see where Carol gets her stubbornness from.’

  By the time they reached the road, the rain had stopped. The sky cleared up and myriads of stars appeared, twinkling bright against its velvety darkness. The air was balmy but with a crisp edge to it.

  Patrick slipped his soft shell jacket on, then helped Mike put his windbreaker on, gently guiding the injured arm through the sleeve.

  A full moon gave them enough light to see the snaking road. It was empty. There were no cars in sight. They waited on the side of the road for some time, straining their eyes, hoping for a car to materiali
ze. But none did. After about twenty minutes had passed and still no vehicle appeared, they started to lose hope.

  ‘What a deserted place. It seems nobody’s venturing out at this hour. We’ve waited long enough. We’d better walk. Maybe we’ll come upon a village,’ Patrick suggested.

  ‘I’m exhausted. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get far. I’ve got almost no strength left; I really need to sit or lie down somewhere. My leg and my arm hurt so much.’

  ‘There’s nowhere you can sit or lie down. We must keep moving. Get yourself together. Let’s go! Can you walk without support? Carrying your weight on my shoulders wears me down.’

  ‘And what about the wound in my leg? It could become infected. It needs to be treated.’

  ‘I have nothing to treat it with. You must wait until the morning.’

  They set off. Patrick walked ahead. Although still reluctant, Mike lagged a couple of steps behind him, limping slightly. Every now and then, Patrick turned his head to check if anything was coming their way. Each time, however, he saw only blackness. They advanced slowly, in silence. A growing unease took hold of both men. The desolation of the area had put them on edge.

  Suddenly, Patrick heard Mike yell, ‘Look, a car!’

  ‘Sshh! No need to advertise your presence.’

  He turned around and looked at the black stretch of road behind, following Mike’s line of vision. A pair of headlights emerged from the darkness. Faint at first, they grew stronger by the second. The car approached them fast. Frantic, his arms swinging wildly above his head, Patrick began to gesture for the driver to stop. Mike joined him, waving with his unhurt arm. Both men winced at the sudden glare of the headlights that sprang on full-beam as the vehicle drew nearer, almost blinding them.

  Seeing the car slowing down, their hearts leapt with joy.

  The car didn’t stop. It continued driving down the road. As soon as it passed them, the driver accelerated. They stared in disbelief at the taillights until they vanished around the bend almost as quickly as they had appeared.

  ‘I can’t believe it didn’t stop!’ Mike said.

  ‘It doesn’t surprise me. Must have been afraid, two figures walking down an empty road at night. I doubt we’ll find anybody willing to stop at this hour.’

  A few minutes later they reached the bend. From there the road sloped gently down, meandering through the forest. A hundred metres further, and Patrick stopped abruptly.

  ‘Mike, wait, look there. Do you see it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Isn’t that a white car, parked among the trees?’

  Mike followed his gaze. ‘I think you’re right. So what we do now? I’m not ready for a confrontation.’

  ‘Who’s talking about a confrontation? Let’s take cover in the forest. We can approach the car from behind the trees and check whether it’s really the same one that bumped us. It hit us so hard that the damage must be visible. But be on your guard and try not to make any noise. Remember, the driver might be dangerous.’

  ‘I know. Stop patronizing me, I’m not a child.’

  Keeping a low profile, their instincts on high alert, they sneaked behind the trees and approached the car from the side. There was just enough pale moonlight filtering through the trees for them to make out the dented fenders and hood, confirming their suspicions that it was the same car that had hit them.

  Its windows were black. From where they stood, they couldn’t see whether anyone was inside. They didn’t dare get any closer. For a while, they stood rooted to the spot, listening. Apart from the gentle rustle of leaves, all was silent. They couldn’t detect any movement.

  ‘That’s the car that pushed us off the road. No doubt about it. Maybe the driver is somewhere around, hunting for us in the forest or just sitting inside the car, waiting to resume his search in the morning. It’s impossible to see from here, but too dangerous to get closer. We must clear out of here,’ Patrick whispered. ‘Let’s go!’

  Warily, they began moving away from the vehicle.

  ‘No need to go back to the road. We’ll sneak through the forest as quietly as we can and get as far away as possible from the car. Then we can look for a place that would provide suitable shelter for the night.’

  ‘Oh, so you do want to spend the night in the woods? And what if we get lost in there?’

  ‘We won’t if we don’t push too deep into it. In the morning we can re-join the road. We’ll have more luck finding someone to give us a lift in the daytime.’

