The String Diaries Part 31

'I'm a quick worker.'

'And?'

'I've been thinking about something. You don't trust me.'

'Perceptive.'

'If it wasn't for the sarcasm I'd thank you. It's clear I need to do something to build a little trust with you, before we see each other. A gesture of goodwill. Otherwise I fear we'll both walk away from our conversation unfulfilled. First, a confession: I haven't always made the right choices. There, I've said it. Some of the choices I've made have been bad, a few of them have been terrible. A lot of mistakes, but all of them in the past. Some made with worthy intentions, some without. When you live a long time, you get to collect a lot of mistakes. I won't make excuses for all of mine, but I will tell you my story, when I see you. Some of it is distasteful. I'm objective enough to see that. But I'm hoping that after we talk you'll at least understand a fraction of what I've lost, what I've suffered, what I've sacrificed.' He hesitated, and she heard his breathing quicken. 'Look out of the window, Hannah. I'm giving you your father back.'

The line crackled and died.

Nate raised his eyebrows. 'What did he say?'

Hannah took the phone away from her ear. She frowned, staring at it.

'Hon?'

Moving to the window, she looked outside. Dawn had coloured the sky with a wash of pink that seeped around dishwater clouds. In the distance, a black Ford pickup rolled over the stone bridge. It reached the side nearest Llyn Gwyr and slowed to a halt. As she watched, the driver's side door opened.

Her father climbed out.

'Oh, my G.o.d.'

'What is it?' Sebastien joined her at the window, and hissed out a breath.

Nate put out a hand to Hannah. She helped him to his feet.

Charles Meredith shut the door of the truck and raised both hands above his head. He looked towards the farmhouse. Then he walked to the front of the vehicle, knelt down and laced his fingers behind his head.

Hannah stared, unable to move, unable to think. It couldn't be possible. Could it?

It's clear I need to do something to build a little trust with you, before we see each other. A gesture of goodwill.

Could she even begin to believe that her father was out there, that he was really still alive?

'I don't like this,' Sebastien muttered.

Her father looked tired, ill, but he seemed uninjured. She wished she could talk to him, validate him. But Jakab hadn't offered that, had sprung this surprise on her. Why?

She couldn't afford to take him at his word.

Could she?

When you've lived for a long time, you get to collect a lot of mistakes.

'Mummy, look at Moses.'

I'm giving you your father back.

'Mummy, look.'

Leah's words finally reached Hannah and she switched her attention to the dog. Moses had trotted to the dining-room door, and now he sat an inch away from it, ears raised, deathly still.

She glanced back at the road. The truck was still parked by the bridge. Her father still knelt in front of it.

Moses began to keen softly.

She looked at Sebastien. 'What is it?'

He put his hand into his coat pocket and when he removed it he was holding his knife. 'Trouble.'

The dog rose up on all fours. Lifted his nose to the door jamb. Growled.

From the kitchen, a soft thump.

'Mummy?'

'Go stand behind Daddy, scamp,' Hannah whispered. She took the shotgun from Nate. Took a step towards Moses. Towards the door.

A click, somewhere in the hallway. Footsteps? Then, the squeal of a door hinge. Living room. Had to be. The door from the kitchen stood permanently open. Someone had come through the back door of the farmhouse. They'd walked into the hall and then the living room.

The dog growled again. Sebastien clicked his tongue and the animal fell silent. If Hannah were to surprise their intruder, the best time was now get into the hallway before he came back out of the living room. Be there waiting for him.

She reached out a hand to the door handle, touched its metal with sweat-slicked fingers, gripped it in her palm, turned it anticlockwise, prayed that its moving metal parts wouldn't betray her, and pulled the door open, towards her, ready to let go of the handle and hold the shotgun in both hands the moment she saw movement.

The hallway was empty.

Hannah planted a foot on to a floorboard she knew was solid. She swung the gun to the right, advanced fully into the hall, blinking, itching, wanting to rub the graininess out of her eyes, wanting to rub her face and loosen the tension there, knowing that she should do nothing but brace the stock of the weapon into the meat of her shoulder. Gabriel walked out of the living room.

