1950 - Mallory (18 page)

A
little later, as the sun was going down behind the hills, the unexpected happened. Ann heard the beating of engines first: and looked up. She saw the helicopter as it zoomed into sight above the line of firs away to their right. It was making straight towards them, flying at less than five hundred feet above the ground.

‘Down!’ Corridon cried, but Ann was already lying flat in the long, coarse grass, and he dropped beside her. They stared up at the machine as it hovered above them. ‘They’ve spotted us,’ he went on in disgust. ‘Would you believe it? They must want me pretty badly.’ He could see the pilot and another man leaning out of the machine. The pilot waved. ‘Nice friendly type, isn’t he?’ Corridon went on bitterly. ‘They’ll bring those beaters to us by wireless. Come on; let’s make for the woods. It’s our only chance.’

They jumped to their feet and began the long run across the open dale towards a forest of firs a half a mile away. The helicopter flew above them, hovering like a hawk.

Before they had covered half the distance to the sanctuary of the wood, a faint shout, carried by the rising wind, made Corridon glance quickly over his shoulder. The line of men now appeared above the hill to their right, a mile or so away, and were running fast, taking their direction from the hovering machine.

‘There are a couple of lads amongst that lot who can run,’ Corridon said grimly. ‘Come on, kid, we mustn’t be caught in the open.’

We mustn’t be caught at all,’ Ann panted and laughed. She was running well, and her eyes were bright with excitement. It was as much as Corridon could do to keep pace with her as she increased her speed.

Again he glanced over his shoulder. The two fast runners had left the main body of pursuers far behind and were covering the ground like greyhounds. They were only a quarter of a mile away now, and coming fast. He gritted his teeth and increased his speed, but he was too heavy and thickset for this kind of running.

‘Go on,’ he panted. ‘Get into the wood and wait for me there. Leave these two to me. Go on! Fast as you can.’

Obediently she drew ahead, moving effortlessly the way a deer runs and as fast.

He could hear the thud of flying feet behind him and again glanced over his shoulder. The two men, young and well built, were rapidly overhauling him. He stumbled and lost ground.

They were not more than fifty yards behind him now.

‘Hey! Stop, will you?’ One of them yelled and increased his speed.

The wood was just ahead. Ann had already disappeared, crashing her way through the undergrowth to the clearing beyond. Corridon had no intention of letting these two follow them into the wood. He looked past them at the straggling line of men who’ were following behind. They were still a good half-mile in the rear; far enough away for him to deal with these two and still make good his escape.

He suddenly swerved. The two men were almost on him, and he had to dodge as one of them, moving a little quicker than he had anticipated, rushed him. As he blundered past, Corridon hit him at the back of his neck with a hard, chopping blow, delivered with the side of his hand and with expert precision. The man dropped as if he had been pole-axed and lay still, flat on his face.

His companion, breathing heavily, jumped away from Corridon, startled by the abrupt way the odds had evened. Corridon gave him no time to get set. He hadn’t rough-housed with some of the most vicious fighters in the Commandos for nothing, and with an ear-splitting yell, he dived at the man’s legs, his shoulder catching the other’s knees, sending him over.

The man clutched hold of Corridon as they both hit the ground and feebly tried to get a grip on Corridon’s throat. Corridon threw him off, scrambled to his knees and as the man began to sit up, he hit him on the side of his jaw, flattening him.

Corridon was on his feet in an instant. The line of men were still some distance away. The mile run over rough country had slowed them down. Among them, plodding towards him doggedly, was Rawlins.

Corridon waved, then dodged into the wood. Ann caught hold of his hand, and together they ran swiftly down the steep path that led deeper into the wood.

As they ran, they could hear the distant sound of their pursuers entering the wood. There was a steady crashing of undergrowth, faint shouts and whistles blowing. They kept on, slowing now to a rapid trot, moving through the wood as silently as Red Indians, until after a while the sounds of pursuit died away.

Corridon pulled up.

‘That’s that I think,’ he panted and wiped his face with his sleeve. ‘It was a bit too close while it lasted, wasn’t it?’ and he grinned at Ann who leaned against a tree, struggling to regain her breath. She looked tired, but answered his grin with one of her own.

