Below, the diesel engine spluttered into life and settled down into a slow and steady thumping. Archie said, ‘You know, Malcolm Jaggard, I don’t believe you’re a journalist at all.’
I took a card from my wallet and gave it to him. ‘If I don’t come back ring that number. Get hold of a man called Ogilvie and tell him about it.’
He studied the card. ‘McCulloch and Ross - and Ogilvie. It seems we Scots have taken over the City of London.’ He looked up. ‘But you look less like a financier than you do a journalist. What’s really going on out there on Cladach Duillich?’
‘We spoke about it last night,’ I said. ‘And you talked of fire.’
A bleakness came over him. ‘The government would do that again?’
‘Governments are made of men. Some men would do that.’
‘Aye, and some men can pay for it.’ He looked at me closely. ‘Malcolm Jaggard, when you come back you and I are going to have a bit of a talk. And you can tell yon laddies on Cladach Duillich that if you don’t come back we’ll be bringing the fire to them. A great cleanser is fire.’
‘Stay out of it,’ I said. ‘It’s a job for the police.’
‘Don’t be daft, man. Would the police go against the government? You leave this to me.’ He looked down into the boat. ‘Away with you; Robbie is waiting. And I’ll away and have a talk with a few of my friends.’
I didn’t argue with him. I climbed down the iron ladder which was slippery with water and seaweed and tried to time my drop into the boat to coincide with its erratic pitching. I fumbled it but was saved from sprawling full length by Robbie’s strong arm.
He looked me up and down, then shook his head. ‘You’ll freeze, Mr Jaggard.’ He turned and rummaged in a locker and brought out a seaman’s guernsey. ‘This’ll keep you warm, and this -’ he gave me a pair of trousers and an anorak, both waterproof - ‘this’ll keep you dry.’
When I had put them on he said, ‘Now sit you down and be easy.’ He went forward, walking as easily in that tossing boat as another man would walk a city pavement. He cast off the forward line, then walked back, seemingly unconcerned that the bow was swinging in a great arc. As he passed the engine he pushed over a lever with his boot, then dexterously cast off the stern line. The throbbing note of the engine deepened and we began to move away from the pier wall. Robbie was standing with the tiller between his knees, looking forward and steering by swaying motions of his body while he coiled the stern line into a neat skein.
The wind strengthened as we got out into the loch and the waves were bigger. The wind was from the north-west and we plunged into the teeth of it. As the bow dipped downwards sheets of spray were blown aft and I appreciated the waterproofing. As it was, I knew I’d be thoroughly drenched by the time we got to Cladach Duillich.
Presently Robbie sat down, controlling the tiller with one booted foot. He pointed, and said, ‘The Coigach shore.’
I ducked a lump of spray. ‘What sort of man is your brother?’
‘Archie?’ Robbie thought a bit and then shrugged. ‘He’s my brother.’
‘Would you call him a hot-headed man?’
‘Archie hot-headed!’ Robbie laughed ‘Why, the man’s as cold as an iceberg. I’m the laddie in the family to take the chances. Archie weighs everything in a balance before he does anything. Why do you ask?’
‘He was talking about what he’d do if I didn’t come back from Cladach Duillich.’
‘There’s one thing certain about my brother - he does what he says he’ll do. He’s as reliable as death and taxes.’
That was comforting to know. I didn’t know what lay ahead on Cladach Duillich, but I knew I wasn’t going to get an easy answer. The knowledge that I had a reliable backstop gave me a warm feeling.
I said, ‘If I go missing on that bloody bit of rock you’ll take no for an answer. You’ll swallow what they tell you, then go back and see your brother.’
He looked at me curiously. ‘Are you expecting to disappear?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’
He wiped the spray from his face. ‘I don’t ken what this is about, but Archie seems to like you, and that’s enough for me. He’s a thinker.’
It was a long haul across Annat Bay towards the Summer Isles. The waves were short and deep, and the pitching was combined with rolling, giving a corkscrew motion which was nauseating. Robbie looked at me and grinned. ‘We’d better talk; it’ll take your mind off your belly. Look, there’s Cam nan Sgeir, with Eilean Dubh beyond. That’s Black Island in the English.’
