The Lethal Target (6 page)

‘Tourists interested in archaeology,’ pointed out Lauren. ‘Anyway, I thought we’d just give it a glance today, and go and check out the cottage where the Russians are staying.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Jake.

Actually, he was happy to agree with anything that Lauren suggested. All right, they were here on a mission: to find the book. Or, to stop the Russians finding it. But the main thing for Jake was that they were together. Not stuttering images on a Skype window, or disembodied voices echoing down a telephone line, but holding hands, touching, looking at each other in the face and smiling and being close to one another.

They walked along the track that took them past the Russians’ site, slowing down as they passed to see what was going on, whether there was any sense of excitement about the people working; but it was all as it had been the previous day: people digging, others in holes, using small trowels and brushes to scrape away earth, and the tall figure of Professor Lemski moving around, overseeing operations.

They followed the path for about another half a mile and reached a cliff top overlooking the loch. Here, the path separated, going in both directions along the edge. The path to the right would take them past a cottage and a few outbuildings.

‘That’s where the Russians are staying,’ murmured Lauren.

‘Then I think a stroll along the cliff path in that direction is what we need,’ said Jake.

They set off. A low wire fence ran along the edge of the path, keeping people away from the cliff. The cottage where the Russian party was staying seemed quiet, but as they neared it Jake could make out people in the courtyard at the back of the cottage, and in some of the outbuildings. They looked up as Jake and Lauren walked by, and although he and she both smiled and waved at them, they gave no greeting back; just watched the pair suspiciously.

A movement on the marsh about a quarter of a mile inland suddenly caught Jake’s eye.

‘See that?’ he said, stopping and looking.

‘Keep moving,’ urged Lauren. ‘We don’t want them to get suspicious.’

‘They’re already suspicious,’ said Jake. ‘Just look at the expressions on their faces. It’s like they’re expecting us to break in.’

‘That’s understandable,’ said Lauren. ‘After all, that’s what we plan to do if they find it.’

‘True,’ admitted Jake.

They walked on, past the cottage and the outbuildings, until they rounded a bend and were out of sight.

‘OK, we can stop now,’ said Lauren. ‘What did you see?’

‘It looked like our friend Mr Ian Muir,’ said Jake. ‘I’m sure it was him heading across the marsh, away from the Russians’ cottage.’

‘And yesterday he was sneaking away from the dig,’ added Lauren.

Jake stepped towards the fence and the cliff edge. He looked down towards the shore, looking out for the otters that Lauren had talked about, hoping to see them in the water. Instead, he saw something else that made him jerk back, alarmed.

‘What’s up?’ asked Lauren.

‘There’s someone down there,’ said Jake. ‘And they look like they’re hurt.’

Lauren went to the edge and peered down. A man was lying face down on the rocks below, arms spread out. He was wearing an old overcoat and rubber boots, and he wasn’t moving.

‘Which is the quickest way down from here?’ asked Jake.

‘This way,’ said Lauren. She was already heading towards a gap in some bushes. Jake hurried after her, and they half climbed, half stumbled down a steep and rocky path that twisted and turned down the cliff. They reached the shore. On this side of the headland the beach was rocky rather than sand and shingle, and they hurried over the rocks towards the prone man, slipping as they went. As they got near him they saw the blood on the back of his skull. Jake felt a lurch of recognition as they got closer; the coat looked like the one Dougie MacClain had been wearing when they’d met him with Robbie the previous day.

They reached the man. His head was turned to one side. His eyes and mouth were open. It was Dougie MacClain all right, with blood matting his hair, and the flash of bone where his smashed skull was visible through the mess. Even before they tested for a pulse, they knew it was no good. He was dead.

Chapter 10

It’s odd, thought Jake. Everything here on the island either happens at once, or it takes for ever. Lauren got a signal on her mobile and phoned the MacClains at the guest house and told them there had been a serious accident involving Dougie MacClain. She stressed that it was very serious, and advised against allowing either Robbie or Rona to come.