‘What now?’ she asked, and peered into the dark, gloomy forest of firs that seemed to stretch for miles before her.

‘It’s too dark for them to follow us now. It’s my guess they’ll withdraw and wait until the morning. By then, if we have any luck, we should be miles away.’

‘Shall we go on?’

‘That’s the idea. Feel like it?’

‘Not really, but we’d better.’

‘There’s no need to rush. We’ll follow this path. It must lead somewhere. Once clear of the wood we’ll be able to pick up a landmark. But we must keep moving.’

A half-hour’s steady walking brought them to the edge of the wood. The going was slow as they were walking in total darkness, both of them had had training for such conditions, otherwise progress would have been impossible. Away from the obstructing treetops, they could see the faint gleam of the moon, partially obscured by heavy, black clouds, and in the far distance the lights of a village.

‘I wonder where that is?’ Corridon said, pointing.

‘I don’t know, but it’s on our route, isn’t it?’

‘It should be,’ Corridon said doubtfully. ‘But before we go any farther, let’s eat. I’m starving.’

They sat down, side by side on the grass, and while Ann unpacked the parcel of food she had carried slung to her belt, Corridon attempted to study the contours of the distant countryside, but it was too dark to pick out any landmark and he gave it up.

They ate in silence. Both busy with their thoughts. Corridon was worried. He kept thinking of Mallory. What was going to happen when he came face to face with Mallory? Suppose after all this Mallory wasn’t on the island? It was a hundred to one chance that he would be there. And if he wasn’t - what then?

‘Worrying again?’ Ann said, looking at him. She could see by his tense attitude that he had something on his mind.

‘Sure,’ he said and laughed. ‘I’m always worrying. Now, don’t let’s start that all over again.’

It was all very well for Ann to say Mallory was dead, he was thinking, but ghosts don’t shoot in the dark. He recalled the whispering voice he had heard in Crew’s flat. Then the shot.

No, Mallory wasn’t dead. Mallory could be dangerous. It would save a lot of complications if he was dead.

Ann said suddenly, ‘Look, there’s a car down there. That must be a road.’

Far below them the long, raking beams of a car’s headlights suddenly appeared from behind a sloping hill, moving towards the village.

‘Seems in no hurry,’ Corridon said, leaning forward to stare intently at the distant lights. ‘I believe he’s stopping.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘He has stopped. Let’s get down there, Ann. We might get a lift.’

‘Suppose it’s the police? Do you think it’s worth the risk?’

‘We won’t rush it. We can but take a look. Come on.’

The way down to the hidden road was steep and easy-going, and they made good speed, running and walking, encouraged to see the car remained stationary as if waiting for them.

‘Looks like a breakdown,’ Corridon said, pausing as they reached the road. The car was a hundred yards or so from them, and they could see the bonnet was open and a man, holding an electric torch, was peering at the engine. Wait here. I’ll have a word with him. Watch out for trouble.’

Leaving Ann, he walked towards the car. A quick glance, showed him the driver was alone.

‘Can I help you?’ Corridon called when he was within a few yards of the car.

The driver looked up sharply and swung his torch on Corridon.

‘I doubt it,’ he said and made no attempt to conceal his bad temper. ‘Not unless you’re a better mechanic than I am. The damned thing just packed up. I’m miles from anywhere, aren’t I?’

‘The nearest village is over there to your right,’ Corridon said, pointing. ‘About five miles away.’ He drew close to the driver and studied him in the reflection from the headlamps.

Nothing to worry about here, he thought. Probably a commercial traveller.

‘These new cars make me vomit,’ the driver said, kicking one of the tyres viciously. ‘I’ve had it only a couple of months. It’s always going wrong.’

‘Let’s have a look,’ Corridon said, and bent over the hot engine. ‘What were the symptoms?’

‘The damned thing gave a splutter and packed up.’

‘All right for petrol?’

‘The tank’s full. The blasted thing’s always going wrong.’

‘It’s probably carburettor trouble. Got any tools?’