‘Where’s Cladach Duillich?’
‘Away the other side of Eilean Dubh. We’ve a way to go yet.’
‘Why don’t they keep a boat there? If I lived on an island it’s the first thing I’d think of.’
Robbie chuckled. ‘You’ll see when we get there - but I’ll tell you anyway, just for the talking. There’s but one place to land and a chancy place it is. There’s no protection for boat or man. You can’t just tie up as you can at Ullapool Pier. There’d be no boat when you got back if there was anything of a blow. It would be crushed on the rocks. I won’t be waiting there for you, you know.’
‘Oh? Where will you be?’
‘Lying off somewhere within easy reach. There are more boats wrecked on land than at sea. It’s the land that kills boats. I’ll be doing a wee bit of fishing.’
I looked at the jumbled sea. ‘In this!’
‘Och, I’m used to it. You give me a time and I’ll be there.’
‘I’ll tell you now. I want exactly two hours ashore.’
‘Two hours you’ll get,’ he said. ‘About the boat they haven’t got on Cladach Duillich. When those folk first came they had a boat but it got smashed, so they got another and that was smashed. After they lost the third they began to get the idea. Then they thought that if they could take the boat ashore it would be all right, but it’s an awful weary job pulling a boat ashore on Cladach Duillich because there’s no beach. So they rigged davits just like on a ship and they could take the boat straight up a cliff and out of the water. Then a wave came one night and took the boat and the davits and they were never seen again. After that they gave up.’
‘It sounds a grim place.’
‘It is - in bad weather. It won’t be too bad today.’ I looked at the reefing seas and wondered what Robbie called bad weather. He pointed. ‘There it is - Cladach Duillich.’
It was just as Archie Ferguson had described it - a wee bit of rock. There were cliffs all around, not high but precipitous, and the sea boiled white underneath them. Off the island was a scattering of rocks like black fangs and I thought the people on Cladach Duillich had been right when they decided this was no place for a boat.
As we drew nearer Robbie said, ‘See that ravine? The landing place is at the bottom.’
There was a narrow crack in the cliff face at the bottom of which the sea seemed to be calmer - relatively speaking. Robbie swung the tiller over sharply to avoid a rock which slid astern three feet off the port quarter, then he swung hard the other way to avoid another. He grinned. ‘This is when you hope the engine doesn’t pack in. You’d better get right forrard - you’ll have to jump for it, and I won’t be able to hold her there long.’
I scrambled forward and stood right in the bows as he brought the boat in. Now I saw that the crack in the rock was wider than at first glance and there was a concrete platform built at the bottom. The engine note changed as Robbie throttled back for the final approach. It was an amazing feat, but in that swirling sea with its cross-currents he brought her in so the bow kissed the concrete with a touch as light as a feather. At his shout I jumped and went sprawling as my feet skidded from under me on the weed-covered surface. When I picked myself up the boat was thirty yards off-shore and moving away fast. Robbie waved and I waved back, and then he applied himself to the task of avoiding rocks.
I looked at my surroundings. The first thing I saw was the notice board Archie Ferguson had mentioned. It was weath
er beaten and the paint was peeling and faded but it was still readable.
GOVERNMENT ESTABLISHMENT Landing is Absolutely Prohibited By Order
It did not say who had issued the order.
A path led from the concrete platform up the ravine, so I followed it. It climbed steeply and led to a plateau, sparsely grassed, in the centre of which was a group of buildings. They were low concrete structures which had the appearance of military blockhouses, probably because they were windowless. From what had been said about Cladach Duillich they were the only type of building which could survive there.
I had no more time to study the place because a man was approaching at a run. He slowed as he came closer, and said abruptly, ‘Can’t you read?’
‘I can read.’
‘Then clear off.’
‘The age of miracles is past, friend. Walking on the water has gone out of fashion. The boat’s gone.’
‘Well, you can’t stay here. What do you want?’
‘I want to talk to Dr Carter.’
He seemed slightly taken aback, and I studied him as he thought about it. He was big and he had hard eyes and a stubborn jaw. He said, ‘What do you want to talk to Dr Carter about?’
