Voice in the Mist

by Nigel Cubbage

  CHAPTER 26 – True Selves

  The first glimmers of a bright yellow sunrise were catching the tops of the hills of Morar, as Rebecca and Drew rounded the high cliffs at the mouth of Loch Nevis and pointed the boat towards Rahsaig. Out on the loch it was cool and still, a light mist hanging just above the surface of the water, parting silently around the boat.

  “Atmospheric,” murmured Rebecca, to nobody in particular.

  She looked up at the steep, forbidding cliffs, from which Becca had been thrown to her death by Lachlan, and shivered. How tranquil it now seemed.

  The chugging of the engine seemed loud and intrusive in the early morning. Aware they would be conspicuous, Rebecca slowed the boat right down and looked cautiously ahead.

  Tucked into an inlet about half a mile before the castle, she spied identical blue and white boats, moored side by side.

  “Cops,” said Drew, anticipating the question formulating in her mind.

  “I guess we’d better stop and say hello.”

  Rebecca killed the engine as they approached. Their arrival provoked considerable activity. They were waved alongside the first launch by a large constable with a ruddy face. Other officers appeared next to him and quickly secured the boat with ropes.

  “Is that Drew?” Rebecca and Drew recognised the tall angular frame of PC Lennie.

  “It’s okay, Sir, I know these two. This is Henry McOwan’s niece, Rebecca; and Drew Campbell, one of the Rahsaig rangers. The Laird told the Superintendent all about them.”

  “The redoubtable Rebecca,” said a smiling officer in plain clothes.

  “I understand you’ll be after my job if I’m not careful. Lord MacDonald, no less, suggested we have a lot to thank you for.”

  Rebecca did not know quite how to react and offered an uncertain smile in response. On the other boat, she noticed Sergeant Gillespie looking stony-faced. Probably bemoaning another breakfast missed, she thought mischievously.

  The senior officer came aboard.

  “I’m Chief Inspector Craig. Are you both okay?”

  They nodded. He continued.

  “We thought you were here in the castle, Miss. Where have you been?”

  Rebecca and Drew exchanged nervous looks. Rebecca swallowed, aware that she might be about to tell a lie to a policeman.

  “They locked us in the room – er, both of us. We escaped out of the window. We went over to Barradale to see if we could spot the thieves removing the stolen goods. I guess it was a silly thing to do, really. Quite how we could have stopped them, I don’t know …”

  Rebecca crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping that the Inspector would be willing to believe in a youthful prank. He favoured them with a superior, indulgent look.

  “Quite … and pretty much as I expected. Lucky you came to no harm. Right now, it’s important that we get you back into your room in the castle as soon as possible. But from here, everything is done our way, understood? No more heroics.” He looked searchingly at both of them. Rebecca and Drew offered no protest.

  “Right – you’ll go the rest of the way back on foot. I’ll put some officers aboard this boat. We are coordinating an operation to catch all of them together.”

  “Isn’t there a question you should be asking us?” said Rebecca. Inspector Craig looked at her, puzzled, a slightly affronted twitch playing around the corners of his mouth.

  “I mean, how come we are aboard the thieves’ boat with all the paintings?”

  The Inspector’s mouth fell open in shock. Rebecca quite enjoyed the effect of her revelation, given his evident disdain a few moments before.

  “This is their boat?” He turned angrily to his assembled officers. “Why did nobody tell me this is the boat we’ve been looking for? Lennie, McIntosh! Get on here and get the art expert to check this lot out – now!”

  He turned back to Rebecca and Drew, attempting a half-hearted smile.

  “All right. So just how come you are aboard their boat?”

  “We found it adrift at Barradale, with no sign of anyone. So we thought we’d take it. There was a – er, storm. The men may have fallen overboard.”

  The Inspector looked sceptical.

  “A storm, you say? We have had no storm here. When was this?”

  “A few hours ago,” said Drew. “It was fairly localized,” he added, hurriedly, sensing it would not help their cause to mention the tidal wave and the Ghost Ship.

