“They have just started the engines, they must be about to get underway,” he replied extricating himself from her arms and going over to take a look through the porthole.
“Oh! Is that all? Come back to bed, I’ve got something that will get you started,” she said, patting the bunk next to her.
*
Bracing himself against the pitching sea Bayer could just make out in the distance the dark outline of South Uist; taking a last draw on his cigarette he moodily flicked it over the side. Being delayed leaving Tiree due to bad weather had set him back several hours, setbacks he didn’t need being so close to reaching his final destination on Stracandra Island. But first he had to plan how to get rid of Stella; she had played her part well, but now she was of no further use, just a millstone around his neck and she needed to be disposed of as soon as possible.
Going below, Bayer found her in the galley mess sitting on the edge of a table making jovial banter with several members of the crew, which to his surprise irritated him and brought on a sudden feeling of jealousy.
“Oh! There you are darling. I was just saying to the guys here that you had been gone a long time and I hoped you hadn’t fallen over the side,” her flippancy bringing about a round of laughter. “Would you like a cup of tea, Mitch here will make you one if you ask him nicely?” she said, flashing her eyes in the cook’s direction.
“No, I’m fine,” he answered, suppressing the anger he was feeling towards her. “I think we should go back to the cabin and get our things together, we’ll be docking shortly,” he said sharply.
“He can be so masterful at times,” she said loud enough for all to hear as she slid off the table and straightened her skirt. “See you later.”
Reaching the cabin he slammed the door shut behind him, then grabbing hold of her arm he swung her around to face him, then slapped her hard across her left cheek. “Don’t you ever try and make me look a fool again in front of anybody, you hear?” he snapped, lifting his arm to give her another, but at the last minute checking himself when he saw her smile as she rubbed her cheek.
“Now I know you love me,” she said, coming towards him, putting her arms around him and kissing him long and hard.
Pulling away, he looked at her and tried to search out the hatred he needed to carry out what he had to do when they reached Lochboisdale, but however hard he tried, as he looked into her eyes he could not evoke any feeling of anger towards her. For the first time since joining Abwehr, Bayer knew he had let a woman get her claws into him, something he vowed he would never let happen. He could easily and without remorse have killed Griselda and walked away without a backward glance, those had been his orders. Stella was different from all the others, exceptionally good looking, highly sexed which suited his own nature; she had all the qualities he liked in a woman. “What am I going to do with you?” he said taking her roughly in his arms.
“Whatever you want to,” she smiled, unaware that her life was hanging by a thread and could soon come to an end in the next few hours.
They stayed below until the boat had finished docking before venturing out into the cold evening air to the disembarkation centre, which to Bayer’s surprise was relevantly easy, due to some cross chat from Stella with the disembarkation staff. Once clear of the port he relaxed a little as they walked the short distance to a guesthouse Stella knew about whose proprietor was discreet and asked no questions as to a couple’s private arrangements, whether married or otherwise. The room was small in comparison with some he had slept in, but the double bed felt soft and the fire soon gave the room a comfortable feel about it. He lay on the bed and listened as Stella filled the bath. She had only once asked him about his final destination when he reached the island which he had easily passed-off as being a military need-to-know matter, which she had readily excepted under the circumstances, but he wondered how much longer he could keep up the deception. She had given him a questioning look when he had told the owner when registering that they only wanted the room for a couple of nights. Having planned to spend a week together, Bayer knew it would only be a matter of time before he would have to give a suitable explanation about what he intended to do about accommodation for the remainder of the holiday. He knew his first priority was to reconnoitre the area for a boat, but he needed to be on his own to do that, also he would need a chart of the islands. The road map he carried in his travel bag had served him well so far but it only showed the islands in brief; he needed a detailed chart of the area, which no doubt would be hard to come by, unless the boat he acquired had one on-board. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Stella asking, ‘was he going to join her?’
