Still treading water, he turned, sweeping his gaze over the surface of the pond, and then he saw her. Not, as he'd hoped, making for the jetty and ladder at the other end of the mill, but swimming slowly in the direction of the boathouse, and with each stroke being pulled ever nearer to the deafening white water of the weir.
With no further hesitation, Linc struck out strongly on a course that he hoped would intercept Josie's drifting one. Although he was a good swimmer, he soon found he'd underestimated the power of the current above the stone steps. Because the surface was glassy smooth, it was easy to forget that, aside from the narrow millrace, this was the only exit point for the substantial flow that was pouring in from the valley above. Glancing to his right as he swam, Linc could see where the water slid over the sill to cascade down the four curving steps into the frothy confusion below.
He didn't even want to imagine how it would feel to be carried over that.
By the time he was halfway across the width of the weir he knew it would be touch and go whether he made it to the other side, let alone with enough strength to help Josie. He could see her, off to his left, still bravely fighting her losing battle with the pull of the water, and wanted to shout some encouragement but he knew, even if he'd had the breath, it would be futile with the constant noise of the cascade in their ears.
Ducking his head into the flow, he ploughed on, coming up for air only every fourth stroke, and inch by painful inch he began to gain, finally pulling through the funnelling current at the side of the weir and catching hold of the corroded metal post that was part of the original sluice gear.
His body was swept sideways as soon as he stopped swimming but his hold was good, and looking round for Josie he found that, for once, luck was with them both. Patently exhausted, she was barely going through the motions of swimming now as she was drawn backwards at an ever-increasing speed, but Linc could see that she would pass within a couple of feet of where he waited.
Retaining his hold on the sluice gearing with his right hand and timing his lunge carefully, he surged through the current, wrapped his left arm round Josie's waist, and hung on grimly as the pull of the water on their combined body-mass threatened to dislocate his right shoulder.
He had her again – but for how long? Seeming only semiconscious, she was a dead-weight, her head lolling against his shoulder, and he knew it was vital to get her back to his anchorage pretty damned quickly, while he still could.
If he still could . . .
As Linc struggled desperately to keep Josie away from the lip of the weir, a shadow fell across them, but he didn't even look up.
What did it matter if Fagan had returned? There was nothing Linc could do about it. His most immediate battle was with the water, and as the seconds ground torturously past it became clear that he was losing it. With his back to dry land, stretched between the metal post and the drag of the current on Josie's body, he was forced to come to terms with the shattering realisation that he simply wasn't strong enough to win through. Sometime soon his burning muscles would give out, and he and Josie would be swept helplessly away.
Linc alternately groaned and swore as the water surged against and over them both, making breathing a hit-and-miss affair, and the whole of his upper body began shuddering under the strain.
'Linc! Let go, man! Let go!'
A voice, shouting over the roar of the cascading water, finally penetrated his despair and he tipped back his head to see.
It was Crispin.
Standing just off the end of the bridge that spanned the weir, he had one hand clamped on the wooden upright while the other reached down to hold Josie's wrist.
'Let go, Linc! I've got her. I won't let her go. Trust me.'
For a fraction of a second, Linc hesitated. Could he? Where did Crispin fit into all this?
Searching his brother's face for an answer, all he could see was anxiety and earnest entreaty. He had always considered Cris easy to read. Praying that he was right, Linc slowly uncurled the cold, cramped muscles of his left arm and let Josie go.
In the heart-stopping seconds before Crispin took up the strain, her weakly struggling body was swept to the brink of the weir. Then in one long smooth pull Crispin hauled her on to the bank and out of danger, her legs scrambling for a foothold and water running off her clothes in silvery rivulets.
Even relieved of his burden, Linc found he could do nothing to help himself. His right hand remained locked to the metal post whilst a spell of black dizziness came and went, then suddenly Crispin was close behind him and a hand closed on Linc's right wrist.
'Linc! Grab my hand!' he shouted urgently.
He lifted his left arm obediently, Crispin grasped it, and all at once he was slithering up and over the retaining wall to lie on the gravel path, shivering in the sunshine and being enthusiastically washed by an ecstatic Tiger.
'Are you all right?' Crispin was bending over him.
Linc nodded, gulping in air. 'I will be . . . Just give me a minute.'
'What the hell's going on?' As he spoke, Crispin was peeling his ruffled white shirt off over his head.
'It's a long story.' With an effort, Linc sat up, pushing the dog away. 'That's enough. Good lad.'
