I watched it fly south, and Elin said, Im puzzled about that.
So am I, I said.
Not in the same way that I am, she said. American military aircraft dont usually overfly the country. She was frowning.
Now you come to mention it, that is odd. Theres a certain amount of tension in Iceland about the continuing American military presence at Keflavik. A lot of Icelanders take the view that its an imposition and who can blame them? The American authorities are quite aware of this tension and try to minimize it, and the American Navy in Iceland tries to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Flaunting military aircraft in Icelandic skies was certainly out of character.
I shrugged and dismissed the problem, concentrating on getting the last drop out of the jerrycan, and then we carried on with not a sign of anything on our tail. We were now on the last lap, running down the straight, if rough, track between the River Thjórsá and the ridge of Búdarháls with the main roads only seventy kilometres ahead, inasmuch as any roads in Iceland can be so described.
But even a lousy Icelandic road would be perfection when compared with the tracks of the Óbyggdir, especially when we ran into trouble with mud. This is one of the problems of June when the frozen earth of winter melts into a gelatinous car trap. Because we were in a Land-Rover it didnt stop us but it slowed us down considerably, and the only consolation I had was that Kennikin would be equally hampered when he hit the stuff.
At eleven oclock the worst happened a tyre blew. It was a front tyre and I fought the wheel as we jolted to a stop. Lets make this fast, I said, and grabbed the wheel brace.
If we had to have a puncture it wasnt a bad place to have it. The footing was level enough to take the jack without slipping and there was no mud at that point. I jacked up the front of the Land-Rover and got busy on the wheel with the brace. Because of Elins shoulder she wasnt of much use in this kind of job. so I said. What about making coffee we could do with something hot.
I took the wheel off, rolled it away and replaced it with the spare. The whole operation took a little under ten minutes, time we couldnt afford not there and then. Once we were farther south we could lose ourselves on a more-or-less complex road network, but these wilderness tracks were too restricted for my liking.
I tightened the last wheel nut and then looked to see what had caused a blowout and to put the wheel back into its rack. What I saw made my blood run cold. I fingered the jagged hole in the thick tyre and looked up at the Búdarháls ridge which dominated the track.
There was only one thing that could make a hole like that a bullet. And somewhere up on the ridge, hidden in some crevice, was a sniper and even then I was probably in his sights.
III
How in hell did Kennikin get ahead of me? That was my first bitter thought. But idle thoughts were no use and action was necessary.
I heaved up the wheel with its ruined tyre on to the bonnet and screwed it down securely. While I rotated the wheel brace I glanced covertly at the ridge. There was a lot of open ground before the ridge heaved itself into the air at least two hundred yards and the closest a sniper could have been was possibly four hundred yards and probably more.
Any man who could put a bullet into a tyre at over four hundred yards a quarter mile was a hell of a good shot. So good that he could put a bullet into me any time he liked so why the devil hadnt he? I was in plain view, a perfect target, and yet no bullets had come my way. I tightened down the last nut and turned my back to the ridge, and felt a prickling feeling between my shoulder blades that was where the bullet would hit me if it came.
I jumped to the ground and put away the brace and jack, concentrating on doing the natural thing. The palms of my hands were slippery with sweat. I went to the back of the Land-Rover and looked in at the open door. Hows the coffee coming?
Just ready, said Elin.
I climbed in and sat down. Sitting in that confined space gave a comforting illusion of protection, but thats all it was an illusion. For the second time I wished the Land-Rover had been an armoured car. From where I was sitting I could inspect the slopes of the ridge without being too obvious about it and I made the most of the opportunity.
Nothing moved among those red and grey rocks. Nobody stood up and waved or cheered. If anyone was still up there he was keeping as quiet as a mouse which, of course, was the correct thing to do. If you pump a bullet at someone youd better scrunch yourself up small in case he starts shooting back.
But was anybody still up there? I rather thought there was. Who in his right mind would shoot a hole in the tyre of a car and then just walk away? So he was still up there, waiting and watching. But if he was still there why hadnt he nailed me? It didnt make much sense unless he was just supposed to immobilize me.
