‘Good boy, Taz! Hold him!’ Daniel gasped, but he needn’t have bothered. Taz had no intention of letting go anytime soon. He’d been spoiling for action all evening, and this was way too much fun to give up until he absolutely had to.
The man Taz was pinning down wasn’t enjoying it half so much, dividing his time between crying out in pain and fear, and using some choice language in his entreaties to Daniel to call the dog off.
Daniel rolled over and climbed to his feet, taking off the helmet and walking shakily over to where the German shepherd was detaining his suspect to the accompaniment of some of his choicest canine vocalisations.
‘If I call the dog off, you have to lie still,’ Daniel told the man. ‘If you move, he’ll have you again.’
‘All right, I’ll lie still! Just get the bloody thing off me!’ came the reply, and Daniel was mildly disappointed to discover that it wasn’t Cal that the dog had taken down, but Harrison Allen.
‘Off, Taz!’ he commanded, and the dog reluctantly released his prisoner, backing off a step or two and smacking his chops with an anticipatory relish that said more than words could ever have done.
‘Roll over. Face down. Hands behind your back,’ Daniel told the man. He unclipped Taz’s lead from where he often carried it, across his chest, and tied Allen’s wrists firmly. He then rolled him onto his side and tied the laces of his trekking shoes together before using the loose end of the lead to loop through these, pulled his ankles back towards his hands and secured them there. When he’d finished, Harrison Allen looked like nothing so much as a lassoed and hog-tied calf. Taz was circling him hungrily, willing him to make a move but Daniel’s efforts had been so thorough that he quite clearly wouldn’t be going anywhere until someone released him.
Standing up, Daniel went over to the motorbike, but that, too, wasn’t going anywhere for a bit; its headlight smashed and the clutch lever snapped off. So, it was Shanks’s pony from now on, but from what he could see of the way ahead through the murky evening light, the loss of the bike wasn’t the drawback it might have at first seemed. And at least he knew he wasn’t far behind the two remaining men.
It appeared that the narrow path, which was little more than a sheep track, followed the hedge line for a little further then crested the horizon and disappeared. Daniel could hear the sea now as a distant roar, and had an uneasy suspicion that just over the rise, there might be a drop of some considerable magnitude. Even the thought of it reduced his mind to a quite illogical level of fear.
Taking his phone from his pocket, he found he still had a signal, and thinking that this might not be the case once he descended to sea level, he pulled up Chris’ number and rang her as he started to walk.
‘Dan. Where are you? Are you OK?’
‘Relatively speaking, though the bike will need a few repairs, I’m afraid. It was a good job I put the helmet on, thanks for that. Anyway, I’m not far behind them. Any word from the police yet?’
‘Yeah, finally. They’re sending someone out here. I tried to instil some sense of the urgency of the situation, but I’m not sure whether I succeeded.’
‘Well, if they come this way, they’ll find Harrison Allen trussed up like a turkey and waiting for them.’
‘Oh, well done!’
‘Don’t congratulate me. If it wasn’t for Taz, it would have been me they found, and in a lot worse state. Speak soon.’ He put the phone on silent and returned it to his pocket.
As he crested the rise, the wind whipped at his hair and rippled through his clothing, and the noise of the sea on the rocky shore below became much louder. High above, streamers of cloud flew across a clear sky, intermittently hiding the moon from view, and somewhere off to his left came a regular flash that he guessed was the lighthouse at Foreland Point.
By the light of the moon, Daniel could see that the path dipped sharply and swung along the line of the cliff with steps cut into it, crudely paved in places with pieces of rock. To all appearances, an easy enough way to make the descent; easy enough, that was, except for a sufferer of acrophobia.
To add to Daniel’s unease, someone had hammered two pieces of metal piping into the ground and added a crossbar of wood, on which hung a notice. He didn’t really need to read it to guess what it said, but in the dim light he used his phone to illuminate the lettering and read it, anyway.
DANGER! CLIFF EROSION. PATH UNSAFE.
