He watched Drew and Rebecca run swiftly across the lawn, losing sight of them as they disappeared into the rhododendron bushes and the woods. Now he had to locate Henry, somewhere inside the castle, and contact PC Lennie without being discovered. Not for the first time in his life, Dougie thought how much easier it would be if mobile phones worked in the Highlands. Using the phone in the Great Hall might prove a little tricky. If Rebecca had been locked in, the likelihood was that Henry was also.
He decided to start his search in Henry’s upstairs rooms.
***
In a high, darkened window in one of the turrets, somebody else had been observing the departure of Rebecca and Drew.
Through narrowed eyes, Morgan McOwan watched them go into the trees. His lips creased into a thin, humourless line.
It would have been stretching a point to call it a smile. “So, my little plan worked. Now let’s see where they go.”
Grabbing a long, black coat, he swept out into the night.
***
Rebecca and Drew went back along the old stalkers’ path, neither speaking much. They were moving as quickly as they could and the physical effort absorbed all of their concentration and breath. Rebecca looked up at the towering bulk of Ladhar Bheinn, its slopes softened into velvet shadows in the pale moonlight. She was grateful that the moon was out tonight. At least it provided some light to guide them over the rough ground. The batteries in the torches they were both carrying were low and needed to be saved for the tunnel. The mountain had a strange, reassuring presence in the half-light.
The pace Drew was setting was very fast.
“Say if you can’t keep up,” he had laughed, annoyingly, over his shoulder. Rebecca had glared at him.
“Just say when you want to stop dawdling,” she had countered.
Finally, the path rounded a small summit and they found themselves at the top of the ridge at one side of Glen an dubh Lochan, high above the Old Ruin.
“There,” said Drew, pointing down to where the darkened roof and walls of the ruin were lit up by a pool of moonlight at the foot of the glen.
“We’ve made good time. And, careful. Remember McAllum and the painter are around, somewhere. We don’t want to run into them now.”
They began a careful descent of the slope towards the ruin. Although they were some way away, the silence seemed more deafening in the darkness and Rebecca felt as if each crack of a twig was as loud as a gunshot.
When they were within a hundred yards of the ruin, they stopped and crouched down in a small wooded copse. Bathed in the glow of moonlight, the glen seemed somehow closer and smaller. From the outhouse where they had seen the painter working, a light was shining, casting a long yellow beam through the doorway and across the grass. McAllum and Godfrey must still be up and about.
“Make like mice,” whispered Drew and started forward again. The small copse of trees gave them cover right up to the bank at the rear of the outhouses. From here, they slipped round the back of the ruin and clambered over a pile of broken bricks and inside. The damp, musty smell greeted them again.
Rebecca took a cautious look out of a window across to the studio. Through the half-open doorway, she could just make out the back of one of the men, presumably Godfrey, standing at the easel.
They did not appear to have been seen. Tentatively, she clicked her torch on.
“Quickly,” she whispered, indicating the far end of the ruined house with the beam. Together, they made their way along to the black door. Rebecca bent to grasp the rusty bolt, gritting her teeth in case it made too loud a noise. It was still open from their previous visit, so she need not have worried. They both applied all their strength to the door and it slid open with a screech. They stopped instantly, hearts beating faster, listening out for a sign that somebody was coming to investigate.
To their relief, it remained quiet.
Eager to proceed, the two passed through the door and down the narrow staircase into the small room where Rebecca had encountered Siobhan. For a few moments, Rebecca wondered whether they would find her there again but the room was deserted. They put down their torches and grasped the slab over the opening to the tunnel.
Sliding it to one side, a rush of cold, dank air hit them. Without hesitating, Drew hopped over the edge and began to climb down the steps into the tunnel. Rebecca followed.
***
“You let them go off gallivanting about in the middle of the night? Where are they going and why?” Henry McOwan was, as Dougie had feared, incredulous.
