Escape to Perdition--a gripping thriller! Read online

  “Did he know, Herbert? Did he know that you’d killed him?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he didn’t cry out.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  Peter, still crouched, lifted his head towards her, eyes filling at the memory.

  “He forgave me.”

  Still clutching the bed sheet, she raised her own eyes to meet his.

  “So what happens now?”

  Confused, Peter shook his head. “That’s up to you. If you go public you’ll tear the whole system down and they’ll burn your two countries in the fall out. You need to make sure you’re protected until you can win the election; by then it’ll be too late to stop the popular mood and the Institute’s strategies will be forced to adapt.”

  “I meant what happens with you.”

  Peter nodded to the door. “I’m sure Rado knows how to get rid of a body.”

  “Suppose I don’t do that,” her words were quick, business like, “suppose like Herbert, I forgive you. Suppose I let you walk from this room and back to your life. What happens to you then?”

  “I’m sure you can guess.”

  Her clenched hand loosened just slightly and she took a deep breath, steadying herself. “You’re killing yourself for me. Either by my order or the hand of your Institute, you die.”

  Once more, Peter dropped his head, beginning to shiver a little in the cold he suddenly felt.

  “I prefer to think of it as laying down my life. Beats taking another person’s for a change.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Peter shrugged. “The same reason I grabbed you at Tatra.”

  He felt his legs begin to cramp within his awkward crouch and became aware of the shards around his knees, but his body still refused to move.

  Mirushka stepped from the bed, dropping the sheet to the floor and leading him up by his good hand to stand in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” he quizzed, puzzlement overcoming him.

  “You said I needed to be protected through the election. If you’re going to be my protector,” she said, “you’ll need to get that hand looked at.”

  “No, you don’t need me, you’ve got a whole squad of blokes out there to protect you without adding me to the ranks.”

  She stepped closer into him, her naked body brushing lightly against his.

  “And how many of them would make the sacrifice you have just made?”

  Peter fell backwards on to the bed at her gentle push, his confusion overwhelming him as she lay atop him, lowering her head to kiss his brow.

  “Why are you doing this?” he whispered, his tears flowing freely down his face.

  “Lubim ta.”

  “I love you too,” Peter replied through his tears, “I love you too.”

  Surrendering himself to the words and the emotions, Peter lay back on the bed, savouring the embrace, grateful for and terrified of each caress and every kiss from the woman who had torn him apart. And as he responded to her urging, offering her the protection of his arms, he whispered his thanks to her with a quiet ‘Ďakujem’, for against his expectations and in spite of all he had done, his target had helped him escape from the horror of himself.

  High above in the skies the nightmare had returned to the ageing traveller, as it always did when he approached this part of the world. He grimaced in his sleep at its expected return. The same horrifying image of a woman that had haunted him since childhood returned once more, her face twisted in agony as though some terrible force were tearing her gut from her body. She was reaching out of the darkness towards him while demonic figures dragged her back down, illuminated only by the flickering flames. More creatures pulled and clawed at the writhing shadows crawling impotently away from the growing fires, howling like the damned begging for escape from hell. Even their terrible sound was eclipsed by the guttural wail of children as they were dragged further and further away from the writhing shadows by the helmeted and uniformed demons. The worst wail of all came from the old man himself who, as always, found himself robbed of his age and becoming a cowering, terrified Child in the midst of the chaos. Ahead of him lay the woman, restrained, her face twisted in pain, staring straight into his eyes, opening her mouth and screaming in a voice that stretched from the Pit to the Heavens. One word, a name, repeated again and again. The name was Marek.

  “Marek!” The inevitable crescendo startled the old man awake. Discreetly composing himself he leaned back into his seat, the aircraft’s gentle hum acting as a relaxant.

  “Prague.” He hissed, distastefully, cursing his destination as the plane dipped in the night sky and began its slow descent into the wretched city below.