‘If Dr Carter wants you to know he’ll tell you,’ I said pleasantly.
He didn’t like that but there wasn’t much he could do about it. ‘Who are you?’
‘Same thing applies. You’re out of your depth, friend. Let’s go and see Carter.’
‘No,’ he said curtly. ‘You stay here.’
I looked at him coldly. ‘Not a chance. I’m wet through and I want to dry out.’ I nodded to the buildings. ‘Those look as bloody inhospitable as you behave, but I’m willing to bet they’re warm and dry inside. Take me to Carter.’
His problem was that he didn’t know me or my authority, but I was behaving as though I had a right to be there and making demands. He did as I thought he would and passed the buck. ‘All right, follow me. You see Carter and you go nowhere else.’
THIRTY-SIX
As we walked towards the buildings I looked around at Cladach Duillich. It was not very big - about a third of a mile long and a quarter-mile across. Life had a poor existence on this rock. What grass had managed to gain a roothold was salt resistant marram, growing in crannies where a poor soil had gathered, and even the dandelions were wizened and sickly growths. The seabirds appeared to like it, though; the rocks were white with their droppings and they wheeled overhead screaming at our movements below.
There were three buildings, all identical, and I noted they were connected by enclosed passages. To one side, on a level bit of ground, was a helicopter pad, empty. I was conducted around the corner to one of the buildings and ushered through the doorway, bidden to wait, and then taken through another doorway. I looked back and realized I had gone through an air lock.
We turned sharply left and into a room where a man in a white coat was sitting at a desk and writing on a pad. He was slightly bald, had a thin face and wore bifocals. He looked up and frowned as he saw me, then said to my escort, ‘What’s this, Max?’
‘I found him wandering about loose. He says he wants to see you.’
Carter’s attention switched to me. ‘Who are you?’
I glanced sideways at Max, and said smoothly, ‘Who I am is for your ears only, Dr Carter.’
Carter sniffed. ‘More cloak and dagger stuff. All right, Max. I’ll take care of this.’
Max nodded and left, and I stripped off the anorak. ‘I hope you don’t mind me getting out of this stuff,’ I said, as I began to take off the waterproof trousers. ‘Too warm for indoors.’
Carter tapped on the desk with his pen. ‘All right. Who are you, and what do you want?’
I tossed the trousers aside and sat down. ‘I’m Malcolm Jaggard. I’ve come to see Dr Ashton.’
‘Didn’t you ring me last night? I told you she wasn’t here - she’s on the mainland.’
‘I know what you told me,’ I said evenly. ‘You said she’d be back this morning, so I came to see her.’
He gestured. ‘You’ve seen the weather. She wouldn’t come over in this.’
‘Why not? I did.’
‘Well, she hasn’t. She’s still in Ullapool.’
I shook my head, ‘She’s not in Ullapool, and she wasn’t there last night, either.’
He frowned. ‘Look here, when I asked last night you said you were ringing from London.’
‘Did I? Must have been force of habit,’ I said blandly. ‘Does it make a difference where I rang from?’
‘Er…no.’ Carter straightened and squared his shoulders. ‘Now, you’re not supposed to be here. This establishment is, shall we say, rather hush-hush. If it became known you were here you could be in trouble. Come to that, so could I, so I’ll have to ask you to leave.’
‘Not without seeing Penny Ashton. She’s supposed to be here. Now isn’t that a funny thing. I’m where I’m supposed not to be, and she’s not where she’s supposed to be. How do you account for it?’
‘I don’t have to account for anything to you.’
‘You’ll have to account for a lot, Dr Carter, if Penny Ashton doesn’t turn up pretty damn quick. How did she get to Ullapool?’
‘By boat, of course.’
‘But this establishment doesn’t have a boat. All journeys are by helicopter.’
He moistened his lips. ‘You appear to be taking an unhealthy interest in this place, Mr Jaggard. I warn you that could be dangerous.’
‘Are you threatening me, Dr Carter?’
‘For any purpose prejudicial to the safety of the State, to approach, inspect or enter any prohibited place, or to…’
‘Don’t quote the Official Secrets Act at me,’ I snapped. ‘I probably know it better than you do.’