Despite her appeal, within minutes, Alec MacClain and Robbie had arrived in a battered old Land Rover. They hurried to the body of Dougie, and the despair was evident on their faces as they looked at him. Robbie, especially, was deathly white. Desperately, Alec searched for any sign of life, feeling for pulses on Dougie’s neck and wrists, leaning close to check for any hint of breath; but it was all too obvious that life had gone.

Shortly afterwards, a search and rescue helicopter was seen approaching, and it settled down on the shore. Paramedics jumped out and rushed to Dougie, but the sense of urgent action faded as they realised he was dead. They took Dougie’s body to the helicopter, muttered a few words to Alec, and then flew off.

The arrival of the police took a little longer. Alec told Lauren and Jake that a uniformed constable was on his way from the local station at Craignure. More police would be coming over from Oban by boat, but they would be delayed until the tide was high enough for them to be able to land.

Jake and Lauren climbed into the cab of the Land Rover, next to Alec, while Robbie climbed into the open back, and they headed back to the guest house.

As the Land Rover drew to a halt at the back of the guest house, Jeannie and Rona came hurrying out. Both had obviously been crying. Jeannie and Rona threw themselves into Alec’s arms, and he hugged them to him. Robbie stayed in the back of the vehicle, his face white and shocked.

‘We need to give them some space,’ whispered Lauren.

Jake nodded, and they went up to their room.

‘What do you think?’ asked Jake once they were inside their own room. ‘An accident, or was he killed?’

‘Who would want to kill him?’ asked Lauren.

‘Where the books are involved, people are always dying,’ said Jake. ‘You and I both thought he may have been a Watcher. The Watchers’ job is to protect the books, stop them being discovered. Maybe he tried to stop this book being found, and was killed.’

‘The Russians?’

Jake shrugged.

‘Right now, I can’t think of anyone else,’ he said. ‘They’re the ones looking for the book.’

‘What about Muir?’ asked Lauren. ‘We saw him acting suspiciously in that area.’

‘Maybe,’ agreed Jake. ‘But what reason would he have for killing Dougie?’

‘The book,’ said Lauren. ‘It’s always about the books.’

A sergeant and a constable arrived by boat from the mainland an hour and a half after Dougie’s body had been flown away. They joined the local constable from Craignure in the lounge of the guest house, which had been set up as the base for their investigation. The first people they wanted to talk to were Jake and Lauren.

‘We’ll see you one at a time, if you don’t mind,’ the sergeant told them. He nodded at Jake. ‘We’ll start with you first, sir.’

They want to question us separately and see if our stories match up, Jake thought.

Jake told the sergeant and the constable what he’d seen. Not that there was much to say, just that they’d been walking along the cliff and they’d spotted the body of Dougie MacClain lying at the bottom of it. There then followed questions about Jake himself. Why had he come to Mull? Jake and Lauren had already rehearsed their answers should these kind of questions come up: they were old friends meeting up on Mull for a holiday, once ‘Helen Cooper’ had decided to come to England from her home in New Zealand.

‘What were you doing when you found Mr MacClain’s body?’

‘Just walking. Exploring the island.’

‘Did you see anyone else in the area?’

‘Not on the shore,’ said Jake. ‘The Russians were in their enclosure, doing their dig, at the top of the cliff.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘The American who’s staying here,’ said Jake. ‘Mr Muir. We saw him.’

‘On the shore?’

‘No,’ said Jake. ‘I just said, we didn’t see anyone else on the shore.’

‘So where did you see Mr Muir?’

‘Near the cottage where the Russians are staying.’

The sergeant looked at him quizzically.

‘How come you know the Russians are staying there, sir?’ he said. ‘Do you have an interest in these Russians?’

Jake shook his head.

‘It’s a small island,’ he said. ‘Everyone seems to know who everyone else is. I thought it was easier than saying “In the cottage with the green door near the cliff edge”. That could mean a lot of different cottages.’