It seemed an odd place to choose to descend to sea level, as Daniel knew from studying the map that there were many places where the shore could be reached with the minimum of climbing, but it was quite possible that Daniel and Chris’ pursuit had panicked the men into changing their planned route or even taking a wrong turn. Whatever the case, it seemed that they had gone down this path, and if he were not to lose them, he would have to tackle it as well.
Taz had already run down the first few steps and now came back to stand in front of him, waiting for Daniel to make a move, his tail waving gently and his teeth gleaming in the moonlight.
‘It’s all right for you,’ Daniel muttered, and the dog ran round him and came to heel, watching him eagerly.
The steps and path were about eighteen inches wide at the top, and he wondered whether the warning notice was just an obligatory one to dissuade the unwary public or whether it signified a greater, specific risk. Either way, he told himself, if he didn’t attempt the path, he’d not only be letting Chris and Stella down, but also Hana and Tamiko, to say nothing of letting the obnoxious Cal get the better of him.
Hardly aware of having reached the decision, he found himself stepping down the first flight of crudely cut steps, eyes firmly fixed on his feet and not on the vast, beckoning nothingness to the side. Although the poor light couldn’t be said to constitute ideal cliff-walking conditions, it did mean that the full visual horror of the situation was largely hidden from Daniel.
On the fourth step, he was buffeted by Taz impatiently pushing past him and swore, grabbing at the rock beside him. The wind seemed to be getting stronger, whistling around the cliff face and rocking him back on his heels. Way below – he didn’t care to speculate how far – he could see, even though he tried not to look, the pale frothing lines of the surf, endlessly crashing on the shore. The cliff below him wasn’t completely vertical but it might as well have been because the slope was such that none but an idiot would attempt it without a rope. Any careless footfall might land on loose rocks or stones and start a slide it would be impossible to check. The path was the only option.
On down the steps Daniel went, counting each one to focus his mind; to keep it from dwelling on the yawning emptiness beside him. He’d reached twenty-three when the steps turned inwards, following the contours of a giant fissure in the rock and enfolding him in a deceptive feeling of security.
It was sadly temporary. All too soon, the path wound outwards again and appeared to narrow as it rounded the corresponding outcrop on the other side. At this point, there were no helpfully placed slabs to accentuate the path, just a gently shelving rocky surface, scattered with loose stones, which had an uncomfortable tendency to roll underfoot. Several times, Daniel’s foot slipped and he froze, feeling the familiar waves of cold panic rising like a tide and threatening to engulf him.
All at once the sight of a light bobbing ahead of and below him claimed his attention and he paused to get a better look. In his absorbing battle with his own wayward mental processes, Daniel had almost forgotten the reason he was putting himself through the ordeal. The bearers of the light had to be Cal and Dennie Travers. By the look of it, they had gained ground on him, impressive considering they were apparently carrying a canoe of some kind, which must have been catching the wind.
He sensed Taz’s excitement levels rising and had a sharp word with him. The last thing he wanted was the dog racing off down the cliff path and tackling the two men on his own.
Standing still made him aware of the tremors that afflicted his muscles and, setting his jaw, he quickened his pace, forcing
himself to conquer the heart-pounding fear. He had to hurry. Bad enough to have to make the descent; he didn’t want to have gone through the nightmare for nothing.
The dog, perhaps sensing his renewed purpose, forged ahead and then at his command stopped dead, getting in his way.
‘Taz! Keep going, but go steady, OK? Steady!’ Daniel told him. In the semi-darkness he couldn’t tell how far away the two men were, somewhere between twenty and fifty yards, perhaps, but with the combined roar of wind and surf, there was little danger they would hear his voice.
Suddenly, he stumbled as the path became steps once more, and grabbed at the rock beside him. Coarse, desiccated grass came away in his hand with a shower of loose gritty soil and he swayed outwards, his head rushing with an awful spinning sensation. Stubbing the toe of his walking boot on a rock at the side of the path he pitched forward and felt himself falling, all his fears coalescing in that one moment of sheer panic.
