The Castle of the Demon

by Reginald Hill

  ‘Parfrey!’

  ‘Very bright lad, is Parfrey. All kinds of special duties. You’d be surprised how many extra intelligent local constables there are near Government establishments like this. He’d been out investigating reports of a capsized rowing boat, floating down the Firth. Something to do with you, I presume?’

  He looked questioningly at her. She didn’t reply, so he went on.

  ‘He met some of our chaps out searching for me and heard they’d picked you up. I was very relieved for a while.’

  ‘Just for a while.’

  Yes,’ said Scott, eyeing her steadily. ‘Then I found some very interesting bedside reading and I began to wonder.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  From inside his jacket slung loosely over his shoulders because of the sling he produced a squat dumpy book which Emily recognised at once.

  ‘Why, that’s my history of the Solway!’ she said.

  ‘Yours?’ he questioned.

  ‘Well, it belongs to the cottage.’

  Silently he opened the back cover and held it out to her. There in a circular purple stamp, faded but clearly legible, she read ‘Property of Skinburness Teachers’ Training College’.

  ‘You mean this is the book?’ she asked incredulously.

  He turned it over, inserted his thumb into a cut in the spine and pulled down sharply. The leather peeled back like a banana skin. Carefully he extracted what looked like a strip of celluloid about one-eighth by one-third of an inch.

  ‘Is that the tape?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Well, isn’t it … shouldn’t you do something before it’s too late? I thought there was a time limit?’

  ‘Oh no,’ he laughed. ‘This stuff lasts for ever.’

  So saying he crushed it between his finger and thumb and flicked it out to sea.

  ‘All right,’ said Emily. ‘You’ve impressed me with your medieval Michael Scot act. Now explain.’

  ‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘We’d been on to Ball for some time. As soon as the Americans rang us up that night, I headed down to the landing spot, tracked Ball back, picked up the tape from the middle of the briar patch where he’d put it under a stone, and returned later to substitute a piece of my own. We had to arrest them all on arrival back at the college, it would have looked very odd if we hadn’t after they’d aroused the Yanks’ guards. But we gave Ball plenty of room. And spread around this story about the stuff’s decayability. Ball took me by surprise, I must admit. Looking back, I can see Robin Glover must have had a hand in it. In fact, I was having a drink with Glover when the news came that he was missing. I went out after him. I was pretty sure he had dropped the tape by the time I got him in my sights. But I let him keep running just in case. Then he just went out like a light in the water. It was his heart. We were fools. If we’d checked back we’d have found his medical report had been altered to get him on the training course. And while a man’s security background can be built up over a great number of years, a medical report could only be fiddled recently, by someone at the top. Follett must have been getting delusions of grandeur to take such a risk.’

  ‘It seems absurd that he got himself personally involved in the business in any case,’ said Emily, stooping to pick a piece of sea-holly, then changing her mind as a sense of its beauty reached her. Its fragile thistle-flower and the delicate pastel green of its leaves made the shiny vulgarity of Christmas holly seem like a plastic imitation, she thought.

  ‘Yes, it does. His controllers won’t be pleased. He was in an ideal position. Men like Ball and Glover were meant as sleepers, I imagine. People who would flourish and progress in British security till they reached their peak. Then begin to work. But Sterne blew these two and himself. He learnt about the tape somehow—he had that kind of connection—and must have thought he’d impress everyone by getting it. I’m certain he wasn’t given instructions. It wouldn’t have been worth it.’

  ‘Why? What was on the tape?’

  The wind flattened her dress against her body, pushing a fold of cloth between her legs. She knew the effect was dramatic, watched Scott surreptitiously to see if he noticed. He didn’t appear to, but the dark glasses hid a lot.

  ‘Just some figures. Information about U.S. nuclear submarine positions in the next month. Useful only if you want to start a war which we don’t think anyone does at the moment.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said, turning her back into the wind to give her rear silhouette a chance. ‘You were saying about the tape. You thought Ball had delivered it somewhere. So what did you in your wisdom decide to do?’

