Sacrifice (49 page)

‘Get up here, Tora,’ he said.

40

UNABLE TO TEAR
my eyes from gair’s face, I shook my head. I wasn’t going anywhere near him. He terrified me.

His head disappeared. I heard him striding along the roof and I stepped closer to Dana. She reached out and held my ankle as I gripped the gun tight.

Then Gair’s face appeared again.

‘I’m opening the seacocks, Tora,’ he sneered. ‘You’ll have about ten minutes before the boat sinks like a stone. If you want to save your three friends, you come up top now.’

He strode off towards the bow of the boat. I staggered to the companionway and pulled myself up the steps. Gair was bent over the anchor locker. He saw me, straightened up and moved towards me.

I stood my ground. He was wounded too, although not as badly as I, and I still had the gun. I wasn’t giving in just yet. He climbed on to the cabin roof and stood there, legs apart for balance, towering above me. The wind whipped his clothes against him,
showing the lean, strong lines of his body. His face gleamed white against the night sky and his teeth were bared in a hideous attempt at a smile. He no longer looked like a wolf. He looked like a demon.

I backed away until I came up against the cockpit steering wheel. The contents of my bowels turned to mush and the muscles were no longer able to hold them in place. Evil-smelling warmth started to pour down my legs. Legs that had turned to straw and would hold me no longer. I sank to the cockpit floor.

Gair held something in one hand; a short length of chain. He swung it round and it crashed against the cabin roof. Then he caught hold of the other end with his left hand and pulled it tight. It was about three feet long and the links must have been a quarter of an inch thick. He stood at the edge of the cabin roof, poised to leap down. The boat rocked and he steadied himself. Below, I thought I could hear Dana’s voice, repeating the mayday call I’d given earlier. I even thought I heard a faint crackle of response. It was too late, though – too late for me, at any rate.

Just off the port bow loomed a massive shape, for a split second almost as terrifying as the man about to leap at me. Another granite stack, dangerously close. I dropped the gun and reached my right hand back through the spokes of the steering wheel, stretching up and back, towards the centre of the wheel where I knew the instruments must be. My fingers felt buttons and I began pressing. The buttons beeped at
me in response. I had no idea what they were, I just had to hope.

Gair raised himself on tiptoe. I reached high again, grabbed a spoke at the top of the wheel and pulled down as hard as I could.

The boat responded; one of the buttons I’d pressed had disengaged the auto-pilot and I was in control of the helm. Travelling at speed, the launch almost tipped over under the force of the abrupt turn. Below, objects rolled across the cabin floor and I heard Dana cry out. Gair staggered, almost slipped, grasped for something to steady himself and then miraculously regained his balance.

Just as we hit the twenty-foot-high granite stack.

As the boat swerved, I’d fallen to the floor of the cockpit; the force of the impact threw me back against the wheel, jarring my shoulders and nearly knocking me out. Through eyes that could barely see I watched Stephen Gair fly towards me. His eyes held mine and in that split second I saw fury, then fear, as he sailed through the air and crashed hard against the steering wheel. I heard a crack that I knew must be bone breaking and made myself turn to face him as he collapsed over the wheel. Then the freewheeling motion of the boat sent him over again, to land slumped in the stern of the boat.

I took hold of the wheel and dragged myself up. I pulled myself around it, close to Gair. He was starting to move, to lift his head up from the deck. Bracing myself against the wheel I kicked out; my
foot connected and he slid backwards. His hand shot out and grabbed my ankle. I held the wheel with both hands, lifted my other foot and jumped on his wrist. He let go and I kicked again. He slid further back and I kicked him again, this time connecting with his face, sickened that I was capable of such violence but unable to stop. I pushed one last time with both feet. I fell down into the stern as he slid overboard.

I don’t know how long I knelt there, staring down at the wash. I think I even considered rolling overboard myself. Realistically, it could only have been a few seconds before I realized the boat was spinning out of control. I crawled back into the cockpit and reached for the button that would switch the engines off. The engines died and their sound faded into the night. The boat was still moving with the wind and the tide, but no longer careering around madly. And that was it, absolutely it, nothing more I could do. I collapsed down, leaning against the steering wheel, wondering where help might come from. Whether there was any real possibility of it doing so.

