Ken McClure - Crisis

‘He was terrified. He said that people were after him and that they would kill him if they caught him.’

‘But why?’

‘He wouldn’t say.’

‘But he’s on the island?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know where he is?’

Shona nodded. ‘He’s hiding on a neighbouring island. It’s uninhabited.’

‘But surely he can’t stay there for ever,’ exclaimed Bannerman. ‘Won’t he be in just as much danger again when he comes off the island?’

‘Lawrence said not. He gave me a parcel to send to the Medical Research Council in London. He said that once they had it, the game would be over and there would be no point in hounding him any more.’

‘A parcel?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he say what was in it?’

Shona shook her head.

‘Describe it.’

Shona indicated a squarish box with her hands. ‘About a foot square I’d say.’

‘And you sent this parcel off?’

‘I took it to the post office in Cairnish.’

‘When?’

‘The nineteenth.’

‘Can I use your phone?’

‘Of course.’

Bannerman called the MRC in London and asked to speak to Milne. He asked about the parcel.

‘It hasn’t arrived,’ said Milne. ‘What was in it?’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Bannerman. He put down the phone and said, ‘It’s had plenty of time to get there.’

‘I’ll check with the post office,’ said Shona.

Bannerman sat down again while Shona called the post office in Cairnish. She began by exchanging pleasantries with someone called Kirstie. ‘If s about the parcel I brought in on the nineteenth,’ said Shona. “The one for London.’

Bannerman watched the expression on Shona’s face change to one of concern. ‘Dr Gill did?’ she exclaimed. ‘But that’s impossible … No, no, nothing wrong Kirstie. I must have misunderstood something. Don’t worry about it. See you soon.’ Shona put down the phone slowly and Bannerman waited with baited breath for her to speak. The post office say that Lawrence came in later that day to recover the parcel. He showed them proper identification and Kirstie returned the parcel to him.’

‘Is that possible?’ asked Bannerman.

Shona shook her head and said, ‘Lawrence went to the island that day and he’s still there. The boat hasn’t come back, so it couldn’t have been him … but whoever asked for the return of the parcel had Lawrence’s ID … How could that happen?’

Bannerman felt sure that Shona was as capable as he of answering that question.

The implications of what they had just learned hung above Bannerman and Shona like a guillotine. Whoever had been after Gill had found him.

‘You know what was in that parcel don’t you?’ said Shona, thinking she could read the look in Bannerman’s eyes.

‘No,’ replied Bannerman, truthfully, but his mind was lingering over the missing brains. Is that what had happened to them? Had Gill tried to send them to the MRC in London? But why? And who had stopped the parcel being collected? And why, again? All of a sudden he felt afraid. The questions were coming thick and fast and he could think of none of the answers.

Bannerman followed Shona down the stone steps leading from the harbour wall to the water. He held the little white boat while she got on board and clambered up to the stern to prime the outboard engine.

‘I hope you’re a decent sailor,’ she said. ‘It might be a bit rough out there.’

‘I’ll do,’ replied Bannerman.

Shona pulled the cord for the fourth time and the engine spluttered into life. She gave it a moment or two to warm up and settle down into an even rhythm, then cast off the securing ropes. Bannerman pushed the boat clear of the side and they were off. Gulls wheeled overhead as they cleared the harbour mouth and headed for the open sea with the boat picking up motion as its bow took the waves head on.

‘I didn’t ask you what you did for a living,’ said Bannerman, raising his voice to be heard above the sound of the engine and the sea.

‘I’m an artist,’ Shona replied, using her free hand to keep her hair from her eyes.

‘An artist?’

‘Why so surprised?’

‘I suppose I assumed you had some connection with medicine or science,’ said Bannerman.

‘Because of Lawrence,’ said Shona. ‘In a way you’re right. I trained as a physiotherapist before chucking it up to go to art college in Dundee. I met Lawrence when we were both working in a hospital there.’

‘And you had an affair.’

That’s what the world would call it,’ said Shona.

‘What would you call it?’

‘We loved each other, but he was married,’ replied Shona.

‘So why didn’t he leave his wife?’

‘Are you married?’ asked Shona.

‘No.’

‘I didn’t think so, somehow,’ said Shona.

‘What does that mean?’

‘Some things aren’t as simple as other people imagine. Lawrence had two small children and a wife who was entirely dependent on him. He simply married the wrong person. Lots of people do and they don’t all rush off to the divorce courts. People like Lawrence grin and bear it; it’s in their nature.’

‘People like Lawrence?’

‘Nice people, but weak. Lawrence wouldn’t have hurt a sparrow let alone another human being.’

‘Who ended the affair?’

‘I did, but we stayed friends. We write once or twice a year and if he needs a soul mate, he calls me.’

Bannerman nodded. He changed the subject. ‘Can you make a living as an artist?’ he asked.

‘Depends what you call a living,’ smiled Shona. ‘I illustrate children’s books and get the odd commission from Mammon. It’s a bit erratic but it allows me to do what I want to do.’

‘Which is?’

‘To live on the island, paint, take the boat out when I want to, feel the wind, see the sky.’

‘Sounds all right,’ said Bannerman.

‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Are you doing what you want to do?’

Bannerman found himself caught unawares at the question. ‘I suppose so,’ he said, ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

‘You should,’ said Shona, steering the boat head on to the shingle beach they were approaching. At the last moment she swung the motor out of the water so that it wouldn’t foul the bottom and waited until the boat had grounded before leaping out into the shallows and pulling on the bow rope. Bannerman got out with a deal less elegance and helped her pull the boat up on to the shore.

‘The cottage is up at the top on the western edge,’ said Shona as they looked up at the cliff towering broodily above them.

The wind, which had been quite strong at ground level, increased as they made their way up the narrow cliff path, and was positively fierce at the top. They kept well away from the edge as they battled up to the cottage to find the back door flapping open and banging against the wall. They entered, discovering the groceries that Gill had brought to the island lying on the floor. They appeared to be untouched. A search of the cottage yielded no signs of Gill or any indication that he had been staying there. Bannerman found some footprints in the grime on the kitchen floor and deduced that more than one person had walked on it recently. ‘I think someone must have been waiting for him when he arrived,’ he said.

‘Maybe they took him back to the mainland,’ suggested Shona.

‘Maybe,’ agreed Bannerman, but the doubt he felt showed in his voice. If Gill had been caught by his pursuers near the top of a cliff … He said that he was going to take a look around outside.

Bannerman crawled up further to the very western edge of the cliff top and looked down. He saw what he had almost expected to see, a man’s broken body lying draped over the rocks below at an unnatural angle because of broken bones. Plumes of spray were breaking over it. Bannerman, who was lying on his stomach, brought his arms round in front of his face and rested his head on them for a moment. There was a hollow feeling in his stomach that he didn’t like at all. He wondered just what he had got himself into.