No Going Back (31 page)

‘They're here! Look, here they are!' The stress in Macek's voice was unmistakable even at a distance. ‘Now get me out of here!'

Daniel looked up. Macek was in the open driver's doorway again, but this time he held a young dark-haired girl in the crook of his arm, her head lolling against his chest and her face ashen. It wasn't Elena, so it had to be Molly, but gone was the pretty girl he'd seen at Moorside, bubbling with mischievous laughter. Daniel couldn't see if her eyes were open. She could have been dead for all he knew.

Macek had also lowered the rear window of the Nissan and in the aperture Daniel could dimly see the dark head of another child, presumably Elena, who also appeared to be sleeping.

‘What have you done to them?' he called.

Macek made an impatient movement with his head. ‘I gave them something to keep them quiet. They're all right. Now get me out of here!'

His consistent use of ‘me' as opposed to ‘us' was not lost on Daniel. He held up the leather rope into the centre of which he had incorporated the heavy girth. It should be strong enough to support the weight of a man and a small child, although the maxim about the weakest link was frighteningly true, and the weakest link in this particular chain was probably the buckle that joined the two reins. For that reason, he had placed the reins at one end of the cobbled rope and planned to throw that portion across to the Romanian. At least that way he'd be able to retrieve it and cast it out again, should the worst happen.

‘Right. Catch the end of this, tie it round Molly and send her first, and then I'll throw the rope back for you and Elena.' Daniel was under no illusions that someone with Macek's murderous history would actually follow these altruistic instructions, but he had to at least try.

‘Yes, yes, hurry!'

Coiling the mismatched collection of leather straps like a lasso, Daniel kept hold of his end and sent the rest snaking out across the bog towards the stricken 4x4.

His aim was true, and to his relief, there was enough spare for Macek to knot round one of the girls, if he could be persuaded to do so.

Unsurprisingly, he appeared to have no such intention in mind. As soon as he caught the end of the makeshift line, he pushed Molly back behind him on to the seat and wrapped it round his own body before reaching one hand forward to get a good grip on the leather.

‘Pull me in,' he shouted, but Daniel wasn't about to play ball.

‘If you don't bring the girl, I'll throw the other end too!' he warned.

‘You won't do that.'

‘Watch me.'

Macek gave him a look simmering with hatred and then, clearly realizing he had no bargaining power, reached behind him for the rag-doll-like figure of the child. With his arm circling her waist, he clutched her to him, and Daniel was relieved to see Molly's arms lift to encircle the Romanian's neck. Some vestige of consciousness remained, then – that was encouraging.

‘Stay as flat and as still as you can,' he called, and braced himself to take up the strain as Macek prepared to abandon the temporary safety of the Nissan.

The question of whether the makeshift rope was strong enough to take the Romanian's weight turned out to be less pertinent than whether Daniel was strong enough. Macek was a big man and would have been a challenge to pull through water, but as he tentatively lowered himself into the thick, peaty mud of the mire, the degree of drag on the leather line caught Daniel off guard and he staggered forward a step or two before steadying himself on the very brink of the bog.

‘Pull!' Macek shouted, panic edging his voice.

Digging his forward heel in behind a tussock, Daniel looped the head-collar lead rope diagonally round his body like the anchorman on a tug-of-war team and leaned into the strain. It made little difference, and the task before him suddenly seemed hopeless. He had managed to pull Macek and his precious cargo a scant few inches towards safety, but they had also sunk several more inches into the mud.

‘Pull! Damn you!' the Romanian yelled again, adding a string of what was almost certainly abuse in his own tongue.

Daniel was too busy to attempt a reply. Trying to at least hold the ground he had gained, he glanced round for inspiration. Drummer had wandered off and stood with his head low, but even if he had been within reach, it wouldn't have helped. Stripped of his tack to make the rope, there was no way of fastening anything to him to utilize his strength in hauling. Daniel's gaze moved on and stopped at the small group of stunted hawthorn trees that stood on the bog's edge, some 10 feet away.

If he could get to those, might he be able to run his rope round one of the trunks and thus increase his pulling power?