Totally off-balance, Daniel missed the path and landed on his side on the slope below it. Immediately he began to slide out of control on the loose stones until one hand found and held a jutting rock, arresting his fall. In breathless terror, he wriggled until he lay face down on the incline and scrabbled with his toes until one of them found a tenuous purchase. For a moment it was all he could do just to remain in that position, his heart thumping so hard he felt it was in real danger of shaking him loose from his precarious situation. All thoughts of the pursuit were forgotten, now it was all about survival.
Tipping his head backwards he looked up and tried to see how far he’d fallen. Not far, it seemed, the rocky ledge the path ran on was only inches above the hand from which practically all his bodyweight was suspended, but it might as well have been ten times as far for all the hope he had of getting back up. He could feel the rough stone pressing against the skin of his torso, his jacket and shirt rucked up by the friction of his unplanned descent. Frantically he ran his free hand over the rock surface, trying to find something – anything – to cling to. For the moment he was supported but the fingers of his right hand were already tiring, and he knew that if he started to slide again, he might well not be so lucky.
Even though the task seemed unachievable, Daniel knew he had no option but to try and climb. No one was going to come and help. He had only minutes at the most before the strength in his hand gave out; he could feel it shaking now, the burning ache in his wrist spreading up his arm. Gingerly, he tried taking a little more weight on his toehold in an attempt to ease the burden on his fingers, but as soon as he did so, the stone under his foot gave way and went bouncing away down the cliff along with a shower of smaller stones.
The sudden added strain on his hand was almost his undoing. He cried out and scrabbled for something solid with his free hand, his face scraping the stones. Again, fortune favoured him as his fingers curled into a wiry tussock of some plant that miraculously stayed firmly rooted.
The wind whistled across the slope, cooling the sweat on his body and face, yet at the same time his left hand felt warm, almost hot. Raising his eyes again, he saw the dark outline of Taz looking down at him and heard his characteristic whine as he tried to understand the strange state of affairs.
Daniel felt a glimmer of hope. ‘Taz, pull!’ he said urgently. ‘Pull!’
The dog looked round, backed up and then came forward again, whining more loudly. Although it was too dark to see his face, Daniel could sense the shepherd’s bewilderment. The command was normally accompanied by the offer of a rope or tug toy to grasp in his jaws, here there was nothing.
‘Taz. Hold it! Pull! Come on, lad, pull!’ Daniel repeated, lamenting the loss of Taz’s lead, which he had left wrapped round Harrison Allen’s worthless hands and feet. The truth was, however, that even if it had still been wearing it across his chest, it was difficult to see how he’d have managed to get at it in his present position.
‘Taz! Pull! Hold it! Pull!’ He put more authority into his voice, sounding almost displeased, and, still whining, Taz came forward and started to scratch at the ground at the edge of the path, showering Daniel with grit, sand and stones.
‘No, Taz! Stop it! Pull, lad! Come on. You can do it! Hold it!’
Finally, when Daniel had almost given up hope, Taz went down on his elbows and reached towards him, mouthing the sleeve of his leather jacket.
‘Good boy!’ Daniel said by way of encouragement, and Taz let go of the sleeve, stood up and barked.
‘No, Taz! Hold it! Pull!’
This time the dog took a firm hold of Daniel’s jacket and started to pull.
Glad he had zipped the jacket against the cooling wind when he got on the bike, Daniel curled his fingers round the cuff to stop the sleeve being pulled off his arm. Lifting his knee he dug his toe in higher up the slope, using the massive pulling power of the dog to fund his upward movement.
Aware that in doing so he was effectively trusting his life to Taz’s sense of duty and the strength of his jaws, he let go of his only definite handhold and reached higher, keeping up his breathless commands to the dog to pull.
However, Taz seemed to understand what he was doing now, and continued to tug vigorously as Daniel scrambled over the rocky edge and onto the path once more. Indeed, he dragged him two or three feet up the incline before Daniel found enough breath to tell him to stop.