'He is a good lad. He was standing here barking like a maniac. He showed me exactly where you were.' Crispin moved across to where Josie sat leaning back against the bridge support, cradling her left arm with her right. Her long dark hair straggled over her shoulders and her face was pale with pain and exhaustion.
'Has he gone?' she asked, looking anxiously from one to the other. 'He won't come back, will he?'
Abruptly, Linc remembered that the cause of their present troubles was still at large.
'Where's Fagan?' he asked Crispin sharply. 'Did you see him?'
'Who?' Crispin was clearly nonplussed. Using the cotton shirt, he began to fashion a crude sling to support Josie's damaged arm, tying the sleeves carefully behind her neck.
'Fagan. Big bloke, white tee-shirt, blue headscarf . . .' Linc prompted. 'Did you see anyone at all when you got here?'
Crispin shook his head. 'No. I yelled into the mill for you, then heard Tiger barking and came on round. Didn't see a soul. Is that better?' he inquired of Josie.
She nodded, her teeth chattering. 'Yes, thanks, much better. It's painful . . . but I can still move my fingers . . . so I don't think it's broken.'
Linc got shakily to his feet and looked away down the path to the boathouse. The area appeared deserted.
'He's either still here somewhere or he's trying to make a run for it up the valley. He'll have his work cut out if he is. It's boggy at the best of times, and after all that rain . . .'
'Who will?' Crispin still hadn't quite caught up.
'Fagan!' Linc snapped, anxiety and fatigue taking their toll on his temper. 'The bastard who did all this! If you didn't pass him, he must have gone up the valley.'
'I didn't see anyone,' Crispin repeated. 'Who is this Fagan?'
'Terry Fagan. Nikki's fitness trainer,' Linc told him, dreading the inevitable questions that must follow. How was he supposed to tell his brother that he was pretty sure his wife had conspired with the man to kill both Josie and himself?
'Nikki's trainer? I've never met him. How do you know him?'
'I don't, I just saw them together once.'
'But why on earth would he be here? I don't understand . . .'
'No. I'm not sure I do completely,' Linc admitted. 'But it looks as though he's gone anyway. Come on. We'd better get Josie to a doctor. We can talk about this later.'
Crispin understandably looked as though he wanted at least some answers straightaway but he acknowledged Josie's need, and helped Linc draw her to her feet.
'Oh God, my legs feel like jelly!' she groaned, and Crispin invited her to put an arm round his shoulders.
'I think I'm a better bet than Linc, just at the moment,' he suggested.
With Linc and Tiger following behind, they made their way slowly ba
ck over the wooden footbridge towards the mill, Linc's clothes stiffening as they began to dry in the warm breeze.
'But I don't understand either,' Josie said after a moment. 'Where's Pierre? And why on earth did that man attack me? I've never seen him before in my life. Is he mad?'
'Pierre couldn't make it,' Linc told her. 'He did send a message but it never reached you. You left your phone at home.'
They had turned along the path at the end of the mill, where the waterwheel was still rhythmically turning. God only knew what damage it was doing to the stones with no grain to mill, Linc thought, gloomily. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered Saul talking about such friction causing fires.
'What's that ringing noise?' Crispin asked. From inside the building they could hear the constant, if muffled, ting-ting-ting of a bell.
'It's the alarm – to say that there's no grain in the hopper and the stones are running dry. We ought to stop that wheel,' Linc commented, cravenly glad to be able to avoid the question of Fagan's involvement for a few minutes more.
Crispin looked over his shoulder. 'I would offer but I don't know how.'
'It's all right, I'll do it,' Linc said as they crossed the second bridge. 'It won't take a moment.'
He'd reached the open door and was just about to go in when Tiger shot past them all, raced along to the far corner of the building and disappeared round it, barking furiously.
Linc and Crispin exchanged glances and Linc hurried forward to peer round the end of the mill, keeping well out from the stonework in case Fagan should be waiting to pounce.
There was no one in sight, just a gravel path and beyond it the pond with its striven-for jetty. He was, however, just in time to see the door near the back of the building slam shut in Tiger's indignant face. It seemed that Fagan had managed to cross the millstream further up the valley and had come back round the lane side of the millpond, perhaps hoping to make it to his car and away before anyone saw him. It might have worked, too, if he'd been just a bit quicker.
'I think he's in the mill,' Linc told the others as they caught up. 'The side door was unlocked.'
'Yes, I opened it while I was waiting,' Josie admitted.
'The question is, what do we do now? I don't much fancy going in after him.'