“They said it was important, to do with the cave, or something but they wouldn’t tell me why.” Dougie hated lying to Henry but felt it he best option in the circumstances. “I had to let them go, since one of us had to come and find you. Sorry, Henry.”
“Well it’s done now. I just hope they don’t come to any harm – for your sake!” said Henry grimly.
Now was not the time to attempt to explain to him about the legend and Rebecca’s encounters in the mist. Dougie was far from sure that Henry would believe the story anyway. Indeed, he was not even sure he did himself.
“Sorry, boss. They were gone before I could think properly. They’ll be okay, I’m sure. Our Drew may be a bit daft at times, but he’s a good kid and he does know what he’s about out there. And Rebecca has brains enough for the two of them. Look, we have to get to the phone somehow and get hold of Alex Lennie.”
Henry sighed and shook his head.
“We’ll just have to hope you’re right – okay, okay. There’s a phone in the observatory at the top of the north turret. We’ll have to climb out the way you came in and over the roof. The outside door’s never locked. I can’t believe they’ve even found it, let alone bothered to lock it.”
With Henry leading, they went back out onto the balcony. Henry pulled himself up onto a tiny ledge below the battlements. It was just wide enough for his feet and from here he was able to squeeze between two battlements and onto the roof. He sank back against a parapet, panting, unused to the exertion. Seconds later, Dougie’s head appeared through the same gap and he landed on the sloping slate roof alongside Henry.
“Up there,” breathed Henry, pointing up to a small turret at the end of the wall. They followed a narrow walkway around the edge of the roof, just inside the battlements.
The observatory was open as Henry had anticipated. Once inside, Dougie skirted a large telescope and went quickly over to the door to the main passageway. He opened it as quietly as he could and peered outside. The castle seemed to be asleep.
“Quiet as the grave.”
Henry immediately grabbed the receiver of the phone from the table next to the telescope and began to dial a number.
“Is this the same line as downstairs?” asked Dougie. Henry shook his head.
“No fear … Alex? Henry. Listen, there’s no time to lose. What is CID planning for tomorrow? …Alex? Oh … Yes, hello Chief Inspector…” Henry turned and raised his eyebrows at Dougie, who smiled.
Henry listened in silence for some time.
“I see … I understand … Yes, we are all fine. I have been locked in my bedroom on the first floor and my niece is also in her room…” He looked knowingly at Dougie as he said this.
“… I see … the Campbell brothers are both able to move about freely. Dougie is with me now. We are pretty sure the thieves are unaware they are here. We saw their boat go up the loch earlier this evening. We think this is to pick up the artist and another man, together with the final forgeries intended for Rahsaig. They’ll have to go back to Barradale to pick up the rest of the stolen property …. Yes … right … as you say, Chief Inspector. Goodbye.”
Henry replaced the receiver and turned to Dougie, who was now pointing the telescope up the loch and attempting to spot the boat.
“Are they still there?” Henry asked.
“Can’t see a lot. The boat’s some way up the loch. What did the ‘Chief Inspector’ say?”
“He wants us to do nothing
at all, basically, other than keep Morgan and Sibley sweet until the rest of the loot arrives tomorrow. They will post policemen in position around the castle from before dawn to keep an eye out and then make a move later on. There will be speedboats just round the corner in case the gang try to get away by sea and even a helicopter standing by at Mallaig.”
“That’ll frighten the sheep,” murmured Dougie.
“When the whole gang is together, they’ll move in. This is really big. They’ve even got a man from Interpol here to advise them. Apparently, the French police have been on the trail of this for some time. The French mime artists are a little bit more than actors: wanted by most of Europe’s police forces in connection with art fraud and theft.”
“And they’ve all come to our wee corner of the world. I bet Sergeant Gillespie is in heaven,” said Dougie wryly.
“Yes, but they reckoned without my niece Sherlock McOwan and that eedjit brother of yours,” smiled Henry.
