On Dangerous Ground (25 page)

“One hundred and twenty yards south from the jetty. X marks the spot and I know I’m right because the boys from the base dragged for her with a grappling hook on a line and brought up a piece of fuselage.”

“How deep?” Dillon asked.

“About ninety feet. The Air Ministry decided it wasn’t worth trying to recover her. It would have meant sending up special equipment, and the war, after all, was over. They were scrapping aircraft, so why bother? Different thing if there had been something of value down there.”

“Which there was, only nobody knew about it,” Hannah said.

“Yes, there’s irony for you.” He turned to Dillon. “You intend some sort of recovery, I presume?”

“Yes, I’m an experienced diver. I’ll go down and see what I can find.”

“I shouldn’t expect too much, not after all these years. Would you like the map?”

“I certainly would. I’ll see you get it back.”

Hannah said, “We’ve taken up enough of your time. You’ve really been more than helpful.”

“I certainly hope I have. I’ll see you out.” He took them to the front door and opened it. “Forgive an old buffer like me, my dear, but I must say the police have improved since my day.”

On impulse, she kissed him on the cheek. “It’s been an honor to meet you.”

“Good luck, the both of you, with this Morgan fellow. Make sure he goes down, Dillon, and give Ferguson my regards.”

“I will,” Dillon said and they went down the path.

“Oh, and Dillon?” Sir Keith called as they reached the gate.

They turned and Dillon said, “What is it?”

“If they’re still there, you won’t find two suitcases down there, there should be three and one of them’s mine. Can’t expect much after forty-seven years, but it would be fun to have it back.”

“I’ll see that you do,” Dillon said and they went out.

They got in the back of the Daimler and Hannah said, “What an absolutely smashing man.”

“Yes, they don’t make them like that anymore,” Dillon said. “Now what?”

“A place called Underseas Supplies located in Lambeth. They’ve got the order for those things you wanted. The manager said he’d have them ready by noon. He’d like you to check them out before he rushes them to Gatwick.”

“And the two Sterlings I asked for?”

“In the boot. I got them from the armourer at the Ministry before I picked you up this morning.”

“What a girl,” Dillon said. “Let’s get moving then.”

The warehouse in Lambeth was crammed with diving equipment of every kind. The manager, a man called Speke, handled things himself and he and Dillon went through the list, checking each item off as they did so.

“There seems an awful lot,” Hannah said. “Do you really need all this? I mean what’s this thing?”

She held up a yellow colored Orca and Dillon said, “That’s my lifeline, girl dear, a diving computer that tells me how deep it is, how long I’ve been down there, how long I’ve got to go. It even warns me if I’m coming up too fast.”

“I see.”

“I need it just like I need this.” He picked up the heavy nylon diving suit in orange and green. “It’s going to be very cold down there and very dark. It isn’t the Caribbean.”

“About the visibility, Mr. Dillon,” Speke said. “The two lamps you asked for. I’ve given you the new Royal Navy halogen type. Twice the power.”

“Excellent,” Dillon said. “That’s it then. Get this lot up to Gatwick as soon as you can.”

“It’ll take at least two hours, sir, maybe three.”

“Just do your best,” Hannah said.

As they got into the Daimler, Dillon said, “What kind of time do you think we’ll get off?”

“Three o’clock,” she said.

“Good.” He took her hand. “You and I can take a little time off. What about Mulligan’s for oysters and Guinness? After all, tomorrow I’ll be diving down to God knows what.”

“Dammit, Dillon, why not?” She laughed. “We’ve earned it. Oysters and Guinness at Mulligan’s it is.”

THIRTEEN

THE FLIGHT FROM LONDON GATWICK WAS reasonably smooth until the final stages when the weather deteriorated into low cloud and heavy rain. As they made their approach over the loch, Flight Lieutenant Lacey said over the loud speaker, “Headquarters have notified the Brigadier of our arrival time. He’s on his way.”

They dropped in for the touchdown and as they rolled along the runway they saw the Citation standing inside one of the hangars.

“Now what’s that doing here?” Hannah said.

“I’d say it was on standby for a quick move out,” Dillon said. “It makes sense. That’s what I’d do.”

As he opened the door for them Flight Lieutenant Lacey said, “You’ve got company, Chief Inspector.”

“That’s the personal plane of Mr. Carl Morgan presently of Loch Dhu Castle,” Dillon told him.

“The polo player?”

