Read Running Blind / The Freedom Trap for Free Online Page A

wants to have you “terminated with extreme prejudice.” Although I daresay the KGB don’t employ that exact wording.’
    A damned nice term for a bullet in the back of the head one dark night. ‘So?’ I said.
    ‘He’s still looking for you,’ Slade pointed out.
    ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘I’m no longer with the Department.’
    ‘Ah, but Kennikin doesn’t know that.’ Slade examined his fingernails. ‘We’ve kept the information from him—quite successfully, I believe. It seemed useful to do so.’
    I saw what was coming but I wanted to make Slade come right out with it, to commit himself in plain language—something he abhorred. ‘But he doesn’t know where I am.’
    ‘Quite right, dear boy—but what if someone should tell him?’
    I leaned forward and looked closely at Slade. ‘And who would tell him?’
    ‘I would,’ he said blandly. ‘If I thought it necessary. I’d have to do it tactfully and through a third party, of course; but it could be arranged.’
    So there it was—the threat of betrayal. Nothing new for Slade; he made a life’s work out of corruption and betrayal. Not that I was one to throw stones; it had been my work too, once. But the difference between us was that Slade liked his work.
    I let him waffle on, driving home the point unnecessarily. ‘Kennikin runs a very efficient Mordgruppe, as we know to our cost, don’t we? Several members of the Department have been…er…terminated by Kennikin’s men.’
    ‘Why don’t you just say murdered?’
    He frowned and his piggy eyes sank deeper into the rolls of fat that larded his face. ‘You always were blunt, Stewart; perhaps too blunt for your own good. I haven’t forgotten the time you tried to get me in trouble with Taggart. I remember you mentioned that word then.’
    ‘I’ll mention it again,’ I said. ‘You murdered Jimmy Birkby.’
    ‘Did I?’ Slade asked softly. ‘Who put the gelignite in his car? Who carefully connected the wire from the detonator to the ignition system? You did!’ He cut me off with a chopping motion of his hand. ‘And it was only that which got you next to Kennikin, only that induced Kennikin to trust you enough so that we could break him. You did very well, Stewart—all things considered.’
    ‘Yes, you used me,’ I said.
    ‘And I’ll use you again,’ he said brutally. ‘Or would you rather be thrown to Kennikin?’ He laughed suddenly. ‘You know, I don’t think Kennikin gives a damn if you’re with the Department or not. He wants you for your own sweet self.’
    I stared at him. ‘And what do you mean by that?’
    ‘Didn’t you know that Kennikin is impotent now?’ Slade said in surprise. ‘I know you intended to kill him with that last shot, but the light was bad and you thought you’d merely wounded him. Indeed you had, but not merely—you castrated the poor man.’ His hands, which were folded across his belly,shook with his sniggers. ‘To put it crudely—or bluntly, if you like, dear boy—you shot his balls off. Can you imagine what he’ll do to you if—and when—he catches up with you?’
    I felt cold and there was a yawning emptiness in the pit of my stomach. ‘There’s only one way of opting out of the world and that’s by dying,’ said Slade with phoney philosophy. ‘You tried your way and it doesn’t work.’
    He was right; I shouldn’t have expected otherwise. ‘What it comes to is this,’ I said. ‘You want me to do a job. If I don’t do it, you’ll tip off the opposition and the opposition will knock me off—and your hands will be theoretically clean.’
    ‘Very succinctly put,’ said Slade. ‘You always did write good, clear reports.’ He sounded like a schoolmaster complimenting a boy on a good essay.
    ‘What’s the job?’
    ‘Now you’re being sensible,’ he said approvingly. He produced a sheet of paper and consulted it. ‘We know you are in the habit of taking an annual holiday in Iceland.’ He looked up. ‘Still sticking to your