Untouchable (10 page)

Tiff put it back wordlessly. You really are going to regret this, she thought. Somehow I’ll make you pay.

They reached a slope strewn with boulders. The group slowed, working their way up carefully. Tiff’s kayak bumped on the rocks. She lost her footing and crashed to the ground. Her kayak boomed like a drum roll in a circus. She got laboriously to her feet, fuming, and picked it up again.

The others had got ahead already. Their glows were like a stain of candy fading into the liquid mist. ‘Hey!’ she shrieked.

‘We’re here,’ called Paulo, glowing orange. ‘Follow the lights. Are you all right?’

‘Yes.’ Tiff spoke through gritted teeth.

‘Not far now,’ said Alex. ‘Just keep going.’

On they trudged again. The ground changed under her feet. Soft springy turf, not those slippery boulders. Suddenly something made an electronic chirruping noise. Two sets of orange lights flashed. Tiff nearly jumped out of her skin.

‘Ah, there you are,’ said Amber. Tiff heard a car door opening. They had found the Range Rover.

Tiff felt like sitting down and having a good cry. She had never been so frightened in her life.

Alex was carrying an armful of lifejackets in through the front door of the hostel when he heard a door slam emphatically upstairs.

Li, unlacing her boots in the arched porch, had heard it too. ‘That’s the bathroom, unless I’m very much mistaken. Think she’s going to be a long time?’ The mist was thinner up here. Li could see the others outside lifting kayaks and paddles down from the roof rack.

Alex smiled. ‘Long enough for a conference.’

‘I saw the men in the boat too,’ said Paulo.

Amber tapped a pen on the desk, turning it over and over. ‘Yeah, I wondered what they were up to.’

They didn’t think Tiff would disturb them, but just in case, they held their meeting in the office. Wetsuits had been swapped for T-shirts and shorts.

‘You say they had deer?’ said Hex. ‘The carcass in the cave must have fallen out of that boat.’

‘Would it have got into the cave in that time?’ said Li.

‘There was a strong current system,’ said Amber. ‘It could have been washed in quite easily.’

Paulo sat back in the easy chair. ‘So it looks like there’s poaching in the area.’ He looked at Li and Alex. ‘That explains why you’ve seen people behaving suspiciously.’

‘Should we try and do anything?’ said Li.

‘Be careful who we run into,’ grinned Paulo immediately.

The others laughed but they all understood the seriousness of his words. They had come up against poachers before in a game reserve in Zambia and had barely escaped with their lives.

‘They’re probably in a stinking mood too,’ said Hex. ‘They lost thirty per cent of their stock over the side this morning. I think we should drop a subtle hint with that gamekeeper we met yesterday and then make sure we don’t run into them again.’

‘Good plan,’ said Amber. She looked at her watch. ‘It’s lunch time. What are we going to do with Miss Congeniality this afternoon?’

Paulo looked out of the window down the valley. ‘The mist has cleared quite a lot. How about your rock climbing, Li?’

Li shook her head. ‘No, it’s up by the Kyle. It’ll be too wet and slippery. We’d be better leaving that until another day.’

‘OK, then,’ said Paulo. ‘There’s the riding stables down at Glaickvullin. I’ll phone them – how many are coming?’

Amber stood up. ‘I’ll sit this one out,’ she said. ‘Someone else go.’

Paulo looked surprised. Just the previous week the highlight for Amber was taking Fleur and Claire, two experienced riders, out for a gallop on the moors.

Amber got up and went to the door. ‘It’s my turn to cook tonight. I’ll do something American while you guys are out.’ As she passed Alex, she shook him gently by the shoulders. ‘Alex, are you worrying about those poachers?’

‘No,’ said Alex, but he knew very well his face said yes.

Paulo was riffling through the phone book, looking for the number of the stables. ‘It’s just a few deer, Alex. If the poachers didn’t shoot them the tourists or gamekeepers would.’

Alex nodded. ‘I’ll have a word with Rob at the lodge, when I take you guys down to the stables. He can decide if there’s anything to worry about.’ But something was nagging at the back of his mind. Poaching? Was that all it was? He didn’t think so.

Hex followed Amber out to the kitchen. ‘Giving up the prospect of riding? Are you feeling well?’

Amber picked up the cutlery tray and took it to the drawer. ‘I’d love to go riding. I just don’t want it ruined by her.’

