(1995) By Any Name (24 page)

Joseph wouldn’t have wanted her to shut herself away and mourn him the way she had done for the past two years, but then after he’d died, she’d envied him, believing him to be the lucky one. She’d loved him completely and utterly with a passion that left little energy or time for other relationships. Her only fear after she’d met him had been that he’d die and leave her. But whenever she imagined that happening in those early days, she had pictured herself an old, bent, grey-haired woman living in sheltered accommodation or a small house in the country with live-in help, and her grandchildren’s visits to look forward to, not when she was twenty-seven and still engrossed in carving out a career for herself, and never – never before they’d had children.

Joseph had wanted children as soon as they’d married, but she’d insisted on waiting until she’d gained enough experience to return to her career after a break to bring them up. With the result that after three years of marriage to Joseph, all she’d been left with were memories, a wardrobe full of men’s clothes, and a newly bought house that needed gutting and rebuilding. Not much to show for a life she missed so much.

Darkness came and fell swiftly, bringing with it a thick, grey mist that blotted out the road and surrounding hills. She watched the mist fade from mid to dark grey. The only colour in the landscape was the snow falling through the air and carpeting the ground.

When she decided it was dark enough she prodded West. Her hand and arm were so numb with cold they barely obeyed her. But even before she touched West she could see the whites of his eyes shining in the darkness. She put her finger to her lips but she could have saved herself the trouble. He didn’t wake like other people, half asleep and dozy, but completely and suddenly. One moment unconscious, the next roused, coiled, ready for action.

‘What’s the time?’ he whispered.

‘Almost five when I last looked at my watch. I can’t see the face any more.’

‘Anyone around?’

‘There’s a mist, you can barely see your hand in front of your face.’

‘You did pray then.’ His hand closed around the brandy bottle he’d put at her head. ‘You didn’t drink any?’

‘No.’

‘Have some now, and eat this.’ He retrieved the chocolate and broke off another segment for her and one for himself.

When hunger pangs had struck earlier she’d felt as though she could have eaten the proverbial ox, now she couldn’t even bite into the chocolate. She waited, hoping it would melt in her mouth. He slithered past her while she sipped at the brandy. Now he was awake and had taken over, her brain slowed, threatening to become as numb as her body. She didn’t want to think about moving. The cold was paralyzing, but it didn’t require any effort on her part to remain. And, after her attempts to move, she doubted she could walk any distance. And, even if she could, where would they go? Whichever route West took, sooner or later they’d have to face climbing a steep slope. What if he wanted to go over the hills he called the Beacons? She knew she’d never make it to the top let alone down the other side. And how long would they last on the bare hillside in the snow without protective clothing or food?

‘You want to call some of the search parties in, sir?’

Chaloner studied the map as though the answer to Sergeant Price’s question lay there. He’d widened the circle of operations, just as Heddingham had ordered.

Simmonds had set up new, more distant road blocks to comply with their CO’s orders, but he still couldn’t dismiss his gut feeling that West had remained close to Libanus. Dug into a hide. And that soon, very soon he’d be moving on.

‘There!’ Simmonds brought his finger down hard on the map.

‘Llanfrynach, sir?’ The sergeant looked at Simmonds in surprise.

‘We would have seen him if he’d crossed Pen-y-Fan,’ Chaloner insisted. ‘We’ve had patrols out there all day.’

‘You were the one who said he knows this area.

It’s the nearest point away from this road where he could steal a car.’

‘You spoke to the police. No thefts have been reported.’

‘So far,’ Simmonds said darkly. ‘Someone could be away and the vehicle might not be missed yet.’

Chaloner continued to look at the map. Sensing a power struggle, Sergeant Price looked tactfully at the window.

‘You have a theory, sergeant?’ Simmonds asked.

‘None, sir.’

‘None at all?’ Simmonds pressed.

‘If I were West, I’d head back over the road before attempting to scale the Beacons in these conditions, sir.’

‘We’ve had the road under surveillance all night and all day, sergeant.’

‘Even under surveillance it’s an easier route to take than scaling the Beacons.’

‘I’ll bear what you said in mind, sergeant.’

Simmonds turned to Chaloner. ‘Cover Llanfrynach and Tal-y-Bont.’