  It was obvious that the Inspector was far from convinced. “We only arrived an hour ago, so I suppose it might be possible …hmm.” He turned to one of the other launches.

  “Gillespie! Take your boat and search the waters and shore around Barradale for these missing men, possibly swept overboard in a storm. Stay in radio contact.”

  “But that will take some time, sir. Surely I will be needed here…” The Sergeant began to protest but a dismissive hand from the Chief Inspector indicated that the conversation was over. Smiles forming on the faces of Rebecca and Drew at Gillespie’s plight were immediately wiped away as the Chief Inspector turned his attention back to them.

  “You and I will talk later. I’ll pass the word to my men that you’re coming through the woods. Some of my men can pose as the thieves on the boat. Wait here a moment.”

  A man in plain clothes on the next boat had caught his eye. The Inspector stepped carefully back aboard the police cruiser and went to talk to him. Every so often, one or both of them would look across at Drew and Rebecca. Eventually, the other man disappeared into the cabin and the Inspector returned.

  “We need to change our plans slightly, in view of the missing men and this being their boat. We think it’s necessary to arrest Sibley, Morgan and the rest here without delay.”

  “Oh, but…” Drew was stopped by a sharp dig in the ribs from Rebecca, who feared he was about to divulge the real whereabouts of Morgan.

  “What?” asked the Inspector. Rebecca leaped in before Drew could open his mouth.

  “Oh, you should wait for the boat from Mallaig. It brings the housekeeper across every morning and she is in on it too. It will be here very soon. You need her too if you want all of them. She will be the one to unlock the Laird and me.”

  “How do you know that she is part of it?”

  “Uncle Henry worked it out. He said Morgan had to have an accomplice at the castle.”

  She looked for affirmation from Drew, who latched on immediately and nodded vigourously. The Inspector nodded more slowly.

  “Very well. We’ll take her in for questioning. Warn Henry that we’ll be starting our operation fifteen minutes after her boat gets in. Exactly fifteen minutes.”

  He looked at their tired faces for a moment. His expression softened.

  “You pair look done in. But I’m afraid it’s going to be a while longer before you can rest – away to the castle now and keep out of sight.”

  ***

  “Is Morgan up yet?” asked Simon Sibley, tucking a napkin into his shirt and surveying the breakfast Miss McHarg had just placed before him. The clock in the Great Hall began to chime the hour.

  “I have not seen him – would you like me to check on him?”

  “Indeed. And while you are at it, please unlock our other guests, the Laird and Miss Rebecca. Have them join me down here.” McHarg looked alarmed. “If I unlock the Laird’s door, he will know I am involved.”

  “Not if you simply tell him I have ordered you to open the door and you knew nothing of it until you arrived here this morning. You must of course feign ignorance of Mr Morgan, if your performance is to be convincing.”

  Sibley sniffed disdainfully and took a large bite of sausage. A twirl of his fork indicated to Miss McHarg that she was dismissed.

  ***

  Henry McOwan noticed some movement in the bushes near the boathouse as he stood on his balcony. Retrieving a pair of binoculars, he trained them on the exact spot. He made out what he thought was the shoulder of a man.

  A tap at his door brought him hur
rying back inside. The key turned and the door opened, to reveal the pallid countenance of McHarg. She stepped forward uncertainly.

  “Good morning, sir. This is all most dreadful. I had no idea … Mr Sibley told me to come and unlock your door … you a prisoner in your own home – what is going on?”

  “What do you think is going on?”

  “I, I, I, well of course I don’t know. I…” Henry’s measured tones had unnerved her.

  “We think you know perfectly well.” Rebecca stepped out from behind the door through to Henry’s bathroom. McHarg was startled.

  “Miss Rebecca, why, how did you get in here?”

  “After you locked me in my room, you mean? And don’t deny it.”

  McHarg opened her mouth but no sound came. Henry put his binoculars on the table.

  “It’s no good, Miss McHarg, we know everything. Morgan had to have had some help here, to tell him all about the house and everyone at Rahsaig. I became aware it had to be you when I recalled how little things had started to go missing recently. Papers, bits of clothing, photo albums, things only you would know where to find.”