Hex picked up some plates from the draining board and stacked them in the cupboard. ‘She’s really getting to you, isn’t she?’

Behind him he heard the sound of cutlery crashing together. He looked round. Amber was practically throwing the knives, forks and spoons into their trays. ‘She’s like a cloud of bad vibes. She hates everything. Everything’s “minging”. She hates our guts and I have a natural aversion to being around people who would gladly stab me in the back. I can’t wait for the weekend.’

‘Rich girl who hates the world? You know, she reminds me of someone I used to know.’ Hex looked at Amber, dreading her response. The words had come out before he’d even thought about them.

Amber was standing facing the sink, her back to him. She was very, very still.

‘OK,’ said Hex. ‘I’ll take my punishment like a man. Execute me now.’

Amber pivoted on her heel. Her eye had a cold look in it. In her hand was a big, heavy frying pan. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Death by cast-iron frisbee.’

But Amber didn’t clobber him. She smiled. ‘You’re in luck. I nearly had a huge sense of humour failure, huh?’ She passed him the pan.

Hex took it and put it away.

Alex drove out of the stable yard. In his rear-view mirror he could see Tiff waving her hand in front of her face, her nose wrinkled in disgust, while Paulo and Li talked to the yard manager. He was relieved to have a break from her for a while, too. He changed down a gear and headed up the hill. The castellated turrets of Glaickvullin Lodge peeped out over the tops of the tall fir trees. Now the sun was out and its upper windows glinted like slivers of obsidian.

The road levelled out by the lodge gates. Coming down from the moors was a Land Rover marked
GLAICKVULLIN LODGE
, the carcass of a magnificent red stag tied to the roof rack. It was just about to turn in and Alex pulled onto the grass to give them room. As it came alongside he saw the face of the driver. It was Rob, the gamekeeper, and he had a passenger: a slim-built man in a checked shirt and a green waxed jacket.

Rob waved to Alex and braked. The head of the stag nodded with the impact, antlers drumming on the vehicle roof. The window slid down smoothly.

‘Hi, Rob,’ Alex called.

‘I spoke to the vet today. That dog your friends rescued is going to be fine. The owners asked me to thank you.’

‘That’s great news,’ said Alex. ‘I’ll pass it on.’ He nodded at the beast on the roof. ‘Looks like you’ve had a good day.’

The man in the passenger seat leaned forward and smiled. ‘All thanks to my wonderful gamekeepers. They just tell me where to point the gun and I shoot. I’m Frank Allen, the laird. Everything all right up at the hostel?’

‘Fine, thanks,’ said Alex. ‘Good facilities. Great area.’ He waved to Rob and moved off. Better to wait until he could get Rob in private to mention their suspicions about the other gamekeeper. He didn’t want to get Rob into trouble. Instead he swung the Range Rover up the hill. As he drove, his mind was gnawing away at something. The laird wasn’t what Alex was expecting. His accent wasn’t local; not even Scottish. More like London. And street London, not stockbroker London. Hex’s kind of accent. There was more. Alex had taken in a lot about the man during their short meeting. His waxed jacket was brand new; it still had that glossy patina. Where Rob’s had scuff marks, particularly on his right shoulder, from constant friction with the stock of a rifle, the laird’s was pristine. Either he’d just bought it or he rarely went out shooting.

Li thought how funny it was to compare the riding styles of her two companions. Paulo rode with long reins, his hips swaying as he let the big ex-racehorse find her own way up the steep bridle path. Behind him, on a small, stocky piebald, Tiff sat very straight in the saddle, as though she was having a deportment lesson. Every now and then she would try to slouch, but when she forgot herself, she sat erect with her heels down and her reins short, making sure her pony was on the bit. It was funny to see her doing something properly for once, despite her conscious efforts not to. She had obviously learned to ride quite well.

Li preferred Paulo’s style – hardly surprising, as he had been her teacher on vacations on his parents’ ranch. He’d taught her to go with the horse’s own sense of balance, and that was what she was doing now, her chestnut Arab finding her own path behind Tiff’s Welsh cob.

They reached the top. A long stretch of grass lay ahead, running along a gently undulating ridge line. Paulo gathered up the reins, ready for a canter. Jess, his mount, pranced a few steps, knowing what was coming. Then two men in green tweeds appeared on the left-hand side of the ridge, leading a black pony with hairy legs like flared trousers. On the pony’s back was a deer carcass, tethered to an adapted saddle with elastic rope. The deer’s head moved in rhythm with the pony’s steps.

