Whiteout

Kit stepped forward to grab Hugo, then stopped himself.

The last thing he wanted was for the family to overwhelm the gang. Although he was shocked by the true purpose of the theft he had organized, his own survival was uppermost in his mind. It was less than twenty-four hours since Daisy had almost killed him in the swimming pool, and he knew that if he failed to repay her father, he faced an end every bit as painful as death from the virus in the perfume bottle. He would intervene on Nigel's side, against his own family, if he had to-but did he have to? He still wanted to maintain the fiction that he had never seen Nigel before tonight. So he stood helplessly looking on as contrary impulses clashed within him.

Elton put both arms around Hugo in a powerful bear hug. Hugo struggled gamely, but he was smaller and less fit, and could not shake Elton off. Elton lifted Hugo's feet off the ground and stepped back, pulling him away from Nigel.

Daisy kicked Nellie accurately in the ribs with a heavy boot, and the dog whimpered and fled to the corner of the room.

Nigel was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and there were angry red marks around his eyes. He glared malevolently at Hugo and raised his right hand, which still grasped the gun.

Olga took a step forward, shouting: "No!"

Instantly, Nigel swung his arm and pointed the gun at her.

Stanley grabbed her and held her back, saying at the same time, "Don't shoot, please don't shoot."

Nigel kept the gun pointed at Olga and said, "Daisy, have you still got that sap?" Looking pleased, Daisy took out her blackjack. Nigel nodded toward Hugo. "Hurt this bastard."

Seeing what was coming, Hugo began to struggle, but Elton tightened his hold.

Daisy drew back her right arm and smashed the blackjack into Hugo's face. It hit his cheekbone with a sickening crunch. He made a noise between a shout and a scream. Daisy hit him again, and blood spurted from his mouth and ran down his bare chest. With a spiteful grin, Daisy eyed his genitals, then kicked him in the groin. She hit him with the blackjack again, this time on the top of his head, and he fell unconscious. But that made no difference to Daisy. She hit him full on the nose, then kicked him again.

Olga let out a wail of grief and rage, broke free of her father's grasp, and threw herself at Daisy.

Daisy swung the blackjack at her, but Olga was too close, and the blow whistled behind her head.

Elton dropped Hugo, who slumped on the tiled floor, and made a grab for Olga.

Olga got her hands on Daisy's face and scratched.

Nigel had his gun pointed at Olga but he hesitated to shoot, no doubt fearing that he would hit Elton or Daisy, both of whom were struggling with Olga.

Stanley turned to the stovetop and picked up the heavy frying pan in which Kit had scrambled a dozen eggs. He raised it high in the air then brought it down on Nigel, aiming at the man's head. At the last instant Nigel saw it coming, and dodged. The pan hit his right shoulder. He cried out in pain, and the gun flew from his hand.

Stanley tried to catch the gun, but missed. It landed on the kitchen table, an inch from the perfume bottle. It bounced onto the seat of a pine chair, rolled over, and dropped to the floor at Kit's feet.

Kit bent down and picked it up.

Nigel and Stanley looked at him. Sensing the dramatic change, Olga, Daisy, and Elton stopped fighting and turned to look at Kit holding the gun.

Kit hesitated, torn in half by the agony of the decision.

They all stared at him for a long moment of stillness.

At last he turned the gun around, holding it by the barrel, and gave it back to Nigel.

6:30 AM

CRAIG and Sophie found the barn at last.

They had waited a few minutes by the back door, hesitating, then realized they would freeze to death if they stayed there indefinitely. Screwing up their courage, they had crossed the yard directly, heads bent, praying that no one would look out of the kitchen windows. The twenty paces from one side to the other seemed to take forever through the thick snow. Then they followed the front wall of the barn, always in full view from the kitchen. Craig did not dare to look in that direction: he was too frightened of what he might see. When at last they reached the door, he took one swift glance. In the dark he could not see the building itself, just the lighted windows. The snow further obscured his view, and he could see only vague figures moving in the kitchen. There was no sign that anyone had glanced out at the wrong moment.

He pulled the big door open. They stepped inside, and he closed it gratefully. Warm air washed over him. He was shivering, and Sophie's teeth were chattering like castanets. She threw off her snow-covered anorak and sat on one of the big hospital-style radiators. Craig would have liked to take a minute to warm himself, but there was no time for that-he had to get help fast.

The place was dimly lit by a night-light next to the camp bed where Tom lay. Craig looked closely at the boy, wondering whether to wake him. He seemed to have recovered from Sophie's vodka, and was sleeping peacefully in his Spider-Man pajamas.

Craig's eye was caught by something on the floor beside the pillow. It was a photograph. Craig picked it up and held it in the light. It appeared to have been taken at his mother's birthday party, and showed Tom with Sophie, her arm around his shoulders. Craig smiled to himself. I'm not the only one who was captivated by her that afternoon, he thought. He put the picture back, saying nothing to Sophie.

There was no point in waking Tom, he decided. There was nothing the boy could do, and he would only be terrified. He was better off asleep.

Craig went quickly up the ladder that led to the hayloft bedroom. On one of the narrow beds he could make out the heap of blankets that covered his sister Caroline. She seemed fast asleep. Like Tom, she was better off that way. If she woke up and found out what was going on, she would have hysterics. He would try not to wake her.

The second bed had not been slept in. On the floor next to it he could see the shape of an open suitcase. Sophie said she had dropped her phone on top of her clothes. Craig crossed the room, moving cautiously in the near-dark. As he bent down, he heard, very near to him, the soft rustle and squeak of something alive, and he grunted a startled curse, his heart hammering in his chest; then he realized it was Caroline's damn rats moving in their cage. He pushed the cage aside and began to search Sophie's case.

Working by touch, he rummaged in the contents. On top was a plastic shopping bag containing a gift-wrapped parcel. Otherwise it was mostly clothes, neatly folded: someone had helped Sophie pack, he guessed, for he did not take her to be a tidy person. He was momentarily distracted by a silky bra, then his hand closed over the oblong shape of a mobile phone. He flipped its lid, but no lights came on. He could not see well enough to find the "On-Off" switch.

He hurried back down the ladder with the phone in his hand. There was a standard lamp by the bookshelf. He turned it on and held Sophie's phone under the light. He found the "Power" button and pressed it, but nothing happened. He could have cried with frustration. "I can't get the bloody thing to come on!" he whispered.

She held out her hand, still sitting on the radiator, and he gave her the phone. She pressed the same button, frowned, pressed it again, then jabbed at it repeatedly. At last she said, "The battery has run down."

"Shit! Where's the charger?"

"I don't know."

"In your suitcase?"

"I don't think so."

Craig became exasperated. "How can you possibly not know where your phone charger is?"

Sophie's voice went small. "I think I left it at home."