Silhouette in Scarlet - Elizabeth Peters [55]
It was still bright daylight, and would be for many hours. If John meant to prowl tonight, he wouldn’t have a long period of darkness at his disposal. In fact, he might not have any. This far north, with midsummer almost upon us, a deep dusk is the most one can expect in the way of night. John would need all the distraction he could get, there was no question about that.
In the crystal-clear air the distant mountains of Norway looked like a low-hanging white cloud, the snow on their peaks shimmering in reflected sunlight. The lake was as calm as a fish pond. The island was almost in the centre of the lake, but the distance between our dock and the one opposite, on the mainland, seemed slightly shorter than it was elsewhere. If we had to swim, that was the obvious route – straight towards the garage-boathouse on shore. Gus was the one I was worried about; but with Leif to help, I could probably get him across. If we could get even fifteen minutes’ apart, night or day . . . Surely there would be people at the boathouse during the day, villagers who kept their boats there, and the old codgers. A flash of light caught my eye. It came from the shadows under the eaves of the garage, and as I squinted, shading my eyes with my hand, I thought I saw them – five shapes, rigid as statues in their wooden chairs.
‘Laugh,’ said a voice behind me.
I turned with a start. ‘Laugh,’ Max repeated, taking my arm. ‘One of them is watching us through binoculars.’
I stretched my mouth into a gaping grin. The crown of his dead, flat grey hair barely reached my nose, but the pressure of his fingers bit into my bicep. I let him turn me towards the house.
‘They are only inquisitive old men, with nothing better to do,’ Max went on. ‘But I would not want you to succumb to a foolish impulse. The situation has not changed. Mr Jonsson is still in my hands, and if a signal from you brought one of those doddering ancients to the rescue, he would only be added to my collection of hostages.’
‘I have only your word for it that Gus is still alive,’ I said, as he opened the door for me.
‘I wondered when you would bring that up. Would you like to talk to him?’
He led the way into the study. I took a chair by the desk while he opened a cupboard and removed a canvas-wrapped bundle. He made no attempt to conceal what he was doing. I suppose he thought I wouldn’t have enough technical knowledge to recognize the device.
I hadn’t seen that particular model before – it was a good deal more sophisticated than the ones my brothers owned – but I recognized it as a kind of wireless walkie-talkie. Max pushed a few buttons, and a long antenna wavered out. He pressed more buttons.
A harsh voice croaked a few words. Max answered in English, obviously the lingua franca of that cosmopolitan group. ‘Put Mr Jonsson on.’
After an interval I heard Gus’s voice. ‘Vicky? Are you there, my dear?’
‘Gus! Gus, are you okay?’
‘Yes, they have not hurt me. Have they hurt you?’
‘No. Don’t worry about me, Gus, I’m fine.’
‘Do nothing, Vicky. Do what they say. Take no risk.’
Before I could answer, Max played a tattoo on the buttons and the antenna retracted. He returned the gadget to the cupboard, locked it, and tucked the key ostentatiously into his jacket pocket.
He needn’t have worried. The walkie-talkie wouldn’t do me any good; it obviously had a limited range. I had been right all along – Gus was on the island. And now I knew where on the island.
I suspected the conversation had been set up in order to calm Gus as well as me. The hostage situation worked both ways; he wouldn’t try anything while I was in Max’s hands. At least I hoped to God he wouldn’t. He was a proud man, unaccustomed to intimidation, and if he lost his temper he might do something rash. The sooner I put my half-baked plan into action, the better. I had to cooperate with John. I knew it, and he knew it too. He had the best chance of scouting unseen; he could move like a shadow, and he knew dirty tricks I had never heard of. I figured I could count on him not to double-cross