‘Sir?’ The sergeant looked to Chaloner.

‘You heard the order, Sergeant Price.’ Chaloner wondered how many men he could spirit away to continue watching the Libanus road without rousing Simmonds’ suspicions.

* * *

West tried to make out the trees he’d seen earlier in the sheep pen, but as Elizabeth had warned, the mist obscured everything more than a couple of feet from their hide.

‘I’m going out,’ he murmured. He crawled stiffly, rising slowly and agonizingly to his feet. As the blood rushed into his tingling and aching legs he stood stock still, conscious of his dark clothing against the white snow, listening intently for any sound. Over to his right he thought he could hear the faraway march of feet. Were they calling off the search? He turned full circle trying to get his bearings. They had entered the sheep pen from the East, which meant the road was now to their West and Pen-y-Fan to the East. If he was wrong, they had a bloody long climb ahead of them, one he’d be hard put to endure, and one Elizabeth probably wouldn’t survive.

He listened again. The hillside was so still he thought he could detect the sound of falling snow. The officer commanding the search must have moved his men on in the assumption he’d long since gone.

Whoever the clown was, he obviously hadn’t been subjected to the same thorough training he had. He tried to stretch, but he couldn’t feel his back or his legs. He knew his muscles were going to ache unbearably when he finally did start moving. And it wasn’t just the snowdrifts they’d have to contend with, but the wind, keener and sharper than a hunter’s blade. He stooped to the sheet of metal.

‘It’s dark enough to move out. Bring the blankets, and wrap the thermal one around your shoulders.’

‘The silver will be seen.’

‘Not in this.’

It took all her strength to push the bundle of blankets out ahead of her. ‘Where are we going?’ She fought an attack of nausea as she rose to her feet.

‘Back along the road we came.’ He’d toyed with the idea of heading down the valley, towards Merthyr and Cardiff in the hope of losing himself in a heavily populated area, knowing full well that the longer they remained in this wasteland the greater the risk of being caught. But one glimpse of Elizabeth swaying precariously had been enough. He doubted she had enough strength to get back up on to the road.

‘There’s a few isolated buildings on the outskirts of Libanus, farms, barns and suchlike, we’ll find somewhere warm where we can light a fire, and perhaps even cook some food.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘The first sign of starvation.’ “And hypothermia”

he thought privately.

‘Will we be safe so close to a village?’

‘I’ve kept you safe so far haven’t I?’ He wrapped one blanket around her, and knotted their few possessions into a bundle with the others.

‘John… ’

‘Don’t talk. Conserve your energy. If we stay here any longer the farmer will find us in the spring. Two atrophied, freeze dried corpses, minus whatever tasty bits the foxes and crows have picked.’ He held out his hand, she took it. Together they walked down the outside wall of the sheep pen. He was fairly certain there was no one to hear the sheep moving should they stampede, but there was no point in taking any risk, no matter how small, unless they had to.

Snow continued to fall, wetter than it had been the night before. Pulling Elizabeth behind him, he began the precarious descent to the valley floor. He checked every step, testing the ground with his weight before moving on. Glancing behind, he was gratified to see the snow filling in their footprints, obscuring them within seconds.

Reaching the valley floor proved relatively simple.

The worst that happened was Elizabeth ploughed forward with so much momentum she crashed into him, but he managed to stand firm, until he took a final step forward and plunged up to one knee in freezing icy water.

‘Stay back, it’s flooded here.’ He peered into the mist. Ahead of him the hill rose almost at right angles from the valley floor. Somewhere up ahead was the road, which meant negotiating cars, headlights, people

– patrols…

‘How much further?’ She was standing just behind him her voice faint, as though it was travelling over a great distance.

‘Just a short walk. Uphill I’m afraid.’ He held out the bundle to her. ‘Take this.’

She reached for it obediently, thinking how large and heavy it was. Placing his hands on her waist, he lifted her, and swung her over the stream bed.

‘Tread in my footsteps.’ He took the bundle from her, and gripped her hand. ‘Keep that blanket around your shoulders.’

The climb was almost impossible. The ground beneath the snow was sheathed in ice that afforded no foot or hand hold. Whenever West managed to gain a tenuous purchase he turned and hauled Elizabeth up beside him, gripping her wrists firmly in his hands, but after an hour, even his strength began to fail.

