Chapter Twenty Eight

“He must’ve lost his keys somewhere. They’re not in his

pockets.”

Sasha

looked up. He didn’t care where Laurie’s keys were. All he cared

about was the wiped-out blank of Laurie’s face, the task of lifting

his shoulders off the ground without shifting the bullet near his

heart. Kucharski was hefting Laurie from behind the knees. Sasha

dragged his mind back to the needs of the moment. Kucharski had

been willing to stand here and defend them all against the

predators crashing towards them through the woods. Laurie had given

him a flicker of hope before passing out—the surreal existence of

that red Mercedes, a God-given getaway car. “If they’re not in his

pockets...” Sasha paused, getting his balance, nodding to Elizabeth

as she pushed aside the brambles to let him through. “Knowing him,

he might have left them in the ignition.”

“Jesus. How does a boy like that end up in a gunfight with

Romani gangsters?”

“He turned the world upside down to keep us both away from

them.” Sasha eased out onto the track. Laurie’s head was resting on

his arm, his face serene beneath its splatter-mask of blood. “He’s

got to have an ambulance. Now.”

“I asked for medical backup with my extraction. And if those

sirens are for us...” Kucharski listened for a moment. Sasha knew

what he was thinking, the calculation between the rescue ahead of

him and the wolves behind, between too far

away and too damn

close. “Foster will have paramedics en

route to us. We just need to meet them halfway.”

They

were almost at the car. Elizabeth had run ahead. She tried the

driver’s door: swung it wide and stared back at Sasha and

Kucharski, her eyes wide. “He did! The keys are here!”

Kucharski chuckled. “Did you ever hear the Eastern European

story, about... villages who treated their idiots like saints,

because they knew that one day they’d do something to save

them?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said with distracted tenderness, darting round

to open the back doors too. “We entertain our idiot angels

unawares. Get him into the back seat, both of you. Alexandru, stay

with him—keep his shoulders elevated. John, come into the front

beside me. I’ll drive.”

“The hell you will!”

“For God’s sake... I’m not stealing your toy car. You’re a

better shot than me, that’s all, and if these guys have their own

vehicle and try and pursue us—”

“All right, all right. Sasha, can you get him in your side?

I’ll come round and help you shift him over.”

Sasha nodded. He could just about manage to hoist Laurie onto

the Merc’s afterthought of a back seat. Never thought you’d need it for this, did you, though we did

have nervous sex in here off a back road near Brighton, because

you’d never made out in a car and you wanted to give it a

try... Kucharski reached in from the far

side, took Laurie’s deadweight by the armpits and helped ease him

into Sasha’s lap. Then he jumped into the passenger seat beside

Elizabeth, who had already worked out the gears and biting point

and was revving the engine. “Easy! Don’t push her so

hard.”

“Her front end is down in the mud. I need to back her out fast

or she’ll stick.”

“Fine. Anyone chasing us who hasn’t already noticed a

bright-red bloody sports car...”

From a

distance Sasha listened to them bicker. His frightened imagination

provided for him a sharp, absurd vision of a normal

childhood—irritable father chewing out his wife for her driving

skills. The Merc bumped backwards out of the trees, found purchase

on tarmac and squealed round. Sasha let the vision develop. If

Kucharski was the dad—and Sasha could think of worse fates than

that for a kid, especially by contrast with Stefan Petrica—that

made Elizabeth...

Laurie’s

breathing hitched and rasped. Sasha leaned urgently over him. The

only family he’d ever known or cared for was the man in his arms

right now. “There’s a casualty department at Uxbridge. I can direct

you down the back roads if you—”

“No,” Kucharski interrupted sharply. “Head towards East Hill,

fast as she’ll go. I can see blue lights coming up along the

bypass. If they’re coming here, we’ll intercept them.”

Fast as she’ll go. Sasha had already

found out how fast that was. Blazing out along the motorway with

the top down, Laurie behind the wheel, his exultation edged with a

fever Sasha now understood... Laurie had been on the run even then,

from himself and from Petrica’s wolves. “I’m sorry,” Sasha told

him, wiping fresh blood from his mouth. “I didn’t know. Please hang

on, love.” Elizabeth glanced into the back. Her jaw set grimly and

she revved the Merc up through the gears. Acceleration pressed

Sasha back in his seat as she laid her foot to the floor and tore

off down the long straight stretch of the East Hill

road.

