Trauma (39 page)

Lafferty rifled through two or three drawers before he found a pencil and then had to contend with the fact that it was broken. He couldn't find a sharpener so he used a kitchen knife. Mrs Grogan would have a fit but you didn't need sharp knives to make boiled eggs, he reasoned. Apart from that she was still on 'cat leave' as he’d come to call it. He returned to the phone pad and held the pencil almost horizontal to the paper as he scribbled back and forwards very lightly and quickly across it. He put down the pencil and held the pad up to the desk lamp. He could read the address. The Elms, Seaforth Road . . . North Berwick.

Lafferty felt himself go cold at the mention of North Berwick. He froze with the paper in his hand. Tyndall lived in North Berwick? The place with such a strong history of witchcraft in the past? It had to be coincidence, he told himself. Lots of people must live by the sea in North Berwick and commute to the city. Why not Cyril Tyndall?

Despite this argument, Lafferty felt uneasy with the coincidence. Tyndall, the director of the Gelman Holland Institute, living in North Berwick with its past association with witchcraft and in particular, the use of the Hand of Glory. There had to be a connection. He grabbed his coat and ran out to the car. He was going to find Sarah.

The clutch release bearing on Lafferty's car gave an angry squeal as he took off a bit too quickly for its liking. 'Don't let me down now,' he murmured. 'Just one more night, that's all I ask.' The bearing decided on a compromise; it disintegrated as he changed down into third gear on entering North Berwick. Lafferty let the car coast to a halt and got out. He stopped the first person he met and asked them where Seaforth Road was. The man pointed in the general direction of the hill leading away from the main thoroughfare. 'About half a mile that way,' he said.

Lafferty started running. He didn't even consider the possibility that he might be making a complete fool of himself until he had found Seaforth Road and had to rest for a moment in order to get his breath back. He didn't have to look for the house; he could see Sarah's car standing outside.

As his breathing subsided, Lafferty noticed how quiet it was. The houses in Seaforth Road were few and far between, large mansions standing in their own grounds surrounded by high stone walls. The wind had dropped to nothing as if the night was holding its breath.

As he started towards The Elms, Lafferty heard the sound of large rain drops hit the leaves of a dense laurel hedge to his right. He heard five or six before the first touched his cheek. Any minute now it was going to pour down. He fastened up the collar of his coat. He paused at the entrance to the house and saw that it was in complete darkness. What did it mean? Had Sarah and Tyndall gone out? That seemed unlikely. He walked up to the door and rang the bell. There was no answer so he rang again and again. He couldn't think what else to do.

At last he heard a sound from inside and the hall light was switched on. 'What is it?' asked an angry voice as the door was opened.

'Professor Tyndall?' asked Lafferty, taking in the dishevelled state of the man in front of him.

'Yes, what is it?' snapped Tyndall.

'I'm sorry to bother you but I am looking for Dr Sarah Lasseter,' said Lafferty calmly. 'I believe she's here?'

Tyndall's eyes took on a startled look. He patted his ruffled hair nervously. 'What makes you say that? Who are you?'

'Sarah's car is outside your gate. Where is she?'

Tyndall seemed unsure of what to say and it alarmed Lafferty. He started to lose his temper. 'Where is she?' he demanded.

'She's here,' admitted Tyndall. He stood back to allow Lafferty to enter the hall. 'Wait here a moment please. I'll tell her you're here.'

Lafferty watched Tyndall go downstairs. As he reached the foot of the steps he glanced back up at Lafferty and called out pleasantly, Sarah, my dear, it's someone for you.' He disappeared from sight and Lafferty turned to look at the pictures and photographs which adorned one wall of the entrance hall. One was a large print of North Berwick Church and had the inscription, Presented to Cyril Tyndall, President of the North Berwick Historical Society. Cyril Tyndall knew all about North Berwick's past!

Lafferty leaned closer to examine the date when he heard a sound from downstairs. It was the sound of a lock being turned. Sarah had been locked in! Lafferty ran downstairs lightly on his toes and heard voices as he turned in the direction he had seen Tyndall go in. They were coming from behind the white door. He put his ear to it and heard Tyndall rasp, 'You set me up! You led me on, you silly bitch. If it comes to it I will deny everything and you can say good-bye to your career, so think about it. Now pull yourself together! Who the hell knows you're here?'

Lafferty opened the door and found Sarah wiping her tear stained cheeks. Her skirt was torn. Tyndall put on an embarrassed smile and said, 'Sarah is a little upset, she . . .'

No more words got out. Lafferty hit him with a swinging right hand that carried all of his thirteen stones and a great deal of anger. Tyndall was lifted clean off his feet and tumbled over backwards to land in an untidy snivelling heap on the floor. Sarah flew into Lafferty's arms and the tears came. 'Oh Ryan, she sobbed. 'I've been so stupid.'

Lafferty held her close to him while watching Tyndall over her shoulder. 'Are you all right Sarah?' he asked gently. 'Did he. . ? '

Sarah shook her head and said quietly, 'You arrived in time.'

'Stupid bitch,' snarled Tyndall from the floor. He dabbed at his bleeding mouth with the back of his hand. 'There isn't a court in the land who would take her word against mine in the circumstances.' His face filled with fear as he saw the look in Lafferty's eyes as he gently disengaged himself from Sarah and started towards him. 'Keep away from me!' he squealed.

'No Ryan!' called out Sarah, rushing forward to put a restraining hand on his arm. 'Don't! Please don't.'

Lafferty paused, looking down at Tyndall, his eyes filled with contempt. 'So this is what a potential Nobel laureate looks like,' he murmured. 'The brightest and best of his generation . . .'

Tyndall was no longer looking at Lafferty's face. He was staring at his clerical collar which had been hidden by his top coat.

