Chris paused by the door. “We lead the horses out on foot east along the alley. When we reach the main road, we mount up and head south. Got it?”
Floyd nodded.
Chris switched off the stable light and opened the door. The hinges creaked, the horses snorted excitedly, and John’s stallion pawed the floor. Floyd had never been so conscious of noise and tried to will the world into silence. He hardly noticed the blast of ice-cold air that hit him as Chris moved into the alleyway.
She looked both ways, then signaled to Floyd and John to follow. Voices drifted up the mountainside. They were close, perhaps only a few houses away. Floyd’s horse tried to move back into the stable, but he patted her flank.
“It’s OK,” he said, and led her along the alleyway, past the neighboring house.
John followed and the three of them walked without saying a word, aware of people waking in the surrounding buildings. Floyd’s breath formed clouds in the chill, and steam rose from his horse’s nostrils. He realized he had no idea what time it was, that his watch must have been taken along with his flight jacket when he was sentenced to execution. It must have been late because the people who came to their windows looked stunned by sleep and annoyed to have been woken by commotion in the town. A few looked at the trio leading their horses and nodded, but most had their eyes turned toward the other end of the alleyway, which seemed to be where the trouble was happening.
A voice yelled in Russian. Floyd glanced over his shoulder to see the silhouette of a man in the light of the torches. He was looking their way.
“Come on. They’ve seen us,” Chris said, mounting her horse.
The man at the other end of the alleyway yelled as Floyd and John climbed into their saddles. Chris urged her horse forward and Floyd’s followed its lead. He hadn’t ridden for years and gripped the reins tightly. He looked back to see John following, behind him a cluster of torchlights and figures running toward them.
The horses’ hooves pounded with greater urgency, and clouds of vapor swirled around their heads as they gathered speed.
Over the beating rhythm of the hoofbeats came a sudden, ugly crack. Then another. And another.
“They’re shooting!” John yelled. A moment later there was another volley and he cried out in pain.
Floyd looked back to see the Englishman slump forward. He reined in his horse, but John raised his head.
“Go!” he barked through gritted teeth. “Don’t let this be for nothing.”
Chris pulled up. “I can’t leave him,” she said as Floyd passed her. “Head south. There’s a map of the passes in your bag.”
Floyd urged his horse on. It galloped out of the alleyway onto the main road through Kamdesh. Floyd glanced back to see Chris tending to John as a gang of men closed in on them.
Adrenalin surging, heart thumping, Floyd flicked the reins and turned the horse south. His mount raced forward at full pelt and didn’t seem to need further encouragement, but if there was more speed to be had, Floyd wanted it.
“Yah!” he yelled.
He heard more shouts behind him, but didn’t look back. Soon he and the horse were lost to the darkness.
Chapter 28
My second time in hospital in less than twenty-four hours. Danny sat next to me, grim and still as stone. I wasn’t sure whether my reassurances had calmed him or if he was simply numb. Maria was pacing the lobby of the Berwick Commonwealth Hospital, her skinny arms folded, her brow furrowed.
“You sure there’s no one I should call?” I asked when she came near.
She shook her head.
“Your dad?” I tried.
Danny was about to reply, but Maria shot him a dirty look and he clammed up.
After the ambulance had picked us up and we’d got Beth seen to, I’d tried to ask the children about their family, but neither of them would say anything. I quizzed them about their mother’s revelation that the man who’d introduced himself to me as Donald Singer wasn’t her father, but they weren’t willing to talk about it. I’d checked this guy’s background, so either Beth was lying or I’d fallen victim to some very sophisticated invention.
While I was thinking this through, I noticed myself appear on the TV on the wall of the waiting room. There was no sound, but the footage being broadcast was of the mayhem outside the Relax Inn. A picture of me and my name were inset into the main image, which cut to one of the motel guests being interviewed about what had happened.
I took out my phone and called Justine.
“Hey,” she said. “I was about to call you. I just spoke to Jessie. Are you OK?”
“Fine,” I replied. “Can you ask Mo-bot to run a reverse search? See if anyone is looking for us...” I broke off when I saw Dr. Sohal, a slim middle-aged man with designer glasses and a Stars and Stripes tie pin, come through the emergency room doors.
“I’ve got to go,” I said.
“Jack—” Justine said before I hung up.
The doctor approached with a smile on his face. He was leading the team treating Beth, and his expression was one of relief. “I think she’s fine,” he said.
Maria stopped pacing and ran over. “Can we see her?”
“Of course,” Sohal replied. “Come with me.”
Danny got to his feet and joined his sister. I rose and followed the two kids who trailed the doctor into the ER. The moment I stepped through the doors, I was greeted by a nurse I recognized from Beth’s response team.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said. “I need to ask you some questions. The patient claims not to be able to remember her home address or date of birth. It could just be shock, but we need to book an MRI scan to check there’s no neurological damage. For that I’ll need her insurance details. Or yours. If I could have your name and details that would also be helpful.”
There was something about the way the nurse had framed the question. Her delivery seemed to waver between passive aggression and sweet apple pie, and her expression kept alternating between a bright smile and anxious concern. Had she seen the news footage?
“Let me go and ask who her insurer is,” I said, pressing on before the nurse had a chance to object.
I hurried through the otherwise empty emergency room to the bay where Beth was leaning out of bed and hugging Danny and Maria. She tensed the moment she saw me.
“When can she move?” I asked Dr. Sohal.
“I just want to do an MRI to see about the memory loss—” he began.
“But she’s OK?” I cut in.
“Probably, but—”
I cut him off again. “The nurse mentioned she wanted to check something with you about the insurance paperwork.”
He smiled uncertainly. “Really?”
I nodded.
“One moment, please,” he said, stepping out of the bay.
“Have you really lost your memory?” I asked Beth.
She shook her head.
“Good,” I replied. “The men who attacked you at the motel have put me in the frame. We’re all over the news. We need to go.”
Beth pushed herself upright and wobbled for a moment.
“Mom?” Danny remarked, his voice frail with concern.
“I’m OK, hun.”
Beth slid off the gurney and got to her feet. I took her arm and the children clustered around us as we left the bay.
“Excuse me!” Sohal called out when he saw us.
Behind him, I saw flashes of blue clothing through the glass doors. Two uniformed police officers entered the lobby and approached reception.
“This way,” I said.
We ran in the other direction, through the ER, and took a left turn onto a corridor that led to the X-ray department. If they had my identity, they might be able to track my phone, so I took the difficult decision to jettison it. I slipped it onto the middle shelf of a supply trolley we passed.