Paulo squeezed the reins and calmed Jess’s bouncy stride. They would have their canter later, once the other pony was well out of the way, otherwise they might upset it. Horses were herd animals and if one started galloping, the others tended to join in. He looked behind him. The other horses were under control, walking obediently.

Suddenly the pack pony stumbled. It lurched forwards, its hooves scrabbling to find a purchase. Instead of turf they found slippery rock. The pony lost its footing altogether and crashed to the ground. The gamekeepers yelled, startled. In moments the pony was on its feet and galloping straight at Paulo. He caught a glimpse of two white-rimmed, panicked eyes in a black face, like a little demon. It went past and Tiff’s pony surged after it as if leaping out of the starting gates.

Jess jogged, eager to follow, but Paulo held her in. Tiff and the other pony were hurtling back towards the edge of the ridge they had just climbed. It was very steep and rocky and if they went down there at speed, they’d fall for sure.

Paulo eased the reins. Jess took off in pursuit, her ears fixed on the two rumps in front of her. Behind, Li’s horse had joined the stampede.

In moments Jess passed Tiff’s pony, then the little black draught pony. Paulo swerved in front of them, sat down firmly in the saddle and squeezed the reins.

But instead of slowing, Jess powered on. Paulo pulled sharply and the horse yanked back hard, still galloping. She didn’t want to stop. She was winning the race.

The edge was three strides away. If he didn’t stop, the others would follow him down and there would be an accident. Paulo relaxed his fingers, sat down hard and squeezed with his legs. Jess’s weight shifted backwards. At that moment he turned the top half of his body and Jess suddenly found herself facing the oncoming horses. She stopped, puzzled.

Tiff’s piebald cob saw the big mare ahead, stuck his heels in the turf and slid to a stop as did the little pack pony. Tiff went forwards onto his neck, but she didn’t fall. Li’s chestnut Arab ploughed into the group, but Li kept her balance.

Paulo heaved a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. ‘Everyone OK?’

Li’s eyes were dancing. He could see she had enjoyed every moment. Tiff was out of breath and didn’t look amused as she pushed herself back off the horse’s neck and into the saddle. The horses stood blowing, their sides heaving, their eyes bright. They loved a race.

‘Good handbrake turn, Paulo,’ said Li.

Jess put her head up and skipped on the spot. She was ready to go again. Paulo patted her. ‘Yes, you won, old girl. Wish I could give you a proper race.’

But there were other things to do. The pack pony was standing a little way away, looking at Paulo, its eyes wide and wary. If it took off again, Jess would follow. He’d better catch it before it caused more chaos.

He dismounted. ‘You two stay there.’ He pulled Jess’s reins over her head and handed them to Li, then walked towards the black pony. He kept his walk deliberately unhurried, his hands down, his posture unthreatening. The pony would be easily spooked. He talked softly, in the coaxing tones he used when soothing a nervous animal on the ranch. He could see the triangle of sweat on the pony’s neck, the salmon-pink flesh inside the widened nostrils, the white rim around the eyes. The reins were broken, hanging down like uneven shoelaces. He could have made a grab for them, but instead he ran a reassuring hand down the pony’s sweaty neck. Then he grasped the rein.

The pony flinched, but Paulo was ready with a soothing word. It flicked an ear and slid its eye sideways, but relaxed. Paulo felt a few spots of rain, big, splashy drops.
Dios
, this Scottish weather, he thought. What next, a hurricane?

The green figures of the gamekeepers were running towards him. The pony saw them and flinched, but Paulo comforted it again. He put up his hand to tell the gamekeepers to slow down, but they took no notice. Paulo decided to walk the pony back to them. Maybe then they would stop running, which was only upsetting it.

They slowed to a walk as Paulo approached. One had a rifle over the crook of his arm, the breech broken. The other one grabbed the pony’s rein. It threw up its head in alarm. ‘Gently,’ said Paulo. ‘He’s had a scare.’

‘Thanks,’ said the gamekeeper gruffly, and tugged on the rein.

As the pony was pulled past him, Paulo noticed something odd about the deer carcass on its back. There was a plastic bag inside it and something slowly spilling out: small white beads were sticking to the pony’s dark flank.