Voice in the Mist

by Nigel Cubbage

  “What?!” gasped Rebecca, with a mixture of disbelief and incredulity on her face. Drew’s face registered similar emotions. He tried to stand up to look, only to be dragged firmly back down by his brother.

  “I haven’t seen anyone – are you sure? Where?” said Drew, still trying to look past his brother. Dougie remained calm and unperturbed under their indignant stares.

  “They are level with us. I don’t think they’ve seen us yet.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Drew. “That’ll blow it completely if they do.”

  “Why? We’re just a few kids out camping as far as they are concerned. I spotted them a couple of hours ago, when I was fishing.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” asked Rebecca, somewhat put out by this revelation.

  “You two would probably have gone gallivanting off and blown our cover,” replied Dougie, in what to Drew and Rebecca was an irritatingly patronising manner.

  “We haven’t done so badly up to now, actually,” said Drew, in what he intended to be a tone of withering sarcasm. He and Rebecca exchanged a quick nod of satisfaction before turning accusing gazes on Dougie.

  “Sorry – didn’t mean to act the big brother there. You haven’t done badly at all, I am the first to agree. Just thought it was for the best – if they’d seen you two, they might have recognised one of you. Me, they won’t know from Adam.”

  Rebecca and Drew had to admit to the logic of this. They crouched down and followed Dougie’s silent gesture towards the far bank. Two figures were just visible, making their way along the rough path below the trees where Rebecca and Drew had collected firewood. They did not give the impression of minding whether or not they were being observed, and were talking quite loudly. Dougie motioned for Rebecca and Drew to keep low and follow him, as he crept slowly forward. In moments, they had gained the comparative safety of a small hillock, from where they could see a long way up the glen.

  “Do they look like our men?” Drew’s voice was low next to Rebecca.

  “I can’t really tell. They could be, or they could just be two people out for a walk.”

  “Bit late for that,” whispered Dougie. “If it is them, we don’t want to stumble on them in the morning. We can watch from here to see where they go.”

  They lay low until the gathering gloom and distance travelled by the men made it impossible to see them any more.

  “I don’t think they’ll return but we’d best keep watch tonight, just in case. Drew, you take first watch and wake me in …” he paused for a second to examine his watch “…two hours. Go on, Rebecca, you turn in.”

  “In a few minutes. I want to sit down and look at this sky for a while – it’s unbelievable.”

  Rebecca pointed up. “I’ve never seen so many stars.”

  “Aye,” said Drew. “No big city haze to obscure it, that’s why it’s so clear. Kind of makes you feel small and not very important, doesn’t it? My Grandda says that when you look at a star, the light you are seeing actually left there thousands of years ago. Can’t get my head round that one. I don’t want you thinking it’s always like this though … it’s sometimes cloudy, would you believe?”

  The three of them lay on the ground gazing at the canopy of stars. Rebecca was awestruck by the sheer breadth of the sky. It took some time to be able to pick out the constellations, such as the Plough, with which she was familiar and had seen at home, since every inch seemed to be covered in stars.

  “You can see some of the planets with the naked eye on a night like this. They look like stars, too, but that –” Dougie pointed to a yellowish light lower in the sky towards the horizon, “– that, I think, is Mars.”

  Rebecca followed the line of his arm.

  “Mars is good but wait till you see the Northern Lights, Rebecca,” said Drew. “Now that is really awesome, as the Yanks say.”

  “Northern Lights? What are they?”

  “Sort of when the whole sky lights up in all the colours of the rainbow and glows and flashes at you. Some form of atmospheric, cosmic occurrence – I don’t really know or understand but it looks pretty.”

  “Will we see that?”

  “If we’re lucky.”

  ***

  A man was running, frenziedly, through the heather.

  Exhausted, he stumbled every few paces and scrambled back to his feet, terror etched into his eyes and face. He cast fearful glances over his shoulder.