Always such a deserted place. Laurie had told Sasha how he’d

once gone out there on his own, missed the last bus and had to walk

home. Watching the streetlights throw wingbeats of light into his

lover’s sleeping face, Sasha envisaged that journey. The road must

have stretched out forever to the lonely city boy who had once had

a chauffeur-driven limo at his command. I

was looking for you. But you weren’t there. Laurie, who could make a narrative drama out of a trip to the

corner shop, told all the stories of their first separation in such

simple terms, often avoiding Sasha’s gaze, looking out of the

window. The road was empty. I didn’t see a

soul all the way. Elizabeth looked over her

shoulder again, one swift check. “If I’d taken him with me he’d

have been killed,” Sasha said, as if he’d known her forever and

could be sure that she of all people would understand. “I took him

with me tonight.”

She fixed her gaze on the road. “No. He came with you, Alexandru, all by

himself. Don’t you think that sometimes people need to take that

chance?” Her voice rasped oddly and she swallowed, steadying the

wheel. “Wouldn’t you have preferred it yourself?”

Sasha

didn’t have time to take in the question. Oncoming headlights

pierced the darkness up ahead. Kucharski leaned forward to find the

Merc’s hazards. “This is it. Slow up, Elizabeth—pull over to the

side.”

“It’s just another car, isn’t it?”

“Look behind. There’s two others, and I think the third’s an

ambulance. If that’s Foster, she’s making the right approach—got

them all strung out like normal traffic. Blue lights to get them

here quickly, but now...” The oncoming car began to decelerate,

headlights flickering a response. Kucharski grinned and lifted a

hand to the unseen driver. “Silent running. Stop here.”

Elizabeth obeyed, and he sprang out into the road. Through

the windshield Sasha watched him, lit from behind in pulses of

orange, the vehicles closing around him, coming to a halt. The

first three were police cars, unmarked except for their

roof-mounted lightbars. The fourth... “Please,” Sasha said, barely

able to get the words out past the stone-cold hollow in his chest.

“That’s an ambulance. Tell them we need them, Elizabeth. I can’t

feel Laurie’s pulse any more. I can’t.”

But there was no need to tell anyone anything now. Kucharski

was gesturing back at the Merc. Paramedics were spilling from the

ambulance. Elizabeth scrambled out, pulled the back door open and

beckoned to them frantically. And that was enough: that was all it

took to lift Sasha’s world out of his hands. Green-clad arms

reached into the back seat, reflective sleeve-strips bouncing back

the hazards and headlights. They closed round Sasha, not Laurie,

half-lifting him back out of the car. They were kindly but brusque,

making sure he was steady before they let him go, then abandoning

him absolutely. Questions echoed on the night air—easy stuff Sasha

should have been able to answer. What’s

his name, please? How old is he? What happened to him?

He couldn’t get a word out. He leaned his hands on

the Merc’s warm bonnet and tried to breathe, but it didn’t really

matter. Elizabeth was answering for him, businesslike and clear.

“His name’s Laurie. He’s about twenty one. He has a close-range

gunshot wound to his left shoulder at the back. I packed it, but he

lost a lot of blood before then. I don’t think he’ll survive

another move.”

“Right. We’ll treat him in the car. Mike, go get the

gear.”

Sasha

fell back. He was in the way of paramedic traffic. Burly uniformed

bodies shot past him, back and forth, numinous forces in the light

summer rain just beginning to fall. John Kucharski was still in the

middle of the road. He was bright with purpose, a conductor with

his orchestra finally back under his hands. He pointed down the

road towards the heath and one unmarked car peeled off in that

direction. His voice drifted through the growl of engines. “Unit

two, cut back and circle round through East Hill. Be prepared for

fugitives or a stand-off if you get close—armed and dangerous, all

of them. Foster, take your men and secure the buildings a mile or

so to the west of here in the woods—Jenkins knows the way. Call in

backup and cordon the whole area if you have to; I want that place

taken just as it is.”

Christine Foster. Sasha hadn’t met her, but Laurie had said

she’d been kind to him, and so he huddled against a roadside tree

and watched her. He couldn’t see past the barricade of paramedics

working on both sides of the Merc. She nodded, gathering up her

team with small gestures. She stopped on her way to the driver’s

seat of the third unmarked car. “I thought I was bringing the

ambulance for you, John. Is that...”

“Laurie Fitzroy.”

