Midnight Never Comes - Jack Higgins [63]
They went across one water channel and then another and another, spray flying up in great clouds on either side, von Bayern stamping hard on the rudder bar to keep her straight. And then she lifted, one wing dipping slightly and the breakers were beneath them, the wheels skimming the whitecaps.
But they weren't rising, that was the terrible thing--the nose was dropping and von Bayern didn't seem to be doing anything about it. Quite suddenly, they were moving very fast indeed, the engine note deepening into a full-throated roar and only then did he pull back the control column.
They lifted into the evening sky, climbing fast and behind them on the beach, the Artillery sergeant watched them go, awe on his face.
16
Last lap
Coming in low over the coast, von Bayern tapped Chavasse on the shoulder and pointed down to the old stone jetty below, the power boat moored beside it. There was no need for words. Chavasse took out the revolver Harrison had given him, emptied it and replaced the cartridges one by one.
The land beneath them seemed very green after the rain and, beyond, the sun dropped down towards the mountains and the valleys were filled with purple shadow. They went over a rise and dipped into Glenmore and there was the house beside the stream, the improvised airstrip flanked by poplar trees, the windsock lifting slightly in the breeze on the flagstaff at one end.
It all looked exactly the same as when they had left it and for a wild moment Chavasse had a strange feeling that nothing had happened in between at all--that time was a circle turning endlessly on itself, getting nowhere, and then von Bayern turned the Beaver into the wind and dropped her down.
He taxied all the way to the poplar trees before cutting the engine and when the propeller had stopped turning, the silence seemed unnatural.
Von Bayern turned with a slight smile. 'Last lap, Paul.'
Chavasse nodded. 'Are you armed?'
Von Bayern's eyebrows went up and he chuckled. 'My God, I was forgetting. I used a rifle back there on Fhada.'
Steiner, who still carried his machine pistol, produced the revolver he had taken from Murdoch on the tower and passed it over.
'If the colonel will permit me?'
'My pleasure.' Von Bayern hefted the revolver in his hands. 'No sense in taking unnecessary risks at this stage. Work your way round the house and come in from the courtyard, Steiner. Mr. Chavasse and I will take this side.'
Steiner was first out through the cabin door and they watched him move along the line of poplar trees and disappear.
'A good man,' Chavasse said.
Von Bayern nodded. 'The best.'
He led the way to the low wall beyond the poplar trees and they looked across to the terrace at the rear of the house. It was still and quiet, the windows like empty eyes and Chavasse noticed a splash of colour towards the far end.
'What's that?' he said.
'God knows. Cover me and I'll take a look.'
Von Bayern ran through a flower bed, keeping to the shelter of a yew hedge, crossed the terrace and crouched against the wall. Chavasse watched him work his way along to that splash of colour. When he reached it, he paused for a long moment, then raised an arm and beckoned.
Ruth Murray stared up at the sky, her face strangely peaceful in death, the red housecoat spread around her, covering her broken body.
Von Bayern's face was grim. 'He is a butcher, this man.'
Chavasse leaned down to touch the cold cheek. 'I'd say she's been dead for seven or eight hours.'
A French window opened farther along the terrace and as they swung, crouching, Hector Munro appeared, Steiner at his back.
'Where did you find him?' Chavasse said.
'In the courtyard beside the body of his son. And I found Benson, the driver you left with Miss Svensson, in the garage.'
'Dead?'
'I'm afraid so.'
Hector Munro looked his age for the