  McHarg was crestfallen. She sat down heavily on a chair, taking out a handkerchief and pressing it to her nose.

  “Oh sir, oh sir! I am sorry – please forgive me, I needed some money, I don’t know what possessed me …I have slipped from the path of righteousness …”

  “We can worry about all that later, when uncle decides if you are sacked or not. What we need to know is where Sibley and Morgan are?” Rebecca scowled at McHarg, enjoying her evident discomfort. McHarg could not look either of them in the eye.

  “Er, Mr Sibley is downstairs, at breakfast. He asked me to fetch you both to join him. And I was just on my way to wake Mr Morgan. He has not been down yet. Oh sir, you’ll be wanting to dismiss me, I am sure. I will leave this very minute.”

  “Just hold on a moment,” said Henry, sitting down opposite her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

  “I haven’t decided what to do about your job yet but there is something you are going to do right now. You are going back downstairs with Rebecca and you will tell Mr Sibley that I am unwell and remaining in my bed and that you have locked my door and given the key to Morgan. You will say that Morgan will be down in a moment. When I appear, you will act as if I am Morgan, do you understand?”

  The housekeeper looked confused for a moment.

  “But what happens when the real Mr Morgan appears?”

  “Do you understand?” Henry repeated his question. She nodded and sniffed. “Good. Go now then.” He turned to Rebecca. “And send Drew in on your way out.”

  Rebecca nodded and the door closed behind them.

  Henry crossed to the mirror on his dressing table and stared at his reflection. If Morgan had been able to pass himself off as his identical twin, Henry, so that nobody suspected, then the reverse should also be possible. Henry was more worried about acting and reacting in the way that would be expected of his brother. If Rebecca was correct, and Morgan and the others were not coming back, that would leave Sibley, McAllum and Godfrey. He checked his watch. The police would be making their move in a few minutes’ time. He trained his binoculars back on the boathouse. He had a shrewd idea that the figure he had seen in the bushes was a policeman.

  ***

  Chief Inspector Craig stood in the middle of the Great Hall at Rahsaig Castle, hands on hips, evidently very unhappy. Around him, his officers were standing nervously, anxious to avoid doing anything to become the object of his wrath.

  “Gone?” He looked angrily at the Constable standing in front of him.

  “Gone where?”

  “I don’t know, sir. We’ve searched the whole castle and there is nobody here.”

  The constable looked down, not daring to make eye contact with the furious Inspector.

  “Well search it again! This place is full of nooks and crannies and hiding places. Find them all! Go on the rest of you – stop standing about like a bunch of bananas!”

  The officers dispersed hastily, leaving the Chief Inspector fuming in the middle of the Hall. He crossed to a window and looked out over the lawn to the landing stage, where other policemen stood aboard the thieves’ boat.

  “At least that hasn’t ‘disappeared’,” he muttered, darkly.

  “Sir! We’ve found the housekeeper!” The Chief Inspector turned swiftly to where a constable was escorting a frightened-looking McHarg from the kitchen.

  “Locked in the pantry, sir.”

  “You are Miss McHarg, the housekeeper?”

  McHarg nodded.

  “So where have they all gone?”

  “I have no idea, sir,” McHarg’s voice was frail and distressed. “It was awful! Horrid! The Laird held prisoner in his own home…”

  “You can cut the act, Miss McHarg,” the Chief Inspector interrupted her sharply.

  “We know all about your part in this little affair. Aiding and abetting a crime is what the law calls it. Now, without adding wasting police time to the list, tell me what you know about where they went.”

  “It’s the truth, sir! I really have no idea. They locked me in the pantry, that man with the long hair from Barradale.”

  “McAllum?”

  “Terribly rough, he was. He shoved me onto the floor.”

  If McHarg had expected sympathy, she was disappointed. The Inspector frowned at her.

  “So, they up and vanish into thin air, taking Henry, Rebecca and young Campbell with them and nobody knows anything about it.”

