Page 120 of Tell No One
Tag grabbed the backpacks, took Ahsan’s hand and ran. Lincoln was still arguing as they left the house. They sprinted to the barn. Once inside, Tag put a ladder up to where the wood was laid. Then he emptied Ahsan’s backpack. The tracker was stuck under the plastic base and Tag pocketed it.Did they all do the same fucking thing?He stuffed everything back inside and handed it to Ahsan.
The moment Ahsan was lying on the wood, Tag put the ladder back in its original place.
“What are you doing?” Ahsan whispered.
“I’ll find somewhere else. Stay low. Don’t make a sound. Don’t die. Rafiq is waiting for you.” Then he ran.
Tag spotted Lincoln sprinting up the road as he ran down to the loch. The things were where Delaney had said they’d be and Tag pushed them into the backpack. As he ran, he took off his sweater and the white T-shirt, leaving the grey one beneath, and pushed them into the backpack as well. He wasn’t hot yet, but he soon would be. All that had taken no more than five minutes from when he’d left the drawing room. But he had to move faster.
He was almost at the top of a steep hill when he felt he’d used up his time. He just needed to get over the top before he threw Ahsan’s tracker. He put on a final sprint and flung himself over the lip. He donned the body armour before replacing his T-shirt. While he was at it, he pulled his tracker from the bottom of his bag and put it in his pocket.
One swift glance down the hill showed him two men heading in the direction Lincoln had taken, and four moving towards him. Tag dropped down the hill so that he’d be out of sight when he stood, then he threw Ahsan’s tracker as far as he could before he ran in the opposite direction. He’d get rid of his tracker too once he’d found another high spot.
Running in the body armour used more energy but it didn’t interfere with his natural rhythm, though he wasn’t used to running with weight on his back. Sometimes in London, he’d carry a bottle of water, but that was all. The plan was to use the cover of a rocky outcrop to get to the top of the next hill. He’d lose the tracker there, then drop down into the valley before tackling the next hill. He had youth and stamina on his side, but what use were they against guns that could fire over long distances? When were the good guys going to arrive?
18
Tag was already having doubts about what he saw ahead of him. Scrambling up boulders was one thing, but he had no climbing experience. If he changed the route, he risked being seen, but keep on this path and he’d have to scale what looked like an impossibly steep rocky crag. He didn’t think he could scale it. He cut off on a diagonal, hoping to find an easier way. When he stumbled across a sheep trail, he sighed with relief and ran a little faster.
There were ferns and bracken around him, swathes of purple heather set in a landscape of boulders. It was a wild place, a little like Wales, but on a much bigger scale. Tag wished he could find it beautiful, but it might be the place where he died. When the sheep track headed down, Tag turned uphill through the bracken. Pretty soon he was away from undergrowth and onto rough grassland. He kept going up, looking over his shoulder every now and again. No one in view yet, but he was protected by the previous hill he’d climbed.
When he reached the top, he crawled over the lip and sheltered behind a large rock. He left his tracker there and had a drink of water before he moved on. The sea glistened in the distance.Oh God.Would he ever be near the sea again? He ran diagonally downhill. The next slope was some distance away and he needed to cross the valley floor and get uphill before those following saw him. Speed was essential but he still had to be careful because one slip could be the end. He jumped over holes and rocks, always moving forward. He felt okay, not too out of breath. When he reached the top of the next slope, which seemed really high, he’d reward himself with another drink.
Even as he ran, he kept thinking how crazy this all was. Then he heard a gunshot echoing and dropped to the ground. He didn’t stay there, but scrambled onwards, because that bullet hadn’t been aimed at him. The sound was too far away. He hadn’t been seen, not yet. When he reached the bottom of the hill, he saw that beyond the ferns, there was another rocky outcrop looming above him, though it looked less steep than the one he’d avoided before. Tag reconciled himself to climbing it and carried on.
He didn’t like the look of it when he got there, though he still hauled himself up, clinging tight to the rock face as if it was going to keep him safe.Don’t look down or back. Don’t think about how dangerous this is. Don’t slip. Yet would I rather be shot than fall?If he broke his leg or his back, death would come slowly then. The armour he was wearing would only protect him from a hit in the back or chest. Maybe not even then. He guessed that these hunters wouldn’t go for a headshot when they were firing from a distance, but what did he know?
