Eye of the Needle - Ken Follett [50]
Part Three
13
FABER LEANED AGAINST A TREE, SHIVERING, AND THREW up. Then he considered whether he should bury the five dead men.
It would take between thirty and sixty minutes, he estimated, depending on how well he concealed the bodies. During that time he might be caught.
He had to weigh that risk against the precious hours he might gain by delaying the discovery of the deaths. The five men would be missed very soon—there would be a search under way by around nine o’clock. Assuming they were on a regular patrol, their route would be known. The searchers’ first move would be to send a runner to cover the route. If the bodies were left as they were, he would see them and raise the alarm. Otherwise, he would report back and a full-scale search would be mounted, with bloodhounds and policemen beating the bushes. It might take them all day to discover the corpses. By that time Faber could be in London. It was important for him to be out of the area before they knew they were looking for a murderer. He decided to risk the additional hour.
He swam back across the canal with the elderly captain across his shoulder, dumped him unceremoniously behind a bush, then retrieved the two bodies from the well of the boat and piled them on top of the captain. Next he added Watson and the corporal to the heap.
He had no spade and he needed a big grave. He found a patch of loose earth a few yards into the wood. The ground there was slightly hollowed, to give him an advantage. He got a saucepan from the boat’s tiny galley and began to dig.
For a couple of feet there was just leaf mold, and the going was easy. Then he got down to clay and digging became extremely difficult. In half an hour he had added only another eighteen inches of depth to the hole. It would have to do.
He carried the bodies to the hole one by one and threw them in. Then he took off his muddy, bloodstained clothes and dropped them on top. He covered the grave with loose earth and a layer of foliage ripped from nearby bushes and trees. It should be good enough to pass that first superficial inspection.
He kicked earth over the patch of ground near the bank where the life-blood of Watson had poured out. There was blood in the boat, too, where the impaled soldier had lain. Faber found a rag and swabbed down the deck.
Then he put on clean clothes, made sail, and moved off.
He did not fish or watch birds; this was no time for pleasant embellishments to his cover. Instead he piled on the sail, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the grave. He had to get off the water and into some faster transport as soon as possible. He reflected, as he sailed, on the relative merits of catching a train and stealing a car. A car was faster, if one could be found to steal; but the search for it might start quite soon, regardless of whether the theft was connected with the missing Home Guard patrol. Finding a railway station might take a long time, but it seemed safer; if he were careful he could escape suspicion for most of the day.
He wondered what to do about the boat. Ideally he would scuttle it, but he might be seen doing so. If he left it in a harbor somewhere, or simply moored at the canalside, the police would connect it with the murders that much sooner; and that would tell them in which direction he was moving. He postponed the decision.
Unfortunately, he was not sure where he was. His map of England’s waterways gave every bridge, harbor and lock; but it did not show railway lines. He calculated he was within an hour or two’s walk of half a dozen villages, but a village did not necessarily mean a station.
The two problems were solved at once; the canal went under a railway bridge.
He took his compass, the film from the camera, his wallet and his stiletto. All his other possessions would go down with the boat.
The towpath on both sides was shaded with trees, and there were no roads nearby. He furled the sails, dismantled the base of the mast, and laid the pole on the deck. Then he removed the bung-hole stopper from the keel and stepped on