The scientist fought to get free but it was useless. He was caught like an animal in a trap.
After a herculean effort Jason suddenly stopped, realising it was in vain. He would never release himself in time.
‘Never underestimate luck,’ Stratton said as he stepped back.
Jason looked at the pair of them as the green gas slithered around his ankles.
Rowena looked on in horror as Jason’s feet began to bubble.
The gas seeped out along the length of the door seal and Jason Mansfield started to shudder. As it enveloped him, Stratton and Rowena turned and ran. Jason’s pitiful scream became a choking gurgle as his flesh melted and the gas reached out across the ground.
They sprinted through the unmanned main gate and along the road that cut across barren moorland.
As they ran they heard footsteps behind them. Stratton looked back over his shoulder to see his young Russian guard gaining on them. The youngster was swift of foot and went pounding past the couple with hardly a glance at them.
Stratton and Rowena did not pause or let up their speed until they reached a highway.
Stratton stopped briefly to check the wind direction. ‘This way,’ he said and they broke into a brisk jog.
‘What do we do now?’ Rowena asked as she ran alongside him, their breath steaming in the chilly air.
‘Get to Moscow and our embassy.’
A truck appeared, coming along the highway from behind them, and Stratton practically threw himself in front of it in order to get it to stop. The driver pulled the vehicle to a halt and they scrambled into the cab. Moments later it moved off.
‘Spasibo,’ Stratton said to the driver, who gave them the once-over but otherwise seemed only a little annoyed with his hijackers.
Rowena regained her breath, huddled against the operative on the passenger seat. She looked back through the window to see if the gas was following. There was no sign of it. She stared ahead again and sighed.
‘You okay?’ Stratton asked.
She had to think about it for a moment. ‘I’ve only met you twice and both times I’ve quite literally had to scramble for my life.’
‘How do you think I feel? I have to live with me.’
Rowena lost the fight with herself to stop smiling.
Epilogue
Attracting looks of curiosity from a couple of Customs officers, Stratton and Rowena walked out of the baggage hall at Heathrow Airport. Neither of them had any luggage. They were dressed in cheap clothes that had been bought from a Moscow store near the British Embassy by a young aide who lacked taste and a memory for size. They were clean, pale and bore the marks of their brutal fight to escape the mine, with cuts and bruises on their knuckles and faces.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ one of the officials said, moving in front of Stratton to block his path.
The other officer moved to where he could stop Rowena if she decided to run. He looked her up and down suspiciously.
‘Where have you travelled from?’ the official asked Stratton.
Stratton exhaled tiredly and took a small plastic wallet from a pocket, opened it and showed it to the official. Inside was a small, ornate, circular, gold-inlaid enamel royal coat of arms.
The official looked at it, then back at Stratton as if he did not understand its meaning.
Stratton flipped up the badge on its neat leather hinge to reveal an inscription that read: ‘MI6: The bearer of this badge will receive all assistance on request from British Crown authorities in the course of their duty on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen.’ The badge had been given to Stratton by the British ambassador in Moscow on instructions from London as he was leaving.
The Customs official reached for the wallet.
‘No need to touch,’ Stratton said. ‘Just read it.’
The official frowned a little but studied the badge. He had seen photographs of it although he had never seen one in real life before. He also remembered that he was to obey the inscription without question. ‘Is there anything I can do for you, sir?’ he asked.
Stratton shook his head.
The Customs official nodded, bid his colleague step back and moved away himself to allow the couple through.
Stratton and Rowena walked into the cavernous arrivals hall where the operative stopped as if weighed down by indecision.
Rowena gave him his space. They had hardly talked throughout the journey back and had not exchanged a single word about the operation. It was not so much because the subject would