Spy Out the Land by Jeremy Duns

with us?’
    Dark crouched down and smiled at his son. ‘No, I have to stay here for a short while, but I’ll come out and join you very soon. Look after Mamma for me, won’t you?’
    Ben nodded solemnly. ‘Will I have to be brave, too?’
    Dark forced a reassuring laugh from his lips. ‘I don’t think so. But if you do, remember what we always say. You might
look
like a little boy –’ he stretched out
a hand and placed it gently on Ben’s chest – ‘but in here . . .’
    ‘I’ve got the heart of a lion. I know, Pappa.’
    Ben had always been small for his age, and it was advice Dark had given him in his first week at kindergarten, repeated often since.
    ‘Good. You’ll like the island, I promise. Some friends of mine live there. Now before you go, do I get a hug?’
    ‘Leopard One, this is Leopard Two. Targets One and Two have left the building, and are heading for their car. Please advise, over.’
    ‘Any sign she might be on to us? Over.’
    There was silence for a few seconds, then: ‘She’s carrying a shoulder bag, but it doesn’t look substantial. Over.’
    Weale closed his eyes and considered the information. It was tricky. It was risky to move now – there were far too many people around. They had decided to move at eleven if she was
identified, and barring an emergency that was when they would do it. The bag might mean she had spotted them, or simply that she was on an errand – going shopping for groceries, for example
– and she’d taken the child along because the boyfriend had insisted, or perhaps because she wanted to calm him down. Weale remembered his daughter’s temper tantrums at that age,
before things had gone sour between him and Mary, and how he would drive her around the farm in the Jeep until she’d fall asleep. So it was probably something like that.
    On the other hand, it might just be something else. He pressed the button and leaned into the microphone.
    ‘Leopard Two, stay in position for the moment. Leopard Three, follow her at a discreet distance and report every five minutes. Over and out.’
    Dark watched from the window as Claire bundled Ben into the Beetle and accelerated down the street. By the trees, the Opel remained in place.
    He drew the curtain and sighed with relief. They were away, thank God.
    He looked around the room, which suddenly seemed desolate without them. A few of Ben’s stuffed toys were lying in the middle of the floor, and he picked them up and put them in his room.
Then he walked into the kitchen area and found the bottle of
akvavit
he had bought from the government shop a few months earlier. It was strong stuff, reminiscent of the Czech haymakers
his old boss Templeton had once favoured – perhaps that was what drew him to it, a hair-shirt reminder of his past.
    He cleaned a shot glass in the sink, poured himself a large portion, and knocked it back. It went down smoothly enough, the herbs filling his mouth, but it was like dousing a sauna with water:
you had to wait a second or two for the full impact. And there it was, starting with a pleasing heat and then rising rapidly until he grimaced and wondered if he hadn’t overdone it –
the back of his throat would now burn for the next ten minutes.
    Well, good. Pain was good. Pain was welcome.
    He poured another dose, then walked back to the living room. He took the rifle out from beneath the sofa, then seated himself in the armchair and set the glass on the side table next to it. Pain
was good, but he didn’t want to get drunk. He had to stay alert. But the glass would keep him company: the glass and the rifle.
    He sat there, ruminating on this, his throat torn. Best not to think at all. Focus on the sounds, and on the changes in sound.
Focus.
    She looked across at the map on the passenger seat and took the turning Erik had indicated. Once she was on the main road, she glanced in her mirror towards the back of the
car. Ben was asleep, his head tilted back, his mouth agape and his