  ‘Nothing. We kept the options wide open to encourage interest. It worked. Inwit and Plowman turned up out of nowhere and began excavating non-existent medieval sites in the middle of gorse bushes. Glover must have got some vague idea of the hiding-place from Ball and it wasn’t certain that he’d even managed to pick the tapes up. Then you appear, though we’d no idea who you were for some days. Follett was very clever there sending Burgess after you so he could let himself be the one to reveal who you were and so cover himself with the jealous-husband story. And then Follett himself comes to make a personal check on everything, as he put it.’

  ‘Did you suspect Sterne, then?’

  ‘Everybody who works in Security is suspected,’ he said slowly. ‘Me included. The only person I really trusted at the college was Robin Glover, I think, which just goes to show. No; Follett was probably less suspect than anyone else, because he wasn’t on the spot. In any case, Ball might have been absolutely alone as far as the college went. We were just interested in seeing where the trail led. We decided to let Inwit and Plowman find the tape. Fenimore Castell had got in with them without rousing their suspicions he thought. He knew where their next dig was proposed and went out that night to plant another false tape. They must have been on to him. Plowman told Mrs. Castell her husband was still alive and would remain so as long as she played ball. We put our nurse in to keep an eye on her. She looked about ready to spill everything to those two.’

  Emily felt slightly faint. Even the cool breeze off the water didn’t seem refreshing.

  ‘It’s a strange business,’ she said. ‘Nothing is certain.’

  ‘You cover as many chances as you can. That’s all,’ said Scott. ‘Like you. You were just another chance as far as Follett was concerned. When you didn’t come back to London, it meant you hadn’t received the book. But he still sent Burgess into the cottage to check on you, and Glover to check on Burgess.’

  ‘But why didn’t they spot it?’

  Scott shrugged. ‘Burgess because he didn’t really know what he was looking for. A packet of some kind. Not a book on a bedside table. He’d no idea what was going on, of course.’

  ‘Poor Arthur. He’ll be out of a job now.’

  ‘We might find him something. He seems to have a talent for snooping.’

  There was a little scorn in his voice.

  ‘Miaow,’ said Emily. ‘Remember pots and kettles. What about Glover?’

  ‘He never got as far as your bedroom, did he? Which was where the book was. They both had keys to the cottage, of course, kindly supplied by your husband.’

  ‘I wondered how he got me into the cottage after I was attacked. My keys were in the lane.’

  She shivered. ‘At least they didn’t harm me.’

  ‘No. But don’t forget that Inwit and Plowman were working for him as well. Inwit extemporised when he saw you pick up my notebook. It might have been the one. Burgess thought that too. He picked it up in the lane and pocketed it. We found it in Follett’s room. Burgess must have been invited to deliver it the next day.’

  ‘Yes. Yes,’ said Emily slowly. ‘I worked that out.’

  ‘But to get back to my first point, I’m certain Follett gave those two ghouls carte blanche as far as you were concerned. It would have been easier than a divorce if you’d been found floating in the Solway.’

  ‘I nearly was,’ said Emily.

/>   They had walked all the way round the Point as they talked, down along the creek, so engrossed in their conversation that neither had noticed the row-boat which Inwit and Plowman had taken was returned to its berth. Now they were passing alongside the hotel. A taxi had drawn up outside and two people were getting into it, obviously sharing it to the nearest station. Cases were being stacked in the boot.

  They were Burgess and Mrs. Castell.

  Amanda saw them and came across. She looked better now, hut still haggard, still feeling sorrow deep, deep inside.

  ‘Goodbye, honey,’ she said to Emily. ‘And thanks. You too, Mr. Scott. They got the tape back, I guess?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs. Castell,’ said Scott gently. ‘They got it back.’

  ‘Well, that’s something, I suppose. See you, hon.’

  She turned back to the taxi.

  ‘Doesn’t she know?’ whispered Emily fiercely.

  ‘That we had the tape all the time? No. Do you want to tell her?’

  Burgess held the door open for the old woman. He looked uneasily across at Scott and Emily, obviously uncertain whether to speak or not.

  ‘Goodbye, Arthur,’ said Emily firmly.

  He turned without answering and climbed into the cab. He didn’t look out of the window as it drove away.

  ‘I think he fancied you,’ said Scott casually.