He turned towards her and raised his eyebrows when he saw her aiming both barrels at his head. 'Have I come at a bad time?' he asked. When he grinned, the expression didn't reach his eyes. His cobalt stare measured her with frightening detachment.

'Shut up.' She backed away from him, keeping the sight hovering between his eyes. When she had given herself enough s.p.a.ce between him and the dining-room door, she indicated where she wanted him to go with a flick of the gun. 'In there. Now.'

Gabriel shrugged. 'You really don't need to point that thing at me, Hannah. But I'm guessing you're going to ignore whatever I say.'

'Get inside.'

Hands raised, he obeyed.

Hannah followed, keeping the sight of the gun inches from the back of his head. 'Take the chair furthest from the window. I'm sure you'll figure out just how still you need to sit to avoid me unloading this into your face.'

As Gabriel slid around the dining table, Moses backed away from him until he was crouching in front of Sebastien, lips pulled back from his teeth, muscles twitching.

Gabriel sat down on the chair Hannah had indicated. He gazed about the room. Finally he returned his attention to Hannah. 'Quite the welcoming party,' he said.

She checked the bridge. Her father still knelt in front of the pickup. He wore a woollen winter jacket, but only a light pair of trousers. It was cold outside. Damp.

'Little miss,' Gabriel said. 'That's a pretty pattern you've made right there with those shotgun rounds.' He looked back up at Hannah. 'Nothing sinister about that at all.'

'Don't talk to her.'

'You, by the window,' Gabriel continued. 'You must be Nate. I've been wanting to meet you, shake your hand and tell you what a lucky man you are. You've a fine wife.'

Nate's expression hardened. 'We've met before.'

'Oh, I don't think so. Not like this. A man of your calibre I think I'd remember. But I'd say that luck of yours has taken a bit of a knock, judging from all that blood. I'm no expert, but I'd say you need something a bit more comprehensive than a sticking plaster to fix you up. And you,' he added, turning to Sebastien. 'Sebastien, isn't it? The old hermit guy. That's what you'd like people to think. Always popping up, though, aren't you? Like some persistently bad-tempered old leprechaun. OK, I place myself at your mercies. Perhaps one of you would like to tell me where we all go from here.'

'Why is my father out there?' Hannah demanded, edging towards him. 'What do you hope to gain from this?'

Gabriel's eyes never left her face. 'I don't intend to gain anything from this.'

'What were you doing in the house? What was your plan?'

'There was no plan.'

'Liar. Why were you in the house?'

'I heard gunshots. I came over. The back windows were blown out.'

She shook her head. She would not kill him here, not in front of her daughter, not without getting the truth from him.

Hannah looked out of the window at the gravel track where her father knelt. She grappled with her emotions: love, hate, fear, indecision. Something was wrong here. So many things were wrong. She thought there were likely very few safe paths through this situation. Perhaps none. Even with the barrel of the gun trained on Gabriel or Jakab, or whatever he was really called she felt unsafe. He had planned a trap. That's why he was sitting there so comfortably. She was staring into the face of that trap, but she could not see its trigger. Yet what, she thought, was stopping her from taking him outside, out of Leah's sight, and putting a round of shot through the back of his head?

An admission, that's what. Despite everything, until he looks into my eyes and admits the truth, until I know without doubt that I'm not killing an innocent man, I won't be able to do it. And somehow, he knows.

She needed her father. With his help, with his recounting of events, perhaps she would be able to piece this together sufficiently to bring it to an end.

Keeping the shotgun aimed at Gabriel, she moved around until she stood next to Nate. 'I'm going out there.'

'What?'

'I'm going to get my father.'

'You can't, Han.'

'I can. I have to. He's the key to this.'

'I agree. But you're not going anywhere. It's too risky.'

'I'm not worried about myself.'

'I know that,' he said softly, putting a hand on her back. 'It's not what I meant. Your role is here. In this room. This entire situation revolves around you. It always has. You need to be here at the heart of it. For Leah, for us. I'll get Charles.'

'You? Nate, you're injured. You can barely walk.'

'You need to stay here, Hannah. And I need to do this.' He locked his eyes on her and she saw that he would not be turned away.

