Proof - By Dick Francis Page 0,111

Denny. I’ll be straight back,’ and he turned and walked under the bridge and out of the bottling hall, and I thought about trying to jump onto Denny… who was too far away for it to be practicable. He would whirl when he heard me move and he would shoot while I was climbing the railings to launch myself far enough out to have a hope of reaching him in one jump… he would shoot either Gerard or me for sure before we could overpower and disarm him. I didn’t see what else to do and I was certain that that jump would be literally fatal perhaps for both of us, and I was worrying also and cringing inside with fear that the reason I didn’t move was fear… Not caution, just cowardice. One could fling one’s life away trying to prove to oneself one was brave… and maybe for some people it was worth it, but not to me.

Stewart Naylor came back carrying a small package which he zipped open as he walked.

The contents were wide white bandage.

I felt sick.

I should have jumped, I thought. I should have risked it while I had the chance. Why hadn’t I?

Commonsense, emotion, logic, bravado… they could whirl through the mind in a jumbled mess, and how could one tell which was right.

Naylor walked over to Gerard and with great speed tied the wrist of his injured arm to the rail with the bandage. A strong tremor ran visibly through Gerard’s body and he turned away from the crate, trying to tug himself free, trying to escape. The lines of his face were set rigid, the eyes hollowly dark.

He’s afraid too, I thought. He knows what that bandage is. He’s as human as I am… and he’s terrified.

He didn’t look up at the bridge.

Something, I thought. I must do something. I had no weapon. Nothing. Gerard. Plaster of Paris.

What did I have…

I had knowledge.

Naylor hit Gerard’s face a swiping blow with his fist and when he had him off balance he tied the second wrist to the railing, and although I could then see only his back the desperation in Gerard’s body was like a shout.

In my mind I was begging, ‘No, don’t do it, no, no…’ and Naylor wound the bandage once round Gerard’s neck.

Knowledge.

The bandage went round twice and three times. Naylor was intent on the work. So was Denny, his back to me, the barrel of the gun drooping.

Gerard was kicking backwards and not reaching Naylor’s legs, yelling to him, screaming that what he was doing was useless, useless, people knew he was there and would come looking.

Neither Naylor nor Denny believed him. They were intent… enjoying… the wrapping of a living head… to turn it to rock.

The weapon I had was knowledge.

I moved. My muscles felt stiff. I slid jerkily round the vat I’d tested for St Estèphe and climbed its ladder.

Go on yelling, Gerard, I thought. Go on filling the hearing aid of the deaf man. Go on kicking. Keep them looking your way.

My hands grasped the locking nut which connected the hose to the valve at the top of the feeder vat. Usually I could turn them easily without a wrench. My hands slipped with sweat. I’d got to unlock it. Only chance. Had to have the hose off the vat.

Had to have the hose free at that end.

On top of the vat I strained with almost fury and felt the locking nut turn and turn again and come loose. I lifted the hose off the vat and carried the end of it with me down the short ladder, trying to do it all silently, making small noises that sounded frightful to me but brought no dreaded shouts from the floor.

I was down the ladder. By the pump. From the pump the main long hose ran down to the ground and away into the distance, going to the great storage vat in the main hall. Long hose, holding a good deal of wine.

I switched on the pump. Begging. Praying. Sick.

The pump went smoothly about its business, efficient beyond dream. Wine gushed out of the hose I held like red force-driven water out of a fire hose. I directed it straight at Naylor, drenching Denny on the way. I propped the spurting nozzle between the railings. I climbed over the railings myself and made the flying leap that had been so illogical, so impossible, so deadly. I landed on Denny who couldn’t see for wine, and grabbed his