Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [97]
"Carl," she said calmly.
"Don't blame him, Kate, I have a way with dogs, have had since childhood. Would there be a drink in the place?"
"On the sideboard. I can't guarantee Irish whiskey, though."
"Sure, and I'll find something." He helped himself to Scotch, and Carl went with him to the sideboard, sitting.
"Remarkable," she said. "Those things are supposed to be the fiercest guard dogs in the world."
"It must be my winning personality. Where's the good Rupert?"
"Around."
"Terrible people he employs. Newton and Cook." He shrugged. "Total rubbish."
"I agree."
"I see you've got the Eagle parked here."
"You know about that?"
"You usually keep it at the Dauncey Aero Club six miles away, but you use your own airstrip here when it suits."
"Yes, I had one of the staff at the club fly it down for me yesterday."
"Where would it be this time? Isle of Wight again?"
"Is there anything you don't know? Where Rupert is, for example?"
"I'm sure he'll tell me at the right moment."
The tapestry parted and Rupert emerged, gun in hand. "Which is now."
Carl slipped beside Dillon and the rumble in his throat was infinitely menacing. Dauncey turned his Walther on him and Dillon raised a hand. "Shoot the dog and I'll kill you myself."
"Leave it, Rupert," Kate said.
Dillon fondled Carl's head. "There's a good boy," and the dog rubbed against him. "Go on to your mistress now." He pointed, and Carl went and sat by her.
"Now what?" Dillon asked.
"Oh, something special, I think. Shooting's too good. That's for people like Billy Salter." She smiled.
"If I can interject," Dillon said. "Billy's still alive. Sorry about that, Kate. Everything's going wrong, isn't it?"
There was a kind of rage in her eyes, but only for a moment. "So I'll have to shoot him again."
She slipped her hand between the cushion on which she was sitting and the arm of the sofa and took out an old German Luger.
"This has been in the family since the First World War. Paul taught me how to shoot with it in the woods when I was quite little."
Dillon had his hands on his hips. He could have reached for the Walther in his belt and shot Rupert Dauncey that instant, and her, too, for he saw she had the safety catch on, and yet he held back. In a way, it was mesmerizing, being face-to-face with the most beautiful woman he'd ever known, a woman he now realized was totally unbalanced. And yet, like a bad dream, he had a part to play, had to see it through.
"You owe me, Dillon, you owe me for the three brothers you killed."
"Ah, well, I always pay my debts." He was a little mad himself now. "By the way, the safety catch is on." She examined the Luger and remedied it. "Will that do?" he asked.
"Not really. Rupert?"
She turned the Luger on Dillon and Rupert laid his gun on the library table, opened a dresser, and took out a roll of masking tape. "Turn around."
Dillon did as he was told and Rupert bound his wrists behind him.
"Get his gun," Kate Rashid told him.
Rupert took it from the pocket under Dillon's left arm and laid it down. "That's better," she said.
"Not if he carries another one. I bet I know where it is." He felt under the back of Dillon's flying jacket and found the second Walther. "There you go, sweetie."
"So now what?" Dillon asked.
"I think I'll take you for a flight," she said. "Show you what a good pilot I am."
"That should be interesting." Dillon nodded. "I'm a great pilot myself, but I'm always willing to learn. Are we going to France for lunch?"
"For Rupert and me, perhaps, but it'll be a somewhat shorter flight for you."
"Ah, like that, is it?"
"Absolutely. Let's get moving."
She left the Luger on the coffee table and Rupert prodded Dillon in the back. "Just do as you're told and I promise we'll make it painless."
They went out and Kate Rashid draped Dillon's Burberry around her shoulders, put on the rain hat, closed the French windows on Carl, and followed.
I t was light now, the sky somber with heavy gray clouds,