After settling himself into the hotel that had been recommended, and with time on his hands, he decided to spend what was left of the afternoon seeing what Oban’s town centre had to offer. He hadn’t been walking long when he began to realise that people were beginning to take note of the untidy state of his appearance which Bayer put down to the clothes he was wearing. Finding a quiet spot near the harbour he took out the stolen clothing book from his inside pocket and counted the unused coupons, grinning to himself at the thirty-two left as he headed in search of a clothing shop.
Unpacking the parcel in the privacy of his room, Bayer laid out the new garments on the bed. After washing and shaving he set about dressing; the woollen shirt, corduroy trousers, jersey and socks all felt good after what he had been wearing. Lying on the bed with his head cupped in his hands he thought over the journey that had put him where he was now, close to his ultimate aim of getting back to Germany, and with fond memories walking by the river with Heidi before his departure he drifted into a deep sleep. It was voices in the corridor outside his room that woke him. Listening and levelling the Walther at the door he soon realised it was the hotel owner showing newly-arrived guests the room opposite. Lowering the weapon he placed it on the bedside table and walked over to the window. The streets below were now in darkness. Looking at his watch and bored with his surroundings, he put on his coat and after locking his room, ventured downstairs to the reception area where he was confronted by a man of medium build who Bayer estimated to be in his early twenties.
“Good evening,” he said cheerfully, lighting a cigarette.
Bayer eyed the man suspiciously for a few moments before answering. “Evening.”
“You look as bored as I am,” he grinned, opening the front door. “If you’re looking for a decent pub, there’s one round the corner if you’re interested? There’s quite a few of the local lassies get in there tonight,” he added, taking a draw on his cigarette.
“Sounds good,” Bayer answered, thinking back to how long it had been since he had felt the pleasure of Griselda.
“I’m Steve.”
“Andrew!” Bayer replied, following him down the steps.
“So are you like me Andrew, waiting for Tuesday’s boat?” his new-found friend asked.
“Yes!” Bayer answered, cautiously.
“Bit of a bind, but at least it gives us the chance to check out the local talent,” Steve chuckled.
“Yes, I suppose it does. So have you been in this pub before for a drink?” Bayer asked, hoping to deflect the conversation away from the ferry crossing and why he was going to the island.
“I had a few in there at lunchtime just to while away a couple of hours. The place was quite busy, but most of the drinkers were men. I got into a game of darts with some of them, that’s how I found out about tonight and that there’s quite a few of the local women go there. By all accounts there is a local ceilidh dance on and a lot of them stop off there for a drink before going on to the dance later.”
Bayer was a little surprised by the size of the place and the amount of people already there when they arrived, but with a little perseverance, they were finally able to get a drink at the bar, after which they moved to a less congested part of the room and after standing for a few minutes a table became available.
“So what do you think?” Steve asked as he slowly consumed his pint of beer.
“Well. There’s a lot of RAF here, but it looks promising,” he answered, running a careful eye around the crowded room and coming to an immediate stop when he saw a rather older, more mature, woman, standing talking with three other women, looking at him.
“Yes, they use the hotels here to billet the RAF. But is there anyone that catches your eye?”
“Not at the moment,” Bayer lied, keeping a straight face as he held the woman’s gaze.
“Well, I think I might be in with a chance. I’ll see you later,” Steve winked getting up to leave.
Bayer watched him go, then turned his attention back to pursuing his quarry. The woman he estimated was several years older than the rest of the group, probably in her early forties, and was wearing a wedding ring which only heightened his interest in her more. “Husband in the forces, or dead, and she’s not had a good seeing to for a while,” he thought. He felt a stirring below watching the provocative way she stood, which enhanced her full figure, and he was just about to get up and go across to make her acquaintance when he saw her speak to the female next to her, who gave him a look and nod as though acknowledging her friend’s decision, before she walked over towards him.
“Hello! I haven’t seen you in here before?” she said in a rather husky voice.
“That’s because I haven’t been in here before,” he smiled, sitting back in his chair. “I see your glass is empty, would you like to join me for a drink, or are you going on with your friends, who seem to be about ready to leave?”
“Yes, they are, aren’t they? The trouble is they are a little young for me and are after the RAF chaps. Myself, I prefer the more mature man, and I’d love to have a drink with you,” she smiled, coming around the table and accepting the chair which Bayer offered her.
“I’m Andrew,” he said as he watched her sit down, her slightly flared skirt riding up over her shapely legs.
“Stella!” she smiled, taking a packet of cigarettes and lighter from her bag.
“And what would you like to drink, Stella?”
“Oh! Whisky with water, please.”
Returning with their drinks, Bayer saw that he had competition in the shape of a slightly inebriated airman; he was glad for his sake that he beat a hasty retreat when he saw him coming.
“What did he want?” he asked, setting the drinks down on the table.
“He must have thought I was on my own, but when he saw you coming he decided he had better clear off; probably thought you were my husband,” she grinned, offering him a cigarette.
“Where is your husband?” he queried, looking firstly at the ring on her finger and then at her.