  Moments later, a huge wolf leapt over a rocky outcrop twenty metres or so behind him, fangs bared and its eyes ablaze. The man cried out and stumbled backwards, putting up his hands to try and keep the animal at bay. The wolf stopped, cornering him. It uttered a low snarl, filling its nostrils with the scent of its quarry. Quaking in fear, the man edged back, his desperate eyes never leaving the wolf.

  With a blood-curdling howl, the wolf leapt at the man, its huge front paws slicing through his shirt and into his chest. Screaming in pain, the force of the attack knocked the man over. Turning his head to take a look behind him, the awful realisation dawned that he was now at the very edge of a cliff, high above the sea.

  The wolf’s attack was too powerful for him.

  In the next instant, he plunged over the precipice onto the rocks below and was lost in the pounding sea. As his dying scream faded on the breeze, the wolf remained at the top of the cliff, panting gently, its white eyes staring down impassively.

  Rebecca woke up with a cry, clutching her heart, her breath coming in short sharp gasps. It took her a few seconds to realise that she was in her tent and it had been a dream.

  She was just dropping off to sleep again when she heard a distant, forlorn howl from somewhere up in the hills.

  CHAPTER 16 – The Old Ruin

  As the first shafts of sunlight glinted over the mountains, the campers were up and about. Early morning mist hung low over the glen, brushing the pine trees. Rebecca was struck once more by the silence and grandeur of the Highlands. As she packed her tent and sleeping bag, she looked at her watch and saw it was not yet seven. She yawned.

  From over by the fire wafted a glorious smell of bacon frying.

  “Drew has his uses,” said Dougie, appearing at her shoulder and attaching her tent to his backpack, nodding towards his brother, busy with a frying pan over the fire.

  “Have you seen the deer?” He pointed towards the slope above the wood. Narrowing her eyes, Rebecca made out at least a dozen does about a hundred yards away. Their coats were very effective camouflage.

  “See how the stag stands a way off from his does?” Dougie pointed to where a large deer stood proudly aloof, a magnificent set of antlers on his head.

  “Typical male! So stand-offish!” said Rebecca drily.

  “If he makes a move, they’ll all follow him.”

  “Typical females!” called Drew, chirpily.

  “Aren’t they worried we’re this close?” asked Rebecca. “People shoot them, don’t they?”

  “Aye they do,” answered Dougie. “Deerstalking, they call it, not to be confused with sad hats worn by style criminals. Sport, in inverted commas, for the rich. It’s good sense to manage the numbers to preserve the natural habitat and the ecological balance. Whether it’s humane to kill them rather than simply move them somewhere else – well, wiser folks than me can argue that one.” He paused and studied the deer.

  “You must have an opinion, though?” asked Rebecca. “I know I do.”

  “Aye, so do I,” he answered, before giving her a smile. “But why should our opinions be anybody else’s business?”

  Rebecca was wrong-footed by this.

  “Are you calling me a busybody?” she smiled, eventually.

  Dougie smiled, his attention now back on the deer.

  “They’ll only worry if we make a move in their direction, if they catch our scent. Ah!” He stopped abruptly as the stag took a few sudden, quick paces.

  “Something’s disturbed them. Probably got a whiff of chef burning the bacon.”

 
As they watched, the stag launched into a canter up the slope, followed immediately by the does, and disappeared over a small rise.

  A few minutes later, the three were hunched around the fire once more, enjoying a bacon sandwich and the peaceful early morning in the Glen. After breakfast, they washed the pans in the burn, gathered their packs and set off along the rough track to the Old Ruin.

  “Any sign of the people we saw last night?” asked Rebecca, scanning the undulating land ahead. Dougie shook his head.

  “Long gone by now, I expect. They might have made the Ruin by nightfall, although they would have had to crack on some.”

  ***

  After several hours walking up the glen, Dougie led them off the path into some trees. They were just a little way short of the Old Ruin, nestling in a dip up ahead. They climbed higher, to give themselves a clear view of the house and anybody who might be about. Motioning to the others to be silent, Dougie crept forward to a stone wall at the edge of the trees, from where it came into view below them. They squatted down and peered cautiously over the top.