I stared unseeingly at Elin who was topping up a jar with sugar. If that was so, then Kennikin had men coming in from both sides. It wouldnt be too hard to arrange if he knew where I was radio communication is a wonderful thing. That character up on the ridge would have been instructed to stop me so that Kennikin could catch up; and that meant he wanted me alive.
I wondered what would happen if I got into the driving seat and took off again. The odds were that another bullet would rip open another tyre. It would be easier this time on a sitting target. I didnt take the trouble to find out there was a limit to the number of spare tyres I carried, and the limit had already been reached.
Hoping that my chain of reasoning was not too shaky I began to make arrangements to get out from under that gun. I took Lindholms cosh from under the mattress where I had concealed it and put it into my pocket, then I said, Lets go and My voice came out as a hoarse croak and I cleared my throat. Lets have coffee outside.
Elin looked up in surprise. I thought we were in a hurry.
Weve been making good time, I said. I reckon were far enough ahead to earn a break. Ill take the coffee pot and the sugar; you bring the cups. I would have dearly loved to have taken the carbine but that would have been too obvious; an unsuspecting man doesnt drink his coffee fully armed.
I jumped out of the rear door and Elin handed out the coffee pot and the sugar jar which I set on the rear bumper before helping her down. Her right arm was still in the sling but she could carry the cups and spoons in her left hand. I picked up the coffee pot and waved it in the general direction of the ridge. Lets go over there at the foot of the rocks. I made off in that direction without giving her time to argue.
We trudged over the open ground towards the ridge. I had the coffee pot in one hand and the sugar jar in the other, the picture of innocence. I also had the sgian dubh tucked into my left stocking and a cosh in my pocket, but those didnt show. As we got nearer the ridge a miniature cliff reared up and I thought our friend up on top might be getting worried. Any moment from now he would be losing sight of us, and he might just lean forward a little to keep us in view.
I turned as though to speak to Elin and then turned back quickly, glancing upwards as I did so. There was no one to be seen but I was rewarded by the glint of something a reflection that flickered into nothing. It might have been the sun reflecting off a surface of glassy lava, but I didnt think so. Lava doesnt jump around when left to its own devices not after it has cooled off, that is.
I turned as though to speak to Elin and then turned back quickly, glancing upwards as I did so. There was no one to be seen but I was rewarded by the glint of something a reflection that flickered into nothing. It might have been the sun reflecting off a surface of glassy lava, but I didnt think so. Lava doesnt jump around when left to its own devices not after it has cooled off, that is.
I marked the spot and went on, not looking up again, and we came to the base of the cliff which was about twenty feet high. There was a straggly growth of birch; gnarled trees all of a foot high. In Iceland bonsai grow naturally and Im surprised the Icelanders dont work up an export trade to Japan. I found a clear space, set down the coffee pot and the sugar jar, then sat down and pulled up my trouser leg to extract the knife.
Elin came up. What are you doing?
I said, Now dont jump out of your pants, but theres a character on the ridge behind us who just shot a hole in that tyre.
Elin stared at me wordlessly. I said, He cant see us here, but I dont think hes worried very much about that. All he wants to do is to stop us until Kennikin arrives and hes doing it very well. As long as he can see the Land-Rover he knows we arent far away. I tucked the knife into the waistband of my trousers its designed for a fast draw only when wearing a kilt.
Elin sank to her knees. Youre sure?
Im positive. You dont get a natural puncture like that in the side wall of a new tyre. I stood up and looked along the ridge. Im going to winkle out that bastard; I think I know where he is. I pointed to a crevice at the end of the cliff, a four-foot high crack in the rock. I want you to get in there and wait. Dont move until you hear me call and make bloody sure it is me.
And what if you dont come back? she said bleakly.
She was a realist. I looked at her set face and said deliberately, In that case, if nothing else happens, you stay where you are until dark, then make a break for the Land-Rover and get the hell out of here. On the other hand, if Kennikin pitches up, try to keep out of his way and do that by keeping out of sight. I shrugged. But Ill try to get back.
Do you have to go at all?
I sighed. Were stuck here, Elin. As long as that joker can keep the Land-Rover covered were stuck. What do you want me to do? Wait here until Kennikin arrives and then just give myself up?
