‘Why do you want to give me a choice?’
‘It’s quite simple; because I was given none. I was ordered out into no man’s land on my own. They never expected me to come back, though. It was a death sentence without any chance of reprieve. They killed many of us that way, saved all the trouble of a court martial.’
‘But you survived.’
‘I always survive, as you well know.’ Allen moved towards the wooden platform.
Danilov could hear his wife sobbing. He longed to hold her, hold her tight, to say sorry for the six years apart, to hold her and never let her go again.
‘Here’s your choice, Danilov. You or your wife. Which of you is to die?’
‘I don’t understand,’ stammered Danilov. Allen was standing in front of him now. If only he would come a few feet closer, he could attack. The assistant was over in the corner, the revolver still pointing straight at his wife. Perhaps he could use Allen’s body as a shield. He would have to move quickly, though, before the man released the trapdoor.
As if reading his mind, Allen took a step back. ‘You don’t understand? You disappoint me, Inspector. It’s quite simple; one of you will die today. Which is it to be, yourself or your wife?’ Allen’s hands opened wide. ‘It’s your choice.’
He had to play for time. Find an answer. His wife was crying now, sobbing uncontrollably, the noose tightening around her throat. ‘How do I know you won’t kill her too?’
Allen laughed. ‘You don’t. That’s the beauty of this choice. You have to trust I will deliver on my promise.’
‘Not much of a choice.’
‘Not much of a detective. Couldn’t even find your own family. I had to find them for you.’ Allen’s finger came up to his mouth and he sucked in air. ‘I’m feeling in a generous mood. I will sweeten the choice. You will be allowed one last hug with your wife. Afterwards, you can make your choice. Is it you or she who will die?’
His wife began to sob hysterically; her body shook and trembled. Danilov leapt on to the wooden platform and stopped in front of her. He felt the platform shake beneath his feet. The noose trailed up from around her neck to a hook on the ceiling. The knot, expertly tied, pushing her head forward and down.
He placed his arms around his wife’s trembling body, hugging it closer to him, wrapping her body in his strength. ‘There, there, Masha, don’t worry,’ he said in Russian.
She whispered in his ear. ‘Our son, downstairs, in a cell. Save him.’
His wife lifted her head upwards, pushing against the knot of the rope. Her eyes were red-rimmed and fearful. He wrapped her tighter, hugging her so close, never wanting to let her go.
‘It’s touching, isn’t it, Han Kew? A husband and wife who haven’t seen each other for six years and now have only seconds left together. What’s your choice, Danilov? You or your wife?’
‘One last question, Allen. What about my son?’
Allen glanced towards the corner, where steps led down to a cellar. ‘He’s safe, Danilov. Yama hasn’t decided what to do with him yet. Such a pleasant young man. Unspoiled, an innocent. What’s your decision, Danilov?’
As he loosened the knot, he leant in as if to kiss Masha on the side of the head, instead whispering in Russian into her ear, ‘Trust me.’
‘Isn’t it charming, a last kiss from a man who abandoned his wife and children six years ago.’
‘I didn’t abandon them, Allen; we were separated by the Revolution.’
‘You left them behind to look after themselves.’ He gestured for Danilov to take the noose from around his wife’s neck.
Danilov lifted his head from his wife’s hair. ‘You promise you won’t kill her?’
Allen made a cross over his heart. ‘Hope to die and all that tosh.’
‘No,’ his wife screamed in Russian.’No… no… no… no…’
‘Masha, somebody has to look after Elina and Ivan. You were always better than me. It’s the right choice to make.’
He began to loosen the knot of the noose around her neck. She struggled against his arms, trying to stop him removing it.
‘Good. A good choice. Now place the noose around your own neck and move next to the trapdoor.’
‘It’s for the best, Masha,’ Danilov said softly
She had stopped struggling now and stood there as he removed the noose.
‘Place it around your own neck.’
Danilov put his head through the noose and stood there.
‘Now, you may join me Mrs Danilov.’
‘No… no… no,’ she screamed.
The thug gave the gun to Allen and leapt on to the platform, seized Danilov’s wife by the waist, throwing her to the ground where she landed at Allen’s feet.
Danilov jumped forward to attack the thug, but felt the noose tighten round his neck. The thug stepped back in shock, then smiled as he realised Danilov could go no further, like a dog on a tether.
‘Tie his hands.’
Danilov felt his hands forced up his back and the tight cords of rope wound around his wrists. The thug dropped to his knees to tie Danilov’s feet.
Danilov could just reach the man with his heel. A sharp kick and it would be over. But Allen was still standing there, pointing the gun right at him, Maria sobbing at his feet.
‘Don’t tie the feet. I want to watch this one dance. Take the woman back to the cell. Bring the son up.’
‘But you said you wouldn’t kill her.’
‘I’m not going to, Danilov. But it might be educational for your son to watch his father die.’
Danilov lunged towards Allen but the rope around his neck held him back. ‘You said he was an innocent…’
‘Then it’s time to make him more worldly, isn’t it? You are more of a fool than I thought you were, Danilov.’
‘You gave me your word.’
‘My word? So English, so honourable,’ he sneered. ‘You have an old-fashioned sense of honour, Danilov. Me, I’m above all those petty middle-class restrictions. I’m the Judge of Souls.’
The thug lifted his wife and threw her over his shoulder. She struggled, trying to bite him. But he slapped her across the face. Blood seeped from her mouth,
Danilov leapt forward once more. Again, the noose tightened around his neck.
‘Be careful, Danilov, we wouldn’t want you to die before your time.’
The thug stumbled out of the room, carrying the inert body of Danilov’s wife over his shoulder.
‘When Han Kew returns, your time will be up, Danilov. The end is nigh, as they say on the posters. Your son will have the pleasure of watching you commit suicide.’
‘And if I don’t do it?’
‘Then you will have the pleasure of watching your son die.’
The clock on the wall ticked over to ten minutes to midnight.
‘Any last words?’