  The Old Ruin was an austere, spooky place, uninhabited for many years. Jagged holes riddled the roof and the walls. Fractured, blackened timbers protruded, covered with moss and grass. No glass remained in the windows, which now formed blackened holes in the granite walls. Several sheds and outbuildings still stood nearby but everywhere appeared long since deserted.

  “When was the fire here?” Rebecca asked.

  “1929,” said Drew, “destroyed just about everything. Two people died as well. They never repaired it. Nobody has tried to live here since.”

  “I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t like to do the walk every day.”

  Dougie grinned.

  “Quite a way, although in olden times they had the likes of the Campbell forefathers to carry everything for them. Same thing today – me and Drew carrying your luggage.”

  Rebecca smiled broadly.

  “Just keep tugging those forelocks to me.”

  “Stay here until I call you down,” said Dougie, getting to his feet, a note of authority entering his voice. Before Drew or Rebecca could protest, he made his way nimbly down towards the house, keeping to the trees for cover. He disappeared from view.

  “Guess we’d better do as he says,” said Drew, resignedly. “He’ll only get stroppy.”

  “Brown-nose!” taunted Rebecca. “Hold on – I saw something! In one of the downstairs windows – there, look!”

  A piece of cloth had suddenly appeared waving out of a window space just along from the front door. She grabbed Drew’s arm as a man’s head appeared after it.

  “It’s him, I’m sure!” she whispered. “It’s the man I saw breaking into the castle! Come on, we’d better warn Dougie.”

  They were on their feet in a second and heading down through the trees as quickly as they could, trying not very successfully to avoid making noise that would alert attention. As they neared the bottom, they saw Dougie crouched behind the wall, scowling at them. He gestured to them to keep low.

  “I thought I told you to stay put!” he hissed.

  “I know but there’s a man –”

  “I know there’s a man! I’ve been watching him and now he’s probably seen us too, with you two crashing through the trees like elephants.” Dougie quickly turned back. To their relief, the man seemed not to have noticed and was looking in a different direction. After a moment, he disappeared.

  “What do we do now?” whispered Drew.

  “You do absolutely nothing! We all stay put here until we know what’s going on.” Dougie’s eyes did not leave the house. Two men appeared by the door to one of the outbuildings. One of them was the man Rebecca had recognised. As they watched, a third man appeared in the doorway. After a brief exchange, all three disappeared inside.

  “We’ve got to find out what’s going on,” whispered Drew imploringly. Dougie gave him a look but his brother persisted.

  “Look, we can go round the back and listen at a window but we have to find out what they are up to. Come on Doug, you know we do.”

  Rebecca and Drew both looked pleadingly at Dougie, who grimaced and then closed his eyes in apparent resignation.

  “Okay,” he said, “but – before you pair get carried away and get us all tied up and thrown in the loch – you don’t make a noise and you stick right on my tail, clear? Step out of line and …” His expression left neither in any doubt of the consequences.

  Slowly, silently, they crept over the wall, down the slope and circled behind the building. There was a bank which ran at the same level as a row of high windows. They scrambled quickly up it and Dougie edged along on his stomach, peering cautiously into each window until, all at once, he stopped and flattened himself on the ground. Slowly, he swung round until he was facing the other two, and gestured them to take a look. They could hear the sound of voices drifting up through the window below. Together, the three of them looked cautiously through the window.

  The room, the roof of which was still intact, had clearly been inhabited very recently. Two of the men were on a bench by the door, talking, while the third stood at an easel, painting. There was a sleeping bag in the corner and some food. The room resembled an artist’s studio, with pots of paints, canvases and brushes strewn over wooden tables and boxes. Rebecca nudged Drew and pointed at a pile of rubber divers’ bags. As they watched, one of the men by the door turned and spoke to the artist. His voice was heavy with a thick French accent.

