started snowing now this really would turn into Ringling Brothers' evening performance.
My feet were in the wrong position; his right foot was down, but mine was up. Moving to alter that, I put on my best bedside manner. 'We'll just take it nice and easy. Lots of people are scared of heights. Me, I don't like spiders. That's why I like coming this far north, there's none of the fuckers here. Too cold, know what I mean?'
He gave a little nervous laugh.
'Just keep looking at the top of the fence, Tom, and you'll be okay.'
He nodded and took a deep breath.
'All right, I'll go first. One step, then you follow, all right?' I slowly put my weight on the left strap, moved up one and waited for him.
He shakily raised himself up level with me.
We did the same again.
I leaned toward his ear. 'What did I tell you, no drama.' While I was close to him I quickly checked his hooks. They were fine.
I decided to let him have a rest, let him bask in his glory and gain some confidence. 'We'll rest here a minute, all right?'
The wind gusted around us, picking up ground snow in flurries. Tom was staring straight ahead at the fence just inches from his face. I was watching the house, both of us sniffing snot.
When his breathing had calmed down I gave him a nod; he nodded back and I started climbing again, and he kept pace, stride for stride.
We reached the top of the second of the three sections. Tom was getting the hang of it; a dozen or so more pulls on each side would take us to the top. I leaned across. 'I'll get up there first and help you over the top, okay?'
I needed to traverse again. I wanted to cross away from the top of the pole so we didn't kick off any of the snow that had collected on its top. Something like that would be too easy to notice in daylight.
Tom was getting worried again and started to slap my leg. I ignored it at first, then he grasped my trousers. I looked down. He was in a frenzy, his free hand waving toward the track as his body swung from side to side.
I looked down. A white-clad body was fighting its way through snow that was nearly waist deep in the gap on the other side of the driveway. Behind him were others, and yet more were emerging from the treeline and moving directly onto the track. There must have been at least a dozen.
I could tell by the position and swing of their arms that they were carrying weapons.
Shit, Mahskia.
'Nick! Whatdowedo?'
I'd already told him a few hours ago what to do if we had a drama on the fence: do what I did.
'Jump. Fuck it jump!'
22
Gripping the wood hard and lifting with my arms so the hooks took my body weight, I kicked my feet from the loops and let go with my hands.
I just hoped the snow was deep enough to cushion my thirty foot fall.
I plummeted past Tom, who was still stuck to the fence, and prepared myself for the jump instructor's command when the wind is too strong and the drop zone, which should have been a nice empty field, has suddenly become the beltway: accept the landing.
I plunged into the snow feet first and immediately started a parachute roll to my right, but crumpled as my ribs banged hard against a tree stump, immediately followed by one of the handles of the bolt cutters giving me the good news on the back of my head. It was starburst time in my eyes and brain. Pain spread outward from my chest, the snow that enveloped me muffling my involuntary cry.
I knew I had to get up and run, but I couldn't do a thing about it: My legs wouldn't play. Eyes stinging with snow, I moaned to myself as I fought the pain and tried to work out how deep I was buried.
Tom had found the courage to jump. I heard the wind being knocked out of him as he landed to my left, on his back. I still couldn't see anything from under the snow.
He recovered, panting hard. 'Nick, Nick!'
The next thing I knew, he was towering over me, brushing the snow from my face. 'Nick. Come on, mate, come on!'
My head was still spinning, my coordination screwed. I was no good to him and knew it would be only seconds before we were caught.
'Station, Tom! Go, go!'
He made an attempt to pick me up by my arms and drag me, but there was no way that was going to happen. It would have been hard enough for him in normal conditions, let alone in deep snow. 'Tom, the station.
Go, just fuck off!'
His breathing labored a second time as he tried to take me with him.
The pain in my chest increased as he pulled my arms, only to be relieved as he let me drop back down. At last he'd got the message.
I opened my eyes to see him pulling the spare hook out of his coat. For a split second I couldn't work out why, and then I heard grunting right behind me. The Maliskia had got to us.
Tom launched himself over me. There was the sound of a thud, and a scream that was too low-pitched to be his.
The next thing I knew, Tom fell beside me, sobbing. There wasn't any time for that shit, he had to go. I pushed him away from me with my hands.
Not checking behind him, he left, stumbling over me on the way.
I wanted to follow but couldn't. Rolling over onto my stomach and pushing myself onto my hands and knees I started to drag myself up out of the hole. As I crested the top I saw Tom's victim, just ten feet away and trying to get to his feet. He brought his weapon up, blood oozing from the thigh of his white cold-weather gear and all around the climbing hook that was embedded in it.
Diving back down into the snow, I heard the unmistakable, low level dick-thud, dick-thud, dick-thud of an SD, the suppressed version of the Heckler & Koch MP5. The click was the sound of the working parts as they ejected an empty case and moved forward to pick another from the magazine. The thud was the gas escaping as the subsonic round left the barrel.
I heard another click-thud, click-thud as two more rounds were fired. I wasn 't his target, but I lay there not wanting to move and risk getting hit. I wasn't even too sure if he knew I was there.
The firing stopped and I heard short sharp breaths as the hooked body took the pain.
Then more arrived and I heard a shout.
'Okay, buddy, it's okay.'
My pain suddenly disappeared, to be replaced by an enormous feeling of dread. Shit. They well Americans. What the fuck was I in here?
The hooked man answered haltingly between anguished gasps. 'Help me to the driveway, man. Ah, sweet Jesus?'
They were swarming all around me, and I knew it wouldn't be long before they took me out. I turned my head and, as I opened my eyes and looked up, two white-covered figures with black ski masks under their hoods were nearly on top of me, their breath clouds hanging in the cold night air. Hovering over me, one pointed his weapon soundlessly at my head.
It's okay, mate, I'm not going anywhere.
The other came forward, snow crunching beneath his boots, keeping out of his friend's line of fire. Vapor was the only thing coming from his mouth. There still wasn't any communication between them.
I heard gasps and labored breathing as Tom's victim was helped back to the driveway. He was in a bad way, but he'd live. Other bodies passed, pushing hard through the waist-high snow, heading in the same direction as Tom.
Any thought of escape or trying to give them a hard time was laughable.
