‘Perfect,’ Ronan said.
‘What now?’
‘Get out of the car.’
Scott picked up his backpack and phone from the passenger seat, then climbed out. He turned off his phone’s speaker and put the device to his ear.
‘What now?’
‘You should see an entrance to a pathway on the other side of the road.’
‘I see it.’
‘Then start walking. I’ll be waiting for you. Don’t forget the money.’
Scott locked up the car and slipped his arms through the straps of the backpack. It was overkill for all it contained, but he didn’t want Ronan suspecting the truth before he’d had a chance to talk things over with him.
He crossed the lane and started up the path. To his right were tall hedgerows. On his left, barbed wire bordered a huge field. In the far distance he could just make out the lighted windows of a house – the nearest signs of civilisation and a possible sanctuary if he needed it.
The path became ever steeper. After a few minutes, he paused and looked back the way he had come. He saw now that anyone up here would have an excellent view of car headlights on the lane. It would have been impossible to bring along a posse of police officers without being spotted. Ronan had done his homework.
A heavy snort made Scott leap away. He landed in a ditch, dropping his phone.
‘Shit.’
He looked up and saw a horse staring at him over the hedgerow, a glint of amusement in its eyes. He wondered if the nag made a habit of alarming people like that.
He found his phone, but it was only after dusting himself off that he became aware of a tinny voice emanating from it. He brought it to his ear again.
‘Scott! Are you there?’
‘I’m here.’
‘Where the hell did you go? All you’ve got to do is follow a fucking path.’
‘It’s okay. I’m here.’
‘All right, then. Have you seen a stile on your left yet?’
‘A what?’
‘A stile. A set of wooden steps.’
‘No . . . Wait. Yes. I see it.’
‘Climb over it, into the field.’
‘Okay. Done.’
‘You see the hill? With the big tree on top of it? Look in that direction.’
Scott looked. He saw several brief flashes of a torch.
‘I see you.’
‘Walk towards me.’
Scott began walking again. The ground itself was fairly dry and firm, but he grimaced every time one of his feet sank into what was presumably a huge cowpat. He wished he’d worn wellington boots.
The hill was much steeper than the path, and his breathing became heavier as he ascended. Ahead, he thought he could see a figure stepping out from beneath the canopy of the ancient tree. He started going over the lines of dialogue in his head – the words he’d been shaping and rehearsing all day. The words that might just save his life, and the lives of his family.
His legs became heavier. The pack on his back became heavier. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t know if he would ever leave.
The torch came on again, shining directly into Scott’s eyes. He halted. He could hear himself panting.
‘Hello, Scott.’
Ronan came down the slope towards him. When he was just feet away, he flicked off the torch. The light of the moon was enough for Scott to pick out the features that belonged simultaneously to one who had died and one who would kill. Either apparition was terrifying.
‘You got something for me?’ Ronan asked.
Scott slipped one of the straps of the backpack from his shoulder, but kept the other in place. He tried to act as though his load was much more of a burden than it was.
‘Before we do this, I want you to know that you’re taking everything from us. This is all we have in the world. I hope you’ll understand that we’re not trying to—’
‘Cut the crap, Scott.’
‘W-what?’ He hadn’t anticipated an interruption. Heartfelt speeches weren’t supposed to be interrupted, especially when they involved appeals to humanity.
