by Hilary Green
There was no sign of Reilly, but that was to be expected. Stone raised his field-glasses and scanned the path on both sides of the gate, but there was plenty of cover and he was not surprised that there was nothing to be seen. Then a movement immediately below him caught his eye and sent a jolt of alarm through him. Reilly was lying on his stomach only about forty feet away, at the very edge of the cliff, watching the tableau below him and resting a rifle on a flat-topped rock.
Stone had scarcely begun to consider the implications of this discovery when his eye was again distracted, this time by a glint of sunshine on metal away on the far side of the quarry, where the road which served it led down into the valley. There, through the trees, the sun was catching the roofs of two cars, heading upwards at speed.
Stone ground his teeth. Now what? Was his prime duty to prevent Reilly from shooting the two guards, which was apparently his intention? Or was the first priority to prevent the police from recapturing Leo and bringing all their plans to nothing – and, if so, did not this mean preventing the capture of Reilly and the others, with all that that implied in terms of aiding and abetting?
While the kaleidoscope of possibilities was still forming and reforming in his head the situation changed yet again. The guards finally succumbed to Leo’s blandishments and opened the gates. The two girls moved into the compound, Margaret leaning heavily on Leonora’s shoulder as if unable to put her weight on one foot. As the four figures began to move towards the huts there was a sudden outburst of barking and an Alsatian appeared and bounded towards them. One of the men shouted at it and it stopped barking and contented itself with circling the little group at a distance, its belly close to the earth and its tail down.
Just below Stone, Reilly raised his rifle and sighted carefully; but as he did so two more figures appeared, climbing the slope along the opposite rim of the quarry. Stone focused his glasses and identified them as two police marksmen, also armed with rifles. His stomach contracted again as he thought of Leo caught in the centre of the arena below them, at the focal point of all this fire-power.
Reilly, intent upon his aim, had not seen the policemen. His finger tightened on the trigger and he fired once, re-aimed and fired again, the two shots following each other in rapid succession. The Alsatian leaped stiff-legged into the air, fell on its side and lay still. At the same instant the police car arrived with a scream of tyres outside the gate, which the guards had relocked behind the two girls. Four men tumbled out, two of them carrying hand guns which they aimed at the group in the centre of the quarry, and Stone heard one yell,
‘Stop! Armed police!’
But Leo was already away and running like a hare towards the nearest spoil heap, dragging Margaret with her by the wrist. On the far rim of the quarry the two marksmen were searching the hillside for the source of the two shots. Stone saw Reilly jerk himself to his knees and sweep the rifle round in an arc, but it was still aimed low and, in a split second of revelation, he realized that the target was Leo. Stone flung himself full length on the grass, dragging his automatic from its holster as he did so, his arms extended, the gun in both hands. There was no time to aim; he fired by instinct and saw Reilly drop the rifle and grab at his right upper arm.
Instantaneously he rolled sideways into a steep gully behind some rocks and half slid, half scrambled, down it towards Reilly’s position. He heard Reilly cursing and when he raised his head above the rocks again the Irishman was already running, bent double with his arm clasped across his body, towards the crest of the hill. One of the marksmen spotted him and Stone heard the whine as a bullet ricocheted off a rock a few yards away.
Below, in the few seconds which had passed, the girls had covered perhaps two-thirds of the distance to the cover of the spoil heap; and one of the guards was swinging open the gate to admit the police car. Stone heard the crack of a .38 and saw the earth spurt up as a bullet hit the ground just ahead of the running figures. Reilly’s rifle lay where he had dropped it. Stone vaulted the ridge of rocks and grabbed it. Aiming with great care, he put a bullet into the tyre of the car as it began to advance into the compound, and then another two over the heads of the policemen. They all dived for cover and by the time they lifted their heads again the girls were among the small shrubs and loose scree around the edge of the site.
A bullet splintered the rock a foot from Stone’s head. One of the marksmen had pinpointed his position. The other was pursuing Reilly. Stone put a shot into the hillside just above the first man and saw him scramble into the cover of an outcrop of granite. As he did so Stone swung himself back into the gully and began to crawl up it as fast as he could. It took him almost to the shoulder of the hill, where the ground was broken into small patches of turf between large crags of rock. Stone dragged himself onto the top of one of these and looked back. The man who had shot at him was making his way up the slope, working from rock to rock cautiously but very steadily. Reilly and the second man had disappeared. There was no sign, either of the two girls; but Stone remembered the high, close-meshed fence which surrounded the site. They might have gone to ground for the time being, but he did not give much for their chances of getting away altogether.
In the main arena of the quarry floor men were running in all directions. The second car had arrived, and one man whom Stone guessed was the inspector in charge was standing beside it, talking on the car radio. Three men were running across the compound in the direction which Leo and Margaret had taken, while others were moving out along the line of the fence. Stone calculated he was still in range, just; but he hesitated, weighing up the desirability of slowing down the pursuit against the risk of revealing his own position again. At that moment, he heard the helicopter approaching and, twisting round, saw it moving along the valley behind him.