His sleeve was released and the next moment Taz was all over him, whining in delight and licking his face, pleased beyond measure that he had worked out what Daniel had wanted. Whether he had an understanding of just what peril his master had been in, Daniel neither knew nor cared. Once again, his canine partner had saved his skin, and he was almost overwhelmed by the powerful mixture of relief, gratitude and love he felt.
A gust of wind buffeted him as he calmed the dog and sat up, and he recalled the purpose of his presence on the cliff path.
How long had his life-and-death drama taken? While happening it had seemed endless but had, in reality, probably played itself out in just a few minutes. If he hurried, he might still be in time to at least hinder Dennie Travers’ getaway.
If he hurried. Even the thought of standing up again filled him with horror, but it had to be done and, facing away from the drop, it was. Taz fawned around him, glad to have order restored, supremely indifferent to the danger.
‘Careful, you crazy animal, you’ll send me over the edge again!’ Daniel chided him. ‘Come on. Take it steady. Let’s go and catch some bad guys.’
Only by concentrating on each individual step, did Daniel accomplish the rest of the descent. He started to count under his breath once more, and when the wind blew the scudding clouds free of the moon on pace sixty-eight he realised that he was within fifteen or twenty feet of the beach, and the worst of his immediate fears dissipated.
The moonlight illuminated a long stretch of gritty sand, littered with rocks and boulders that had fallen from above over the years and centuries gone by. For a moment, Daniel thought the shoreline was empty and his nightmare descent had been for nothing, but then he saw a small light, stationary, quite some way further up the beach.
Wondering why the men had travelled so far along the shore without putting out to sea, he risked a look down at the surf and saw the reason. The jagged rocks that made the beach so difficult to negotiate extended out into the shallows, making the water froth and sending spray high enough for Daniel to taste it on his lips. Any attempt to launch a craft into those seas would be foolhardy in the extreme. It reinforced Daniel’s suspicion that the discovery that they were being followed had panicked Harrison into heading for an unfamiliar stretch of coast.
Even though the path became more uneven and rocky, descending to shore level was a piece of cake after what Daniel had just been through. Rough terrain held no fears now the added element of altitude was removed.
Keeping his eyes on the distant torchlight, he didn’t think it had moved much, if at all, since he had first seen it. Did that mean the men were preparing to take to the sea
?
As he reached the shore, clouds hid the moon once more and Daniel began to hurry as much as he was able in the poor light over the scattered rocks and boulders. Wet with spray and seaweed, they were extremely slippery and some had sharp edges as he found to his cost when he put out a hand to steady himself. It would be very easy to do real damage on these rocks and if he slashed his leg to the bone, he had a strong suspicion it would be no use looking to Cal for first aid.
Worried about Taz’s paws, he glanced across at the dog but he seemed to be coping well, a shadow leaping lightly from boulder to boulder with a surefooted ease that Daniel envied.
After pausing to bind a handkerchief roughly around his hand, he continued. Gradually, the rocks became more scattered and the areas in between big enough to allow him to avoid them altogether. He glanced ahead. He could still see the torchlight, maybe twenty yards distant, held fairly still and pointing slightly downwards.
Something they were doing required a steady light. Daniel could only see the indistinct outlines of the two men and while one appeared to be sitting back against a boulder the other was crouched, concentrating on something by his feet.
While Daniel was still wondering what that could be, something caused the crouching man to look up and in the next moment the beam of the torch swung upwards and caught Daniel full in the face. It wasn’t an especially powerful beam but enough to make him hesitate, throwing up a hand to shield his eyes. Beside him, Taz growled.
‘With me!’ Daniel commanded, just loud enough for the dog to hear, and as he continued to walk forward, Taz kept obediently to heel, but he was watchful and bristling at Daniel’s side.
‘Well. Mr Whelan. I’m glad it’s you,’ the Scotsman said, raising his voice to be heard over the combined sound of the wind and surf. ‘Now I get a chance to settle my account with you.’
Nothing But Lies Page 23