Midnight Never Comes - PC 04 (v5) (6 page)

He grinned. 'That's more friendly. It's Fergus--Fergus Munro.'

She pulled her arm free and sent him staggering with a vigorous shove of both hands.

'Then don't be stupid, Fergus Munro.'

For a moment he gaped in astonishment and then anger twisted his mouth. He dropped the shotgun and grabbed at her as she turned away, fingers hooking into the neck of her blouse, the thin material ripping along the seam of one shoulder.

She gave a cry of anger, striking out at him, aware of his hands on her, the staleness of his breath, the blotched, drink-sodden face and then beyond him, she saw a man materialise from the darkness to stand in the doorway.

It was the face which held her, the handsome, devil's face, eyes like black holes above high cheekbones, full of cold fury, flaring into a ruthless action that was almost frightening in its efficiency.

One hand fastened on her assailant's collar, another in his belt, tearing him away from her, sending him across the room with a tremendous heave.

Munro crashed against the opposite wall and slid to his knees. For a moment he stayed there, staring up at Chavasse, bewilderment on his face and then he flung himself forward, reaching for the shotgun.

Chavasse kicked it away from him, grabbed for the man's right wrist with both hands, twisting it round and up in an
akaido
shoulder lock, and sent him head first across the room to crash into the wall for the second time.

When Munro picked himself up, blood trickled down his cheek from a cut above the right eye and his face was contorted with fear. He plunged for the open door in complete panic and Chavasse went after him.

'Let him go!' Asta cried sharply.

Chavasse paused, a hand on each side of the door frame and when he turned, the killing mask was still firmly in place. And then he smiled, becoming in that moment almost a different person.

'Are you all right, Miss Svensson?'

She nodded slowly. 'Who are you?'

'My name is Chavasse--Paul Chavasse.'

Outside, the engine of Fergus Munro's Land Rover roared into life and he drove rapidly away down the glen. Chavasse closed the door and when he turned she was sitting in the wing-backed chair again, her right leg back on the footstool.

She chuckled suddenly. 'You know, I was really beginning to despair, Mr. Chavasse. I thought you were never going to catch up with me.'

6

Chocolates and kisses

'Was I that obvious?' Chavasse said lightly.

'But of course. On the station platform at Glasgow, that French face of yours stuck out like a sore thumb.'

'Breton,' he said.'

'Is there a difference?'

'My grandfather has forcible opinions on that score.'

'I concede the point.'

'I kiss your hands on his behalf.'

'Oh, no you don't,' she said quickly. 'Or at least not until you've explained yourself. When you appeared again on the platform at Fort William waiting for the Mallaig train, I was intrigued to say the least. Something of a coincidence, considering there were only five passengers in all.'

'But life is full of coincidences,' Chavasse said. 'One of the many things which make it so interesting.'

'Was it a coincidence that you followed me over the mountain?'

'Did I?'

'I saw you when I stopped for my first breather and looked back.'

'Presumably I was a little too late in dropping out of sight--'

'You were.'

A slow smile spread across his face. 'You didn't by any remote chance leave the train deliberately, just to draw me on.'

'But of course,' she said calmly. 'What else could a poor girl do? I was beginning to despair of you and then I consulted my map and saw that there was a way over the mountain to where I wanted to be.' She smiled enchantingly. 'And it was such a beautiful afternoon. A pity to be cooped up in a stuffy carriage.'

'I couldn't agree more.' Chavasse decided to take refuge in as close an approximation to the truth as was possible. 'I suppose I might as well tell all.'

She folded her arms and leaned back in the chair. 'Good, I am waiting.'

'It's quite simple, really. I was on the other side of the bookstall on the station platform at Glasgow looking at the magazines when you bought that map you referred to. I was interested as soon as you mentioned Moidart because that happened to be my destination also.'

'Which doesn't explain how you came by my name?'

He shrugged. 'I had a quick look at the labels on your suitcases when the porter put them on the trolley. Asta Svensson--Glenmore House. Then I checked my own map and discovered that Glenmore is no more than five miles from Ardmurchan Lodge which is leased by my uncle, Colonel Duncan Craig. You know him, I suppose?'

She shook her head. 'This is my first visit to Glenmore, but never mind that now. What happened back there on the mountain? Where did you get to?'

'I climbed the north face. The general idea was that I should be waiting at the summit cairn when you arrived.'

'Ah, I see now,' she said. 'You were caught in the mist.'

