Jago heard the dogs before he saw them.
A sharp memory: a weekend of executive bonding in the Herefordshire countryside, on the edge of the Welsh Marches, when he had been slogging in the City. There had been hiking, zip-wire riding, paint-ball fighting and quad-bike racing. They’d been trying to cross the river with a ball of string and ten different egotists offering opinions when, out of the mist, on a Saturday morning, the hunt had cantered by. It jogged him now. Not the riders in fancy dress, or the big horses that probably lived better than their grooms, but the baying of hounds on a scent. At first he hadn’t seen them, but he’d heard the cry. On a dark moonless night, the sound would have terrified him. Now, though, it was bright sunshine and the cries of the dogs rang in the air, bouncing off the rock walls.
It was not for him – Jago had that comfort. The dogs were headed, guided by whistles and calls, along a line that ran higher than where Jago was.
The kid slipped into view, then out of it, but took secondary place. The dogs held him. They did not race ahead and have to be called back. They worked at a steady pace, quartering the ground, prancing on rocks and diving into caves. The kid held them with his commands. Jago didn’t know what or who they were tracking, but it was a form of sport. He assumed that the dogs had a line on the men who had fed him, but they’d have firearms and probably dog repellent – they’d be equipped to protect themselves. The dogs were almost as much a part of the family as any of the humans. He knew what their teeth could do because they had taken apart the wolf’s body.
The kid directed them, and they must have been close to where he sent them. They seemed to have caught his mood because their cries were sharper. Then, at a final command, the noise was cut. Jago could see the outline of their ribcages, their spines, their flattened ears. The three dogs advanced in silence, their bellies hugging the ground. He thought they were closing on their target. He waited to hear shots fired.
The yard beyond the kitchen remained empty and the solitary chair threw a longer shadow. Again he could hear the radio playing inside. The kid went slower and more carefully. Jago thought they were close to the target but far above him.
She could no longer see the dogs.
It was a moment of fear, unique to Consolata.
Quiet cloaked the trees. She had not identified where the dogs were or the kid who was with them. She had frozen. She didn’t know where to go, what to do, where to turn.
She looked around her, saw and heard nothing. She had come across the cleft between two great boulders. It was obvious that he had been there. She had found his rubbish and stayed too long. She thought of how he had been with her at the rendezvous, when he had taken the food but not her. The ground was squashed and she had found the poorly hidden rubbish – how had he come by food issued to the Italian military?
Consolata, looking down onto the back of the house, gave Jago credit for having found a perfect vantage point. The panorama offered a clear view of the back door. She saw a trellis, with ripe grapes hanging from it, a washing line, with sheets, towels and pillow cases pegged to it. She saw a chair, and a place where the yard had been scrubbed. She strained to hear. She was aware only of a radio playing light music. The silence unnerved her. The peace, she knew, was not real.
At the squat, as a campaigner, she was thought of as determined and without fear. Those traits – she knew – unsettled some. She should have had a lover in the squat, but did not. Because she had no lover, Consolata had come in search of one. She had made her commitment: if she found him, she would drive him off the mountain and take him to Scilla. She would let the darkness fall and the moon rise, then lead him to the beach and would brook no argument. She hadn’t found him.
The shadows were longer now, and dusk would come fast. She turned to look away from the house and wondered if he had spent his entire time in this place, where he was at the moment and what he was doing. Then she looked for a way to haul herself clear of the plateau and start back.