‘You know this is pretty decent of you,’ the driver said cheering up. ‘Where the devil did you spring from?’

‘My wife and I are on a walking tour,’ Corridon said gravely.

He raised his voice. ‘Hey, darling. Come and give us a hand.’

Ann appeared out of the darkness.

‘This is my wife,’ Corridon said, not looking at Ann. ‘Our friend here has carburettor trouble and I’m hoping to fix it for him,’ he went on, addressing Ann, but still not looking at her.

‘My husband’s very clever with his hands,’ Ann said, suppressing a giggle. ‘I’m sure he can put your carburettor on its feet again.’

‘That’s fine,’ the driver said. ‘My name’s Brewer. Talk about good Samaritans. I don’t know the first or last thing about cars.’

He stared admiringly at Ann who suddenly became conscious that her frock had shrunk alarmingly and she was showing a great deal of her legs.

‘Well, it’s our luck’ too,’ Corridon said, spreading out the tools on the wing of the car. ‘We lost our way and were looking for a lift. When we saw your headlights we couldn’t believe our luck. It’s a lonely spot, isn’t it?’

While he took down the carburettor, Brewer made himself agreeable to Ann. He seemed almost regretful when Corridon reassembled the carburettor, adjusted the last screw and told him to start the engine.

‘I think she’ll go now,’ he said. ‘The feed was blocked by the look of it. Anyway, try her.’

The engine fired at the first touch of the starter.

‘You really are a bally marvel,’ Brewer said, beaming out of the window. ‘I should have been stuck here all night. Well, hop in; the two of you. Where can I drop you?’

‘We’re going to Dunbar,’ Ann said excitedly. ‘You couldn’t drop us off there, could you?’

‘Why not? I’m on my way to Edinburgh. I’d be glad to.’

They got in the car and Corridon slammed the door.

As they drove with increasing speed along the dark road, Ann slipped her hand into his. He let it lie there, but he wasn’t thinking of her; he was thinking of Mallory.

T
he motorboat was an eighteen-foot Brooke runabout, fitted with a 10 h.p. engine and handled like a motor car. It was housed in a concrete and woodshed, and slung above the water in a cradle of steel hawsers. An electric winch lowered the boat by the touch of a button.

While Ann checked over the engine, Corridon kept an uneasy watch by the open doors.

Brewer had left them in the main street of the town, and as soon as he was out of sight, they had walked down to the sea.

They hadn’t gone far when Corridon had a sudden feeling that they were being followed. He had said nothing to Ann, unwilling to believe that the feeling was anything more than an attack of nerves. He had kept a sharp lookout, but had seen no one.

Now, as he stood by the doorway, he experienced the sensation of being watched, and he peered into the darkness, feeling the cold wind that was coming off the sea, against his face, but could see nothing to confirm his suspicions.

‘Everything’s okay,’ Ann said, climbing on to the slipway.

‘Shall we go?’

‘Yes,’ he said, reluctantly turning from the door. ‘It’ll choppy out there. The wind’s rising. The sooner we get off the better. How long will it take?’

‘About an hour,’ Ann told him. ‘We’ll be all right once we get there. There’s plenty of tinned food in the house. We should have enough to keep us going for a week anyway.’

‘A week will be about right’ He again peered into the darkness. ‘Come on; let’s go.’

She sensed his uneasiness and looked sharply at him.

‘Is there anything wrong?’

‘Nothing. Nerves, I guess. I have a sneaking feeling someone’s watching us.’

She hurriedly pressed the button of the winch, and as the boat began to settle gently into the water, she drew close to him.

‘Then let’s get off. It’d be awful if…’

She broke off with a stifled scream as a sudden movement at the open door made them both turn quickly. A shadow, thrown by the light hanging from the roof, fell across the bow of the boat.

‘Who’s there?’ Corridon asked, moving forward.

Jeanne came into the light. She held the Mauser pistol waist high and pointing at them. There was a cold, set expression on her white face and her eyes glittered.

‘I’m coming with you,’ she said breathlessly.

Corridon gave a little sigh of relief. He had been expecting Rawlins to come out of the darkness.