'Well, Josie can't drive, obviously, but can't one of us go for help while the other one stays here to keep an eye on this Fagan character?'
Linc shook his head. 'You haven't seen this guy! He's big. He'd just walk straight through either one of us. Damn! It's so frustrating that Manston's just up the road and we can't get word to him. Your mobile won't be any good down here but my radio would've been, if it wasn't absolutely saturated.'
'It's no good locking him in, he'd just climb out the window,' Crispin stated.
'Well, can't we disable his car?' Josie suggested. 'Take off the distributor cap or whatever modern cars have.'
'She's not just a pretty face, is she?' Crispin declared. 'It would certainly slow him down.'
'Okay. I guess it's the best we can do. But I still need to do something about that wheel. I'll be damned if I'm going to stand by and see the place burn down after all the work we've done on it!'
'Linc, can't you leave it? Please?' Josie looked uneasy.
'I'll be all right. The sluice control is just inside. I'll be in and out before he knows I'm there. Besides, I don't think he'll try anything now. He'll just want to get away.' Linc gave her a bright, reassuring smile and moved off before she could say anything more.
The interior of the stone building struck cool after the warmth of the sun, and Linc, in his wet clothes, shivered. Or at least, he blamed it on the cold. The bell on the stone floor sounded much louder in here, even over the rumbling of the mill machinery, insisting that someone do something, fast, before the stones were ruined. Pausing for an instant to let his eyes adjust to the reduced light, Linc moved on into the mill. Fagan was nowhere to be seen; quite possibly he had gone up to one of the other floors.
He made his way cautiously across to the business end of the structure, where the huge axle-tree passed through the wall from the wheel outside, hoping that Fagan wasn't lurking in the shadows or behind one of the massive supporting timbers. In spite of his brave words to Josie, he was by no means sure the man wouldn't take the chance to attack him again if it presented itself.
Passing the huge wooden gear wheels, Linc located the smaller metal wheel that operated the sluice and began to turn it, becoming aware of a number of sore muscles as he did so. Gradually the rushing of the water on the other side of the wall lessened and the whole mechanism slowed as the waterwheel was robbed of its power source.
Finally, thankfully, the frantic ringing of the bell died away into silence, and as it did so Linc heard the sound of a vehicle drawing up on the asphalt of the car park.
His spirits lifted. He wondered who'd come. Given the circumstances, Manston would be the most welcome, but almost anyone would be a plus because they could be sent for help.
Linc started back towards the door. Somewhere above him a board creaked and there was the sound of a foot scuffing on the wooden planking.
Fagan. Up on the stone floor.
A shadow showed in the square of light on the flags as Crispin appeared in the doorway ahead.
'Nikki's come,' he announced.
'Nikki! What's she doing here?' Linc's brain raced through all the possibilities and couldn't find any particularly comforting ones. He fervently wished he'd had time to share his suspicions about Nikki with Josie.
'I don't know. I expect she wondered what was going on. Anyway it's great because we can send her for help while we tackle this Fagan character.'
'Yeah, well, he's gone upstairs so there's not much we can do about him other than keep an eye on the stairs until help arrives. He can't go anywhere from up there.'
Crispin looked disappointed. 'I suppose so, but it seems a bit tame after everything that's happened.'
'Believe me, tame is good where this guy's concerned!' Linc assured him, as he emerged thankfully into the sunlight. 'You really don't want to be tangling with him!'
Following, Crispin shrugged, resignedly. 'Okay. If you say so.'
Nikki was coming through the gate from the car park. 'What's going on? I was wondering where you guys had got to. Oh my God, Josie! Are you okay? What happened?'
Josie didn't have a chance to answer because a window was flung open on the upper floor of the mill, and Fagan bellowed, 'Nikki! I need to talk to you. Now!'
Linc was watching his sister-in-law and could virtually see the blood drain from her face. Fagan's car was still there for all to see, but maybe she'd assumed he was lying low until the coast was clear. She recovered her composure with impressive speed, though, and by the time the others had transferred their attention from the window above, she was wearing an expression of total bewilderment.
'Terry? What on earth are you doing here?' Her tone held a perfectly judged mixture of surprise and disbelief, and Linc felt she almost deserved a round of applause. It was a virtuoso performance.
Fagan was nowhere near as impressed. 'Cut the crap, you little bitch! You know damn' well why I'm here.'
At Linc's feet, Tiger began a low, rumbling growl.
'Nikki?' It was Crispin this time, and the puzzlement in his face wasn't simulated. 'What's going on? Who is this man?'
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