  CHAPTER 14

  The slashing rain blurred everything around. It was impossible to see more than a couple of metres ahead. Lorenzo advanced into the forest, paying no notice as his clothes caught on sharp branches and his feet slipped on the wet patches of grass. With unflinching determination, he made his way down the rough sloping ground, ploughing once in a while through some thick underbrush until he finally spotted the steel silver Opel Corsa.

  By the time he neared it, his shirt and trousers were drenched, the forest canopy not thick enough to protect him from the heavy shower.

  Finally, his efforts were rewarded as the vehicle materialized in front of him, just a couple of steps away.

  He paused to savour the view.

  The Opel was jammed against a tree, its hood badly dented, its windshield smashed to pieces. Judging by the damage, it must have been going fast when it crashed. At the sight of the destruction, a self-satisfied smile crept to his lips. Just what he had wished for. He hoped both men were dead. It would spare him having to kill them.

  The adrenaline rush that had kept him alert during the last couple of hours subsided and he began to feel tired. The whole following-bumping-pushing-off-the-road business had worn him out. It was a real chore to stay on the road in such stormy weather. The slick tarmac and terrible visibility had almost cost him his own life. At one point, he had lost control of his vehicle. While taking a sharp bend, he had missed the crash barrier by millimetres. Even now he shivered at the thought that he was only a hair’s breadth away from a fatal accident. Fortunately, he hadn’t lost his presence of mind and at the last moment had yanked the steering wheel to the left, avoiding thus the impending disaster.

  Pretty shaken, but resolute, he had pressed the brakes, reducing his speed and continuing to drive, until about half a kilometre further down the road, he had arrived at a point where it intersected with a dirt road that crossed the forest. Assuming that if he took it, he would come near the crash site, he turned left.

  But things hadn’t worked out the way he’d planned.

  Almost as soon as his battered-up vehicle had left the tarmac, veering onto the dirt road, it had hit a couple of potholes and lurched to a halt. The engine had made a strenuous noise and died. For at least five minutes Lorenzo had tried to restart his old Peugeot. Each time the engine groaned but wouldn’t fire up. Finally, disheartened, he gave up trying and decided to abandon the now useless piece of junk and continue on foot. What else was there to do?

  Before he set off, he had pushed the car a couple of metres deeper into the woods so that it wouldn’t attract attention from any random passers-by. Not that he expected any around here, but better to be on the safe side.

  Upon closer inspection of the Opel, he noticed the ruined fenders and dented hood He shielded his eyes from the rain with his left hand, all his instincts on high alert. His right hand closed around a knife handle, ready to strike any moment if necessary. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation at what he might find.

  With just one more step separating him from the car, he stopped and, cocking his head to one side and craning his neck, he attempted to see if there were any figures sitting inside. Unfortunately, from where he stood, he couldn’t make out any shapes or detect any movement. There was not enough light. The twilight gloom coupled with the rainy haze shrouded everything around him. He strained to listen but apart from the steady patter of raindrops on the car bodywork and wild rustling of leaves, no other sound reached his ears.

 
Were they both dead? It looked that way. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Luck seemed to be on his side.

  But he had to be certain, he had to see the bodies.

  He took the last step and tried to open the passenger side door but it wouldn’t budge. When he circled around to the driver’s side, he saw that the door was open. Cautiously, he peered inside, his right hand clutching the knife handle even more tightly than before. He switched on his torch and swept its strong beam across the car’s interior.

  There was nobody in the car.

  Shards of glass littered the floor and seats. Dark red stains glimmered on the upholstery. Blood. When he looked closer, he spotted a few more smears: on the dashboard, the steering wheel, and the door. It meant they were injured. Or at least one of them was. It was impossible to deduce from the amount of blood how bad the wounds were. But they’d still managed to escape.

  He was fuming. He kicked the driver’s seat and banged on the steering wheel. If only his car hadn’t broken down, he would have caught them before they’d managed to get out of the wrecked vehicle. Now he was forced to tread through the gloomy forest in the stormy weather and search for them. It was not exactly something he felt like doing right now. But he had to. He had to catch them and kill them. There was no way around it. They had to die. They had asked for it. They shouldn’t have come here to France and snooped around, looking for that girl, Sandy’s sister.

  Fortunately, Corinne had seen the online reservation at the guest house. The name was the same: Morton. She was prepared. As soon as they arrived, she’d alerted Lorenzo. The men should be eliminated before they had a chance to contact the police.

  The girl was in the area. That part was true. No more than five kilometres from here. Only instead of in a hotel, as Corinne had told the two men, she was staying in a cave. A real first class stay. An enormous cave, all to herself. He chuckled to himself at the thought. Well secured, with no possibility of getting away.