Алистер Маклин - Borrowed Time

‘Who are those men?’ Mike said.

‘The chemists. Some of the cleverest, the brightest and the most cunning. Drawn from around the world, lured by money and attractive working conditions.’ Seaton grinned. ‘It would break some people’s hearts to see all this talent spilt and spattered, lying around like so much chopped liver. But it’s neat. The axe was laid to the root and Arberry’s operation is finished. It took about five minutes, if you’re interested.’ Seaton tilted his head, smiling at Sabrina, raising the sword in a little greeting. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘How do you feel now? That leg healing up nicely?’

‘I’m fine,’ Sabrina said. ‘How … What put you on to Arberry?’

‘You did.’

‘Me?’

‘Your papers. They were in the buggy you left us, in a bag in the back.’ Seaton watched her frown as she tried to remember. ‘It was a confused and delirious time for you, wasn’t it? I guess you didn’t know what you were doing with half your stuff. But I was glad you kept ol’ Hafi’s correspondence.’ The smile dropped away. ‘Tell me something, was it you that killed him?’

Sabrina nodded.

‘You did the world a service.’

‘My reasons were more selfish than that.’

‘He had ambitions to kill me, you know,’ Seaton said. ‘He reckoned I had no right to be here, me being from the USA and all. That’s stupid, of course. A man belongs wherever he can hang on.’

‘How did the papers help you settle on Arberry?’ Mike said.

‘The mention of the Grotto of Moksha being the centre of the new trade in drugs.’ Seaton waved the sword in an arc above his head. ‘This is it. This is the Grotto of Moksha. Ten days ago we picked up a big Indian frightener called Iqbal. He was chasing a runaway. On principle we hate people like that – he made a living out of terrorizing and probably killing his own kind. Anyway, there was something about Iqbal told me we should hang on to him. We did, and after I’d read Hafi’s letters I asked him if he knew anything about the Grotto of Moksha, and he told me. He told me everything.’

‘Why did he do that?’ Mike said.

‘Because he thought I was going to kill him. I did kill him, afterwards. He was a big eater, expensive to run. But before the end he told me all about the work he did, and about his boss, who was none other than Simon Arberry, the saviour of Kashmir.’

Seaton turned and looked at Arberry, who still cringed in the hollow, staring up at him.

‘He doesn’t look anything special now, does he? To hear old Iqbal talk, you’d have thought this was a god. He certainly tried to live like one. The Grotto was the first piece of real estate he bought, and later he built his house and his grounds around it.’

‘Why did he want the Grotto?’ Sabrina said.

‘It came with a built-in trick compartment. Behold …’

Seaton leaned on the big rock beside him. Grunting, he levered its side with his knee and it moved suddenly, jerking over by degrees until it was horizontal. A moment later the wall of glimmering rock behind Seaton folded inward, dividing in two. Behind it was a high rectangular space, a windowless room, fitted with benches, cabinets and laboratory equipment. All the equipment appeared to have been smashed.

‘I made the chemists wreck it before I wrecked them,’ Seaton said. He smiled. ‘I have to tell you something. One of the reasons I let you two go was because I realized you were on the trail of this parasite. You told me that catching these people was part of your brief. So I was going to have you watched and followed. The way it turned out, I didn’t have to take that trouble.’ He jerked his head at Arberry. ‘Will you stay for the final touch?’

‘I can’t let you kill him,’ Mike said.

Seaton seemed to consider that. ‘Let? Let? I think there’s a semantic problem here. You’re in no position to let me or not let me do anything.’

‘He’s got to be taken into custody. The law will deal with him.’

‘You talk like a machine, you know that? No feeling, just a tin heart pumping out procedure.’

‘I’d say you’re the inhuman one,’ Mike said.

‘Semantics again, brother. Let’s cut the crap. Arberry’s history. You can stay and witness his transfer or you can go. Please yourselves.’

Mike nudged Sabrina. She threw herself forward and ran across the uneven floor of the cave, dislodging a couple of bodies as she clambered down to where Arberry lay. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.

‘Come on!’ she yelled. ‘Run!’

Seaton was off balance, as Mike guessed he would be. All the time he was talking he had moved nearer the narrow end of the ledge he stood on. Now he hadn’t the manoeuvring space to turn quickly and get between Sabrina and the stairs. She ran past Mike, dragging the dazed Arberry behind her.

‘Get him outside,’ Mike yelled. He turned to face Seaton.

At the foot of the stairs Sabrina stopped, turned to Arberry and smacked him hard on the face. He jumped back, astonished. She grabbed him again.

‘Now run!’ she shouted. ‘Run or you’ll die!’

It got through. Arberry looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide and terrified. He saw Seaton move towards him and he began running, clinging tight to Sabrina’s hand as he took the stairs two and three at a time.

‘I’m not letting you past,’ Mike told Seaton. He moved until they were facing each other over a five-metre gap.

‘Get out of my way!’ Seaton was panting with the effort of jumping off the ledge and scrambling across the rocky floor. He waved the bloody sword in front of him. ‘One side, or I’ll slice you with this.’

He looked past Mike at the stairs. Arberry and Sabrina were a third of the way to the top.

‘You should never have tangled with me,’ Seaton grunted.

His free hand flashed to his belt and as it came away again something glinted in the air ahead of him. A split second later Mike felt a searing pain in his arm and cried out. A knife was buried for half its length in his shoulder.

The pain was like electricity, raging and disruptive. He couldn’t steady his shuddering. He couldn’t get his fingers round the knife handle.

He heard his own howl of pain and remembered the selfsame noise coming out of Lou Kelly’s throat as they put him on a stretcher in the parking lot behind the ball ground.

He saw Seaton start to run. He was going for the stairs and to do that he had to pass Mike. Mike shut his eyes tight, still hearing that echoing cry, himself and Kelly, both of them victims …

‘Aah!’

Mike roared with agony as he gripped the knife and dragged it out of his shoulder. He brought it up and round, tightening his hold on it, seeing his own blood fly in the air before him. Seaton’s bulk loomed, his feet pounded the rock as he rushed for the stairs.

Mike kept the knife swinging, bringing it down and round, throwing the weight of his body behind it. The blade pointed outward again and met the impact of Seaton’s belly.

He roared and fell sideways, his head striking the rock. Mike stood swaying, watching, the pain like fire in his shoulder. He watched Seaton try to pull the knife out of his stomach, scrabbling at the handle, unable to grip it for the rush of slippery blood.

As Mike watched, the movements became weaker and finally Seaton’s fingers dropped away from the knife. He looked up at Mike as if he might say something, but by the time his mouth opened he was already dead.

The following afternoon Philpott called an informal meeting in the living room at the cabin. Mike, Sabrina and Ram were present. Business was on the agenda but the atmosphere was informal. There were platefuls of Indian finger-food and a jug of chilled white wine.