Midnight Never Comes - Jack Higgins [40]
It was all of five miles to Ardmurchan Lodge, but the road was surprisingly good and the full moon gave her perfect visibility. It was little more than half an hour later that she topped a small rise and looked down at the lodge in the hollow below.
There was a light at the rear where French windows stood open to the terrace and when she rode in through the front gate, she parked the bicycle against a tree and walked round.
As she turned the corner, she drew back sharply into the shadows. Chavasse had moved out on to the terrace wearing a black rubber skin-diving suit, the hood giving him a strangely medieval appearance. There was a rucksack on his back and he carried a large canvas grip in one hand.
Colonel Craig moved out and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Good luck, my boy, and don't try to win the war on your own. All we need is some conclusive proof, remember.'
Chavasse smiled once, turned and moved away across the lawn and the old man went back inside and closed the French windows. Asta waited until he pulled the curtains, cutting off all light and then went after Chavasse, silent on crepe soles.
10
Dark waters
Chavasse covered the two miles from the lodge to the loch in exactly twenty minutes, following the track beside the river, clear in the moonlight. Already the weather was changing and when he looked beyond the mountains, a blanket of dark moved in from the sea snuffing out the stars one by one. All he needed now was a little rain for conditions to be near perfect and with luck he might even get that before very long.
He moved away from the river as he neared the loch, cutting across the moor to drop down into the quiet bay from which he had fished that morning. The moon still shone brightly and he put down the canvas grip, took off his rucksack and crouched on the edge of the water, looking out towards the island.
The north end was the place to make a landing, rocks and sandbanks scattered over a wide area, bushes growing down to the shoreline. He marked it well and as clouds started to pass across the face of the moon, turned and set to work.
He opened the rucksack and took out the aqualung that he might or might not need, depending on what happened. The collapsible boat came next. He took it out of the canvas grip, activated the compression cylinders and the boat started to inflate with a soft hiss.
He had been aware of the movement in the heather behind him for at least two full minutes and when he turned and jumped into darkness, it was with the speed of a tiger. His hands gripped soft flesh savagely and Asta gasped his name.
'Paul! Paul, it's me!'
A cloud moved away from the face of the moon and he gazed down at her for a moment and then sat back, squatting on his haunches as darkness descended and rain began to fall.
'All right, Asta,' he said calmly. 'I think you'd better start talking.'
'Max killed Fergus tonight,' she said flatly.
'Where?'
'Back at the house. The body's still there in the cellar, hanging from a hook like an animal. He beat him to death, Paul.'
'Does he know you saw him?'
She shook her head. 'I slipped away quietly, took Murdoch's bicycle from the garage and rode over to Ardmurchan Lodge to you.'
'And arrived just as I was leaving?'
'That's right.' She gripped his arm and leaned forward, her face a pale blur. 'Tell me, Paul. Tell me everything! I must know!'
He had little choice and knowing that he took her hands and held them tightly. 'All right, angel. You asked for it. I'm a NATO Intelligence agent and your step-father and his friends are working for the other side, it's as simple as that.'
Her hands tightened in his and then suddenly she fell forward against him. He gave her only a moment and raised her chin with a finger. 'Whose side are you on, Asta?'
She gripped his arms fiercely and gave him a little shake. 'Damn you, Paul Chavasse, do you need to ask?'
The hissing stopped behind them as the compression