some facts are indelible.
‘Good luck against the Persians.’
His finger draws a line in the dust on the altar, then bisects it with another. ‘I’ll be glad to get away. Sometimes I feel this city’s killing me.’
I leave him alone in his mausoleum, dwarfed by the scaffolding of his unfinished dreams. Caught in the light, dust falls but never makes a sound.
XXVII
HER THUMB SLIPPED off the flint. The flame went out and the tomb went black. She flicked the lighter again, rubbing her finger raw before it relit.
Michael was still there.
‘I got one of the bad guys outside the cave, but there might be more. And the Americans.’
‘I thought you were dead,’ she whispered.
‘Greatly exaggerated, like the man said.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Still time, of course.’
All she could do was stare at him. ‘How –?’
‘How did I find you? Or how did I end up not dead?’
‘How are we going to get out of here?’
‘Always practical. That’s what I loved about you.’ He took her hand in his and crouched in front of her. ‘God, I missed you, Abby. I’m so sorry about … everything.’
His hand was cold, but his breath was warm on her cheek. Through the dirt and smoke that clung to him, she caught the faintest sniff of his real scent – strong and mellow, like whisky on a winter’s night. That, more than anything, convinced her he might be real.
‘There’s a hut in the next valley. Dragovic doesn’t know about it. I’ve been living there the last few days.’
She stared at him blankly. Joy, relief, gladness – those might all come later. For the moment, she felt hurt beyond all healing.
Michael put both hands on her cheeks and looked her in the eye.
‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
They left the tomb and hiked through the forest as fast as they could – Michael leading the way, Abby struggling to keep pace. The throb of the helicopter still shook the air, though the trees made it invisible. Every so often, short bursts of automatic weapon fire echoed up the valley.
‘That’s the Kosovo Police,’ said Michael. ‘Probably shooting at shadows. If they haven’t got Dragovic by now, he’ll be safe into Serbia.’
They crested the ridge, still in the trees, and started descending the far slope. She couldn’t hear the gunfire any more, though the helicopter hadn’t gone away. In fact, it seemed to be getting louder. It flew right over them, shaking water drops off the wet trees, then slowly faded away.
‘At last vee are alone,’ Michael said, in a mock French accent. It was a line he’d often used in Pristina, when friends had left the flat after a long evening’s drinking. Hearing it here made her stomach lurch.
They didn’t stop, but carried on down the valley. The sun set behind the clouds; the air grew cold. Just when Abby thought she couldn’t go another step, they came out in a clearing where a small stone hut stood between two large trees. Not much to look at, but it had a chimney and a solid roof, and that was enough for Abby.
Michael didn’t dare light a fire – the wood in the forest was soaked anyway. Abby huddled under a mouse-eaten blanket on a camp bed, while Michael heated a can of beans on a gas stove.
‘So tell me again why you aren’t dead.’
‘Had you fooled, did I?’ He saw the anger rising and backtracked. ‘Sorry – joke. I know it isn’t funny.’
If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she’d have hit him. ‘It’s not a game.’
‘No, it is not.’ He pulled a cork out of a wine bottle and poured liquid into a steel cup. It came out clear as poison, with a kick she could smell from across the room.
‘
She sipped it and wished she had a cigarette. The rough heat made her anger feel good.
‘Tell me everything,’ she ordered him. ‘Why were we at the villa? You knew it belonged to Dragovic.’
He hesitated. The only light in the room was the small blue flame on the stove, silhouetting him in the corner.
‘Tell me the truth,’ she warned. The
He turned towards her. ‘I knew it was his villa. I’d arranged to go there to hand over some things he wanted.’
‘From the tomb?’
‘Yes.’ He thought a moment. ‘I don’t know how much you found out, or figured out, but here’s the background.