Slipping and stumbling, Daniel began to work his way across to where the nearest tree stood in a patch of reedy grass and heather. Once, his foot missed the firm ground and plunged through the surface of the bog to go ankle-deep in the icy black sludge. Caught off-balance, he fell to his knees and lost much of the advantage he'd gained. Another tirade of abuse reached him as he struggled upright again.

Two, three, four more steps and he caught hold of the hawthorn with his right hand. Its trunk was barely larger than his wrist, but although the little tree shook as it took his weight, it was tough and deep-rooted, and Daniel felt if he could only gain enough rope to wrap round it, he would start to make progress.

Feeling the effort throbbing through his temples, Daniel dug his heels in and hauled on the line until his muscles cracked with the strain. Finally, with shaking hands he was able to pass the end of the rope round the hawthorn.

Tempting though it was to take a moment to rest his burning muscles, there wasn't time. For every hard-fought inch he gained horizontally, the two on the other end of the line lost several to the clutches of the thick slime. Macek was now up to his armpits in it with Molly's head close to his. Daniel couldn't forget that Elena remained trapped in the vehicle they had left behind, although a quick glance towards the 4x4 failed to catch any further sight of her.

One long pull against the tree and 6 inches were reclaimed, the gnarled grey trunk shuddering under the strain. Another pull and another and Daniel could see that the Romanian was now further out of the bog and sliding more easily across its surface, the girl still clutched to his side, her long, dark hair straggling with mud and water.

Encouraged by his progress, Daniel leaned into the task even more strongly, and after a dozen more pulls, the Romanian was within touching distance.

As Macek felt the firmer ground under his outstretched arm, he began to flounder against it, trying to climb out.

‘Give me the girl,' Daniel told him, tying the rope off to the tree and reaching his hand down.

The Romanian was having none of it. ‘Get back or I'll push her under!' he warned, an ugly look on his mud-streaked face.

‘For God's sake, man!' Daniel exclaimed, but one look at those implacable features forced him to withdraw a little. There was no question that Macek meant what he said.

With impressive strength, and using only his left hand on the rope, the big Romanian managed to haul himself upwards until his torso rested on ground that, while it couldn't be called solid, at least took his weight. The effort left him gasping for breath and he released Molly to lie on the snow beside him. Her eyes were open, but her head fell back limply, skin pale beneath the grime.

Instinctively, Daniel started forward once more.

‘Get back!' Macek growled, and suddenly there was the deadly gleam of steel at Molly's throat.

Daniel froze, the nightmare of his past rising up to haunt him.

At his side, Taz rumbled his displeasure and Daniel slipped a hand in the dog's collar.

The Romanian pulled himself into a sitting position, dragging the girl towards him. He was still breathing hard but had begun to shiver violently in the icy wind.

‘You try anything and the girl gets her throat cut,' he told Daniel through chattering teeth. ‘Give me your jacket.'

‘She's no use to you dead,' Daniel reasoned.

‘Your jacket.'

Obediently Daniel removed his outer coat, his mind racing. With almost anyone else he might have been tempted to call their bluff, but not Macek. He would snuff the girl's life out without a second thought if he were crossed. Hadn't he done so with Marika? He had no compunction. Killing was just a matter of convenience as far as he was concerned.

‘And the other one.' Macek gestured at Daniel's leather jacket.

There was no point in protesting. Removing his mobile from the pocket, Daniel took it off, feeling the wind immediately cut through the jumper he wore underneath. How much worse it must be for Molly, wet to the skin.

‘Put one round the child,' he said, without much hope.

‘Yeah, right.' Macek smiled unpleasantly.

‘She'll die if you don't.'

‘She can have your jumper.'

Daniel hesitated and then stripped it off. He could only hope that Macek meant what he said.

‘Such a hero,' Macek taunted, holding out his hand for the clothes.

Taz growled menacingly at what he saw as an aggressive movement from his enemy, and the tip of the knife jabbed into the white skin of Molly's neck, drawing a trickle of blood.

‘Keep that dog back!'