  CHAPTER 13

  AWAKENING TO AN EMPTY BED, Peter shook his head free from the blackness that had engulfed it, slipped from the sheets and examined his surroundings. The broken glass was gone, as was Mirushka, and Peter’s clothes from the previous evening lay folded on the chair by the wardrobe. Pulling them on and heading towards the bedroom door, the nervous thought pricked him that Mirushka had fled his presence having changed her mind and that Rado and his men awaited him, weapons drawn. Reasoning that it was at least as unlikely as her ready forgiveness the previous night, he resolved to catch up with her at Party Headquarters and put his doubts to rest once and for all. He pulled open the door and marched out into the living area.

  Mirushka, Černý and a handful of others glanced up from the paper strewn conference table, the distaste on the old Czech’s face as obvious as it was palpable.

  “One moment, láska moja, I’m nearly ready for you.”

  Černý scowled, others suppressed grins, and Peter blushed at Mirushka’s words; ‘láska moja’ – my love. With an air of unconcern, she pressed on.

  “As I said Karol, you have been getting some particularly good press these past days.”

  “Meaning what precisely?” Černý’s expression was indignation made flesh. “The Headlines have hardly been universally in our favour since the game.”

  “Not the Party’s, no,” Mirushka agreed. “But your own personal image has received quite a boost over the same period; one might almost say too much of one. Even some of the Slovak media has carried that intriguing soundbite that no-one can remember making. You know the one? About you being the true power behind the un-crowned Queen’s throne?”

  Peter saw the resentment in the old man’s eyes and questioned the wisdom of Mirushka’s strategy.

  “If you have an accusation to make…” His voice was quiet, measured.

  “Oh no, no!” She exclaimed, sounding to any casual observer, the very essence of sincerity. “Karol, we’re all on the same side here. And to misquote Gerald Seymour, one woman’s Leak is another’s Confidential Briefing. All I’m saying – to everyone – is that fun time is over; the election is only days away and we must be seen to work together, as partners, agreed?”

  All nodded their heads sagely and a smiling Mirushka gestured towards the door. “Then thank you gentlemen, to business!”

  “Karol, before you go,” she stopped him before he exited, leaving herself, Peter, Adrianna and Rado the only people in the room. “A couple of things.”

  Peter moved over to join them, a sinking feeling in his gut.

  “Your TV speech to the Slovak news this evening?” Mirushka addressed Černý once more. “I want you to deliver it in Slovak dialect.”

  Incredulity spread instantly across his thin, lined face.

  “I will do no such thing!” Černý spoke in his own tongue. “I was born and raised in Prague; every speech I have ever given in this country has been in my own language.”

  Mirushka nodded and dropped an offending newspaper on the table, a look of strength on her beautiful face.

  “And I was born in Prievidza,” she said, “and I was raised to show courtesy to my hosts by speaking their language. You are addressing the Slovak people on Slovak TV; it is not unreasonable to ask you to use Slovak dialect. It’s
just a little polite deference.”

  Peter knew she couldn’t resist the last few mischievous words and he struggled to stop a smile breaking onto his face at Černý’s expression.

  “Deference?” Černý hissed in suppressed mortification.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “It was Peter’s idea actually.”

  Černý turned to glare at Peter who smiled politely back at him.

  “Mr Lowe’s yes. He advised me that the media are likely to blow up the significance of any instances of inequality between us so as to sabotage the movement, and Čurda would love nothing more than to capitalise on a split between us. You and I may know that we are wholeheartedly committed to each other,” her voice was un-tainted by sarcasm, “but I have opted to give all my speeches in Czech when I am in the Czech Republic out of deference to her people. Likewise I think it sensible that when in Slovakia party figures speak in Slovak for the same reason. We wouldn’t want to give a bad impression would we?”

  Černý remained still and quiet, though his expression betrayed the tumultuous eruption of anger going on within him. Mirushka though simply gave her customary nod of approval.

  “That’s settled then. Now, the other thing, and this is for you all and no-one outside this room.”

