Jack Higgins: Midnight Never Comes

It all looked exactly the same as when they had left it and for a wild moment Chavasse had a strange feeling that nothing had happened in between at all-that time was a circle turning endlessly on itself, getting nowhere, and then von Bayern turned the Beaver into the wind and dropped her down.

He taxied all the way to the poplar trees before cutting the engine and when the propeller had stopped turning, the silence seemed unnatural.

Von Bayern turned with a slight smile. 'Last lap, Paul.'

Chavasse nodded. 'Are you armed?'

Von Bayern's eyebrows went up and he chuckled. 'My God, I was forgetting. I used a rifle back there on Fhada.'

Steiner, who still carried his machine pistol, produced the revolver he had taken from Murdoch on the tower and passed it over.

'If the colonel will permit me?'

'My pleasure.' Von Bayern hefted the revolver in his hands. 'No sense in taking unnecessary risks at this stage. Work your way round the house and come in from the courtyard, Steiner. Mr. Chavasse and I will take this side.'

Steiner was first out through the cabin door and they watched him move along the line of poplar trees and disappear.

'A good man,' Chavasse said.

Von Bayern nodded. 'The best.'

He led the way to the low wall beyond the poplar trees and they looked across to the terrace at the rear of the house. It was still and quiet, the windows like empty eyes and Chavasse noticed a splash of colour towards the far end.

'What's that?' he said.

'God knows. Cover me and I'll take a look.'

Von Bayern ran through a flower bed, keeping to the shelter of a yew hedge, crossed the terrace and crouched against the wall. Chavasse watched him work his way along to that splash of colour. When he reached it, he paused for a long moment, then raised an arm and beckoned.

Ruth Murray stared up at the sky, her face strangely peaceful in death, the red housecoat spread around her, covering her broken body.

Von Bayern's face was grim. 'He is a butcher, this man.'

Chavasse leaned down to touch the cold cheek. 'I'd say she's been dead for seven or eight hours.'

A French window opened farther along the terrace and as they swung, crouching, Hector Munro appeared, Steiner at his back.

'Where did you find him?' Chavasse said.

'In the courtyard beside the body of his son. And I found Benson, the driver you left with Miss Svensson, in the garage.'

'Dead?'

'I'm afraid so.'

Hector Munro looked his age for the first time since Chavasse had known him, lines of anguish notched deeply into his face, great shoulders bowed in grief.

'What happened, Hector?' Chavasse asked quietly.

There were tears in the old man's eyes. 'He killed my son, Mr. Chavasse-he killed Rory.'

'Who did?'

'Stavrou. He killed Rory and he killed the soldier you left here with the girl.'

'What did he do with her?'

'Took her away to Loch Dubh.'

'To the island?'

'That's right. I followed them. When he came back, he was on his own. I kept out of his way, I had to. God help me, if I could only have laid hands on a gun.'

'Where is he now?'

'That devil Donner arrived maybe twenty minutes ago. They had a deal of conversation in some language strange to me and then they left.'

'Did they go to the loch?'

'They took that direction.'

'The old castle on the island I told you about-Stavrou must have left the girl there and returned to wait for Donner. That's where they'll be.'

'But if Donner's feelings for Miss Svensson are as strong as you say, he's hardly likely to harm her,' von Bayern pointed out

'I wish I could be sure of that.' Chavasse shook his head. 'This is the end of the road for him-he must know that by now. Who can say what a desperate man might do in such circumstances?'

'A good point.' Von Bayern nodded. 'Then it seems we must go into action again.'

'You've done enough-all that anyone could expect-this bit is personal.'

Chavasse turned to move away, there was a quick step behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

Von Bayern sighed. 'I am something of a card player, my friend, and there is one inflexible rule which all good gamblers must obey. Never leave a hand half-played. I have no intention of relaxing that rule now, and, as Sergeant-Major Steiner's superior officer, I can assure you that neither has he. Shall we go?'

It was quiet in the deep hollow there between the hills and the heather seemed to flow down into the loch to be swallowed up by those still black waters. Beyond, through the desolate light of gloaming, the mountains were streaked with orange and a small breeze lifted across the hillside, touching them coldly.

They could see the motor boat moored beside the wooden jetty below the castle wall and Chavasse turned and looked along the shore towards the sandbank from which he had fished a thousand years ago.

'The collapsible boat I mentioned should be somewhere under those bushes.'

They went down through the heather to the shore and Steiner pointed suddenly. 'Look there!'

The boat, or what was left of it, lay on the sand, slashed and torn in a dozen places.

'The Munros,' Chavasse said. 'I might have known.'

'A fine evening for a swim.' Von Bayern looked towards the island. 'Two hundred yards-just about my limit.'

He started to unbutton his military tunic. Chavasse pulled his polo sweater over his head, kicked off his shoes and moved down to the water. Steiner followed him in shirt and pants, his machine pistol slung from his neck.

As von Bayern joined them, Chavasse pointed to the other end of the loch. 'See where the river emerges. There's quite a current. If you can get into the stream of it, you'll be swept in to the island with very little effort.'

'I don't think we should all land at the same place,' von Bayern said. 'It may be useful to come in from different directions.'

Chavasse nodded. 'All right. If Steiner comes in from the other side of the island and you land on the northern tip, I'll make for the jetty and see to the motor boat. That way we'll have him for sure.'

There was nothing more to be said and he walked into the water, catching his breath at the stinging coldness, and struck out in a slow, steady breaststroke that sent gentle ripples coursing across the silvery black surface.

He was strangely calm, trapped in a sort of limbo of the mind, the ancient stronghold on its island rising out of the loch before him, dark against the orange sky, mirrored in the water like some castle in a child's fairy tale.

He swam into the shadow of the walls, a foot touching rounded stones and when he turned, von Bayern's head broke the surface a good fifty yards out. There was no sign of Steiner and Chavasse hurried along the shore, keeping to the bushes, and reached the jetty.

The motor boat floated at its mooring, the engine still warm. He unhooked the painter and pushed it out and a small current took hold, pulling it into deep water. He watched it go, then took the revolver from his hip pocket and went up through the bushes to the arched gateway.

The courtyard was a place of shadows, the battlements stark against a sky that had faded to the colour of molten brass. The tower waited for him, dark and still, no sign of life at all and then a stone rattled underfoot and he crouched, the revolver against his thigh.

There was a movement in the shadows on the stone steps and Steiner appeared on the battlements. He paused warily, his machine pistol ready, then moved on.

As Chavasse reached the top of the steps, Steiner hesitated on the ramparts beside the old cannon, silhouetted against the sky and Stavrou stepped out of the shadow of a buttress behind him. In one smooth movement, the great fist rose and fell, catching Steiner on the nape of the neck, knocking him senseless.