“Shit. I told him not to come here. Will he be all

right?”

“I don’t know. I fucked up, Chrissy—there was a fight and the

poor kid got shot in the back.”

She didn’t bother telling him the fuckup hadn’t been his.

Maybe in their eyes it had been—maybe everything that happened on

their watch devolved on them. Sasha could understand that. He

understood the bond between them too, the comradeship that made

such responsibility bearable. Elizabeth had said the same thing, or

a truth at least that resonated strongly with it:

sometimes people need to take that

chance... Foster slapped Kucharski on the

arm, cop to cop. “Well, I’m glad the paramedics weren’t for you.”

She glanced around, but her colleagues were already in the car and

waiting for her, Sasha an unseen patch of shadows by the road. She

stood up on her toes: gave Kucharski a brief, ferocious hug. “I’m

so glad they weren’t for you, John!”

Sasha crouched at the foot of the tree. He hadn’t meant to,

but through the receding roar of the last car’s engine had come the

snap of a defibrillator, and his legs had folded. Foster’s

taillights disappeared into the rain. Then there was a silence,

deep as summer night, the core of it the red Mercedes with its

scratched-up paintwork and doors wide open like a grounded ladybird

struggling for flight. One voice breaking it, tired and resigned,

the sound of a man who’d worked over the dying young a hundred

times before, and sometimes succeeded and often failed. Just one

syllable—clear.

Another electrical crack, and then another silence.

Elizabeth knelt beside Sasha. She brushed a hand over his

head until at last he noticed her. “They’re trying,” she said. “You

have to hang on for him.”

“I know who you are,” Sasha whispered, then frowned in

bewilderment. “It can’t be, though. Who the hell

are you?”

She

glanced back over her shoulder. Kucharski was waiting on the

pavement a few yards away. “I’m someone John wishes he could

forget. The bad parts of me, anyway.” She gave Kucharski a small

nod of understanding. “He’d use me as a witness and wipe out all my

sins, if he could. But he’s a good Interpol man. He’d have to take

my past into account.”

Kucharski shifted. He put his hands into his pockets and

looked away. “That depends,” he said hoarsely. “I suppose he’d have

to catch you first.”

Elizabeth took Sasha’s hand. She lifted his chin so that she

could examine his face, and she knelt in the glittering rain and

stared at him as if she could imprint a lifetime of him onto her

soul. “You,” she whispered. “You’re everything I could have hoped

to teach you to be. And you did it all on your own.”

Sasha

tried to concentrate. He tried to focus on something other than the

ongoing silence from the car, but the world was fading out for him,

bleaching to ghosts in the rain. “I did it with Laurie.”

“Yes. The two of you...” She let go of his hand. She leaned in

to kiss him once on the brow, and her scent made the shadow-birds

flutter again on some long-lost wall of the past. “Everything

anyone could want.”

“Please. Tell me who you are.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She got

to her feet. Kucharski was still watching nothing in particular in

the darkness at the far end of the road. He didn’t turn as she

backed away. Sasha noted how well she moved, as if she had

practised the skills of the hunted fox all her life. She barely

disturbed the lamplight. She took a few swift steps along the

pavement, looked once at the Mercedes, as if she would have stayed

to know the ending of that story if she could. Then she ducked into

the trees and ran.

Sasha

lurched onto his feet. A primal urge to follow her stirred in his

veins, but then another snap from the defibrillator wiped her from

his mind. He stumbled towards the car. The broad, strong backs in

their green uniforms remained an impenetrable wall, but if Sasha

stood by the bonnet he could see in through the windshield. One of

the medics had hung up a high-powered lantern and the Merc’s

interior was ablaze with light.

Sasha saw Laurie. He was stripped from the waist up, his

clothes cut away. Electrodes were plastered to his bare chest. He

was a mess of wires and blood, his head turned to the side to

accommodate an oxygen mask, long eyelashes casting their shadows in

the glare. Sasha knew how strong he was, how fit, but Laurie’s was

a strength that didn’t show itself in bulk. Laid out like this, he

looked like a boy, a scrap of flesh discarded and chucked out of

heaven. Sasha could see his ribs. He laid both hands on the

windscreen glass. As he did so, that tired voice said

clear again, and the

defibrillator pads came down. A silence, and after it another

voice, just as flat and hopeless. “Nothing.”

Clear. Another silence.

Nothing.

Nothing.

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