Firewall (7 page)

There was silence for a while as I kept a trigger on the house, then Val spoke again. "Nick, I have a proposition that I think will appeal to you."

6

I didn't respond, just kept my eyes on the house.

"It's a very simple proposition: Release me, and I will reward you handsomely. I have no idea what your plan is now. Mine, however, is to stay alive and at liberty. I am willing to pay you for that."

I turned to look at him. "How? There's nothing in your wallet but photographs."

He tutted, a father addressing a wayward son. "Nick, correct me if I'm wrong, but now that your plan has failed, I imagine you would like to get away from this country as quickly as you can. Release me, return to London and then I will get you the money. One of my apartments is in the name of Mr. P. P. Smith." He smiled; the name seemed to amuse him. "The address is 3A Palace Gardens, Kensington. Would you like me to repeat that?"

"No, I've got it."

I knew the area. It fitted the bill. It was full of Russians and Arabs, people with so much money they owned apartments worth millions and only used them once in a blue moon.

"Let's say that in two days' time, and for the next seven days after that, from noon till four p.m." there will be somebody at that address. Go there and you will receive one hundred thousand dollars U.S."

A drop of melted ice hit me on the cheek. I took a handful of snow from the tunnel and ran it over the drip point, my mood as black as the night I was staring into. What the fuck was I doing freezing in this snow hole? I had half a million dollars sitting here with me, from doing something the Firm (Secret Intelligence Service/ SIS would have paid me a couple of hundred a day for. But I couldn't get at it. My only hope of ever seeing it was Sergei, and fuck knew where he was.

Val knew when to talk and when to shut up and let people think, I went back to watching the house for another hour or so, getting even more cold and miserable.

I was slowly convincing myself that, if Sergei didn't make an appearance, I should take my chances with Val in London. Why not? It wasn't as if I had anything to lose, and I was desperate for the paycheck.

I could only hear the faint noise of the engine at first. It was tucked into the trees somewhere on the track and fighting to be heard above the wind. Then headlights appeared out of the treeline, heading toward the house. The noise got louder as it moved along the track. It was a 4x4 in low ratio. Sergei? It was impossible to tell if it was the Nissan from this distance.

Val had also heard it, and was keeping still so his jacket didn't rustle and drown out the noise.

I watched the headlights briefly illuminate the front of the house before turning into the garage and cutting out.

I heard just one door slam and my eyes moved to the windows. I saw nothing.

I slid over to Val. Passively, he let me check his plasticuffs. They were secure; he wasn't going anywhere unless he happened to have a chainsaw hidden inside his coat. All the same, I wished I'd brought some tape to cover his mouth in case he decided to shout for help. It wasn't until I blew out the candle, so he couldn't use it to burn the cuffs off, and started to push my way out of the snow, that he sparked up. "Nick?"

I stopped but didn't turn. "What?"

"Think about what I have said as you go to meet your friends. My offer is infinitely more profitable for you, and, may I say, safer."

"We'll see." I pushed myself out into the wind and was very much thinking about it, glad that Val wasn't going to scream and shout out.

He knew what was happening. If it was Sergei at the house, Val could forget his offer. By the morning we would be in St. Petersburg and I'd have my money and be on my way back to London.

As I retraced my route the wind was blowing head on, making my eyes stream. I could feel my tears turn to ice. I listened to the trees creak in the gale. Snow, whipped into a frenzy, attacked the exposed skin around my neck and face as I tried to focus on the house and surrounding area.

Kicking on about sixty feet, I checked the house again. The upstairs lights were on now, but there was still no movement inside. Moving off once more, I tried not to get too euphoric about the prospect of Sergei being there, but the feeling that this job could soon be over made the wind seem marginally less powerful.

Once below the sauna, on the lake, I pulled my trigger finger from its glove and pulled out the 88. It was far too dark to see with the naked eye, so I checked chamber with my exposed finger and ensured the mag was on tight, then climbed up onto the bank and moved forward in a semi crouch until I got to the garage entrance.