She felt herself beginning to shake. Felt herself wanting to be sick. Instead she kissed him. Then she walked towards Gabriel. 'Leah, close your eyes,' she said. Hannah slammed the b.u.t.t of the shotgun into the Irishman's head.

The blow knocked him off the chair. He crashed into the wall, pitched backwards and sprawled on the floor, eyes rolled back in his head. She turned to her husband. 'Don't take any risks. Promise me, Nate. Something's not right here.'

He nodded. Opening the door to the dining room, he slipped into the hall. A minute later she heard their Discovery's engine turn over. A few moments after that, the vehicle pa.s.sed the front of the farmhouse, heading along the track towards the bridge.

Overhead, the pink stain behind the clouds had become a crimson blush. A flock of geese flew honking across the sky. Down on the ground her father waited, hands laced behind his head.

The Discovery kicked up stones and mud as it bounced down the track. She thought of the blood flowing from Nate's wounds.

How did you agree to this? You need to get him to a hospital, have his injuries treated.

As soon as he got back, she would. As soon as they had finished this.

She felt Sebastien move closer to the window, move closer to her. She glanced at him, at his close-cropped white-haired scalp, his emerald eyes, the fuzz of stubble on his cheeks.

Nate brought the Discovery to a stop three yards from where her father knelt. He opened the door. Slowly, gingerly, he climbed out. Even from here, she could see the effort it caused him. He had left the engine running. She could see the exhaust pipe shaking, the blue diesel fumes chugging into the air.

Nate appeared from the far side of the Discovery, and her father stood up. She saw Nate say something. Her father responded. Nate started towards him and then her father pulled a pistol from his pocket and shot him.

The gun, Charles's favourite old German Luger, bucked in his hand, and two circles of colour bloomed on the back of Nate's s.h.i.+rt. The air cracked twice, the sharp retorts echoing across the valley floor. Nate rocked on his feet. He fell backwards to the ground.

Hannah rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of what she saw. The air seemed to be ringing, screaming. In the corner of the room, she saw Gabriel begin to stir, and wondered if she should shoot him now before this became any more complicated.

She looked back out of the window. Her father not her father, definitely not her father was gazing towards the farmhouse. He had lowered the gun. He held a telephone to his ear.

Still the air screamed and rang. The screaming, she realised, was coming from Leah. Sebastien had grabbed the girl, was holding her tight. The ringing was coming from the phone on the table. Hannah lifted it to her ear.

'Before you get angry, you have to admit that he shot me first,' Jakab said. 'With this same gun, ironically. I meant everything I said to you earlier, Hannah. But I couldn't let him get away with that.'

Hannah dropped the phone, vaguely aware of the shriek that tore out of her, that clove her. She turned around and around. Her mind wouldn't work. Somehow she was in the hall, scrabbling at the lock on the front door. Then she was sprinting down the track towards her husband, towards the creature wearing her father's face.

The moment he saw she was armed, Jakab scrambled back towards the pickup. Hannah stopped, raised the shotgun and fired. An instinctive reaction. Wasteful. She was too far away for an effective shot. She ran on.

Jakab swung open the truck's door and climbed into the driver's seat. Still Hannah ran. Closer now. The vehicle shuddered as the engine coughed, revved. The wheels spun in reverse, bit into gravel. It hurtled backwards over the bridge. She raised the weapon and fired again. This time a plate-sized section of windscreen exploded. Leaning on squealing wheels, the pickup swung around until it pointed up the hill towards the main road. Then it accelerated.

She heard thunder behind her.

No. Not thunder. Something else. Hooves, pounding on gravel. Growing louder.

In a blur of movement, Gabriel charged past, crouched low upon his mount. The horse leaped the hump of the bridge, landing in a shower of stones. It raced after Jakab's truck, its stride lengthening.

Within a few seconds, vehicle, horse and rider disappeared over the top of the ridge.

Silence returned to the valley.

Hannah dropped the shotgun. She walked over to her husband. Knelt down beside him.

Nate's eyes were open. She picked up his hand.

The first bullet had smashed through his sternum. The second had drilled through the right side of his chest. Beyond the ragged entry points she could see splintered bone, torn flesh. A lake of blood was emerging underneath him. 'Oh, Nate, my darling, my love. What has he done, what has he done? This can't be. This can't be.'