After his slow seduction of her body while they bathed together, the inevitable had followed, and as he lay on his side he stared into the darkness while listening to his lover sleep. How easy it would be to kill her now, quick and silent and her body wouldn’t be found until mid-morning at the earliest, giving him plenty of time to be well clear of the murder scene. Rolling onto his back he sighed heavily, knowing the time or place wasn’t right to eliminate her; getting a boat was his first priority but in such a small place it would soon be missed and reported to the authorities. Why in the hell, he thought, had High Command wanted to bring him out by seaplane instead of the normal method by U-boat? He got out of bed and quietly walked over to the window, easing back the blackout curtain and looking at the cold waters of the bay with its scattering of boats gently riding at their moorings. He knew why. Speed was of the essence; the information he had collected was of vital importance to the German war effort and needed to be got back as quickly as possible. He stood there several minutes and with the help of the moonlight he was able to take in the position of each boat, but he kept coming back to one boat in particular that seemed to have all the qualities he was looking for. Its size wasn’t excessive, but looked sturdy enough to cope with reasonably rough seas; its wheelhouse was set fairly well forward and to its rear the open deck looked like it was being used for crab or lobster fishing as there were several pots stacked neatly, as high as the gunwale on either side. Bayer knew he needed to take a closer look at both the boat and surrounding area but he would have to wait for daylight to do that; night-time could be too risky as he may well be seen by one of the locals or the police. With the cold beginning to take effect on his naked body he let the curtain drop back into place and returned to the warmth of the bed. Cupping his fingers together he put them behind his head then started to make mental notes of things he had to do. First thing he needed to know, had the boat enough fuel to take him to the island? If not, where was the fuel for the boats kept? A chart of the area he was heading for was a must, but the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that a fishing boat of that size would have charts stored somewhere on board, most probably in or near the wheelhouse. He would need to locate the fishing boat’s tender, or if that failed find another small boat to reach the moored vessel, then last but not least, he had to take care of Stella and get rid of her body. She posed more of a problem; to kill her was the easy part, to make sure she stayed hidden long enough for him to get clear was more difficult. Suddenly a thought struck him: could he somehow get her on to the boat? What made-up excuse could he use that would sound convincing enough to lure her aboard? A smile began to spread across his face in the darkness as a plan came into his head. What better reason would he need for getting her on board than if he told her he was taking her away for a few romantic days in a cottage on an island? That way he could do what he had to do and let the sea do the rest.
Chapter Twenty-Six
MAYNARD felt frustrated as he put down the receiver after his talk with Clifford Granville. The lack of anything to report hadn’t gone down too well; in fact Maynard thought Granville had been rather standoffish with him, in spite of them being good friends socially and meeting regularly for drinks at the same club.
“Things not sitting too well with London?” Crawford enquired discreetly.
“Yes!
Does it show that much?” Maynard answered.
“Aye, your facial expression did give it away somewhat.”
Maynard frowned and sat back in his chair. “They are sending someone else up from London on the pretext of giving me a hand. But I think it’s exasperation on their part that I haven’t tracked down Bayer yet.”
“Do y’know who it is they are sending up?” Crawford enquired.
“His name is Gideon Soames.”
“Have you worked with the laddie before?”
“No! I know of him of course, but not well, and I’ve no idea how he works.”
“Aye, it could cause a bit of friction between you not knowing how the other works,” Crawford replied in his dour Scots accent.
Maynard stood up and walked over to the window and stared out. “Where is the sod, Chief Constable? Is there something we’ve overlooked? Some small clue we have missed which could tell us in which direction he’s making for?”
“Nary a thing that I can see. We’ve checked all the passengers going through the port facilities. There’s been nothing out of the ordinary reported apart from two men being arrested for fighting and a couple being drunk and disorderly, both were alcohol related. They were all dealt with accordingly this morning and this afternoon we attended a domestic between a husband and wife, which was sorted out at the scene. What about the Navy and the Air Force, have you been in touch with them?”
“Yes, I spoke with them just before I rang London and the Navy had nothing to report. But some good news from the RAF, a 304 Squadron Wellington from Benbecula fitted with a Leigh Light attacked and sank a U-Boat running on the surface during the early hours of this morning. By all accounts the heading it was on, it was most likely making for the North Atlantic, so that’s one less our merchant ships have to worry about,” Maynard chuckled.
“Aye, that is good news, those devils have sent many a fine ship and their crews to the bottom. I lost my elder brother in the Great War to a German submarine.”
“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that, what branch of the services was he in?”
“Merchant navy, he had just had his twenty-first birthday when their ship was sunk. My father did eventually come to terms with the loss, but my mother, she never really got over the shock of losing him so young.”
“No, I’m sure she didn’t. It was a murderous war, was that one,” Maynard replied softly.
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by Crawford’s phone ringing.
“Excuse me one moment,… Crawford!… And where was this?... Right! Can you have my car brought round to the front entrance right away? Thank you.”
Maynard leaned forward in his seat in anticipation
“The dark green Singer car that was taken from that house in Ardgarten has turned up,” Crawford grinned, walking over to the coat stand. “Shall we go and take a look?”
“Certainly! Where was it found?”
“A couple of miles down the coast. It was covered over with a tarpaulin sheet in a derelict building which was being used to store old farm implements.”
“Who reported it?” Maynard asked, putting on his top coat.
“Nobody! P C Nairn was checking the area in a police car and came across it by chance.”
“Well, thank him for me when you see him, will you, very good work on his part.”
“Aye well, you can thank him yourself if you wish. He is waiting at the scene for us; good man Nairn, he’ll go far in the force, got a keen eye for detail.”
“I’ll definitely do that,” Maynard answered following Crawford to the waiting car.
After leaving the outskirts of Oban they followed the coastal road for a short distance before turning off on to a narrow unused track that took them to where the Singer had been found. Getting out of the police car Maynard was instantly struck by the unspoilt beauty of the area as he looked across the dark restless water to the Island of Kerrera in the distance.
“What a beautiful spot!”
“Aye, it’s a bonny place alright,” Crawford replied as the two men stood side by side to take in the view.