I was eager to make contact with Sergei, but had to take things slowly.

Only when I actually saw him would I feel safe.

I stood and listened at the garage door, not hearing anything apart from the sound of the wind bouncing it backward against the lock.

Keeping to the right of the frame, I pulled the metal handle down and the wind did the rest, forcing it inward. Fortunately, the bottom scraped along the ground, preventing it from crashing into the woodpile.

On my hands and knees in the snow, I eased my head round the bottom of the door frame.

The Nissan was parked the other side of the Volvo, the light from the ground-floor window reflecting off its roof. Things were looking up, but I'd have to wait a while before jumping with joy.

I moved into the garage and checked that no one was still in the Nissan. Then I pushed the door to, feeling warmer out of the wind.

The entrance to the house was closed, but the warm glow from the window was enough for me to be seen if anyone came out of it.

I moved to the right of the frame, pushing my ear against the door. I couldn't hear a thing. I moved to the other side of the Nissan and looked in through the window. There was no need to get right up to the glass to see in; it's always best to stay back and use the available cover.

My heart sank. Carpenter. Still dressed in his suit, but now without a tie or overcoat, he was taking pills from a small tin and swallowing them, shaking his head violently to force them down. His mini-Uzi was exposed, rigged up over his jacket and dangling under his right arm, with the harness strap bunching up the material where it crossed his back.

He moved about the room with no apparent purpose, sometimes out of view. Then I saw he had Val's duct tape and ball gag wrapped in his massive hand. He brought them up to his face for a moment, and, realizing their significance, hurled them to the ground. Then he started lifting chairs and smashing them against the walls, kicking our overcoats about the room like a two-year-old in a tantrum.

It wasn't hard to work out what was going through his mind. He'd decided that I had left with Val for the border, leaving him in the lurch. Fair one; I'd think the same. No wonder he was chucking his toys out of the stroller.

The table followed the chairs as the combination of narcotics and rage started to fuck with his head. There was no reason to consider my options; he had just made up my mind for me. Moving back to the outer door, I left him to it.

Checking back every thirty feet as I crossed the frozen lake, after several minutes I saw headlights in the darkness, heading away from the house and back toward the treeline. What the fuck was Carpenter up to?

He probably didn't even know himself.

With legs apart and slightly bent to keep myself stable in the gusts, I stood and watched until the lights disappeared into the night. It was very tempting to go back and wait in the house, but Carpenter might return and complicate matters, and anyway, there was still the police to worry about.

Turning parallel to the shore, I carried on toward the snow hole.

Once in the treeline I could see the whole of the side of the house.

Carpenter had left the lights on, but through the downstairs windows things didn't look right. It took me a second or two to work out what was happening.

Not bothering about leaving sign, I moved as fast as I could in a direct line toward the building, stumbling over in snow that sometimes came up to my chest. I was trying so hard to get there quickly that it didn't feel as if I was making any progress. It felt like one of the recurring dreams I'd had as a kid-running to someone, but never as fast as I needed to.

As I got closer I could see flames flickering in the room and smoke spewing out through a broken pane. A thick layer was gathering two or three feet deep on the ceiling and looking for more places to escape from. Fuck the house, it was the Volvo I was worried about.

By the time I reached the garage I could already hear the crackling of badly seasoned wood and the screams from the smoke alarms going ape shit The door to the house was open. Smoke was pouring out from the top of the frame. Either Carpenter had been switched on enough to know that he had to feed the fire with oxygen, or he just didn't give a shit. It didn't matter which, the fact was that it had taken hold big time.

I reached the car, the heat searing my back even through my ski jacket.

The inside of the house was a furnace.

As I put the key in the lock there was a sound like shotgun rounds being fired. Spray cans of something were exploding in the heat.

I reversed slowly out of the garage. It would have been pointless screaming out like a loony, only to get stuck in the snow. I just wanted to get clear enough so the Volvo wasn't incinerated. After a three-point turn I drove 150 feet up the track and killed the engine.

Jumping out with the keys, I stumbled back into the cover of the treeline, feeling as if I was back in that dream again.