He steadied the rifle on the top of the rock and put a neat pattern of shots into the ground all round the three men, who scattered and threw themselves down. Within five seconds they were up and running again, but this time towards the shelter of the buildings. Stone ducked back behind his rock as the man pursuing him dropped flat and took aim, and in this temporary shelter pulled out his radio.
‘Come in, Kappa One!’ he said urgently.
Barney Lightfoot answered immediately. ‘Kappa One here. What’s going on?’
‘Can’t explain now,’ Stone said. ‘Patch me through to the chopper.’
‘Roger, Delta One,’ came the reply, and a few seconds later a new voice said,
‘Skylark here.’
‘Skylark, this is Delta One. I need a pick up. Can you see the hill to the north-west of you which has an outcrop of rocks and a single tree on the summit?’
‘Affirmative, Delta One,’ came the laconic reply.
‘I am on the shoulder to the north. I can’t risk showing myself until the last minute but I can see you. I’ll talk you in until you’re close enough.’
‘Roger, Delta one.’
He saw the helicopter dip and twist towards the hill. Stretching up, he took a cautious look over the top of the rock. The policeman was only a hundred feet or so below him. Obviously, he had heard the helicopter too, for he was searching the sky; but from his position it was hidden from him by the summit of the hill. Stone dropped back and lifted his radio to his mouth.
‘Skylark, this is Delta One. Keep your present heading, but come down about a hundred feet.’
‘Roger, Delta One.’
On this side the drop was much steeper, almost precipitous. The helicopter beat along, parallel to the slope, slightly above the level at which Stone was crouching in the shelter of the rock. He waited until he could see the open hatch in the side of the machine and the crewman waiting inside it, then stripped off his grey anorak.
‘Skylark, you are almost level with me now. I am wearing a red shirt. Can you see me?’
A fractional pause, then,
‘Got you, Delta One. Stand by.’
He saw the crewman drop a rescue harness out of the hatch. The helicopter si
de-slipped towards him, until the harness dangled a tantalizing ten or twelve feet away. Stone struggled back into his jacket and slung the rifle on his shoulder. He knew that the chopper must be clearly visible now to the man who was following him, and to the others in the quarry. He stood up and scrambled onto a rock which thrust itself out from the hillside over the sheer drop; and as he did so he heard a shot and saw the crewman jerk back and disappear into the interior of the machine.
‘What the hell’s going on down there?’ crackled the voice over the radio.
‘Come down another ten feet,’ Stone said urgently.
The helicopter jinked and wavered as the pilot struggled to keep it steady in the cross currents of air coming over the hillside, then dropped so that the rope swung across within arm’s reach. Stone made a grab into the abyss, caught it and hung on. As he did so something tore at his arm, almost making him lose his grip, and looking down he saw that a bullet had ripped the sleeve of his jacket; but already the chopper was gaining height and turning away so as to put the hilltop between itself and the marksman. Stone clung on where he was until they were out of range; then felt himself being winched up into the cabin.
Chapter Six
It was not the arrival of the police car which started Leo running, nor the shot which killed the dog. It was Reilly’s second shot, the wind of which lashed across her cheek before it thudded into the ground behind her. If she had not turned at that instant, her attention attracted by the arrival of the car, the bullet would certainly have ended in her brain.
There was no time, however, for speculations of this nature as she raced towards the shelter of the nearest spoil heap. She was only aware of gunfire from all around, none of which mercifully seemed aimed at her. She could hear Margaret sobbing for breath behind her and reflected grimly that it was a pity she had not started her keep-fit campaign earlier. They slipped and scrambled over the loose shale at the base of the heap and paused for a second once they were out of sight. Ahead of them the fence stretched unbroken in both directions. Leo felt a sudden, sickening sense of hopelessness. Then she spotted a line of grass and tall, rank weeks which skirted the base of the mound and ran towards the fence, stopped for a few feet and then reappeared on the far side.
‘Come on!’ she shouted to Margaret.
They ran headlong down the slope and half jumped, half fell, into the ditch which was marked by the line of weeds. In the bottom of it was a few inches of muddy water, but on both sides the nettles and cow-parsley grew to a height of three or four feet. Leo squirmed forward on her stomach until the weeds formed an unbroken canopy above her head and then lay still, listening and trying to control her laboured breathing. Behind her she could hear Margaret panting, but for a few minutes there was no sound of pursuit. Then heavy feet tramped along the stony ground beside the fence, passing within yards of where they lay. They heard the men shouting to each other, and then one called,
‘Hey Sarge, the fence had been cut up here. They must have gone this way.’
Leo caught her breath. Liam Connor had done his part of the job before the balloon went up and unwittingly laid a false trail to lead the police away from them. She twisted round and whispered,
‘Come on.’
Keeping flat on their bellies the two girls inched along the ditch, gritting their teeth as nettle stings burned every exposed inch of skin and brambles tore at their clothes. Soon Leo saw ahead of her what she had guessed at from the slope above; the stream ran through a culvert which passed under the fence. The pipe which carried it was about three feet in diameter and perhaps six long. Leo wriggled into it and then turned her head and hissed to Margaret,
‘Squeeze in here beside me. We’ll have to lie low until the heat’s off.’