Then Dana’s face appeared in the companionway. She saw me, but still didn’t seem able to speak. Then she disappeared and I wondered if she’d fallen. I wanted to go and help her; I think I even tried to stand up, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to cry, too, but I didn’t even have the energy for that.

Then something appeared over the top of the companionway steps. A tangle of canvas straps and metal. It was a life jacket – they’d been stored on one
of the shelves around the main cabin. I watched and another appeared. Then a third.

‘Tora, come on. Get one of these things on yourself.’ I could barely hear Dana’s voice, so feeble did it sound against the wind. Reaching up, I took hold of the wheel and managed to pull myself up on to all fours. I crawled round the wheel and across the cockpit floor. My leg was throbbing again and I tried not to think about it; to concentrate only on getting to the steps.

A hand appeared, a woman’s arm. I reached out and grabbed it. I had no strength but I held on as I fell backwards and a woman collapsed over the top of the steps. Her dark hair fell forward, covering her face. I pulled again and heard Dana grunt as she pushed from below. The dark-haired woman came up over the steps and landed on top of me. I pushed her to one side. It was Freya, the younger of the two. Her eyes opened briefly, she stared at me then closed them again and sank back against the cockpit seat.

I heard Dana’s voice calling ‘Tora’, saw a movement at the steps, more hands on the rails. Odel was climbing up by herself. She looked weak, barely able to focus, and I guessed Dana was pushing her up. I reached out for her hand as she staggered up, over the steps and into the cockpit. She gasped at the cold and almost fell against me.

Somehow I managed to stand up and stumble to the steps. I reached out and took hold of Dana’s arm. She came up surprisingly easily and I helped her climb over the last step. As the wind hit her she
started shivering violently. Below, I could see the cabin floor was underwater and it was rising fast. Gair had said we would have ten minutes once water started to flood the boat.

Dana’s eyes met mine. ‘Life jackets,’ I gasped, looking at Freya and Odel. Dana – sensible, practical Dana – was already wearing hers. She nodded and passed one to me. I managed to pull it over my head and fasten the metal buckle. Dana helped me pull jackets over the other two and then I inflated all of them and switched on the small lights that would give anyone searching for us just the ghost of a chance.

Water was breaking over the stern now and all four of us were sitting in an icy pool. Spray was soaking us, filling the cockpit every few seconds, hastening our descent. There was no time for the life raft, even if I could find it. I grabbed four harnesses and clipped our life jackets together at the waist. Sink or swim, we were doing it together.

‘Can you stand up?’ I yelled at Dana.

‘I think so,’ she managed, and together we struggled to our feet. Odel was able to stand with us and between us we supported Freya. Her eyes were darkening – she was sinking again. I climbed on to the seat and then the side deck. Dana followed, then Odel, and we dragged up Freya. Stumbling, grasping at anything that looked firm, we made our way to the stern of the rocking boat until we were all standing, looking down at the motionless propeller. I unclipped the rail and held tight to one of the stanchions.

‘We have to jump,’ I shouted, wrapping my other
arm tightly around Freya’s waist and looking at Dana and Odel to make sure they understood. ‘I’ll give the signal.’

Dana nodded. Odel was struggling to keep her eyes open but Dana wrapped one arm tightly round her and grasped a stanchion with the other.

I lowered myself on to the top step. We’d left Tronal far behind and there was no land close enough for swimming to be an option. Waves were now washing over my feet. I turned back, almost lost my balance and nodded to Dana.

‘After three,’ she gasped. ‘One, two, three, go!’

We leaped through the air and hit the silky smooth welcome of the ocean. Stars sparkled all around us as we sank lower and the blackness below reached up its arms and carried us down. I felt no cold, no pain, no fear, had no sense of the women around me, although I knew they were there.

I was filled with a sense of peace, of finality; it wasn’t so bad after all, this dying business, just sinking into silent, velvet-soft darkness.