“God knows,” she answered, pausing to take a draw on her cigarette. “Somewhere in the Far East fighting the Japs, I think it was Burma that the last letter came from. But I don’t really care much, our marriage was on the rocks before the war started,” she shrugged.
Bayer did feel a bit of sympathy for her husband being married to a callous bitch like this, fighting a ruthless enemy in the Burmese jungle and whose only thought would be of getting back home in one piece.
“So, Andrew! Are you married?”
“No!” he answered, shaking his head.
“Haven’t you ever been?”
“Never seemed to have found the right one I wanted to settle down with, then the war came along and that put things on hold; can’t see the point in wartime marriages, personally.”
“You sound a bit like me, live for today and to hell with tomorrow,” she grinned, finishing off the remainder of her drink.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he smiled as he watched her cross her legs; it had the desired effect on his manhood as her skirt exposed more of her legs and thighs, which she made no attempt to cover up. “Same again?” he asked, getting up with both glasses in his hands.
“Okay! We’ll have one more, then shall we go and see what this dance is like?” she replied, taking some money from her purse. “Will you get me some cigarettes when you’re at the bar? I think it may be a long night and I can’t do without a cigarette both before and after, if you know what I mean,” she said, pouting seductively.
Bayer gave her a knowing look. “And you behave yourself while I’m getting the drinks, no talking to strange men,” he told her sternly.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she answered in a sexually enticing tone.
With the evening beginning to draw to a close Bayer felt himself responding as Stella pressed her mature body hard against him as they slowly danced in the crowded ballroom.
“I think it’s time we were going?” he grinned releasing his hold
on her as the band finished its number.
“I think it is, if we go now we’ll beat the rush,” she smiled, linking her arm through his as they left the dance floor.
The mid-row town house was in an elevated position overlooking the bay, and as he was shown into the parlour, the dying embers of the fire gave the high spacious room a warm and homely feel. Sitting down his eyes followed her as she went to a cabinet and opened it.
“Drink?” she asked, holding up a bottle of Scotch.
“I don’t think so,” he answered, getting up and going over to her and slipping his arm around her waist while his other hand took the bottle from her and put it back in the cabinet. “It’s not a drink I need,” he smirked sliding the palms of his hands up and down her back several times before they came to rest around her waist and he drew her firmly against him.
“My, you are in a hurry,” she said softly as their lips came together and their tongues heightened the moments of intimacy before she gently pulled away from him and led him upstairs to the bedroom where they both quickly undressed.
“You are very attractive Stella,” Bayer said, quietly moving in behind her.
“And I find you equally so,” she murmured, closing her eyes as she felt his naked body press firmly against her. His arms came under hers and gently caressed the fullness of her breasts while his lips kissed her shoulders and neck, making her moan softly and breathe heavily. “Oh Andrew, that is so nice, I do like to be aroused by the skilful hands of a man who knows what a woman needs,” she said, covering his right hand with hers and guiding it down so he could caress her more intimate part.
Bayer could feel the excitement building within him as she moved against him, but he knew this was a woman of experience, a woman skilled in the art of lovemaking who would need to be taken to the very height of pleasure, so he would have to draw on all his sexual prowess to make sure that was achieved. Coaxing her onto the bed, and with the manipulated skill of his hands and mouth he gently worked his way down to the lower part of her belly, whereupon he went lower.
Stella was no stranger to oral stimulation, but this man was very much adept in the art, which made her push upwards to meet his restless tongue while gripping the rails behind her more tightly as the pleasure intensified. With her eyes closed she cried out in ecstasy as he found her sensitive spot, the sensation making her move her hips up and down faster in a sexual manner. Opening her eyes as the stimulation ended and she felt movement on the bed, Stella was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of size, the gratification making her cry out as the intensity increased. The physical sensation was beyond anything she had ever felt before as she felt her climax quickly begin to build. She had always prided herself on being able to stay-the-pace but this time she knew the tables were going to be turned as she let out a string of ‘yes’s,’ the thrill ending in utter fulfilment, the sensation leaving her totally drained. She lay still, her eyes open and gently stroked his back while Andrew’s firm muscular arms supported his weight as he lay between her legs.
“Seems like I was in a hurry also,” she said, sighing contentedly.
“Yes, you certainly were.”
“Did you . . .?” she asked quietly.
“No, I didn’t. I wasn’t ready.”
Looking up at him, then down between their naked bodies Stella frowned when she saw he was still fully aroused.
“And I haven’t finished with you yet,” he said, lowering himself on to her.
This time the rhythm was at a slow unhurried pace. Moaning softly, Stella let the pleasure sweep over her, but each time she thought he was on the point of losing restraint, he held back, which took her to new heights. Abandoning her own self-control she wrapped her legs around his waist to encourage him to push more forcefully, her tactics having little effect, apart from making him smile as he continued to dominate the pace of their lovemaking. She felt physically exhausted as she lay on her back beside him and took a long draw on her cigarette. It had seemed an age before he had finally had an orgasm, his low deep moan of satisfaction having quickly brought her to a second climax which gave her a tingling sensation through parts of her body, more intense than the first.
Stubbing out the cigarette end into the ashtray she turned on her side, and with her head on his chest gently stroked his tummy.