'For over an hour, while you kept on walking presumably?'

She nodded. 'And here we are. I was hoping you would get here eventually. I turned my ankle climbing the gate back there on the track.'

'Sorry I was delayed. I saw your light at the same time as our friend turned up.'

She smiled and shook her head. 'Poor Fergus.'

'Was that his name?'

'So he informed me. Fergus Munro. He also told me that I was trespassing and that his employer wouldn't like it--although he followed this with a suggestion that perhaps he didn't need to know.'

'But according to the notice on that gate back there, this is the Glenmore estate.'

'Which is owned by my step-father, Max Donner, the financier,' she said calmly. 'Perhaps you've heard of him?'

'I have indeed. But this raises an interesting situation. Friend Fergus is very probably hot-footing it to Glenmore House at this very moment with his tale of woe. I have a feeling we may expect company in the near future.'

'I sincerely hope so. I haven't the slightest intention of walking any further.'

'I wonder what your step-father will say to the unfortunate Fergus when he discovers who the mystery woman is?'

'I can't wait to see.'

Chavasse took off his raincoat and squatted in front of the fire, hands spread to its warmth and she leaned back in the chair, arms folded beneath her breasts, hair gleaming in the soft lamplight.

'How's your ankle?' he said.

'It could be worse.'

'Shall I take a look at it for you?'

'If you like.'

She peeled off her stocking with a complete lack of embarrassment, and presented a delicately arched foot for his inspection.

The sweep of that long, lovely leg, the curve of the thigh beneath the skirt took the breath out of him. He swallowed hard and glancing up saw the barely suppressed smile.

'Damn you, Asta Svensson,' he said with some passion. 'Play fair or you may get more than you bargained for.'

'Is that a promise?' she replied, the smile breaking through to the surface.

'I should put you over my knee. An attractive proposition, come to think of it.'

'Better and better. We Swedes are reputed to be terribly over-sexed, you know.'

He glanced up sharply and for the moment, her self-assurance seemed to desert her and she became simply a young, nineteen-year-old girl with a rather boyish charm. She smiled shyly, looking down at the hands, folded in her lap and in that one brief moment of revelation he knew she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

He tilted her chin and said wryly: 'You're very lovely, Asta Svensson. So lovely that I think I'd better get back to your foot without further delay.'

Her smile seemed to deepen, to become luminous and she no longer looked shy, but completely sure of herself. She leaned back in the old chair and raised her foot again and Chavasse looked at it, aware of her eyes on him.

There was a faint swelling above the ankle bone beneath a jagged scar. He probed it gently and nodded. 'I don't think it's much. How did you get the scar?'

'Skiing. There was a time when I thought I might make the Olympics.'

'Too bad.' He stood up and took a spare handkerchief from the breast pocket of his tweed jacket. 'I don't think it's much, but a cold-water bandage won't do any harm. I'll take the lamp if I may.'

He left her there in the firelight, went into the kitchen and soaked the handkerchief under the cold tap. When he returned, she was lying back in the chair, eyes closed. The moment he touched her foot, she opened them again.

'Tired?' Chavasse said as he bandaged the foot expertly.

She nodded. 'As the ticket collector said, it was a fair step.'

She mimicked him superbly and Chavasse chuckled. 'It was that and more. Have you had anything to eat?' She shook her head and he produced the remaining half pound of chocolate from his pocket and dropped it into her lap. 'Greater love hath no man. Start on that and I'll see what there is in the kitchen.'

He was back within a couple of minutes. 'Nothing doing, I'm afraid. All the cupboards are locked and the calor gas cylinders are empty, so we couldn't cook anything even if we wanted to.'

'Never mind, the chocolate is fine.' Already half was gone and she held the bar out, a guilty look on her face. 'Have some.'

'That's all right,' he said. 'I had a whole bar to myself back there on the mountain. I'll make do with a cigarette.'

'I must say you seem extraordinarily self-sufficient,' she said. 'What do you do for a living?'

'I'm Lecturer in French Literature at the University of Essex--or at least I will be when the new term starts in October. Something of a return to the fold really.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Oh, I was a university lecturer way back when I first started out, but it all seemed too restricting, so I joined the overseas Civil Service.'

'What went wrong?'

'Nothing really, except that the Empire diminished year by year and they kept moving me on. Kenya, Cyprus, Northern Rhodesia. The future seemed uncertain to say the least, so I decided to get out while the going was good.'

'Back to a calmer more ordered world.'

