The Lure Part 30

Petrie looked at the tousled blonde hair, the scratched nose and cheeks, the stained and torn jacket, the Levis stiff with ice and the heavy boots, and felt an overwhelming urge to protect this vulnerable creature while knowing that she was tougher than him. 'Weve no choice.

She took Petries arm, teeth chattering with cold. 'In that case wed better get a move on.

The driver of the lead coach had slammed the luggage doors shut and was climbing into it. Petrie was seized with a sudden dread that theyd left it too late. They picked their way through snow-dusted cars. An overflow of weary pa.s.sengers was cl.u.s.tered round the second coach. A few others were coming out of the hotel.

They emerged from the car park, pa.s.sed the first coach; a thin-nosed elderly woman looked down and smiled wearily. Petrie smiled back.

Merge casually. Dont be noticed.

The driver, a small, wiry man, was muttering to himself. They nudged their way through a group of young people with bags and skis and little blue boxes. n.o.body was paying attention. Petrie was beginning to think they might get away with it. Freya put her foot on the coach step, gripped the rail. The driver looked up sharply, said, 'Ne!

Petries heart lurched.

The driver approached Freya and jabbered something. She shrugged. Petrie wondered about taking her arm and saying something about the wrong bus, when a tall, bespectacled man behind Freya said, in German, 'What about your boxes?

'Sorry?

'He wont let you on without your breakfast boxes. Otherwise you could be anyone.

'Of course! Freya replied in German, put her hand to her head. The little blue boxes.

'Better be quick.

Into the hotel. A fat, surly woman behind a trellis table was handing out boxes, and keys were being handed in at the desk. They joined a little queue. The receptionists, two girls nearing the end of the overnight s.h.i.+ft, paid them no attention. The fat woman handed Petrie and Freya little blue boxes without looking up. They boarded the bus, the driver glancing at them with an air of suspicion.

The coach was half-empty, and wonderfully warm. They took a seat near the back, Freya at the window. There was a trickle of ski people, and then the driver finally climbed on board and sat heavily down in his seat, and the doors closed with a hiss. There was no tour operator, and n.o.body counted heads.

The coach moved smoothly away. They looked at each other, too exhausted even to smile, the sudden warmth draining away the last of their energy. Freya leaned her head on Petries shoulder. Her voice was slurred. 'Colditz was easy.

'Alcatraz was a joke.

Now she was whispering, and Petrie could hardly hear her. 'As for Devils Island...

He tapped her nose. 'Now for the hard bit.

Colonel Jan Borovika sighed.

The hand-rolled Don Tomas cigar was carefully placed in the crude ceramic ashtray a treasure made by a younger daughter at the Gymnasium in the remote past and he leaned back, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him.

Lieutenant Tono Pittich, standing rigidly to attention at the Colonels desk, knew the signs, and longed for a quick release.

'Tono, how long since you gained your Lieutenants badge?

'Four years, sir.

The Colonel nodded thoughtfully but made no comment. 'And you had an entire platoon at your disposal? To guard two civilians?

'Thats true, Colonel, I had a platoon.

'And you allowed the two down together in the elevator shaft? Not one at a time, each accompanied by one of your men?

'I put four of my men down the shaft ahead of the scientists, and the rest stayed up top. I didnt see how they could possibly escape. The Lieutenant was aware that he was beginning to jabber, but couldnt stop himself. 'I didnt know about the side tunnel.

The truth was otherwise; the Lieutenant had known about the side tunnel. It simply hadnt occurred to him that the scientists might stop the rapidly falling elevator at its entrance. The young man wondered fearfully whether the Colonel believed him, thought that the story had come out sounding like the lie it was.

'Did you not have a map of the cave complex?

Desperately, the Lieutenant wondered if he should compound the lie with another one, and deny that hed had access to a map. But no, it was too easy to check, and in any case his failure to acquire something as fundamental to an officer as a map could be seen as dereliction of duty. But to admit that he had a map would be tantamount to admitting that he knew about the side tunnel. He was beginning to feel entangled in a web.

'I had, sir.

'I know you had. Borovika took a contemplative puff. 'We shall go into the matter of your amazing dereliction of duty in due course, Tono. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately from where you are standing, it will have to wait. We will shortly be having a visitor.

'Sir?

'Yes. General Kamensky, no less. Borovika spoke softly. 'What am I to tell the General, Tono? Do you have any suggestions?

37.

Flight by Coach Between Petrie and Freya, and the Austrians, were several rows of empty seats. This made it gratifyingly difficult to engage the strange, wet young ones in conversation, and in any case n.o.body seemed inclined to make the attempt. Such desultory chat as there was soon died out, and in the soporific warmth of the coach people dozed or stared morosely out of the window. The countryside was dark and mountainous, the hills barely lit by a crescent moon.

Petrie was too exhausted, too frightened and too wet to sleep, but Freya snuggled into him, s.h.i.+vering, and within minutes she was snoring slightly, her head on his shoulder.

He tried to think it through, but the freezing wetness of his clothes and the awful stress of the past few hours combined to keep him in a sort of stupor. He opened the breakfast box and found himself staring at a small bottle of mineral water, a hardboiled egg and a sandwich filled with some indeterminate gunge. He slid the lot under his seat.

All they could do now, he reckoned, was wait.

The coach took off, and trundled carefully down the narrow, ice-packed road, past the ski hotels, past the Demnovsk Cave. In the lights of the bus Petrie glimpsed a couple of soldiers, tucked away in front of a tourist shop and invisible from the steep footpath leading down from the cave. One of the soldiers, a red-faced farm boy from oxcart country, looked at the pa.s.sing coach. He stared directly at Petrie, their eyes meeting momentarily; and then the image was gone and Petries hands were clenched into fists and his mind was filled with a simple question: was I recognised?

n.o.body stopped the coach. It took a left at a roundabout and picked up speed on a broad road. The snow had gone and there was a pale sliver of dawn to the east. No headlights were pursuing them in the dark. Petrie unclenched his fists. He saw the chemical works, all aluminium pipes and orange smoke stacks catching the dawn light. Freyas wet hair tickled his nostrils. Suddenly, Petrie was overwhelmed with exhaustion.