“Jesus, son,” Dillon laughed. “And isn’t that the grand way to describe him?”

The Range Rover was crossing the decaying tarmac toward them, Kim at the wheel, Ferguson beside him. It stopped and the Brigadier got out. “Everything go well?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Dillon told him. “I’ve got a map of the loch with the exact location. By the way, guess who the pilot of that Lysander turned out to be?”

“Surprise me?”

“Air Marshal Sir Keith Smith,” Hannah told him.

Ferguson looked genuinely astonished. “Of course! I didn’t make the connection when Lady Katherine told us his name. I mean, nineteen forty-six, a wing commander.”

Lacey said, “We’ll get all this stuff in the back of the Range Rover, Brigadier, if your man could lend a hand.”

“Of course.” Ferguson nodded to Kim, then took a large golfing umbrella from inside the Range Rover and put it up against the rain.

“Morgan’s plane seems to have taken up permanent residence,” Hannah said.

“Yes, the bastard’s there himself keeping an eye on us. I saw their Shogun parked in the hangar beside the Citation. Probably got their field glasses turned our way right now.”

“Let’s give them something to see then,” Dillon said. “Pass me those two Sterling submachine guns, Flight Lieutenant.”

Lacey handed them over and Ferguson smiled. “What a happy thought. Hold the umbrella for me, Chief Inspector.” He checked one of the Sterlings expertly and then said, “Right, let’s move out into the open so they can see what we’ve got.”

Which he and Dillon did, standing in the rain for a few moments and then turning back to the Range Rover.

“That should do it,” Dillon said and put the Sterlings on the backseat.

“You looked like a couple of little boys then playing gangsters in the school yard,” Hannah said.

“Ah, if it were only so, Chief Inspector, but the time approaches when this whole thing becomes serious business. I’ve just, in a manner of speaking, given Morgan fair warning, but let’s make certain. We’ll take a walk.”

He moved directly toward the hangar and the Citation and they moved with him, all three sheltered by the huge golfing umbrella. As they got close, they saw the Shogun, Marco and Morgan leaning against it. Two men in flying overalls were hanging around on the other side of the plane. Hannah slipped her right hand inside her handbag, which hung from a shoulder strap low on her thigh.

“No need for that, Chief Inspector,” Ferguson murmured. “He isn’t about to declare war just yet.” He raised his voice. “Ah, there you are, Morgan. Good day to you.”

“And a good day to you, Brigadier.” Morgan came forward followed by Marco with his battered face, who stood there glaring at Dillon.

“Successful trip, Chief Inspector?” Morgan asked.

“Couldn’t have been better,” she told him.

“Who would have thought it?” He turned and looked out across the loch, quiet in the rain. “Down there on the bottom for all these years. Place of Dark Waters, isn’t that what the locals call it in Gaelic? Aptly named, Dillon. I should think you’ll have problems down there.”

“Who knows?” Dillon told him.

“I see you’ve got your plane on standby,” Ferguson said.

“Yes, leaving at the crack of dawn. We’ve got an eight o’clock start. Let’s face it, Brigadier, you’ve won and I’ve certainly had enough of the delights of Loch Dhu Castle and this eternal bloody rain.”

“Really?” Ferguson said. “Carl Morgan giving up? I find that difficult to believe.”

“Oh, he’s just being a good sport, aren’t you, Morgan?” Dillon said.

“But of course,” Morgan said calmly.

“Well, give our best to Asta as we probably shan’t be seeing her again,” Ferguson told him.

“I will.”

“Good, we’ll be off now.”

As they walked back to the plane, Hannah said, “I don’t believe a word of it. He isn’t going anywhere.”

“Or if he is he intends to come back,” Dillon said. “I’m not sure how, but that’s what he’ll do.”

“Of course he will,” Ferguson said. “We’re back with the kind of game playing that’s characterized this affair from the beginning. We know that he intends to return and he knows that we know.” He shook his head. “Inconceivable that he’d give up now. It’s against his nature. Have you ever seen him boot an opponent out of the saddle in a polo match? Well that’s Carl Morgan. He’s always got to win whatever it costs.”

“I’d say this is a situation Asta could help with, sir,” Hannah said.

“Yes, well we’ll see.”

They reached the Lear and Lacey said, “All in, Brigadier, is there anything else we can do?”

“Not at the moment, Flight Lieutenant, except return to Gatwick. As usual, I require a twenty-four-hour standby.”