  Rado and Adrianna moved closer to the table while Peter stayed a diplomatic couple of paces behind.

  “Last night, Mr Lowe resigned from the Institute for European Harmony and has agreed to join my staff on a permanent basis. I’m sure you’ll all join me in welcoming him to the team.”

  A cold stare from Rado, a confused smile from Adrianna and a tut from Černý followed.

  “Mr Lowe brings with him an expert insight into the region’s wider political scene and key information about a hindrance of which we had no prior knowledge. Mr Lowe?”

  All four faces turned to stare at him and Peter’s gut sank lower still, dreading the re-confessing of sins he had owned up to only hours before. Stripping his words of emotion, he kept his voice professional, business like and offered only the most basic of explanations.

  “The Institute doesn’t exist in any concrete, physical form. Its Czech address is a room in a suite of offices that never opens to the public and any external meetings are strictly by appointment only. That’s because the public image exists only as a cover for a movement dedicated to the internal security of the EU. It exists to root out and eliminate threats to the stability and direction of the Union. Its operatives are controlled remotely, not based in an office. Your movement is just such a threat, considered extinguishable by the elimination of Miroslava Svobodova.”

  Incredulous silence met his words, until Adrianna’s nervous voice piped up.

  “So, they want us out of Europe?”

  “No,” Peter answered, “they want you in Europe, exactly where you are, divided and dependent on their favour for your security. They believe if you unify you’ll lead the whole region into a rival power block within the Union that could eventually split the continent back into the old rivalries of East and West.”

  “That is their reasoning anyway,” Mirushka intervened. “Although personally I think the fallout from the Eurozone crisis has made them paranoid. They see things falling apart and are terrified that one of the minnows will try to take over the pond; if our countries reunite then we become the biggest minnow, and they think that Poland, Bulgaria, Romania and the others will eagerly swim in our wake, giving us a top heavy influence at Brussels. All we are interested in is finally giving our people a choice over the future, but I doubt they will take our word for that.”

  Peter picked up again. “But whatever your motive, the Institute believes that Mirushka is the glue holding the movement together and that without her it will fall apart.” He shot a glance at Černý, knowing the last sentence would have stung.

  “So,” Mirushka continued, “you each have a choice to make. To stay close to me is to put yourself in the line of fire, so to speak. If we are to win this election I need you close, but I will not force you to put yourselves in danger…”

  “What do you know of danger?” The words were spat by a Černý who’s anger refused to be contained a moment longer. “A few vague threats and you batten down the hatches. I stared down an invasion and am still here to speak of it! This is my country, this is my election! I can win without any help from the likes of you. You have risked everything we worked for, everything Herbert Biely worked for, by opening your legs to a traitor!”

  The old man turned quickly on Peter and cuffed an enormous hand across the Englishman’s head. The blow rocked Peter who was barely able to steady himself before a second blow came his way. He caught the arm this time, firmly, and stepped close into the old man’s face.

  “I may have been a traitor, I may have been scum, but I’m doing my best to help now. But you’re just an old relic, so trapped in the past that you can’t see why this woman is the best person for the job; and so blinded by your sense of self righteous injustice that you’re jealous someone made it onto a death list ahead of you.”

  “Gentlemen!”

  They both looked back towards Svobodova, the interruption just long enough to shake them from their mutual aggression.

  “Karol, you may detest me and Mr Lowe as much as you wish and for as long as you wish, but that will not alter the fact that you have two choices in front of you now.”

  Peter observed her looking deep into Černý’s eyes, outwardly calm but searching for some spark of indication that he was still with her, that he accepted her terms.

  “You can go to the press, tell them everything we’ve spoken of today and watch in glee as I’m dragged from office in disgrace for taking in a man who worked against us. You can take your place as undisputed party leader; the position your history of service surely deserves. Enjoy all the plaudits your people can throw at you if that’s what you want. But as you sit on your throne, you’ll watch the party die around you in scandal, and with it any chance to see us as one country again, to see your dream, Herbert’s dream, fulfilled. And all the Mečiar’s and the Čurda’s of the world will revel in their continued privilege, while the outsiders you resent so much, like this Institute which would destroy us, delight that you have done their job for them. All the plaudits and compliments and recognition they cover you in will do nothing but warm an old man’s ego as he fades towards irrelevance.”