The sergeant studied Jake thoughtfully.

‘How do you know that cottage has got a green door, sir?’ he asked. ‘Have you been keeping a special eye on it?’

‘I don’t,’ said Jake. ‘I just said “green” to give you an example of what I meant. For all I know the door’s red or yellow.’ He frowned. ‘Out of curiosity, what colour is the door?’

‘Green, sir,’ said the sergeant.

Jake smiled.

‘Lucky guess,’ he said.

The sergeant didn’t smile back. Inwardly, Jake kicked himself. I’ve made him suspicious about what we’re doing here, he thought. Let’s hope they don’t start digging too deeply into ‘Helen Cooper’.

The interview carried on, mostly going over the same ground. He’s asking me the same questions in a different way, seeing if I trip myself up, thought Jake. Luckily, Jake could repeat the fact about their discovery of Dougie McLain’s body over and over again without a problem. He just told the sergeant what they’d seen, and what they’d done. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the sergeant said: ‘Thank you sir. That’ll be all for the moment.’

‘Fine,’ said Jake. ‘I’ll go and get . . .’ He was about to say ‘Lauren’, when he stopped himself just in time, and said, ‘Miss Cooper for you.’

‘No need,’ said the sergeant. ‘The constable will tell her we’re ready for her.’

In other words, they don’t want us talking together before they get a chance to question her as well, thought Jake. They’re still set on checking if our stories match up.

Jake left the lounge and strolled towards the back door of the guest house. In the small back garden there was a seat he could relax in without bumping into people like Muir, or Mr and Mrs Gordon. As he neared the open back door, he could hear angry voices just outside. Rona and Robbie.

‘We know who did it!’ he heard Rona say, blazing fury in her voice.

‘We have to let the police do their job,’ Robbie cautioned her.

Suddenly Jake felt an overpowering urge to talk to them, sweep away the pretence and tell them he knew what this was all about. He was sure they must know that Dougie MacClain had been a Watcher, and that was why he had been killed: because he had been trying to protect the hidden book. If that was the case, then Jake and Lauren would need the knowledge these kids were sure to have if they were to stop the Russians, and get the book for themselves. He took a deep breath, then stepped outside, into the paved area at the back of the house. Rona and Robbie were sitting on upturned crates, and they looked at him suspiciously. He could see that Rona had been crying.

‘I’m so sorry about what happened to your uncle,’ said Jake.

‘He didn’t fall!’ burst out Rona angrily.

‘Ssh, Rona,’ said Robbie warningly.

‘He didn’t!’ insisted Rona, and Jake could see the tears still shining angrily in her eyes. ‘He knew every inch of those cliffs. He was pushed!’

‘Rona!’ snapped Robbie, firmer this time, and he shot an angry warning look at Jake.

‘I understand,’ Jake nodded sympathetically. And then he added in a quiet voice: ‘He was a Watcher, wasn’t he?’

For a split second both Robbie and Rona gaped at him, shock clearly shown on their faces. And then Robbie stood up, his face grim and hard.

‘Are you saying he was some kind of peeping Tom?’ he demanded angrily. And he advanced towards Jake, his fists clenched.

‘I’m talking about the hidden books of Malichea,’ said Jake softly.

Robbie stopped, and now he looked bewildered. Then he recovered himself.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he muttered gruffly.

‘But your sister does,’ said Jake gently, turning towards Rona.

‘You leave her alone!’ shouted Robbie, and this time his fists came up, ready to throw a punch at Jake.

‘You can attack me, but it doesn’t alter the fact that your uncle was a Watcher whose job was to protect the book that’s hidden here and stop it being dug up. My guess is, he tried to stop it in some way, and someone caught him and killed him.’

‘The Russians!’ sobbed Rona. ‘They did it! But we can’t prove it. And no one can touch them because they’ve got diplomatic immunity.’ And she began crying again.