It was the crunching of the gravel behind them that made them both turn around, made by what Maynard could only describe as a youthful looking constable whose smiling face and enthusiastic walk came to a stop in front of them.
“This is Mr Maynard Nairn, he is with the Security Service in London,” Crawford said, as he closely gave the young constable’s appearance the once over.
“Pleased to meet you P C Nairn, and very well done in finding the vehicle.”
“Thank you sir,” he answered a little overwhelmed by what he had just heard. “The vehicle is over here, if you would like to follow me,” he grinned, ushering the two men in the direction he wanted them to take.
Maynard stood and closely studied the car for a few moments. “Have you been inside or touched anything constable, since you found the vehicle?” he asked.
“Ach, no sir. All I have done is remove the tarpaulin sheet that was covering it. I did look through the windows, but there didn’t seem to be anything of any consequence to see, although I did note that the keys were still in the ignition.”
Maynard nodded, acknowledging Nairn’s tenacity as he carefully opened the driver’s door and peered in before slipping in behind the wheel to inspect the vehicle’s interior more thoroughly. The inside of the car was devoid of any clues apart from one. Maynard noted that there was still petrol in the fuel tank, which to his rational way of thinking meant only one thing, it had been concealed here so its occupant was in easy walking distance of the port facilities. Getting out he walked to the rear of the car and opened the boot door. “Well, he found the petrol which gave him the ability to reach the coast easily enough,” he said, holding up the two empty petrol cans.
“So do you think the person who took the vehicle is still in the vicinity sir?” Nairn asked, not fully aware of the seriousness of the situation he was involved in.
Maynard looked first at Crawford then at Nairn. “No, I don’t constable. I think our thief is long gone by now,” he answered, closing the boot door.
*
“Well, it looks like your bird has flown. Most likely he was picked up by a U-Boat along the coast close to where he dumped the car,” Crawford suggested as they made the return journey back to the police station in Oban.
Maynard stroked his chin in silence as he stared at the coastline to his left. “I don’t think so Chief Constable, the coast around here doesn’t lend itself to a submarine pick-up. It would be too easy for a surfaced submarine to be seen. Those murdering sods prefer remote bays away from prying eyes before they show themselves and they also like plenty of open water to be able to manoeuvre in, should they be spotted.”
“So what are you suggesting? That he’s been able to get over to the Outer Islands? If so, how was he able to get through the port authorities undetected? No! I don’t buy that theory, we would have picked him up for sure,” Crawford said sharply, annoyed that a shadow was being cast by Maynard over the way the case had been handled.
Maynard sensed Crawford’s exasperation so decided to try and cool things down between them. “I’m not trying to belittle either the police or port authorities in any way. Bayer is a ruthless and calculated operator, I should know, I have been dogging his tracks all the way up the country, and all the time he seems to be one jump ahead of me. It’s as if he knows what our next move is; it’s also surprising how resolute the man is to get back to Germany. He is definitely a thinker, and plans things very carefully before making his move, so don’t be at all surprised Chief Constable if he has been able to get on-board a boat without being seen.”
“Aye! But how?” Crawford retorted.
“That we may never know, unless we are able to take the man alive, which I think is going to be very unlikely given his nature,” Maynard answered.
“Do you think it’s worth doing another check of the hotels and guesthouses in the area?” Crawford proposed.
&nbs
p; Maynard shook his head. “You can give it a try, but I don’t hold out much hope in that quarter, I think our man is well clear of Oban by now.”
“Well, the police stations on the Outer Islands have all been notified to be on the look-out for anything or anyone that looks a bit suspicious. You’ve got the RAF and the Navy involved, so I don’t see what more y’can do. If you want my honest opinion Mr Maynard I think this Bayer character is on his way back to Germany by now.”
*
Drawing back the bedroom curtains Bayer looked out at the heavy rain being swept in by a strong south westerly wind. Searching the bay he was suddenly taken aback to see the boat he had got his eye on to steal wasn’t there. Cursing quietly to himself so as not to let Stella hear, he washed and dressed, then together they made their way to the dining room which to their surprise they found empty. Occupying the table by the window, they were immediately confronted by a demure waitress who took their order with the minimum of words.
Stella watched the woman leave the room. “God! She’s a ‘barrel of laughs’,” she grinned lifting her eyes.
“Maybe she’s depressed over something,” Bayer suggested.
Stella threw her head back and laughed. “Well, I know a good cure for depression.”
Bayer shook his head as he studied her for a few moments. “Is that all you think about, sex?”
“Is there anything else?” she said giving him a sulky expression.
After breakfast they went into the lounge to allow the non-talkative waitress a chance to clear their table. With a respite in the rain, Bayer saw his chance to take a closer look around the bay to see what other boats and tenders were on offer for what he had in mind when darkness fell later that evening. “Fancy going for a walk?” he asked casually.
“Where had you in mind?” Stella asked frowning, her eyes fixed on the menacing dark grey clouds.
Stracandra Island Page 24