'Ryan, take me away from here,' said Sarah, her hand still on Lafferty's arm.

Lafferty turned and Sarah pulled him towards the door. They had almost reached the head of the stairs when they heard Tyndall's voice behind them. 'Wait!' he commanded.

Lafferty turned to see Tyndall standing at the foot of the stairs pointing a shotgun up at them.

'Oh for God's sake,' exclaimed Sarah. 'This is getting out of all proportion. Put the gun down Professor!'

Tyndall started up the stairs towards them. The gun in his hands had brought back his confidence. 'Why did you two come here tonight?' he demanded. What were you after?'

'The truth,' said Lafferty as Tyndall passed the half way mark.

'What truth?' snarled Tyndall.

'About what you and your colleagues have been up to.'

'I don't understand,’ said Sarah but Lafferty and Tyndall only had eyes for each other. 'I think the professor has decided he can't afford to let us go,' said Lafferty.

'But this is . . .' Words failed Sarah as she watched Tyndall level the shotgun at Lafferty's stomach. 'Stop this!'

There was a Chinese patterned vase standing on a small table next to Lafferty. Tyndall saw him glance at it and warned, 'Don't even think about it. That's a Ming.'

Lafferty had been 'thinking about it' although its size and weight had taken precedence over any consideration of origin or value. When Tyndall's eyes moved momentarily to the vase, Sarah saw her chance and flung her handbag at him. It opened in mid flight and Tyndall was showered with keys, coins, lipstick and a compact. It was the surprise factor more than the objects that caused him to over-balance and tumble backwards down the stairs. He let go of the gun and it clattered down the steps behind him to lie silently across his still legs.

'Oh my God,' said Sarah putting her hands to her mouth. 'Is he all right?'

Lafferty was unsure about whether Tyndall was unconscious or just shamming. The gun was within easy reach for him. For a moment he was in two minds whether to go downstairs or not but he overcame his reservations out of human concern and started to descend a step at a time. He reached the bottom and pulled the gun cautiously away from Tyndall by the barrels. Tyndall still didn't move. Lafferty put his hand to Tyndall's neck to feel for a pulse but couldn't find any. 'Sarah,' he said softly. 'I think you better take a look at him.' Sarah joined him at the foot of the stairs and knelt down beside Tyndall. After a moment she looked up at Lafferty and said, 'His neck's broken. He's dead.'

Lafferty closed Tyndall’s eyes with his forefinger and
thumb before picking up Sarah's belongings. Sarah herself
seemed to be in a trance; she couldn't take her eyes
off the body. Lafferty put a hand on her shoulder and
squeezed gently.

'It's all my fault,' said Sarah quietly. 'If I hadn't been
so stupid none of this would ever have happened.'

'Don't blame yourself, Sarah,' said Lafferty. 'Fate was
holding the reins.'

Sarah shook her head and refused to listen, but Lafferty
persisted. He made her look at him. 'This is not your
doing,' he insisted. 'It just happened, that's all. His death
was an accident.'

Sarah looked back at Tyndall's lifeless body. 'He
was a gifted man,' she said. 'Whatever he tried to
do to me.'

'Maybe,' said Lafferty coldly. Sarah looked at him questioningly.

‘
Do you know how long he’s been living here?’ asked Lafferty.

'He told me that he and his brother were brought up here. This was the family house. Why?'

'Because this is North Berwick. An intelligent man
who's lived here all his life must have known about the
past connection with witchcraft and the Hand of Glory.'

'You think that Cyril was involved?' gasped an incredu
lous Sarah. 'But he was a brilliant scientist! Why on earth
would he get involved in anything criminal?'

Lafferty shook his head and said, '1 don't know, but you didn't reckon on him being a rapist either.'

Sarah conceded the point in silence.

'Oh Ryan,' she whispered, her voice reflecting the
hopelessness she felt. 'This is all just too . . .'

Lafferty drew Sarah to him and held her for a moment
before leading her slowly up the stairs.

'What do we do now?'

'We should call the police,' replied Lafferty.

Sarah considered this for a moment before saying
slowly, 'I managed to get the key to the institute
..."

Lafferty looked at her as if he found it hard to believe
what she was suggesting. 'You can't be serious - after all
you've been through,' he said softly.

'I want us to see it through together,' said Sarah firmly.
'We've come this far.'

'If you're absolutely sure
..."
said Lafferty, his voice
betraying the doubts he felt.

'I'm sure,' said Sarah, but she sounded as if her confidence was balanced on a knife-edge. 'If we call
the police, these people might still get away with it. We owe it to John McKirrop, the O'Donnells, John Main and
God knows how many others, to see that they don't.'

Lafferty saw the determination in Sarah's eyes and his
heart went out to her. The feeling alarmed him but it
was undeniable. 'Come on then,' he said. 'We'll have to
use your car. Mine has given up the ghost.'

Lafferty drove the Fiesta back at Sarah's request. They didn't speak until they had cleared the outskirts of North
Berwick, when Sarah asked Lafferty how he had come to
be there in the first place.

'I was worried about you,' he replied. He told her about
the trick with the phone-pad.

'Ryan?'

'Yes?'

'Would you take your collar off, please?'

Lafferty glanced sideways then complied without ques
tion. He tossed it over his shoulder on to the back seat. Sarah rested her head against his arm. 'That's better,' she
murmured. 'And Ryan?'

'Yes?'

'Right now you are wondering what you should say.
The answer is nothing. Just don't say anything.'

Lafferty remained silent.

Sarah remained with her head resting against his arm for the remainder of the journey. She wasn't asleep, but she kept her eyes closed until she heard the engine note
slow as they approached a roundabout. She sat up straight
and looked out of the window.