But he was not sure they would get there. After leaving the car park of the Dew Drop Inn, they had not seen another moving vehicle. Every mile or so, they passed an abandoned car or truck, some at the side of the road and some right in the middle. One was a police Range Rover on its side.
Suddenly a man stepped into the headlights, waving frantically. He wore a business suit and tie, and had no coat or hat. Elton glanced at Nigel, who murmured, "Don't even dream of stopping." Elton drove straight at the man, who dived out of the way at the last moment. As they swcpt by, Kit glimpsed a woman in a cocktail dress, hugging a thin shawl around her shoulders, standing beside a big Bentley, looking desperate.
They passed the turning for Steepfall, and Kit wished he were a boy again, lying in bed at his father's house, knowing nothing about viruses or computers or the odds at blackjack.
The snow became so heavy that little was visible through the windshieid but whiteness. Elton was almost blind, steering by guesswork, optimism, and glances out of the side windows. Their speed dropped to the pace of a run, then a brisk walk. Kit longed for a more suitable car. In his father's Toyota Land Cruiser Amazon, parked only a tantalizing couple of miles from where they were right now, they would have had a better chance.
On a hill, the tires began to slip in the snow. The car gradually lost forward momentum. It came to a stop and then, to Kit's horror, began to slide back. Elton tried braking, but that only made the skid faster. He turned the steering wheel. The back swerved left. Elton spun the wheel in the opposite direction, and the car came to rest slewed at an angle across the road.
Nigel cursed.
Daisy leaned forward and said to Elton, "What did you do that for, you pillock?"
Elton said, "Get out and push, Daisy."
"Screw you."
"I mean it," he said. "The brow of the hill is only a few yards away. I could make it, if someone would give the car a push."
Nigel said, "We'll all push."
Nigel, Daisy, and Kit got out. The cold was bitter, and the snowflakes stung Kit's eyes. They got behind the car and leaned on it. Only Daisy had gloves. The metal was bitingly cold on Kit's bare hands. Elton let the clutch out slowly, and they took the strain. Kit's feet were soaking wet in seconds. But the tires bit. Elton pulled away from them and drove to the top of the hill.
They trudged up the slope, slipping in the snow, panting with the effort, shivering. Were they going to do this on every hill for the next ten miles?
The same thought had occurred to Nigel. When they got back into the car, he said to Elton, "Is this car going to get us there?"
"We might be all right on this road," Elton said. "But there's three or four miles of country lane before you get to the airfield."
Kit made up his mind. He said, "I know where there's a sport-utility vehicle with four-wheel drive-a Toyota Land Cruiser."
Daisy said, "We could get stuck in that-remember the police Range Rover we passed?"
Nigel said, "It has to be better than an Astra. Where is this car?"
"At my father's house. To be exact, it's in his garage, the door to which is not quite visible from the house."
"How far?"
"A mile back along this road, then another mile down a side turning."
"What are you suggesting?"
"We park in the woods near the house, borrow the Land Cruiser, and drive to the airfield. Afterwards, Elton brings the Land Cruiser back and takes the Astra."
"By then it will be daylight. What if someone sees him putting the car back in your father's garage?"
"I don't know, I'll have to make up a story, but it can't be worse than getting stuck here."
Nigel said, "Has anyone got a better idea?"
No one did.
Elton turned the car around and went back down the hill in low gear. After a few minutes, Kit said, "Take that side road."
Elton pulled up. "No way," he said. "Look at the snow down that lane-it's eighteen inches thick, and there's been no traffic on it for hours. We won't get fifty yards."
Kit had the panicky feeling he got when losing at blackjack, that a higher power was dealing him all the wrong cards.
Nigel said, "How far are we from your father's house?"
"A bit-" Kit swallowed. "A bit less than a mile."
Daisy said, "It's a long way in this fucking weather."
"The alternative," Nigel said, "is to wait here until a vehicle comes along then hijack it."
"We'll wait a bloody long time," Elton said. "We haven't seen a moving car on this road since we left the laboratory."
Kit said, "You three could wait here while I go and get the Land Cruiser."
Nigel shook his head. "Something might happen to you. You could get stuck in the snow, and we wouldn't be able to find you. Better to stay together."
There was another reason, Kit guessed: Nigel did not trust Kit alone. He probably feared that Kit might have second thoughts and call the police. Nothing was further from Kit's mind-but Nigel might not feel sure of that.
There was a long silence. They sat still, reluctant to leave the warmth that blasted from the car's heater. Then Elton turned off the engine and they got out.
Nigel held on tightly to the briefcase. That was the reason they were all going through this. Kit was carrying his laptop. He might still need to intercept calls to and from the Kremlin. Elton found a flashlight in the glove compartment and gave it to Kit. "You're leading the way," he said.
Without further discussion, Kit headed off, plowing through snow up to his knees. He heard grunts and curses from the others, but he did not look back. They would keep up with him or get left behind.
It was painfully cold. None of them was dressed for this. They had expected to be indoors or in cars. Nigel had a sports jacket, Elton a raincoat, and Daisy a leather jacket. Kit was the most warmly dressed, in his Puffa jacket. Kit wore Timberlands and Daisy had motorcycle boots, but Nigel and Elton wore ordinary shoes.
Soon Kit was shivering. His hands hurt, though he tried to keep them stuffed in his coat pockets. The snow soaked his jeans up to the knees and melted into his boots. His ears and his nose seemed frozen.
The familiar lane, along which he had walked and bicycled a thousand times in his boyhood, was buried out of sight, and he quickly began to feel confused about where he was. This was Scottish moorland, and no hedge or wall marked the edge of the road, as it would have in other parts of Britain. The land on either side was uncultivated, and no one had ever seen any reason to fence it off.
He felt he might have veered from the road. He stopped, and with his bare hands dug down into the snow.
"What now?" Nigel said bad-temperedly.
"Just a minute." Kit found frozen turf. That meant he had strayed from the paved road. But which way? He blew on his icy hands, trying to warm them. The land to his right seemed to slope up. He guessed the road was that way. He trudged a few yards in that direction, then dug down again. This time he found tarmac. "This way," he said with more confidence than he felt.
In time, the melted snow that had soaked his jeans and socks began to freeze again, so that he had ice next to his skin. When they had been walking for half an hour, he had a feeling he was going around in a circle. His sense of direction failed. On a normal night, the lights outside the house should have been visible in the distance, but tonight nothing shone through the snowfall to give him a beacon. There was no sound or smell of the sea: it might have been fifty miles away. He realized that if they got lost they would die of exposure. He felt truly frightened.
The others followed him in exhausted silence. Even Daisy stopped bitching. They were breathless and shivering, and had no energy to complain.