Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [96]
"I don't think he's coming, sweetie."
"But your man Newton told you he was coming." She poured coffee into two cups.
"Not quite true. What he actually said was that Dillon had told him to tell me he'd see me soon. Why should that have meant tonight?"
"I know it is, because I know Dillon like no one else," she said serenely. "He'll be here."
"For what? Breakfast?"
He went to the sideboard and found a bottle of Remy Martin. "Do you want one?"
"I don't need it. Perhaps you do."
"Nasty, sweetie, nasty." He poured a large one, returned to the table, and put it in his coffee. "Your diamonds are amazing tonight. Why are you wearing them?"
"I wouldn't want to disappoint him," and there was that half-smile again, the glitter in the eyes.
My God, she really is mad. He swallowed the coffee and cognac down and glanced at his watch. "Almost six. He's certainly taking his time."
He went to the French windows, opened them, and peered out over the terrace and beyond the balustrade to the trees. It was still dark, but dawn was beginning to break and it was raining heavily.
"Bloody awful weather." He lit a cigarette and went back to the fireside.
D illon reached the outskirts of the village after just over a two-hour drive, passed the massive gates to Dauncey Place, and turned into the parking area at the church a quarter of a mile down the road. There were a dozen or so vehicles there already, probably owned by villagers from the cottages on either side of the narrow road. He took an old Burberry trench coat from the trunk of the Mini and a cloth cap, put them on, and set off through the rain.
He had no fixed plans. Something was in motion and he was just going with the flow. He thought back to the Heidegger quote again. For authentic living, what is necessary is the resolute confrontation of death. Was that what it had always been about? A mad game, constantly seeking death? Any half-baked psychiatrist could have told him that. He turned in through the gates and started up the drive through the heavy rain. The darkness was lightening perceptibly, and halfway along the drive he saw something a hundred yards to his right beyond some beech trees that surprised him. He hesitated, then went to explore. It was Kate Rashid's Black Eagle, which he'd seen at the Dauncey Aero Club.
"Now there's a thing," he said softly, turned, went back to the drive, and continued toward the house. He saw the light in the library at once and turned off the drive and worked his way through the trees, staying in their cover when he reached the edge of the lawn.
He saw Rupert open the French windows and stand there for a few moments and then turned back into the room. Dillon let him go and then started across.
I n the library, Carl whined, then growled deeply. "Seek, boy, seek him out," Kate Rashid said, and the dog vanished through the French windows. She turned to Rupert. "You know what to do."
He produced a Walther, moved to one side of the fireplace, and pulled back the heavy tapestry, revealing a door. When he opened it, there was a toilet inside. He stepped in, leaving the door slightly open, and dropped the tapestry.
The Doberman ran across the lawn, barking, and Dillon whistled, a strange and eerie sound, and the Doberman stopped dead. Dillon whistled again, all the loneliness in the world in it, and the Doberman whined and sidled up.
"See, you're just a pussycat at heart. You didn't know I had the gift, did you? Neither did your mistress. Be a good boy and we'll go and see her," and he started across the lawn, the dog following.
In the library, Rupert called softly, through the tapestry, his voice muffled, "What in the hell's happened to Carl?"
"I don't know," she replied.
Dillon moved in through the French windows, the Doberman