“Talking of whom … you’ll notice I didn’t give them – or you – away. I just hope they’ll be back like you say. If not, the whole plan will be blown.”
***
Unaware of Henry’s misgivings, Drew and Rebecca were following the path through the labyrinth of caves under Ladhar Bheinn by torchlight.
“Is the tide on its way in or out?” asked Rebecca, looking at Drew. “I don’t want to get to the end and drown.”
“It should be on its way out,” he replied. “High water was at seven this evening. If you feel water on your feet, though, stop.” Rebecca jabbed him in the darkness.
“What was that?!” This time she grabbed his arm suddenly. They quickly switched off the lights and hunched down, listening intently.
“What did you hear?” whispered Drew hoarsely.
“It sounded like a cough.”
“Let me see if I can get a look,” whispered Drew and clambered up onto a ledge. He disappeared completely.
“Drew!” It was too late for Rebecca to stop him. She grimaced. Why did he always go jumping in without thinking? It was pitch-black, just what did he expect to see?
Rebecca stayed exactly where she was for several minutes, hearing nothing. Her immediate fears subsiding, she rose slowly to her feet and gripped the end of her torch, hesitating whether to turn it on. In the end she decided to risk it.
She shone the beam in front of her, straight into the unblinking face of Morgan.
***
Rahsaig Castle was in near darkness. A shaft of light from under the door to the study cast a dim glow into the Great Hall. Inside, Simon Sibley sat in Henry’s high-backed leather armchair, reading some documents. There was a gentle tap at the door.
“I’ll be away now, then, sir.” The pale countenance of Miss McHarg appeared, her outside coat buttoned up to the neck, despite the fact that it was the middle of summer. Her hair was pulled back into its habitual harsh bun, her expression as frosty as ever.
“Thank you, Miss McHarg. Is everyone turned in?”
“The Laird and Miss Rebecca are locked in their rooms as you ordered and Mister Morgan was upstairs quite early, once the other gentlemen had departed. I have not seen him for a couple of hours, so he has probably turned in.”
“Well tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Not long now, and we’ll be out of your hair.”
“To London is it, you will be going?”
“Best you don’t know, just in case.” Sibley attempted a conspiratorial wink, fingers twiddling the ends of the moustache as was his habit. McHarg appeared to find the result somewhat alarming. “You’ll of course be paid tomorrow. We thank you for your assistance.”
“You are certain the Laird will not know of my involvement?” McHarg’s severe features betrayed evident concern.
“It will be as if we were never here. The only people aware of your help to us are Morgan and myself. And when Henry asks people to believe his story after we have gone, nobody will, since he was, de facto, here all the time. To which you will attest.”
McHarg pursed her lips, inclined her head and departed.
***
“Well I couldn’t find diddly-squat,” said Drew, arriving back at the spot where he had left Rebecca. He stopped and swung his torch around the underground chamber.
A rush of ice-cold air blew his hair across his face.
He suddenly felt he was being watched.
He shivered. His hands began to shake and he clenched his fists tightly.
“Rebecca? Rebecca? Where are you? Don’t mess about. It’s creepy enough down here without an English woman hiding in the darkness as well.”
But the only reply in the dark was the echo of his voice.
CHAPTER 24 – The Oubliette
Rebecca came to in total darkness. She was not aware she had passed out but, since the shock of turning around and finding Morgan, she had no memory of anything.
The coolness of the air and the silence suggested she must still be underground. As she tried to move her feet, she felt a sharp pain and discovered she was restrained by cold iron manacles, locked around her wrists and ankles. She was hunched into a sitting position and felt hard rock against her back and legs. She was chained to the wall, and wondered how long she had been there.
Shuffling her feet beneath her, she tried to stand. She would have succeeded except that as she started to straighten up, her head made abrupt contact with more rock. She uttered a sharp cry of pain.