By the time I neared the hide I could make out my shadow quite clearly against the snow. The flames were well and truly taking over from the smoke.

Sliding into the snow hole, I pulled out my Leatherman, felt for the plasticuffs and started to cut Val free, letting him sort himself out as I scrambled out again into the wind. He soon followed and we both stared at the burning building. Bizarrely, he started to try and comfort me. "It's all right, I knew you weren't abandoning me. I am worth too much to you, no? Particularly now. May I suggest that we leave here, and as soon as possible. Like you, I do not want to encounter the authorities. It would be most inconvenient." What was it with this guy? Did his pulse rate ever go above ten beats per minute?

He knew that whatever had happened out here it had stopped me from meeting up with any of the team; he didn't have to convince me any more to let him go. He knew it was my only sensible option now.

The Volvo could easily be seen in the flames. They hadn't penetrated the walls yet, but they were licking out hungrily from the windows.

I stopped him short of the car, handed him my Leatherman and carried on to open the trunk, shouting at him to cut the cord in his jacket.

Even at this distance, I felt the heat on my face.

He looked about him, found the nylon cord that could be adjusted to tighten around his waist, and began cutting. There were loud cracks as the frame of the house was attacked by the flames.

Val looked at the fire as he heard the trunk open. "Please, Nick, this time inside the car. It's very cold in there." It was a request rather than a demand. "And, of course, I'd prefer your company to that of the spare tire."

Responding to my nod, he settled in the Volvo's rear foot well giving me back the Leatherman and offering his hands. I tied them around the base of the emergency brake with the cord, where I could see them.

We drove out, leaving the fire to do what it had to do. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing; at least there wouldn't be any evidence of me ever having been there.

There was no sign of Carpenter or anyone else as we bumped our way up to the chain gate. I left it on the ground where I found it, as a warning to Sergei. There was still a chance that he'd got away.

There'd been two Hiluxes in the hotel parking lot; maybe he'd swiped the other one. It was too late now to hope that he might get us over the border, but I still didn't want him to get caught. He was a good guy, but fuck it, I was on a new phase now, and one that had nothing to do with any of them.

I had lost, I had to accept it. Now I had to take my chances with Val.

"I'll drop you off at a train station," I said as we headed toward Vaalimaa. "You can deal from there."

"Of course. My people will extricate me quite swiftly." There was no emotion in his voice. He sounded like a Russian version of Jeeves.

"May I give you some advice?"

"Why not?"

My eyes were fixed on the road, heading for the highway past the town, seeing nothing but piled-up snow on either side of me. The wind buffeted the side of the car enough for me to have to keep adjusting the steering. It was like having a heavy arctic drive past on a highway.

"You will obviously want to leave the country quickly, Nick. May I suggest Estonia? From there you can get a flight to Europe fairly easily, or even a ferry to Germany. After what has happened at the hotel, only a fool would try to leave Helsinki by air, or cross into Sweden." I didn't reply, just stared at the snow in the headlights.

Just over two hours later we were approaching Puistola, one of the Helsinki suburbs. Not that I could see any of it: first light wasn't for another four hours. People would soon be waking up to their cheese and meatballs and listening to the radio accounts of last night's gunfight at the O.K. Corral.

I looked for signs to the train station. The morning rush hour, if there was one, would start in an hour or two.

Pulling into the parking lot, I cut Val free of the emergency brake. He knew to stay still and wait for me to tell him when to move. He was so close to freedom, why jeopardize things now?

I got out and stood away from the car, my pistol in the pocket of my down jacket. He crawled out and we both stood in a line of frozen-over cars, in the dark, as he sorted himself out, tucking in his clothes and running his hands through his hair. Still looking ridiculous in Carpenter's snow pants and ski jacket, he clapped his gloved hands together to get some circulation going, eventually extending one of them to me. The only shaking I did was with my head; he understood why and nodded. "Nick, thank you. You will receive your reward for releasing me. P. P. Smith. Remember the rest?"