Tag was almost surprised when he slid over the top of the rock. For a moment, he lay there, breathing heavily, relieved to have made it. When he looked back, he could see the loch, the castle and four men coming in his direction. His heart thumped. Should he have got rid of the tracker sooner? Or maybe they were going for Ahsan’s tracker.
He took another glance. They were definitely heading left. That was good. He heard another gunshot ring out, then another and another. But none of the four were firing. Was Lincoln dead?Please don’t let them have found Ahsan.
Tag had a drink of water, then looked around. He was already unsure if he was following the route Delaney had shown him. Everything looked different out here. He crawled until he knew he’d be out of sight, then he stood up and ran again heading for a slope that was a jumble of rocks and boulders. He’d climb to the ridgeline, then see where to go from there.
It wasn’t long before he was having to ascend using his hands. He paused to put on the gloves and heard the sound of a helicopter.Fuck!But when he glanced into the sky, it was heading away from him. Tag raced up the hill, grabbing for rocks rather than stones, propelling himself up like a speed climber because the helicopter could turn and see him at any moment.
He was breathing fast but he maintained a good pace. He was covering more ground than if he’d stayed on just his feet. He almost came a cropper when the ground suddenly fell into a dip but he skirted round and continued up. The top was no more than twenty metres away and he just hoped that what lay beyond was something he could get down and not a sheer drop.
When he heard the helicopter coming, he froze. He was in the shelter of a large boulder but if they approached from the other side, they’d see him. Tag yanked the emergency blanket out of the backpack and crawled underneath it. If they didn’t come too low, maybe it would be enough and they’d be fooled by the camouflage pattern. The sound of the engine was terrifying. But they weren’t hovering over him because there was no downdraft. The moment the noise began to fade, he screwed up the blanket, stuffed it in the pack and carried on.
Just before he reached the ridgeline, he glanced back, and could still see the four coming his way. They were too far away for him to see which was Delaney. Then a gunshot sounded, louder than the ones he’d heard before and he scrambled on. He hadn’t heard a bullet strike anywhere. What came first, the bullet striking or the sound of the gun going off? If the bullet hit his head, he wouldn’t be alive to hear the boom. The next bullet only just missed him. It ricocheted off a rock to his left, spitting stone fragments into his face. Tag threw himself over the top. They knew where he was. They could shoot him from a far greater distance than he’d realised. His only advantage was that they had a long climb now to get to a point where they could see him again.
He was soaked with sweat, wanted a drink, but it would have to wait. When he looked at what lay ahead, he groaned. It was a slope of small, loose rocks, like pieces of a giant’s jigsaw puzzle. He’d seen something like it in Wales, a scree slope, though that had been slate, and Delaney had told him it was dangerous. What choice did he have? He started to run diagonally across. The stones shifted under his feet but he kept going, his arms out for balance, leaning slightly back and digging his heels in as he went.
Then everything started moving, the rocks he stepped on sliding to push others down and all Tag could do was keep going. If he stopped, he’d get dragged down with them. The stones flowed like a river and Tag moved with them, half-running, half-sliding but still crossing on the diagonal. His steps got longer and faster and the flow of rocks continued, pouring downhill.
He couldn’t fall. He just couldn’t. The faster he ran, the longer his steps, the safer he was. Stopping now would be a disaster. He was being carried down the slope anyway, but in a direction of his choosing. The noise was really loud. If they hadn’t already known which way he was heading, they would now. As the rocks became larger and weren’t moving under his feet, he stopped running and covered the last part of the slope more carefully. When he reached cover, he crouched down and looked back.
As the dust cleared, he could see some of the slope was still sliding. He’d managed to get quite a long way. Further than he’d thought. He took a drink and set off again. Once he was over the next lip, they wouldn’t be able to see him. He kept going, trying not to think about the way terror was freezing him from the inside out.
Delaney had set off with Jeremy, Feely and Matt. Alec and Yves had chosen to go after Lincoln. The bad news was that the three with Delaney were fit individuals. Not as fit as him, but even so. Jeremy was the weakest but he’d still kept up with the pace.
“Which way?” Jeremy asked.
They looked up at the range of hills in front of them.
Feely took out his phone. “They have trackers in their backpacks. Just think of it as them leaving a trail of blood.”
“So which fucking way?” Matt asked.
