The Lost Labyrinth

TWENTY-ONE
I

A convoy of army trucks rumbled past on the main road, bored soldiers staring out of the backs. Edouard glanced instinctively down at Mikhail's shotgun, but he was holding it safely out of sight. They waited patiently till the last of the trucks was gone, then Mikhail turned back to Davit, and prodded him in the chest with his finger. 'Well?' he demanded. 'I thought you said they came this way.'

'They did, sir,' muttered Davit. 'I saw them.'

'Then where the fuck are they?'

'I don't know, sir.'

'You don't know?'

'No, sir.'

'Maybe they ran for it,' suggested Edouard.

'Oh, yes,' said Mikhail. 'Carrying their Volvo with them, no doubt?' He shook his head in scorn, turned back to the others. 'And who were they anyway? Where did they come from?'

There was silence, no one daring to speak. 'Perhaps a pair of good Samaritans,' suggested Zaal finally.

'Good Samaritans!' scoffed Mikhail. 'Why would good Samaritans be following us?'

'They weren't,' said Boris. 'It was just coincidence. They were way behind us on the road.'

'They were following us,' insisted Mikhail. 'Check beneath the cars.' It was Zaal who found the transmitter, tearing it free from beneath the second Mercedes, holding it up like a tribute to Mikhail. He took it and weighed it in his hand, then turned to Edouard. 'This is your car, isn't it?'

'It's a rental,' said Edouard. 'I just picked it up at the airport.'

'You led them to me,' said Mikhail. 'You led them right to my fucking house.'

'No,' said Edouard, backing away. 'I'd have-'

Mikhail took a step towards him. 'How could you be so fucking stupid?' he demanded. 'You've compromised this entire operation. You've compromised me!'

'No,' said Edouard. His calf banged one of the flower-pots; he stepped sideways between them out towards the road. But Mikhail followed him, invading his space. He tried a submissive smile, touched his arm in an effort to establish a bond.

Mikhail looked incredulously down. 'Did you just touch me?' he asked.

'I only-'

Mikhail took another pace forward, jutting his face into Edouard's, so that Edouard instinctively stepped back and out into the road. A truck tooted as it swerved around him, clipping the rear wheel of an overtaking motorbike, sending it fishtailing down the road before the rider somehow managed to right himself. Edouard danced back onto the pavement, his heart going crazy.

'What now?' asked Boris.

'We find that Volvo,' said Mikhail, who'd already lost interest in Edouard.

'How?'

'Didn't any of you idiots get its plates?' They all shook their heads. Mikhail sighed and pointed to the transmitter Zaal was holding. 'That damned thing must belong to someone. Find out who. Then bring me their head on a fucking platter.'

'But how do we-'

'On a fucking platter,' said Mikhail. 'Or it'll be yours instead.' He checked his watch. 'You have three hours. I'd use them well if I were you.'