Confessional - Jack Higgins [76]
He picked up some papers and they went into the study and got their coats. 'I still prefer a Walther,' Devlin said.
'One thing's for sure,' Fox said. 'Whatever it is, it had better not jam, not if you're facing Harry Cussane,' and he opened the door and they went out to the lift.
Harry Cussane had a plan of sorts. He knew the end in view on Saturday at Canterbury, but that left the best part of three days and three nights, in which he had to hide out. Danny Malone had mentioned a number of people in the criminal world who provided the right kind of help at a price. Plenty in London of course or Leeds or Manchester, but the Mungo brothers and their farm in Galloway had particularly interested him. It was the remoteness which appealed. The last place anyone would look for him would be Scotland and yet the British Airways shuttle from Glasgow to London took only an hour and a quarter.
Time to fill, that was the thing. No need to be in Canterbury until the last moment. Nothing to organize. That amused him, sitting there in the bus speeding up the motorway to Carlisle. One could imagine the preparation at Canterbury Cathedral, every possible entry point guarded, police marksmen everywhere, probably even the SAS in plain clothes dispersed in the crowd. And all for nothing. It was like chess, as he used to tell Devlin, the world's worst player. It wasn't the present move that counted. It was the final move. It was rather like a stage magician. You believed what he did with his right hand, but it was what he did with his left that was important.
He slept for quite a while and, when he awakened, there was the sea shining in the afternoon light on his left. He leaned over and spoke to the old woman in front of him. 'Where are we?'
'Just past Annan.' She had a thick Glasgow accent. 'Dumfries next. Are you a Catholic?'
'I'm afraid so,' he said warily. The Scottish Lowlands had always been traditionally Protestant.
'That's lovely. I'm Catholic myself. Glasgow-Irish, Father.' She took his hand and kissed it. 'Bless me, Father. You're from the old country.'
'I am indeed.'
He thought she might prove a nuisance, but strangely enough, she simply turned her head and settled back in her seat. Outside, the sky was very dark and it started to rain, thunder rumbling ominously and soon the rain had increased into a monsoon-like force that drummed loudly on the roof of the bus. They stopped in Dumfries to drop two passengers and then moved on through streets washed clean of people, out into the country again.
Not long now. No more than fifteen miles to his dropping-off point at Dunhill. From there, a few miles on a side road to a hamlet called Larwick and the Mungos' place, a mile or two outside Larwick in the hills.
The driver had been speaking into the mike on his car radio and now he switched over to the coach's loudspeaker system. 'Attention, ladies and gentlemen. I'm afraid we've got trouble up ahead just before Dunhill. Bad flooding on the road. A lot of vehicles already stuck in it.'
The old woman in front of Cussane called, 'What are we supposed to do? Sit in the bus all night?'
'We'll be in Corbridge in a few minutes. Not much of a place, but there's a milk stop there on the railway line. They're making arrangements to stop the next train for Glasgow.'
'Three times the fare on the railway,' the old woman called.
'The company pays,' the driver told her cheerfully. 'Don't worry, love.'
'Will the train stop at Dunhill?' Cussane asked.
'Perhaps. I'm not sure. We'll have to see.'
Lag's Luck, they called it in prison circles. Danny Malone had told him that. No matter how well you planned, it was always something totally unforeseeable that caused the problem. No point in wasting energy in dwelling on that. The thing to do was examine alternatives.
A white sign, Corbridge etched on it in black, appeared on the left and then the first houses loomed out of the heavy rain. There was a general store, a newsagents, the tiny railway station opposite. The driver turned the coach into the forecourt.
'Best wait in here while I check