A distant, muffled sound reached her ear. A low rumble, some way off, seemed to rise and then fall away again in a rushing sound. Listening keenly, she realised it was the sound of waves echoing through the caverns. She must be near the entrance.
A sudden noise much closer to hand caused her to stiffen. Footsteps were ringing on the stony floor. They were coming her way.
A light was shone unexpectedly in her face. She winced, closing her eyes.
“So you are awake then, Rebecca?” Morgan’s chilly tones.
“Good. I want you to be aware of what will happen to you. It is always important to let people know what plans you have for them, I think. You are sitting in what is called the oubliette, from the French oublier, to forget. It is a very simple concept. I put you inside, roll the stone over the entrance, and you are forgotten.”
Rebecca gasped.
“It was a favourite device in olden times to dispense with unwanted enemies and criminals. They had a talent for these things then. Such a shame that their artistry is now neglected. Nowadays, we are much too, shall we say, civilised. You have probably already heard the sea outside. In a few more hours, the tide will rush into this chamber and fill it. And then, you will drown.”
“Why?” shouted Rebecca. She was surprised at her own reaction. She was not scared so much as angry.
“Why not just tie me up until you have got away with your paintings?”
“Ha! These little paintings of Sibley’s aren’t important. If I was merely worried about being caught, I wouldn’t go to all this trouble with you, now would I? No, this is about much more than that. But then … you know that, don’t you?”
There was a long pause.
As she looked into his eyes again, a vivid image of Becca flashed into her mind, pleading desperately in her last moments on the cliff-top all those years ago.
She felt a very odd sensation.
“You’re Lachlan!” screamed Rebecca. “You are Lachlan McOwan … aren’t you?!”
He did not answer. The torch snapped off. Rebecca heard the rock grating into place and then the sound of laughter. She beat the soles of her feet against the rock with all her might but it would not budge. She could get her hand into a gap between it and the wall of the cavern but to no avail. The chains prevented her bringing any strength to bear. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine the water was starting to sweep into the cavern.
Somebody will come, she told herself. The alternative was too dreadful to contemplate.
Half in fear, half in anger, she yelled for help as loud
and long as she could.
***
Drew was in a quandary. Rebecca seemed to have disappeared into thin air.
He had walked right to the end of the cave, poked his head outside into the moonlight but had not found a trace of her.
Barradale Castle and the causeway were bathed in silvery moonlight. The night sky was lit up by a myriad of stars. Barely a ripple disturbed the tranquillity of Loch Hourn. It would have been completely still but for the turning of the waves at the edge of the shore.
No lights showed from the castle. Drew wondered whether his French jailer was still locked in the tower. He was not about to go and find out.
Where could Rebecca have gone? She was not the sort to play tricks.
Drew was concerned. He sat down on a rock. He could retrace their steps through the tunnel to the Ruin to see if she had gone back. She could have fallen and injured herself but surely he would have heard her or stumbled upon her? He had not heard a sound.
It was too far to Rahsaig to seek the help of Henry and Dougie. By the time he arrived, Sibley and his cronies would be awake and discover Rebecca was not there.
Somehow he had to warn the others. He could go to the Mountain Rescue station and raise the alarm with the police. Ringing the castle was too dangerous, for Sibley might answer. He knew Henry had a private line but did not know the number.
On balance, the police seemed his only option.
***
Rebecca could hear the sounds of somebody moving in the cave. She beat her feet against the rock again and cried out.
“Help! Help me, please! Drew? Is that you? Please, help me!”
The sound came closer. She could hear a man’s voice, calling. He seemed to be pleading. The voice was getting closer and becoming more frantic. In a few more seconds she sensed whoever it was to be the other side of the rock blocking her in. She was about to cry out again when she heard something infinitely more frightening.
A sudden, ferocious snarling echoed off the walls all around the cavern. The pleas turned to screams of terror and then of pain. Rebecca shrank back, pressing herself as far away as possible. Somebody was clearly being attacked by what sounded like a wild beast.
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