“I’ll see to it, Brigadier.”

“Good, on your way then.” He turned. “Come on, you lot. Let’s move out.”

They got into the Range Rover, Kim behind the wheel, and as they drove away, the Lear was already starting up behind them.

Morgan went into the study and poured himself a brandy, then moved to the fire. He sipped the brandy slowly, savouring it, and the door opened and Asta came in.

“They arrived back then, I heard the plane.”

He nodded. “They unloaded a quantity of diving equipment and Ferguson and Dillon rather ostentatiously displayed a couple of Sterling submachine guns, all for my benefit. We had a nice chat.”

“And?”

“I told Ferguson I was retiring from the fray, flying out at eight in the morning.”

“And they believed you?”

He smiled. “Of course not. Ferguson knows damn well I’ll return in some way. Of course, the important thing is that I know that he expects that, so it’s all a question of timing.”

“How do you mean?”

He smiled. “There’s a bottle of champagne over there in the bucket, my love. Go and open it and I’ll tell you.”

At Ardmurchan Lodge, the light was on in the garage, the diving equipment arranged neatly on the floor. There was a steady hum from the compressor as Dillon showed Kim how to fill the first air tank.

Hannah came in and stood watching, arms folded. “Does he know what he’s doing?”

“Kim?” Dillon laughed. “I’ve just shown him, haven’t I, and you only show a Ghurka something once.” He said to Kim, “All six.”

“Yes, Sahib, I’ll take care of it.”

Dillon followed Hannah in through the side door and through the kitchen to the sitting room, where they found Ferguson sitting at the desk.

He glanced up. “All in order?”

“So far,” Dillon said.

“Good, so the plan is simple. As soon as Morgan leaves in the Citation, we get to work. You hold the fort in the house, Chief Inspector, while Kim and myself go out with Dillon in the whale boat.”

“Dillon, I’m totally ignorant about diving,” she said, “so forgive my questions that seem stupid. Just how difficult will it be and just how long will it take?”

“Well, to start with, I’ll go down very fast, my weight belt helps with that. If Sir Keith’s positioning is accurate I could be onto the plane in minutes, but it’s going to be dark down there and there’s no way of knowing what the bottom’s like. There could be ten feet of sludge. Another thing, the depth is important. The deeper you go the more air you use. It’s astonishing how much ten or fifteen feet reduces your bottom line. Ideally, I’d like to do this dive within sport-diving limits, because if I can’t, I’ll have to decompress on the way up and that takes time.”

“Why, exactly?”

“The deeper you go and the longer you’re there, the more nitrogen you get in your bloodstream. It’s like fizz in a bottle of champagne wanting to burst out. It can give you the bends, cripple you, and sometimes kill you.” He smiled. “Here endeth the lesson.”

“I must say it all sounds rather heavy to me.”

“I’ll be all right.” He went and helped himself to a Bushmills. “I’ve had a thought though, Brigadier.”

“What’s that?”

“Have Kim up at the airstrip in the morning with a pair of field glasses. I mean, we’ll hear that plane leave, but let’s make sure it just doesn’t have the pilots on board.”

“Good idea,” Ferguson said. He glanced at his watch. “Eleven o’clock. I’ve had an even better idea, Dillon, another of your little night forays up at the castle. See if you can have a word with Asta.”

“I’m surprised we haven’t heard from her,” Hannah said.

“I’m not, too damn dangerous for the girl to use the phone, unless she’s absolutely certain Morgan isn’t around,” Ferguson told her. “No, you take Dillon up there like you did the other night, Chief Inspector, and we’ll see what happens.”

It was still raining as Hannah turned in at the side of Loch Dhu Castle and switched off the engine. As on the previous occasion, Dillon wore black. He took out his Walther and tested it, then put it back into his waistband at the rear.

“Seems to me we’ve done this before.”

“I know,” Hannah smiled. “You’ll have to think of a variation.”

He pulled the sinister ski mask on, leaving only his eyes and lips visible. “I could always give you a kiss.”

“While you’re wearing that thing? Don’t be disgusting, Dillon. Go on, on your way.”

The door closed gently and he disappeared into the darkness in a second.

He negotiated the wall in the same way as before and made his way through the grounds to the lawn and paused in the trees, looking across at the lights of the castle. After a while, the French windows to the study opened and Morgan appeared smoking a cigar, followed by Asta wearing a sweater and slacks, an umbrella in her hand.