Bruno Crane
The Friend
That should do the trick. Think I managed to put that nosy little spinster off pretty effectively too: the look of disgust on her face!
She’s already made enough trouble for me here, for God’s sake.
That’s the problem with these spinsters, young and old.
Too much interest in other people’s business.
I can feel the point of the new note in my pocket, sharp against my thigh. My instructions:
MEET AT THE COPSE OF TREES TO THE EAST OF THE TOBOGGAN RUN, DURING THE COMPETITION, AND YOU WILL RECEIVE YOUR DUE. REMEMBER: SILENCE IS GOLDEN.
Clever, suggesting the meeting take place during the event. Enough hubbub and distraction that no one should notice. And I will stay silent as the grave if I am required to. I will happily leave this place and never speak of it, or him, ever again.
I begin to plan my next move. Perhaps I do risk the pass over the mountains. It feels better than waiting here like a sitting duck, trying to keep my spoils hidden. Besides, I feel capable of anything now. A few ascents on skins, a few rather steep descents. How difficult can it really be?
I take a long pull of schnapps from the hip flask and hold the burn in my mouth for the Dutch courage. Booze and bullets: I’ve come prepared. The pistol nudges itself against my thigh.
This note writer clearly knew about the existence of the gold … but do they know what I had to do to get it? What I’m capable of? Well, if they get on the wrong side of me they’ll find out—
Listen to me. Who am I trying to convince? Myself? No chance of that. I know I’m a coward, always have been. Now I don’t even have Narracott here to force me to act. Suppose he was good for something.
Wish it wasn’t such clumsy work going through this thick powder.
I’m sinking to the knees and with each step I can feel the snow holding fast for a moment before I manage to pull my foot free.
It’s making me realise I couldn’t get away all that quickly if I wanted to, which isn’t a nice feeling.
Was this their plan? I’m starting to feel a little foolish.
But it wasn’t as though I was given the chance to suggest an alternative meeting place.
I feel like I’m being watched. Like a mouse hunting for crumbs on the floorboards whilst knowing that the cat’s about. The sensible mouse would go back to its hole. But I can’t do that. Not if I want my share.
Was that … a movement? Up ahead, in the copse of trees?
A shower of snow from one of the lower branches.
They must be there, waiting for me. I push my hand into my pocket and grip the nice solid shape of the pistol.
Slide my fingers around the cold shaft, find the trigger.
Careful, Crane. It would be just like me to fire too quick, shoot myself in my own thigh or something equally stupid.
Idiot. You clumsy fool.
Well, you’re dead, I tell him. Who’s the idiot now? Didn’t see that one coming, did you?
Another rustling from the trees. Still can’t see anything there.
Doesn’t stop my heart going like the clappers and my stomach twisting in knots.
Is that the figure of a person, crouched beside the trunk there?
Or is it just the shadows? Damn hard to tell with the white glare of the snow in my eyes, that’s the problem.
‘Show yourself!’ I shout. The sound echoes off the trees. Feel like an idiot, shouting alone in a snowy clearing. My voice sounds thinner than I’d like it to, scared.
A long silence. Nothing happens. But yes, there is definitely movement among the trees. And now I can see … yes, a face there, moving among the shadows.
‘It’s me,’ I say, ‘I’ve come to make a deal.
’ A noise like a gunshot and I jump half out of my skin, only to realise it’s a pine cone cracking beneath my foot, though I grip the cold metal in my pocket a little tighter.
And there’s something I don’t like about the figure in the trees.
Something that makes my skin crawl, though I can’t work out why.
I pull the pistol from my pocket now, clear my throat. Want them to know I’m no fool. ‘Don’t try anything funny. I’m armed! Come out of the trees where I can see you, and then we’ll talk.’
Closer still. A noise, too, different to the rustle of the pines. A creaking.
There’s something wrong about the face in the trees. It’s disfigured in some way. Ghoulish, monstrous even …
I don’t like this at all. Every instinct is telling me to turn back.
And then, stepping closer again, I see the face clearly.
Not a person at all. One of those hideous troll masks from the dining room …
hung in the branches and swinging back and forth in the wind – that creaking sound is the rope rubbing against the branch it hangs from.
I feel my stomach clench with fear. What is this?
This is when I hear something behind me. Is that … the creak of the snow beneath footsteps? My bowels feel suddenly loose.
I grip the pistol, start to turn around, try to make sense of what – who – I’m seeing.
‘You?’ I say. ‘But I don’t understand …’ And then – crack.
My head. Something … hit me. My feet go out from under me as I lose my balance and tumble forwards.
I am scrambling to get up, scrabbling at the ground, but I cannot find purchase in the softness of the snow.
My pistol has gone. And even as I am looking for it another crack that sounds very far away but I think might be the sound of my own skull, splitting.
A strange, quiet moment after the terror. I think I am alone now. Something warm in my mouth, taste of iron. I manage to roll over. Don’t want to be face-down for this.
I think of the youth now. Eight years ago … was it? Could have been yesterday, hard to keep track …
I felt worst about him. Lying there on the ground that night, he looked almost peaceful. An almost pretty face beneath the short fringe of his hair. His whole life ahead of him. And such bravery at such a young age …
Narracott pulling my arm. Come on, Crane, you stupid lump of lard. We need to get away from this place …
Crossing the border into Switzerland a few hours later …
Perhaps it was always meant to end like this …
I look up and glimpse the white sky through the tops of the pine trees. Hear the shush of the branches in the wind. Feel the cold clutching at me, entering me. The snowflakes falling upon my face as indifferently as they fall upon the earth and the rocks and all other dead things.