Shortly, the bus slowed and turned on to a motorway, and then accelerated to a satisfyingly brisk speed. The countryside here was flat and bleak. In the distance, shortly, Petrie saw a forest of high-rise buildings, s.h.i.+mmering, floating on water and flamingo pink in the light of the rising sun.

He stared stupidly at the distant mirage, mumbled something about a socialist paradise, and flaked out.

'Tom!

Freya was poking his thigh.

Memory flooded back. Petrie looked out in sudden panic. They were in the suburbs of some big city. 'Is this Bratislava?

'I think so. The bus is going to Austria.

'What? But the border!

'We must get off now.

Now Petrie definitely recognised the city as Bratislava. They made their way to the front of the coach. Freya said something in German. The driver shook his head.

She turned to Petrie in alarm. 'Hes not letting us off.

'We have to. Its life or death.

She spoke to the driver again, sharply this time, but the man simply gave a surly shake of the head. Petrie wondered about punching him.

'I could start to take my clothes off, she suggested.

'Hed just get the police. Petrie tapped Freya on the shoulder and they made their way to the back of the coach.

'What now?

'Wait till it stops. Then well get out of the emergency window.

Down a broad street, every set of traffic lights turning green as the bus approached. Glorious congestion loomed ahead. Petrie recognised the area. The big Tesco store appeared on the left. The bus stopped. A blue tram pulled up a few feet behind the bus. They pulled open the window and clambered out, in front of the astonished tram driver. Freyas boot caught Petrie on the cheek. The coach driver was shouting angrily.

They held hands and dodged their way across the busy street, not daring to look behind. On the busy pavement, they ran.

A couple of hundred metres on, they slowed down to a trot. And then they stopped at a little cl.u.s.ter of market stalls.

'Where are we? Petrie asked, his chest heaving. A red and white tram clattered past them, jammed with commuters.

She pointed. 'Theres the castle. Lets head for the Old Town.

'Ive dried off. How about you?

'Yes, but Id kill for a shower.

General Kamensky sat with three telephones. Two of them were on the Colonels desk and the third was a mobile which he produced from a deep army pocket. For his first call he cleared the Colonels office. Borovika and his Lieutenant stood in the outside corridor while tantalising s.n.a.t.c.hes of phrase came through the door. Then the General was at the door and waving them in while he made a further call.

This second call was to the Chief of Police in Prague. The Czech Republic being an independent state, the call was in the nature of a request. Equally clearly, someone had made sure that this 'request was backed up with all the necessary authority. A third call, identical in content, went to Bratislava.

At last he turned his attention to the officers facing him nervously across the desk. 'Colonel, I wont emphasise the magnitude of your failure as Im sure you are already aware of it. The fact is that your task force had a special a.s.signment, an unpleasant duty but a simple one. In fact, it could hardly have been simpler.

'Sir...

Kamensky waved a hand dismissively. 'I dont want to hear it. I turn up here to supervise the how can I put it? the terminal arrangements, to find that you have lost two of your charges. Untrained civilians bottled up inside a castle surrounded by a brigade of regular troops!

He helped himself to one of the Colonels cigars, he struck a match on the underside of the table and took a few puffs. Then he sighed. 'The position is that for this operation to be successful, all the enemies of the state have to be removed. One survivor equals total failure.

'Sir...

The General banged his hand on the table. 'I told you I dont want to hear your excuses! Now, thanks to your incompetence, we have to involve the regular police in the recapture of these people. Do you have any idea how much that complicates the operation, Borovika?

'I do, General.

Kamensky stared at him. 'I hope you do, Colonel. You now have to liquidate these people out of the public eye, and before they talk to the police, but at the same time we need the police manpower if we are to have any chance of finding them. We may also have to operate in the territory of a neighbouring state.

Borovika finally got a word in. 'They cant have gone far. They had no transport. The only railway stations within reach are at Mikulas and Benadikova. I have posted men at both, in plain clothes. The hotels within a ten-kilometre radius of here are being checked now.

'And if you were fleeing for your life, would you put up in the nearest hotel?

'No, sir. Its too stupid to be worth checking. Which is why Im checking.

Kamensky nodded approvingly. 'We may indeed be dealing with a couple of clever foxes. He stood up and moved over to a map pinned on the wooden wall. 'We are very close to the Polish border.

'Very close indeed.

'What are you doing about that?

Borovika pointed. 'There are only two crossing points, here at Trstena and possibly over here at Cadca. I have informed the border police and faxed through photographs of the criminals.

'Theres a rail crossing into Poland at Cadca.

'I expect the border police...

'You expect? The General rubbed his forehead in an anguished way. 'Colonel, move some of that idle brigade at Smolenie, and have them waiting at Cadca before the first train arrives.

'Yes, sir.

Kamenskys eyes roamed over the map. 'Border crossings, away from roads? What about Narodny Park here?

'At this time of year, General, without specialised equipment? Survival is impossible.

'Another of your impossibles, Borovika. However, I agree. It cant be done. Kamensky paused.

Borovika picked up the cue. 'Ill speak to the Park Rangers.

'You will. You will also check the local hotels, and find out what transport has been leaving from them, and whether anyone fitting the descriptions of the targets has been seen in the area. Kamensky looked at a photograph. 'The Strmer woman is strikingly beautiful. What wonderful blonde hair. So distinctive, would you not say?

38.