Cry of the Hunter - Jack Higgins [11]
He found her room with no difficulty. A bed and an old dresser seemed to be the only furniture and a few suitcases stood against one wall. He sat down on the edge of the bed. His hands were trembling and after a few moments his whole body began to shake. He let his body fall back against the pillows, his hands clasped together, and closed his eyes as a sob rose in his throat. ‘I’m afraid,’ he said, half aloud. ‘I’m scared to death. I’ve lost my nerve.’ He lay there, his body shaking, and then after a while he felt drowsy. The room was quiet and still and there was the faint womanly smell of the girl upon the bedclothes. Quite suddenly he relaxed. She seemed to come very close to him, bringing with her an inexpressible comfort, and then the tiredness came to him. His head dropped gently to one side as he drifted into darkness.
He came awake quickly from a dreamless sleep and lay staring at the ceiling. For a few moments he couldn’t remember where he was. Awareness came to him and he swung his feet to the floor and looked at his watch. It was almost noon. He cursed softly and stood up, and then he realized with surprise that his shoes had been taken off and were standing neatly at the side of the bed. He frowned in puzzlement and sat down again to put them on. His coat and hat had disappeared and he spent several moments looking for them before he went to the door and opened it cautiously. The house was quiet. He advanced along the passage and began to descend the back stairs.
Faintly from the kitchen came sounds of music. For a moment he hesitated at the door and then he opened it and went in. The music came from a wireless on a shelf in the corner. The girl was standing at the gas cooker stirring something in a pan. She turned quickly and said, without smiling, ‘You’re awake.’
Fallon nodded. ‘Why did you let me sleep?’
She shrugged. ‘You looked as though you needed it.’ She moved across to the table and spooned stew on to a plate. ‘You’d better sit down and have this.’ She had changed into a tweed skirt and green, woollen jumper. Somehow she looked older, more sure of herself.
Fallon sat down and said, ‘I’ll have to be quick. I’ve got an appointment at one o’clock.’
As he ate, the girl sat on the opposite side of the table, a cup of tea in her hands, and watched him. After a while she said, ‘Stuart’s found me a buyer for the house. It won’t fetch much – it’s too run down for that – but it will be better than nothing.’ Fallon nodded and went on eating. For some strange reason he couldn’t think of anything to say. There was an air of tension in the air as if something was going to snap at any moment. Suddenly the girl leaned forward and said, ‘You’re here to get that fellow Rogan, aren’t you?’
He paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth, and looked at her searchingly. ‘Who told you that?’
She leaned back, satisfied. ‘I just put two and two together. It had to be something special to bring you back. I should have thought of it before.’
‘Did Stuart say anything?’ Fallon asked.
She shook her head. ‘Nothing special. He mentioned Rogan in passing. Said they would be moving him to Belfast soon. I suddenly realized there must be a connection.’
Fallon pushed the empty plate away from him. ‘That was nice,’ he said.
She leaned across the table again and there was anger sparking in her eyes. ‘You damned fool. You’ll get yourself killed this time. And for what? For a cold-blooded murderer who deserves to hang.’
He shook his head and shrugged. ‘Some people might say he was a soldier.’
She laughed harshly. ‘Don’t talk rubbish. He’s a dirty little terrorist who shoots people in the back.’
He didn’t try to answer her because he knew that she was more than half right. For a few moments he looked into her blazing, angry eyes and then he dropped his gaze and began to trace a pattern in the table cloth with the handle of his knife. ‘Rogan has a mother,’ he said. ‘She’s lost a husband and a son already. Both shot down