But the will to live is wonderfully tenacious and I felt my legs moving, making swimming motions. Then the ancient laws of physics kicked in and the air in our jackets began to rise upwards, taking us with it. The surface broke around our faces like shattering glass and the salty night air leaped into my lungs. I reached out for Dana, found her hand and thought I saw the glint of her eyes as they met mine. Odel and Freya were just dark shapes in the water.

I could hear an engine again and knew that
someone was close. I tried to summon up fury that we’d been through so much, only to be picked up by the second Tronal boat, but couldn’t do it. I didn’t care.

The sound of the engine grew loud, almost deafening, but I had no sense of where it was coming from. I looked across at Dana and thought I saw her gazing upwards, a second before we were bathed in light.

When I opened my eyes again, I started screaming.

41

I WAS IN
a small, cream-painted room, with flower-prints on the walls and a door opening on to a private bathroom. I was back on Tronal, chained to a narrow hospital bed. My screams echoed through the building.

The door to the corridor slammed open and a nurse ran in, followed by an orderly and then a young doctor. They clustered round my bed, making soothing noises, trying to settle me back down again. I’d been sitting up. I looked down at my wrists. No shackles encircled them. I tried to move my legs. One of them moved easily, the other was too stiffly wrapped in bandages. No sign of chains. There was another bed in the room, but I couldn’t see who was in it; the nurse was standing in the way.

The doctor was holding my arm, a syringe in his hand. I tugged free and hit him. He swore and dropped the syringe.

‘No drugs. Don’t you dare drug me!’ I yelled.

‘Sounds like she means it,’ said a voice I knew. We all turned.

Kenn Gifford stood in the doorway. The others stepped back, away from the bed, unsure what to do next.

‘Where am I?’ I said.

‘The Balfour,’ replied Kenn. ‘On Orkney. DCI Rowley and I thought you might all prefer to be off Shetland for a while.’

‘Duncan,’ I gasped, ready to start screaming again.

Kenn gestured across the room, a small smile on his face. The nurse had moved and I could see the man in the bed next to my own. Ignoring the pain, I pushed my legs over the side of the bed until I was standing.

Kenn put an arm round my waist and half steered, half carried me to Duncan’s bed. My husband’s eyes were open but dull. I didn’t think he could see me too well. I reached out to stroke the side of his face. His entire head was bandaged. I didn’t take my eyes off him as Kenn and the nurse settled me back down on my own bed.

‘He took a nasty blow to the head,’ said Kenn. ‘We did a CT scan when you all came in this morning. The middle meningeal artery had been ruptured, causing an epidural haematoma.’

I watched as Duncan’s eyes slowly closed. He’d suffered a fairly common form of head injury. The middle meningeal artery runs just above the temple on either side of the head; the skull is thin at this
point, making the artery vulnerable to injury. An epidural haematoma, or build-up of blood between the skull and the brain, can compress the delicate brain tissue and, if not treated, lead to brain damage, even death.

‘Will he be OK?’ I asked.

‘We think so. The blood had time to clot so he needed a craniotomy, but it was all fairly straightforward. They’ll keep him sedated for another twelve hours or so.’

The younger doctor had picked up the syringe and was hovering.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ I spat at him.

He and Kenn exchanged a look. Then he left the room. The nurse and the orderly followed and the door closed behind them.

Kenn sat down on the bed.

‘Dana and the others? They’re here?’

He nodded. ‘Dana discharged herself a couple of hours ago. Alison and Collette are still here. Both doing fine.’

For a second I wasn’t with him. Then I had it. Freya and Odel: of course, those hadn’t been their real names.

‘Alison and Collette,’ I repeated. ‘Tell me about them.’

‘You need to rest.’

‘No, tell me who they are,’ I said, trying to push myself up and not managing it. Duncan’s eyes were still closed but the steady rise and fall of his chest was reassuring.

Kenn got up and propped up the bed.

‘Collette McNeil is thirty-three,’ he said, sitting down again. ‘She’s married with two young children and lives just outside Sumburgh. Every morning she takes the kids to school and then walks the family dog along the cliff top, over on the west coast. A month ago she was doing exactly that when she was approached by some men. Next thing she can remember is waking up on Tronal. The dog found its way home and raised the alarm. Everyone assumed she fell over the cliff.’