  “Mr Sibley did see some police officers through the window at breakfast, sir. Perhaps that’s why they left?”

  The Inspector, who had turned away, now rounded on her again.

  “What? I told you lot to keep well hidden! Which officers? I’ll break their batons!”

  “Sir? The suspects’ boat is leaving.” A constable was looking out of the window.

  The Inspector’s face registered renewed anger.

  “What is going on? Who gave orders for that? Right – come on!”

  The policemen dashed outside. The thieves’ boat was now heading away from the landing stage, in the direction of Mallaig and the open sea.

  “Radio them and find out what the hell is going on!” shouted the Chief Inspector.

  “And get our launches to intercept that boat. They must be on it! Heaven only knows how but it has to be them.”

  The Constable spoke quickly into his radio and waited for the crackle of a response.

  “No reply, sir. Was there anyone left on our boats?”

  The Chief Inspector closed his eyes in disbelief.

  “This is not happening – tell me, somebody, that this is not happening. Come on, back to the boats. Leave a couple of officers here with her…”

  He pointed angrily at McHarg.

  “Lose her and you’ll spend the rest of your life handing out parking tickets in the Outer Hebrides – everyone else with me – now!”

  ***

  From his position at the bow of the escaping boat, Henry McOwan scanned the police launches for signs of movement. He had been counting on the police following and intercepting them. Their powerful launches would be too fast for the little motor cruiser. When he could see no sign of life aboard any of them, he became worried. He took a quick glance over his shoulder to where Sibley was speaking in low tones with McAllum, who held the wheel. McAllum and Godfrey were dressed in police uniforms.

  Henry must be careful not to let his concerns show.

  “Where are the cops?” whispered Rebecca urgently, standing beside him and trying not to appear as if she was speaking. “Shouldn’t somebody be on those boats?”

  “Yes they flamin’ well should!” muttered Henry through clenched teeth. “What are we going to do now?”

  “We’ll just have to play along until we find out what they are up to.”

  “Yes but they’ll expect me to know what they are up to.” Henry’s hoarse whisper held a note of de
speration.

  “I think we should put our guests below, Morgan, with their police friends.” Sibley’s tones reached them from the wheelhouse. The policemen the Inspector had posted on board the boat had been taken unawares, stripped of their uniforms and locked in the cabin by McAllum, holding a shotgun on them.

  Rebecca and Drew, standing at the bow alongside Henry, exchanged nervous glances. Henry turned, trying to appear calm. He smiled at Sibley and tried to introduce some of Morgan’s coldness into his voice.

  “No need, is there? All going according to plan. I’d rather have them where I can see them. We can always push them overboard if we need to.”

  Sibley snorted, as if Henry had been making a bad joke.

  “All going swimmingly, apart from being surprised by the police and this sudden need to make a run for it without half our men. I want to know how the police knew where we were and where the others are.”

  “Maybe the police caught them and that is why they were on our boat,” said the artist.

  “So what now? Do we still go to the truck?”

  For once, Henry was grateful to hide behind Sibley’s natural pomposity, which now led him to reply on their behalf.

  “Yes we do – but it still doesn’t explain how the police came to know anything in the first place. Unless it’s down to them.” Sibley pointed at Rebecca and Drew, a venomous edge entering his voice.

  “Poking and snooping about. You escaped somehow from Barradale, young laddie, so perhaps you can tell me what happened to the men there?”

  Sibley put his face up close to Drew and glared at him. Drew caught a blast of his sour breath and turned his head away. “Your French jailer was easy to trick.” He looked back, defiantly, at Sibley. “And your breath stinks!”

  “We can’t leave without the others,” said Henry quickly and loudly, seizing on a possible opportunity to force a delay and trying to distract Sibley’s attention, as the latter made as if to strike Drew.

  “They all know the plan. If the police have caught them, who’s to say they won’t tell them everything and we’ll find PC Plod waiting in our truck?”

  Sibley had clearly not considered this. He diverted his scowl from Drew and looked studiedly at Henry.