  She stepped closer, her voice softer now, Peter silently marvelling at her abilities.

  “Or we can stand together, as partners, and fight those who would deny our people their voice. You know about the Institute now, and when one learns of a conspiracy like this, one can either expose it and watch Europe collapse in chaos, or fight against it from within. Either path will have its consequences, but the second option is the one I choose to take. Will you stand with me, Karol?”

  The bitter taste of anger still tweaked at the corners of the old man’s eyes, that much was obvious to all, but the rest of his face had recovered the cool dignity for which he was famous. Breathing deeply, quietly, diluting the adrenaline that had pumped through him moments before, he turned and walked slowly to the suite door, only to pause and turn his head first to Peter and then to Mirushka.

  Looking her in the eyes he said, in a once more calm voice, “The speech will be delivered as you request, and I apologise to you both for my remark.” And with that, he was through the door and away.

  As he left, Rado, silent as ever, flashed the most loaded of warning stares to Peter and nodded his loyalty towards Svobodova, before returning to his position outside the door. Adrianna, likewise, quietly scooped up her collection of folders and files from the table and scurried to her desk in the far corner where she began furiously scribbling the revised agenda for the day.

  Peter couldn’t find the words to thank Mirushka. He noticed the chain of his gift, the watch, hanging from the pocket of her waistcoat, an unspoken sign of her forgiveness. Stepping forward he took gently hold of her hand, his head bowed
in apology.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, “But why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” she whispered back.

  He held tightly onto her soft hands.

  “Why take these risks for me? A guy with blood on his hands who spent so long working against you.”

  The nervous excitement of the previous night returned to Peter as she lifted his fingers to her lips and kissed them.

  “Your hands are washed clean now,” she said. “And if I am the one to help my country reach the Promised Land, I need you with me every step of the way.”

  As he stood pressed against her, accepting her kiss and her words, a warmth grew in Peter, and with it the thought that they could achieve anything together. And for a while it seemed they could. Černý delivered his speech as instructed and remained silent when the Czech nationalist press derided him for it, while Mirushka and Peter, with Rado and Adrianna their constant companions, bustled from event to event and from photo shoot to photo shoot, moods high and confidence growing by the day that the Institute’s machinations were behind them and all they had to do was keep moving and smiling to skip on the stepping stones to victory.

  Until the accident.

  CHAPTER 14

  THE CHAOS OF THICK BLACK SMOKE and twisted metal dominated the TV screen, while a dramatic voiceover solemnly commentated on events.

  “The tragedy could have had untold consequences if the Slovak Prime Minister, Miroslava Svobodova, had been travelling in the vehicle as originally planned. Ms. Svobodova had in fact been delayed at a meeting and returned to Prague slightly later than planned by car to join Karol Černý’s election campaign.”

  The day had begun brightly, Peter cradling his lover as she awoke in his arms; their lovemaking carefree and sincere. They had dressed quickly and breakfasted on the move, their now regular companions joining them as they discussed timetables, polls and electoral logistics. Mirushka’s mood had dropped slightly at the news of a bullet having been received at their Bratislava hotel. The package had been intercepted by Rado’s team and the bullet found to be inactive, included in an A4 envelope alongside a few rose petals and a small silver necklace. Such things were distasteful but not uncommon and Peter was surprised that Mirushka let it affect her, but the dip in her spirits proved a momentary distraction as she completed her full day of appointments before the group made for the helipad and the journey back into Prague. Before they arrived, Mirushka had a change of mind about a cancelled appointment and elected to stay for an interview at a new TV station in the capitol with Peter and Rado, while Adrianna continued on to Prague in the helicopter as planned.