But youre not armed?
I patted the hilt of the knife. Ill make out. Now, just do as I say. I escorted her to the cleft and saw her inside. It cant have been very comfortable; it was a foot and a half wide by four feet high and so she had to crouch. But there are worse things than being uncomfortable.
Then I contemplated what I had to do. The ridge was seamed by gullies cut by water into the soft rock and they offered a feasible way of climbing without being seen. What I wanted to do was to get above the place where I had seen the sudden glint. In warfare and this was war he who holds the high ground has the advantage.
I set out, moving to the left and sticking close in to the rocks. There was a gully twenty yards along which I rejected because I knew it petered out not far up the ridge. The next one was better because it went nearly to the top, so I went into it and began to climb.
Back in the days when I was being trained I went to mountain school and my instructor said something very wise. Never follow a watercourse or a stream, either uphill or downhill, he said. The reasoning was good. Water will take the quickest way down any hill and the quickest way is usually the steepest. Normally one sticks to the bare hillside and steers clear of ravines. Abnormally, on the other hand, one scrambles up a damned steep, slippery, waterworn crack in the rock or one gets ones head blown off.
The sides of the ravine at the bottom of the ridge were about ten feet high, so there was no danger of being seen. But higher up the ravine was shallower and towards the end it was only about two feet deep and I was snaking upwards on my belly. When I had gone as far as I could I reckoned I was higher than the sniper, so I cautiously pushed my head around a pitted chunk of lava and assessed the situation.
Far below me on the track, and looking conspicuously isolated, was the Land-Rover. About two hundred feet to the right and a hundred feet below was the place where I thought the sniper was hiding. I couldnt see him because of the boulders which jutted through the sandy skin of the ridge. That suited me; if I couldnt see him then he couldnt see me, and that screen of boulders was just what I needed to get up close.
But I didnt rush at it. It was in my mind that there might be more than one man. Hell, there could be a dozen scattered along the top of the ridge for all I knew! I just stayed very still and got back my breath, and did a careful survey of every damned rock within sight.
Nothing moved, so I wormed my way out of cover of the ravine and headed towards the boulders, still on my belly. I got there and rested again, listening carefully. All I heard was the faraway murmur of the river in the distance. I moved again, going upwards and around the clump of boulders, and now I was holding the cosh.
I pushed my head around a rock and saw them, fifty feet below in a hollow in the hillside. One was lying down with a rifle pushed before him, the barrel resting on a folded jacket; the other sat farther back tinkering with a walkie-talkie. He had an unlighted cigarette in his mouth.
I withdrew my head and considered. One man I might have tackled two together were going to be tricky, especially without a gun. I moved carefully and found a better place from which to observe and where I would be less conspicuous two rocks came almost together but not quite, and I had a peephole an inch across.
The man with the rifle was very still and very patient. I could imagine that he was an experienced hunter and had spent many hours on hillsides like this waiting for his quarry to move within range. The other man was more fidgety; he eased his buttocks on the rock on which he was sitting, he scratched, he slapped at an insect which settled on his leg, and he fiddled with the walkie-talkie.
At the bottom of the ridge I saw something moving and held my breath. The man with the rifle saw it, too, and I could see the slight tautening of his muscles as he tensed. It was Elin. She came out of cover from under the cliff and walked towards the Land-Rover.
I cursed to myself and wondered what the hell she thought she was doing. The man with the rifle settled the butt firmly into his shoulder and took aim, following her all the way with his eye glued to the telescopic sight. If he pulled that trigger I would take my chances and jump the bastard there and then.
Elin got to the Land-Rover and climbed inside. Within a minute she came out again and began to walk back towards the cliff. Half-way there she called out and tossed something into the air. I was too far away to see what it was but I thought it was a packet of cigarettes. The joker with the rifle would be sure of what it was because he was equipped with one of the biggest telescopic sights I had ever seen.
Elin vanished from sight below and I let out my breath. She had deliberately play-acted to convince these gunmen that I was still there below, even if out of sight. And it worked, too. The rifleman visibly relaxed and turned over and said something to the other man. I couldnt hear what was said because he spoke in low tones, but the fidget laughed loudly.