Two-Way Cut

chapter 13

Kill you, said Leah flatly, registering her doubt.

Tess stormed at her. Thats exactly what he said. He meant it.

Okay, okay. So you ran away from school. Why not simply go home? Why hook up with Mitch and bring all that trouble down on yourself?

Mitch never judged me like you’re doing, like everyone else in my life.

You could have tried explaining things to your parents, to your mother at least.

Yeah, well shes overseas, isn’t she? Shes never been around for me.

Where is she?

India, for two years. My stepfathers the High Commissioner, okay? Thats why I’m a boarder.

Your brother?

Ian? Id just be an annoyance. He spends all day online, trading shares and gambling.

Leah stared out at the tricky night. A chilly wind had picked up in the past thirty minutes. The candle flame bent and guttered. She glanced at her watch: ten o’clock.

We should get some sleep, she said, and have an early start in the morning. A rule of thumb is the bad guys always sleep in.

That earned her a grateful half-smile from Tess. Leah leant forward and touched her wrist. Which room to you want?

Can we share?

In one room there was a queen-size bed; three singles were in the other. It was clear to Leah that Tess wanted the security of sharing the room with her but, in truth, Leah herself wanted the comfort of sharing with Tess. Everyone wins, she thought.

Something woke her: a drifting odour, a small sound, a subtle realignment of the air molecules-something. She glanced at the red numerals of the digital clock beside her bed: 4:02. Two hours before dawn.

Then she heard a distant shout, sounds of effort and strife.

Leah rolled out of bed, crossed the room and placed her hand over Tess’s mouth. Tess woke immediately, ready to thrash about to free herself, until Leah whispered, Shhh. Its me. Somethings going on.

Tess relaxed, tried to speak. What? she whispered, when Leah had removed her hand.

Someones out there. Get dressed.

Are we leaving?

Soon.

What do you mean, soon?

Shhh. I need to check outside. I want you dressed and ready to go.

Moonlight was leaking into the room and Leah’s eyes were adjusting to the dimness. She saw the fear in Tess’s face and said, Its okay, Ill be careful. I just don’t want us walking out into a trap. I need to know if the car is secure, for example.

You’ll come back for me?

Leah was pulling on her jeans. Yes.

Hysteria rose in Tess’s voice. But what if you don’t?

I promise, Ill be careful and Ill come back for you.

Do I wait in here? Tess asked, hunched in misery.

Leah pushed both feet into her trainers. Movement gave her time to think. Where could Tess hide? She glanced around the room. There was a massive, ancient wardrobe in the room, the false faade above the double doors effectively concealing a storage space for suitcases. A minute later she had hoisted Tess into the gap, saying, Lie curled up on your side. A cloud of dust puffed out. Leah sneezed.

Bless you, Tess said, in a small, lost voice.

Thanks. Now, try not to worry. Ill come back, I promise, but if something goes wrong then stay where you are until you hear friendly voices, like the farmer or the police. If its anyone else, lie still and don’t make a sound.

Leah left before Tess could protest. She slipped out of the bathroom window and ran half-crouched to the panel van. She locked it, first checking that no one was concealed inside. Then she ran to a corrugated-iron water tank on a stand constructed out of railway sleepers. Here it was quiet and cool. The wind had dropped, and for the next three minutes she listened intently and tried to pinpoint fugitive odours in the still air. Shed soon know if anyone nearby smoked, sweated, chewed gum or was wearing insect repellent, deodorant or aftershave.

Nothing.

Then she heard the tinkle of car keys, the soft brushing of a sleeve or trouser leg, the minute crackle of a foot falling on dry grass. She concentrated. Someone was down on the long slope of bushes, shrubs and ornamental trees beneath the cottage. She unfolded the main blade of her Swiss Army knife and set out to investigate.

It was not dawn but the forerunner of it, a queer half-light that teased and distorted. Leah could see trees but not the branches and twigs that scraped her face as she crossed the dying lawn. She could see her thighs but not her feet, only a variegated greyness that was the treacherous ground beneath her. And so she tripped over the body beside the wattle tree.

She fell heavily, scraping one knee and skinning the palms of her hands. She lost the knife. Down here at ground level she had no trouble identifying the obstacle as a body. Even when shed tripped she knew shed hit something far softer than a log of wood. Now she could see the legs, the pelvis, the upper body, the head. She touched the mans neck. There was no pulse, only stickiness. Her fingers probed, then jerked back. He’d been shot in the forehead.

It wasn’t the farmer, so who was he?

And she hadn’t heard the shot, which meant a pistol fitted with a silencer.

Who would have a gun like that?

And where was the killer?

Feeling nauseated, she searched the mans pockets. Nothing. She knew that if she had a police team here she could do something with his fingerprints and dental records, even his clothing labels, but she was alone, and being hunted, so contented herself with stripping off the dead mans wristwatch and pocketing it.

Suddenly she was bathed in light. She flinched, ducked, scrabbled toward darkness. A motorbike headlight. The bike was propped on its stand under the fronds of an umbrella tree. The man who’d switched on the light stepped away from the bike and held up one hand. Its all right, no need to be afraid, I—

But as Leah took in the thin face, floppy pale hair, lean frame and casual clothing, she also registered the pistol.

She darted around the wattle tree and ran.