‘I’ve never met such a woman for turning up at the wrong moment,’ he said, and grinned. ‘How the devil did you get here?’

‘We arranged to meet here,’ she said in a cold, flat voice.

‘You didn’t think you were going to get rid of me so easily, did you?’

‘I’d forgotten all about you,’ Corridon said, eyeing the Mauser watchfully. ‘Is Jan snooping out there in the dark?’

‘No.’

‘Well, where is he then?’

She laughed. It was a curious, unexpected sound, and sent a little chill up Corridon’s spine. He stared at her, suddenly realizing how ill she looked. Her skin seemed to have shrunk, giving her face a starved, ferocious look. Her eyes glittered feverishly and had sunk deep into dark ringed sockets. Her lips were bloodless.

‘He is dead,’ she said.

‘Dead?’ He hadn’t expected this. ‘What happened? Did the police get him?’

She looked at Ann, and a bitter, sneering little smile flickered at the corners of her mouth.

‘Ask her. She knows. Mallory killed him.’

Ann caught her breath sharply and took a quick step forward, but Corridon pulled her to his side.

‘What are you talking about?’ he said to Jeanne. ‘What makes you think Mallory killed him?’

‘I saw it happen.’ She ran nervous fingers through her thick, black hair. ‘He followed us.’

‘Followed you - where?’

She stood motionless for a moment or so, then she said with a sudden rush of words, ‘Ranleigh was killed. He sacrificed himself for us. Jan was wounded. The police nearly caught us. Jan and I hid in a church.’ Then the words dried up and she stood looking at them, pressing her fingers to her temples, frowning.

‘Well, go on,’ Corridon said sharply. ‘What happened?’

‘We got on a train,’ she went on, more slowly now. ‘We were lucky. It went straight through to Dunbar. Jan was very bad. He was suffering from thirst. He kept asking for a drink. I left him and climbed from truck to truck, hoping to find something for him. Then I heard him cry out. I looked back. He was half out of the truck, clinging to the rail.’ She lowered her voice and said in almost a whisper. ‘Mallory had him by the throat. There was nothing I could do. I was too far away. Jan fell on the line. There was a train coming and he was cut to pieces. He died the way Lubish died; and it was Mallory who killed him.’

Corridon felt a tingle run up his spine.

‘You mean you saw Mallory?’ he asked, watching her closely.

‘Yes.’

‘You recognized him? It wasn’t someone you thought was Mallory?’

Her face hardened, and raising her voice, she said viciously, ‘Don’t you think I know Mallory when I see him?’

‘She’s lying,’ Ann whispered, and Corridon felt her trembling against him.

‘Wait,’ he said to her in an undertone. ‘Let her talk.’ To Jeanne he went on, ‘What happened after Jan was killed?’

Jeanne stared blankly at him, frowned, then with an obvious effort as if her memory was uncertain, said, ‘I followed Mallory here. He has gone to the island.’

‘You’re going too fast,’ Corridon said. ‘He knew you were on the train with Jan. Why didn’t he finish you too?’

Her eyes were blank now and the muzzle of the Mauser wavered uncertainly at them.

‘He’s gone to the island. I saw him,’ she said uneasily.

‘How do you know he is on the island?’ Corridon asked.

‘I saw him.’

‘But how did he get there? This is his boat. Why didn’t he take it?’

Her hand went to her forehead. She looked confused.

‘I saw him go,’ she said obstinately. ‘He took a boat from the harbour.’ She paused and went on as if talking to herself, ‘I am the last of them. They have gone, one after the other. He has been too clever for them, but he’s not too clever for me.’ She moved forward, threatening them with the Mauser. ‘Get into the boat,’ she said. ‘Quickly! We have wasted enough time. He is on the island. This time there will be no escape for him. Get into the boat.’

‘Come on,’ Corridon said to Ann and added in a low whisper, ‘Watch out for trouble. She’s as mad as a hatter.’

Jeanne climbed down after them into the boat. She kept away from them, sitting huddled up in the stern, covering them with the pistol.

Ann, white-faced and tense, started the engine and steered the boat out of the sh
ed and headed for the open sea.