When he eventually peered over the ridge above him to see a mist shrouded expanse of churned grey and black slushy road he could have kissed it.

‘We’ve reached the road,’ he whispered.

She stared at him uncomprehendingly, too exhausted to smile let alone answer. He dragged her behind him, and swiftly crossed the road. The hill continued to rise steeply before them, but as he stepped forward his foot plunged into a snow filled ditch. Brecon and Libanus were along this road, they had to keep going and find somewhere where they could hide out.

‘Just a little further,’ he pleaded when she fell.

She continued to stumble behind him. Once headlights pierced the gloom. He threw her into the ditch and lay on top of her until the car had passed, but when he tried to rouse her afterwards, he found her in a white, dead faint. Picking her and the blankets up he stumbled on, driving his stiff aching limbs onwards.

Ahead were lights. He resolved to knock the door of the first inhabited house and beg for help. Nothing was more important than Elizabeth’s life and health.

And, if he surrendered to the police they wouldn’t kill him. Or would they hand him over to the army who would? He was no longer capable of coherent thought.

It was as though the whirling, drifting snowflakes had blown into his mind, clogging his thinking.

‘Not much further, there are houses.’ He was talking to himself. ‘Not much further and you’ll be safe,’ he promised rashly.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

West kept well away from the road until he reached Libanus. Once there, he made his way stealthily around the back of the terrace that fronted the main road. He trod slowly and carefully, peering into the thick milky white fog that transformed the most commonplace objects into ghouls.

Lights shone from the backs of houses, blurred yellow jewels in a haze of tarnished mist. His hand tightened on the trigger mechanism of the Heckler and Koch slung across his chest. They were in farming country and that coupled with the high profile hunt for him made him reluctant to seek help for Elizabeth. He had been in houses like these, had seen the guns the occupants used to shoot crows and rabbits. He imagined the weapons being kept ready primed and loaded by front doors after all the recent police and army activity.

Stumbling over a pile of stones knocked from a back wall, he paused to rest. The only light that illuminated the area came from a kitchen window. He caught a glimpse of tiled worktop, split-level oven, and a spice rack on a wall. He could almost smell the warmth that came from the house; it would be redolent with the scents of winter food, beef stew, apple pies…

Suppressing the thoughts, he concentrated on his immediate plight. He had to get Elizabeth out of this snowstorm and into somewhere warm. There was a wooden shed next to the half demolished wall, the door broken and unlocked. He pushed the rickety slab of wood. Aside from a stack of firewood, the shed was empty. He laid Elizabeth, still wrapped in the blanket, behind the crumbling door.

‘I’ll be back.’

She opened her eyes. ‘Don’t leave me,’ she whispered weakly, holding her arms out to him.

‘I have to find shelter.’

‘You’ll be seen… ’

‘Some of the houses are holiday homes. One or two are bound to be empty.’ He hesitated. ‘If I’m not back in an hour go to a house with lights on and ask whoever’s there to call the police. Insist on as much publicity as you can get. The press may be able to guarantee your safety.’

‘John… ’

She was calling to the mist. He was gone, no more than a shadow in the snow filled darkness.

He continued to creep along the back of the houses checking windows for lights when he saw a place he remembered as a guesthouse in darkness. Did it only open in summer? He climbed over the wall into the garden and crept to the back door. There was a burglar alarm. He knew too much about burglar alarms to attempt to pull the wires from the box.

He stole forward and looked through the glass panel at the corners of the ceiling in the room, noting the small white boxes that housed the infra-red detectors of the alarm system. It was electrically operated. If he shut off the incoming supply – and there was no battery, secondary or emergency back-up he could break in. That was a big “if” and for all he knew the alarm could be connected to the local police station.

To his left was a flat roofed extension, probably a kitchen. An idea occurred to him. He summoned his strength, braced his foot in the corner where two walls met, climbed on to the roof and looked through the upstairs window. Some people cut corners by not extending their alarm systems to the upstairs of their houses on the premise that any burglars, even if they broke in through an upper window, would have to carry their booty out via the ground floor. And he couldn’t see any infra detectors.