“Will I be able to see you again?” she asked quietly.
Her question immediately put Bayer on the defensive, so he decided to choose how he answered carefully.
“Why, do you want to?” he answered, running his hand slowly up and down her back.
“I would have thought that was obvious after tonight.”
“And what if your husband should unexpectedly turn up, what then?” he asked.
“If he does, he does. As I told you earlier, it’s over between us,” she grinned, while reaching across him for another cigarette. “Anyway, that’s enough about him. We have the rest of the weekend to really get to know one another and there is always Monday night after I get home from work, if you’ve still got the stamina?”
“You’ve certainly got it all planned out, haven’t you?” Bayer answered. “And yes, I’ll have the stamina.”
Stella drew hard on the cigarette then put it between Bayer’s lips to do the same. “I’ll also be there to see you off Tuesday morning.”
“You will!” he queried, looking at her suspiciously.
“Yes, I work in the dock office. Didn’t I say?”
“No, you didn’t,” he said sternly.
“Oh, that sounded masterful. That’s the second quality I like in a man,” she said smiling.
“Is it? And what’s the first?” Bayer asked.
“Being highly sexed. That kind of man can do whatever he wants with me,” she replied in a submissive voice as she slid her hand lower while moving suggestively against him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“GET MUCH out of her?” Vines asked, looking up from the paperwork he was reading when Maynard came into the room.
“She’s given me a lot of information about what she was up to at Filton, but nothing as to what she was doing before that. I think she’s covering up for someone or something. My guess is, it’s a cell working an area; the trouble is, I haven’t the time to really go to town on her with Bayer still on the loose, he’s my main concern. So all I can do is pass on what information I have so far to London and hand Zweig over to Latchmere and see if they can get more out of her.”
“Well, I’ve just received two lots of information that might help. Firstly, the Scottish police have found the van.”
“Where?” Maynard queried, walking over towards the wall map.
“Exactly where we thought it might be,” Vines continued, “Clarencefield, a forestry worker found it while making a routine inspection of the woodland in the area and reported it to the police.”
“Anything in it which could give us a clue to which way he could be heading?” Maynard inquired hopefully.
“No, I’m afraid not. But the second bit of information I’ve received looks promising.”
“Oh! And what’s that?” Maynard asked, retaking his seat.
“A Mr Maxwell phoned the Highland police to report the theft of a canoe from his boat shed on the side of Loch Long, also later that evening a passing boat reported seeing something unusual in a creek on the opposite bank, the local police went to investigate and found the canoe which somebody had tried to camouflage with undergrowth cut from the surrounding area. They think the strong wind earlier in the day must have partly exposed the thief’s handiwork which is what the passing boat saw in the semi-darkness… Here is the report with the date and times for you to read.”
“Thanks, now let’s see. Loch Long is here. So where on the Loch is this house you say the canoe was taken from?”
“I’ll show you, I’ve got a more detailed map of the area here; there’s the house, and directly opposite is the creek where the canoe was found, right next to the A83.”
May
nard pondered over the map for a few moments, taking in the surrounding landscape.
“We know he isn’t going north up the A82 because there would have been no reason for him to cross the Loch, so if it’s our bird, which I have a strong feeling it is, he must be making for Oban, or for somewhere along the coast south of there,” Maynard grinned, running the stem of his pipe along the area in question.
“Or the other alternative being the Outer Islands. There are sailings from Oban to both the Inner and Outer Hebrides; there are a hundred and one places out there where he could be picked-up by submarine,” Vines concluded, drawing rings with his pencil around the islands he had mentioned.
“Precisely! So I think my best bet is to get up to Oban as soon as possible. Do you think you could lay me transport on and while I’m travelling up there contact the main man at Oban police station and put him in the picture as to what I’m about? Most of all, tell him to keep a close eye on all the foot passengers that are boarding vessels for the Outer Islands, anything remotely suspicious, do a stop and search,” Maynard said sharply.
“Yes, I’ll get that organised right away,” Vines answered, reaching for the telephone.
“In the meantime I’ll give London a ring and put them in the know as to what I’m doing. Also I think it’s time we brought RAF Coastal Command and the Royal Navy into the equation and for them to step up patrols in these areas so I'll need them to authorise that.”
*
After shaking hands with Vines and thanking him for the help he had given him, Maynard settled himself in the back seat of the police car, covering his legs with a woollen blanket for added warmth for the long night’s journey ahead. As he watched the blacked-out countryside speed by he thought over the series of events that had put him where he was now and wondered if he would be in time to stop Bayer before he left the country, taking with him months of secret experimental work. They were on the northern outskirts of Glasgow when he was awoken by the vehicle coming to a halt and the driver saying he needed to pay a ‘call’. With both men relieved, and refreshed by the flask of coffee and sandwiches provided by the Kendal police canteen, the journey resumed, the only distraction being the passing of an occasional heavy lorry slowly making its way into the Scottish Highlands. With the first streaks of dawn appearing in the night sky they pulled up outside Oban’s main police station and, accompanied by the tired driver, Maynard entered the building. On approaching the front desk they were confronted by an equally weary-looking constable.
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