‘Taz, down!' Daniel said instantly. He was beginning to shiver himself now, partly with the cold and partly from fear of making a wrong move.

All at once his mind flashed back to the corner shop and in spite of the temperature, he felt a sweat break out on his body. He'd believed he had no choice then as well. He'd let the junkie walk away and he'd still cut the girl. Would the Romanian do the same? Would he see Molly as an asset, or was she now a liability? Once again there seemed to be nothing he could do, but after last time, he wasn't prepared to accept that as an option.

With a dry mouth he held out the clothing.

‘Take it and go, but leave the girl, please.'

Macek ignored him. ‘Drop them and get back. Go on – further.'

Resignedly, Daniel did as he was told, all the while watching for the slightest wavering in Macek's attention, for one split second when the knife might move from its deadly position as the Romanian changed.

There was none. Macek removed his wet denim jacket and shrugged himself into the dry clothes, transferring the knife from one hand to the other but never moving it far from Molly's throat. Having taken care of himself, he slipped Daniel's jumper over Molly's head.

That was something, Daniel thought. A sign that, for the moment at least, he intended the girl to live.

Now the Romanian was on his feet, holding the child against him, her feet several inches clear of the snowy ground, the knife still pressing against her throat. Her eyes were half open now but uncomprehending, her body limp. On Macek's huge frame, Daniel's jacket and coat were a tight fit and didn't meet at the front, but would nevertheless probably make the difference between life and terminal hypothermia. Molly had no such protection. Her denim skirt and anorak would have been inadequate for the conditions even had they been dry, and the jumper would do little to keep out the wind. Under the splashes of dirt, her face was taking on a translucent bluish tinge.

At that moment, the sound of a faint sobbing was carried to them on the wind, and Daniel glanced away across the bog towards the Nissan. He could see Elena's face at the rear window. It seemed that whatever drug Macek had administered was wearing off and she was now awake and terrified at finding herself alone in the sinking car.

Weighed down by the engine and the mud that had oozed over the sill of the open door, the 4x4 had now listed forward and to the right, so that most of the bonnet was submerged and the mossy slime was creeping, inch by inexorable inch, up the windscreen.

‘What about Elena?' he demanded of Macek, aware even as the words left his mouth that to expect any kind of mercy from the Romanian was futile. ‘We can't just leave her there. We have to help her.'

‘Good idea,' Macek responded. ‘You go help her. Molly and I will go for a little walk.' He started to edge away from Daniel.

Desperately, Daniel looked from the Romanian to the sinking Nissan and back again. He couldn't let Macek walk away with Molly any more than he could leave Elena to drown in the bog. What was tearing him apart was that he couldn't see how to prevent either happening.

Suddenly, the wind dropped and another sound reached them. The distant buzz of an engine. A rhythmic, pulsating drone. A helicopter.

Daniel looked up, hope leaping once more. Had Hilary got through to Tom Bowden? Was the helicopter looking for them or responding to another call? Whatever its mission, he might be able to use its presence to his advantage, if it would only come closer.

He turned a triumphant look on Macek. ‘Do you hear that? They're coming! You may as well give up. You can't outrun a chopper.'

‘They're miles away. They'll never see us,' the Romanian said confidently, but his eyes slid heavenwards even so.

‘I called them,' Daniel lied. ‘They know where to look.'

Macek's eyes narrowed. ‘I don't believe you.'

‘I don't care whether you do or not.'

‘They look for movement. I'll keep very still.'

‘But I'll jump up and down,' Daniel promised.

The helicopter was definitely coming closer, and uncertainty began to show in Macek's face.

‘If you try to signal to it, I'll kill the girl.'

‘You do and you'll have nothing to hide behind.'

‘And who am I hiding from? You?' Macek sneered. ‘Don't make me laugh.'

‘I think you're forgetting Taz,' Daniel observed.

The Romanian's eyes flickered towards Taz, still lying where Daniel had told him to.

‘I've dealt with the dog before,' he said dismissively, but Daniel could see the idea of a rematch didn't exactly fill him with enthusiasm.