  “Are you ready to come with us then, Godfrey? Monsieur Sibley wants to go through the plan before he goes back to Rahsaig. And we’ve got to get the ones you’ve finished to the cave, so you can help us carry.”

  The artist gestured agitatedly with his brush. “Tell him I will lose a day I cannot afford if I am to get everything finished in time.”

  “You can tell him yourself – come on.” The two men each grabbed packages which evidently contained paintings. The other sighed loudly.

  “I don’t like this work, copying other artists. I can do original stuff, you know.”

  His companions ignored him and made their way outside. With a melodramatic sigh, the forger put down his brushes, slipped on his coat and followed them.

  Dougie lifted his head to watch them go, careful to make no sudden movement that might attract attention. He motioned to Rebecca and Drew to remain still. He did not move for several minutes. At length, satisfied the men were not coming back, he got to his feet.

  “Right, let’s take a look around.”

  Inside the room, Rebecca and Drew confirmed their suspicions. A half-completed painting rested on the easel, at which the man had been working. On it was clipped a photograph of a picture which he was evidently copying.

  “Wait, I recognise some of these.”

  Drew had found some other photos.

  “These are at Rahsaig, the ones Becca painted – look.”

  The three of them huddled round as Drew leafed through them. Rebecca nodded.

  “No doubt about it. This confirms their modus operandi, as Inspector Morse would say. Sibley visits each place and has a nose around, selecting the paintings. He photographs them, or his henchmen break in, photograph them and bring the photos back here to be copied. When the forgery is done, the thieves break in again and swap it with the original. That way, nobody realises a crime has been committed. Meanwhile, Sibley sends the real ones down to his London shop and sells them abroad for a fortune. They must mean to break in to Rahsaig again to steal these others. I knew Becca’s paintings were valuable and this proves it!”

  “There’s something else we know,” said Drew. “They are off to the cave, where the stuff is being stashed –”

  “Okay, Sergeant Lewis,” said Dougie, drily.

  “As I was saying,” continued Drew, with a glance of contempt at his brother,

  “those men are away to the cave. We thought it was on Shadow Island or somewhere around Rahsaig … they went that way, up the glen.”
/>
  He pointed.

  “The cave has to be on the Barradale side.”

  “Doesn’t that mean the cave where the Princess is buried isn’t where everyone thinks it is?” Rebecca looked sceptical.

  “But nobody has ever really known where it is – it’s always been guesswork. Great for the legend and the tourists. Those stones on the island could be anyone’s grave. If we want to find out where it really is, we have to follow them. Come on!”

  “Hold on!” said Dougie. “If you think we’re all racing off in hot pursuit, think again.

  I’ll be much quicker on my own and a lot safer.”

  He held up his hands to stem the instant howls of protest.

  “I promised Henry to keep you two out of trouble. All we need to do is locate this place and then leave it up to the police to sort out. We’re not going in there like James Bond to fight the bad guys. It’s only a few hours over the top to Barradale. You two will stay here – and I mean stay – I’ll find out where they go and be back. Then we will all go back to Rahsaig and put this in the hands of the police. Agreed?”

  Rebecca looked sullenly at Drew, whose face fell then quickly brightened again.

  “You’re right, bruv.” Drew winked quickly at Rebecca, out of sight of Dougie. The elder Campbell looked sceptical, before his expression relaxed. He jumped to his feet.

  “If I’m going to catch up, I’d better crack on.” He gave his brother one last studied look.

  “Take the tents. You can put them up, in case I’m not back before dark. There’s a good spot back up in the trees there, out of sight. By a ruined cottage – you’ll see it.”

  Dougie looked at his watch.

  “They’ve got fifteen minutes start.”

  “Nothing to a man of your physique,” said Drew, smiling facetiously at his brother.

  “Besides, they don’t know this country like you.”

  Dougie hovered in the doorway while Drew and Rebecca both smiled at him. Then he was gone. Drew went to the door and watched him disappear up the glen.