'Something like that. After all, one doesn't need a great deal. You learn that as you get older. Take this lodge for example. A man could live here quite comfortably.'

'But not alone, surely?'

'All right then, we'll admit Eve into his paradise.'

'But what would they live on in these barren hills?'

'There's fish in the stream, deer in the forest.' He laughed. 'Aren't you familiar with that old Italian proverb? One may live well on bread and kisses?'

'Or chocolate?' she said solemnly, holding up what was left of the bar and they both laughed.

He opened the door and looked out. It was a night to thank God for, the whole earth fresh after the heat of the day and when a bank of cloud rolled away from the moon the loch and the mountains beyond were bathed in a hard white light. The sky was incredibly beautiful with stars strung away to the horizon where the mountains lifted to meet them.

He had not heard her move and yet she spoke at his shoulder. 'We could be the only two people left on earth.'

He turned, aware of her warmth, her closeness, of the eyes shining through the half-darkness and shook his head gently.

'Not for long, Asta Svensson. Not for long. Listen.'

She moved out of the porch and stood there looking down the glen to where the sounds echoed faintly between the hills. 'What is it?'

'A motor vehicle of some description--perhaps two. They'll be here soon.'

She turned and when she moved back inside, her face was quite calm. 'Then let us be ready for them.'

She limped to the fireplace and settled herself into the chair and Chavasse stayed in the porch. A cloud covered the face of the moon for perhaps a full minute and as it moved on, moonlight flooding the glen again, two Land Rovers turned off the track and braked to a halt.

The man who slid from behind the wheel of the first one holding a shotgun was of medium height, thick-set and muscular, his mouth cruel in a pale face. Chavasse recognised him at once from his briefing file. Jack Murdoch, Donner's factor. Fergus Munro came round from the other side of the cab to join him.

Donner was at the wheel of the second vehicle and a woman sat beside him, her face in darkness, a scarf around her head. Probably Ruth Murray, Donner's secretary, Chavasse decided and then Donner got out of the Land Rover and moved to join the others, an enormously powerful looking figure in a sheepskin coat.

Murdoch said something, there was the click of the hammers going back on the shotgun and Donner whistled softly. There was a sudden scramble inside his Land Rover and a black shadow materialised from the darkness to stand beside him in the moonlight.

Chavasse's mouth went dry and fear moved inside him for this was a Doberman Pinscher, the most deadly fighting dog in the world and perfectly capable of killing a man.

'Flush him out, boy! Flush him out!' Donner said softly.

As the dog came forward with a rush, Chavasse stepped out of the darkness to meet it. It froze with incredible control, eyes glowing like hot coals and the growl started somewhere at the back of its throat, carrying with it all the menace in the world.

'That's him, Mr. Donner!' Fergus Munro cried. 'That's the bastard that beat me up and his fancy woman still inside, no doubt.'

Murdoch moved to join Donner, covering Chavasse with the shotgun and Donner looked him over calmly. When he spoke, his Australian origin was plain to the ear.

'This is private property, sport. You should have stayed out.'

There was all the menace in the world in those flat tones and then a tearful, strained voice cut in from the porch. 'Max? Max, is that you? Thank God you're here.'

Donner looked beyond Chavasse, astonishment on his face as Asta Svensson stumbled from the doorway. She started to sway and he ran, moving with incredible speed for such a big man, catching her as she fell.

He looked down at her in amazement and then called quickly: 'Ruth, it's Asta! For God's sake get in here quick,' and hurried inside.

The woman who got out of the Land Rover and crossed to the porch, wore slacks and a sheepskin jacket and was even more attractive in the flesh than Chavasse had expected from her photographs. She looked him over calmly without stopping and went inside.

Fergus Munro turned to Murdoch, a frown on his face. 'And who in the hell is Asta?'

'Something tells me you're in for rather an unpleasant shock, Fergy boy,' Chavasse said pleasantly, and he turned before Fergus could reply and followed Ruth Murray into the lodge, the Doberman at his heels.

Asta was doing very well indeed. She was back in her chair, drinking the glass of water Ruth Murray held for her while Donner leaned over anxiously.

She looked up at him wanly and reached for his hand. 'No, I'll be all right, Max. Really I will. I had a shock, that's all. There was a man here, a horrible man, and then Mr. Chavasse came and threw him out.'

'A man?' Donner said, frowning.

'He threatened me.' Her hand went to her torn blouse. 'In fact he was thoroughly unpleasant.'