After some scrabbling and struggling Margaret succeeded in hauling herself in beside Leo so that they lay pressed together in the trickle of muddy water which flowed through the pipe. It was at that point that they first heard the helicopter. Margaret whispered, ‘Mother of God, now we’ll never get away.’
‘Yes, we will,’ Leo told her. ‘That forestry plantation out there is perfect cover. Once we’re in there they’ll never spot us from the air.’
They listened as the sound of the machine grew closer, and heard the shouts of the men searching for them move away in that direction. Then the noise of the engine faded again and in the quiet which followed Leo heard a blackbird chuntering to itself in the undergrowth beyond the end of the culvert. She eased herself forward, whispering,
‘Stay here while I have a look.’
Peering up through the weeds she could see no sign of their pursuers. The ditch crossed a narrow band of open ground and then disappeared into a dense plantation of firs.
Leo hissed,
‘Wait till I get into the trees, then if there’s still no sign of anyone follow me.’
Keeping low, in a shambling movement that was half crawl, half run, Leo crossed the space between the fence and the forest and dragged herself out of the ditch under the low-growing branches of the firs. A minute later Margaret joined her and, without further speech, Leo lead the way deeper into the wood. Their progress was slow and difficult since the trees grew so close together and so low to the ground that they either had to force their way through the sharp-twigged, leafless branches which sprouted from the lower part of the trunks, or else get down and crawl under them.
Eventually they came to the edge of a narrow road which slanted up the hill more or less at right angles to their line of progress. Margaret said,
‘This must be the road Liam was going to take. I remember it from the last time we came.’
‘Well, that doesn’t help us any, I’m afraid,’ Leo remarked. ‘Either Liam must be miles away by now, or the police have got him.’ Margaret leaned against a tree trunk.
‘What do we do now, then?’
‘Keep going,’ Leo told her. ‘Our biggest danger is dogs. I don’t mind betting they’re on their way already. So we have to find water.’
She reached into the rucksack which she still carried on her back and found the map which Reilly had given her that morning.
‘There’s a small valley ahead which comes down to join the main one where the road is, and there’s a stream marked. We’ll head for that.’
They darted across the road and into the trees again on the far side. After a while the ground began to slope more steeply and the plantation of firs ended, to be replaced by a more natural growth of small oaks and silver birch. They scrambled down the last steep bank and found themselves on the edge of a small, fast-flowing stream which tumbled down a narrow ravine. Leo stepped into the water and turned upstream.
‘Not that way!’ Margaret exclaimed. ‘The road’s down there.’
‘And so are the police!’ Leo said tersely. ‘That’s the way they will expect us to go. Come on.’
The water was only just over ankle deep but it was icy-cold and the bed of the stream was rocky and very treacherous. They struggled upwards, often slipping and sometimes hauling themselves up with their hands as the gradient grew steeper. Before long they were both soaked from head to foot. Eventually the slope grew less and the walls of the ravine opened out until they stood at the head of a rounded depression, like a giant thumb-print on the shoulder of the mountain. Leo squatted down in the lee of a large rock and Margaret flung herself on the ground beside her. Neither of them spoke; they had no energy left for words, but after a moment Leo once more pulled out the map and began to study the landscape around them.
To their right a long grassy slope dropped away in gentle folds and undulations towards the valley, where she could pick out the roofs of two groups of houses and the occasional flash of reflected light from the bodywork of cars moving along the road which connected them. She glanced at the map, estimating the distance – a couple of hours easy walking, perhaps. To their left the ground rose steeply to the sharp ridge which joined the line of rocky peaks dividing this valley from the next; but ahead of th
em, perhaps three or four hundred feet above their present position, was a saddle, a depression between two mountains, which offered a possible route by which the ridge might be crossed. The first part of the climb was simply an upwards slog over rough pasture, with enough rocks and gullies to give cover if the helicopter came back. The last hundred feet or so looked much steeper, but from where they sat it did not appear to Leo to present any real problems in terms of actual rock climbing.
She looked down at her companion, prostrate on the grass, and then at her watch. It was a little after four. There was plenty of daylight left but at this altitude there was little warmth left in the sunlight. If they spent too much longer on the mountain in their wet clothes, she knew that they both ran the risk of hypothermia. The obvious answer was to head for the friendly rooftops of one of the villages; but equally obviously that was going to be one of the first places the police would look for them. On the other hand, the far valley was so cut off by the mountain ridge, the nearest connecting road being some eight miles further on, that they would hardly expect to find them there. The question was, could Margaret make the climb? It would be better to be picked up by the police than to be caught on the mountain with night coming down and the Irish girl in a state of collapse. Once again Leo’s thoughts turned to Stone. What were the chances of his finding them before the police did? She put her hand to her head and only then became aware that the auburn wig had gone, snatched off, presumably, when they were wriggling along the ditch. The stud from her jeans pocket had been left behind long ago, wedged down the back of the car seat to give Stone and his team a chance to follow the car as well. There was no hope, then, from that quarter. She felt herself beginning to shiver and stood up.
