Ken McClure - Fenton's winter

They had travelled about three miles when Fenton thought that he had caught a glimpse of something metallic off to his left, something in the sand dunes among the maram grass. As he passed the spot he saw that it was Jamieson's Granada, sitting with its lights out. Fenton wondered if Vanney might have seen it too but concluded not for it was still raining heavily and the Mini's side windows would be speckled over. Vanney's view would be confined to the two hemispheres cleared by the wipers.

Another two miles and the Mini's brake lights lit up the night like Christmas candles, making halos of pink rain. Fenton's foot shot to the brake pedal but he stopped himself in time for his own rear brake light would give the game away. Instead he clawed at the front brake lever, full of apprehension as he concentrated on keeping the bike perfectly vertical. The slightest angle on the front wheel in the wet and it would be off like soap in the bath.

Fenton let out his breath as the Honda slowed to walking pace and conceded control to him. Up ahead the Mini was turning off to the right but not on to another road. It was entering what appeared to be the driveway of a big house. Fenton got off the bike and walked across the road to the entrance. 'Helmwood' said the letters etched in the stone pillars. He looked up the drive but there was nothing to be seen but darkness. He listened for a moment but there was just the sound of the sea and the rustle of the conifers over the wall.

Fenton radioed the news to Jamieson who said that he knew the place. "Move on a quarter of a mile. There's a beach track to your left. We'll meet you there."

Fenton got into the back of the Granada and felt the warmth for he had not realised how cold he had been getting standing around. He purred appreciatively.

"Monkton's place," said Jamieson.

Fenton needed more.

"Lord Monkton, ex-minister of state, pillar of the community, power, wealth, influence, just the job for the Cavalier mob.

"Shall we go take a look?" said Kelly.

Fenton detected a note of caution in Kelly's voice and recognised it as the reticence displayed by even the most law abiding in the company of policemen.

"Why not," replied Jamieson. "There's no law of trespass in Scotland."

They got out of the car into the salty night air and made their way up to the road. It had stopped raining but the grass and the trees were heavily pregnant with water and a conifer delivered on Kelly as he brushed against it.

"Ssh!" said Jamieson as Kelly cursed.

Fenton had an advantage over the other two in that he, at least, was dressed for the occasion, immune to the wetness inside his leathers and safe from sand and mud inside his boots. It was he who led the way back to the entrance to Helmwood, flattening a path through the long grass for the others to use.

The sound of an approaching car prompted Jamieson to say, "Down!"

The three men crouched in the grass as a sleek Jaguar saloon slowed and turned into the driveway. They had barely got to their feet when another car arrived. Fenton did not recognise the make but it looked Italian and expensive.

When all seemed quiet they stepped out of the grass and on the tar of Helmwood's drive. "I think we had better stick to the trees," said Jamieson.

"This side," said Fenton, picking the less dense pine woods and smelling the pine resin that made him think briefly of the previous day. But this forest was different, it was hostile. The tall trees waved their branches threateningly against the dark sky as they made their way towards the chinks of light that advertised Helmwood House.

"Must be having a party," whispered Jamieson as they crouched at the edge of the trees and counted the number of cars in the car park. "I'd like to collect some numbers." he said.

Fenton and Kelly waited while Jamieson sprinted across to the car park in a low crouch and disappeared among the gleaming machinery, notebook at the ready. It was ten minutes before he returned, slightly out of breath. "This should keep the computer happy for a bit," he panted.

"What now?" asked Kelly.

"A closer look?" suggested Fenton.

"All right, but let's take it easy," said Jamieson.

"Do you hear music?" Fenton asked the other two as the wind dropped momentarily.

"I keep thinking I do," said Kelly.

"There it is again."

"Must be coming from the other side of the house," said Jamieson. "There are very few lights on this side."

"We could circle round," Fenton suggested.

They sank back into the trees and moved laterally to hug the contour of the pinewood fringe as they made their way towards the back lawn of the house. They could now see that a bank of windows were brightly lit on the first floor and the music seemed to be coming from there.

"What kind of music is that anyway?" asked Kelly.

Fenton shook his head, "Some kind of string instruments maybe."

The size of the windows where the sound was coming from suggested that it was a very large room. "A ballroom?" suggested Kelly.

"A ballroom with a balcony…" added Fenton. He looked at Kelly and said, "I can't see them coming out on the balcony on a night like this can you?"

Kelly took his point and said, "There's a fire escape running up the side of it."

Jamieson pretended that he had not heard but Fenton and Kelly stared at him until he conceded that he had. "All right," he said. "Let's take a look."

Fenton climbed up the fire escape ladder first, Kelly followed and then Jamieson. Fenton got to the top and swung his legs over the stone balustrade. He nestled down in a corner, taking comfort in the fact that there was no danger of them being overheard because the music and laughter coming from within was far too loud. The only problem would be the possibility being seen in the light that flooded out from the tall windows.

The music stopped and the hubbub started to subside. Almost imperceptibly the lights began to dim. "Something's happening," whispered Kelly.

"I wish we could see what," answered Fenton. The lights continued to dim and Fenton decided to risk wriggling out along the base of the balcony to a point just below one of the windows. Kelly bit his lip as he watched him do it then signalled that it was safe for Fenton to raise himself up for there was no one standing near the window.

Fenton raised himself slowly till his eyes were above the level of the sill and his mouth fell open. He was looking at ancient Rome, a palace of the Caesars.

Men clad in togas and sandals reclined on couches to be waited on by slaves bearing wine jugs and trays laden with food. At one end of the room three musicians sat with lyres. At the other centurions in full leather armour guarded tall double doors. Another centurion was standing in the middle of the room and he carried a standard. Fenton thought at first that it was a Roman eagle but then saw that it was not that at all. It was a golden tree, the symbol of the Cavalier Club.

Fenton saw Vanney inside; he was sitting near the musicians and threw back his head to drain his goblet as Fenton watched. It was refilled almost immediately. Fenton crawled back along the balcony to join the others.

"A theme party?" suggested Jamieson.

"It looks too real," Fenton replied. "Everything, the mosaics, the marbles, the clothes, the trappings. They all look real."

Before there was any more time for questions a fanfare sounded from inside and Fenton signalled that they should move out to the windows again. Jamieson joined Fenton at his window; Kelly took the next one along.

"My God," murmured Jamieson.

A large square of rush matting was being spread out on the floor by four men dressed as slaves. When they had finished one of the Romans, a tall distinguished man wearing a purple trimmed toga, raised his arm for silence.