  ‘Yes. I think he did,’ she answered, just as casually. ‘I might have fancied him at first. You know, one of the first things he told me was that people often said he was like an echo. He had this habit of repeating what you said. But to me he would always be a different kind of echo. An echo of Sterne.’

  They began to walk down the lane to the cottage.

  ‘You never told me what you did when you found the book in my bedroom.’

  ‘Well, of course I knew instinctively what the explanation was. Ball had dropped it in a great hurry, realising I was close behind. No time to wrap it up or write a covering note. He probably lobbed it through a window, or something.’

  ‘Why, yes. I found it lying open on the bed, I remember.’

  ‘Yes, I thought it must have been something like that. Some perfectly innocent explanation.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I searched the cottage from top to bottom, of course. What else?’

  ‘Why, you bastard!’

  She swung her fist threateningly at his injured shoulder, but his other hand came up and caught it in a vice-like grip.

  ‘I found a fascinating selection of kinky lingerie,’ he went on. ‘I also found a letter you’d written to your husband, telling him you were backing out of the deal. That told me all I wanted to know. I set off post haste to the college. And Cal made it quite clear he was coming with me.’

  She released herself from him gently.

  ‘I’m glad in a way he did.’

  ‘So am I. Follett was right. He’d caused death, disaster, tragedy to God knows how many people. Not just here, but everywhere he’d been in a position of trust. And he’d have probably been exchanged in a matter of years, or less.’

  ‘What made him do it, Michael?’

  ‘Power,’ he replied. ‘A sense of his own supremacy. I don’t know. He was a great organiser, there’s no doubt. God knows how many of their men he’s inched into positions of responsibility in our European units and through the training colleges. We’ll have to back-check everyone’s file to see if there’s a point where Follett’s word or decision alone let him in. Not that that proves anything either. It’s a mess.’

  They were nearly at the cottage now.

  ‘Never mind,’ she said, trying to lift the blackness which had descended on to his face. ‘A touch of the old Scott magic will turn everything to gold. Then you’ll only have a golden mess.’

  ‘Christ. Look at that!’ he said, ignoring her frivolity.

  They were at the cottage gate. Lying across the threshold, head uplifted to acknowledge their arrival, was Cal. His great forelegs were splayed open in front of him. Between them, her head resting on one gigantic paw, was Miranda. She rolled on her back, exposing her belly to the sky in pleasure at their approach. Cal bent forward, nudged her into a more decorous position and licked her affectionately with his great red tongue.

  ‘Cal, of course, is short for Caliban?’ Michael said suddenly.

  ’Yes, it is.’

  ‘That’s a turn-up for the book,’ he said. ‘The monster getting the girl.’

  ‘They do say that animals grow like their owners,’ said Emily coyly.

  ‘Aren’t things the wrong way round?’ asked Scott, looking down at the great dog which was nuzzling happily at Miranda’s belly.

  ‘All the greatest discoveries have been made by adventurous experiment,’ said Emily.

  ‘In that case,’ said Scott, ‘perhaps you’d care to carry me over the threshold.’

  Laughing together, arm in arm, they stepped carefully over the two animals and passed inside. Scott’s good arm went round her waist and his face came down into her hair as she turned to close the door. Desperately trying not to reveal the weakness in her legs, the ball of warm pleasure collecting in her stomach, she paused a moment and looked out towards the Point.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said casually, ‘who was the second green man, the one who interfered between me and Inwit?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, uninterested, his voice muffled by her hair, his lips doing beautiful things to her neck. ‘Glover perhaps. We can’t ask him. Close the door or you’ll have us both in gaol.’

  Obediently she pushed the door to and turned gladly towards him. She had a feeling that having his arm in a sling wasn’t going to interfere in the slightest with his actions in the immediate future. Besides, he would have every possible help.

  Outside over the briar and the tall feathered grass of the Grune, a breeze seemed to run for a moment, gathering speed as it raced to the Point.

  Then all was still.

  About the Author

  Reginald Charles Hill FRSL was an English crime writer and the winner of the 1995 Crime Writers’ Association Cartier Diamond Dagger for Lifetime Achievement.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1971 by the Estate of Reginald Hill

  Cover design by Ian Koviak

  ISBN: 978-1-5040-5970-1

  This 2019 edition published by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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  REGINALD HILL

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