Dead Line

FIFTY-FIVE

Where was Sammy? All afternoon she had waited for him in her room. She’d followed his instructions and put the jam jar of flowers on the window sill the previous evening, in full view of anyone outside, just as he had told her. But he still hadn’t come.

It was time to move to what he’d called Plan B. He’d said that if she didn’t hear from him within twelve hours of putting out the flowers, she should go back to the group of pine trees behind the equestrian centre at exactly five o’clock and wait there, hidden in the trees, until he showed up.

She’d left her room once that afternoon to see if she was being watched. She couldn’t tell for sure: there’d been a young woman in the distance, wearing blue trousers and a black jumper, who seemed to be hanging around by the tennis courts; when Jana had come back from her short stroll, the same woman had been standing outside the staff dining room.

Jana looked at her watch. It was ten to five; by the time she’d walked through the grounds she would be right on time. That was unless someone tried to stop her. The thought increased her anxious need to see Sammy. He would tell her what to do; he would know what she should say if the English security woman questioned her again.

She looked round the room for a weapon – she would do whatever it took to get to her meeting with Sammy. Spying a paperweight on the side table, she picked it up, feeling its weight in her hand. It was roughly the size and shape of a tennis ball that had been cut in half and was made of thick glass, with a snow-covered forest scene painted inside. She remembered how she had once seen Karl, the tavern owner back in Moravia, knock an obstreperous drunk unconscious with a cue ball from the pool table. The paperweight would do; she put it in the pocket of her jacket.

Locking her room behind her, she looked up and down the hall – empty. The other staff were already preparing for the dinner service. It was as she stepped out into the small courtyard that she saw the same young woman from the tennis courts watching her from a back doorway to the hotel. She was wearing a coat now, but Jana knew it was the same person.

Maybe it’s just coincidence that she’s there, thought Jana, as she set off quickly towards the back of the hotel. But she hadn’t taken more than a few steps before a voice behind her called out. ‘Jana. Stop, please.’

She turned around to find the young woman coming towards her. How did she know Jana’s name?

‘Yes?’ she said, trying to sound more sure of herself than she felt. The woman was approaching her, holding out her ID card. ‘I’m from security. I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to go back inside.’

‘What on earth for?’ Jana demanded, trying to sound confident, the way people spoke in the television dramas she’d seen. She wanted to look at her watch, suddenly fearful that if she were even slightly late, Sammy wouldn’t wait.

‘I know it’s a nuisance,’ said the young woman sympathetically. ‘You see, the American President’s helicopter is about to arrive, and there’s a no-go zone until he’s safely inside the hotel.’

‘But I am going the other way,’ said Jana, pointing.

The young woman was shaking her head. She still had a half-smile on her face, but her voice was unyielding. ‘Doesn’t matter. The no-go zone extends all round. Sorry.’

Jana was thinking fast. There was no other exit from the staff quarters. If she went back to her room she’d be trapped there and would miss her meeting with Sammy. ‘All right,’ she said, and turned as if to go back. Then suddenly she pivoted and started to run towards the road behind the hotel. But to her surprise the young woman proved faster than she was, and with three strides she’d grabbed onto Jana’s left arm.

‘Stop!’ the woman commanded.

Jana tried to yank her left arm free, while her right hand reached into her pocket for the glass paperweight. Letting herself be pulled towards the woman, she suddenly swung her right hand in a vicious arc. The other woman tried to duck but was too late, and the paperweight struck her a smashing blow above her eye, then fell to the ground where it broke into pieces. Blood poured down one side of her face.

Unbelievably, she still refused to let go of Jana’s arm. Turning to face her adversary, Jana clawed out with her right hand, grabbing the woman’s cheek with her fingers and pinching as hard as she could. As she felt the woman let go of her left arm, she lashed out with that hand as well. The other woman fought back, blocking most of the blows and landing one of her own on Jana’s chin. But Jana was taller and heavier, and slowly the woman gave way under the ferocity of the assault. The fight was moving them towards one end of the courtyard, and when the woman’s back touched the wall of the hotel Jana suddenly lunged forward, planting both hands on her throat, choking her. She needed to get her out of the way so she could see Sammy, and she squeezed her hands tighter and tighter as the woman struggled to breathe. Yet just as Jana thought the woman must pass out, she seemed to summon a final burst of energy. Rearing her head back she thrust herself forward, and her forehead landed with a sickening crunch on the bridge of Jana’s nose.

The pain was agonising. Jana dropped both hands from the woman’s throat and stumbled backwards, then fell down onto the floor of the courtyard, completely dazed. She struggled to get up, but a pair of arms was holding her down – a man’s arms, strong enough to turn her round until she was pinned face-down on the paving.

Jana could hear but not see the other woman gasping for air. ‘Thanks, Dave,’ the woman wheezed.

‘You were doing all right without me, Peggy,’ said the man as he tightened his grip on Jana’s arms. ‘Who the hell taught you how to give a Glasgow kiss?’