‘I could have you arrested,’ he said. ‘No warrant is needed.’
‘For a simple scientist you appear to know the Act very well,’ I observed. ‘So you’ll know that to arrest me automatically brings in the Director of Public Prosecutions.’ I leaned back. ‘I doubt if your masters would relish that, seeing that Penny Ashton is missing from here. I told you, you’ll have to account for a lot, Dr Carter.’
‘But not to you,’ he said, and put his hand on the telephone.
‘I hope that’s to give instructions to have Dr Ashton brought in here.’
A cool and amused voice behind me said, ‘But Dr Carter really can’t have her brought in here.’ I turned my head and saw Cregar standing at the door with Max. Cregar said, ‘Doctor, I’ll trouble you for the use of your office for a moment. Max, see to Mr Jaggard.’
Carter was palpably relieved and scurried out. Max came over to me and searched me with quick, practised movements. ‘No gun.’
‘No?’ said Cregar. ‘Well, that can be rectified if necessary. What could happen to an armed man who breaks into a government establishment, Max?’
‘He could get shot,’ said Max unemotionally.
‘So he could, but that would lead to an official enquiry which might be undesirable. Any other suggestions?’
‘There are plenty of cliffs around here,’ said Max. ‘And the sea’s big.’
It was a conversation I could do without. I said, ‘Where’s Penny Ashton?’
‘Oh, she’s here - you were quite right about that. You’ll see her presently.’ Cregar waved his hands as though dismissing a minor problem. ‘You’re a persistent devil. I almost find it in me to admire you. I could do with a few men of your calibre in my organization. As it is, I’m wondering what to do with you.’
‘You’d better not compound your offences,’ I said. ‘Whatever you do about me, you’ve already done for yourself. We’ve linked you with Benson. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Minister hasn’t already been informed of it.’
The corners of his mouth turned down. ‘How could I be linked with Benson? What possible evidence could there be?’
‘A letter dated the fourth of January, 1947, carried by Be
nson and signed by you.’
‘A letter,’ said Cregar blankly, and looked through me into the past. Comprehension came into his eyes. ‘Are you telling me that Benson still carried that damned letter after thirty years?’
‘He’d probably forgotten about it - just as you had,’ I said. ‘It was hidden in the lining of his wallet.’
‘A brown calf wallet with a red silk lining?’ I nodded and Cregar groaned. ‘I gave Benson that wallet thirty years ago. It would seem I tripped myself.’
He bent his head, apparently studying the liver spots on the backs of his hands. ‘Where is the letter?’ he asked colourlessly.
‘The original? Or the twenty photocopies Ogilvie will have already made?’
‘I see,’ he said softly, and raised his head. ‘What were your first thoughts on seeing the letter?’
‘I knew you were linked with Ashton because you brought him out of Russia. Now you were linked with Benson, too. I thought of all the odd things that had happened, such as why a gentleman’s gentleman should carry a gun, and why you tried to discount the fact he had shot Ashton when we had the meeting on my return from Sweden. It seemed hard to believe he was still your man after thirty years, but I was forced into it.’
Cregar lounged back in his chair and crossed his legs. ‘Benson was a good man once, before the Germans got him.’
He paused. ‘Of course he wasn’t Benson then, he was Jimmy Carlisle and my comrade in British Intelligence during the war. But he lived and died as Benson, so let him remain so. He was captured in a Gestapo round-up in ‘44 and they sent him to Sachsenhausen, where he stayed until the end of the war. That’s where he got his broken nose and his other brutalized features. They beat him with clubs. I’d say they beat his brains out because he was never the same man afterwards.’
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. ‘He was in a mess after the war. He had no family - his father, mother and sister were killed in an air raid - and he had no money apart from a disability pension. His brains were addled and his earning capacity limited. He’d never be any good in our line of work after that, but he deserved well of us, and by 1947 I pulled enough weight to help him, so I offered him the job of shepherd to Chelyuskin - Ashton as he became. It was a sinecure, of course, but he was pathetically grateful. You see, he thought it meant he wasn’t finished in his job.’
The Tightrope Men / The Enemy Page 55