Madeleine glanced at the old man and shrugged.
‘Anyway. You should leave here now,’ said the old man. ‘We have no idea where this Jerry Ranger is. He may be after you too.’
‘Perhaps I should,’ said Madeleine. ‘I came here to look after you, but I am not sure I can do that now. And I certainly don’t want to help you jog your memory any more. You can look after yourself, can’t you, Alastair?’
‘No he can’t!’ said Clémence. ‘The poor man is exhausted! There is a madman chasing him with a rifle, he lives all alone, and he still doesn’t know who he really is.’
‘Clémence, chérie, you are coming with me!’ said Madeleine. ‘Leave Alastair. I know old men, and this one is a tough old bird. He’ll be all right, and if he isn’t, it’s his own fault. He knows all that. But for you it’s different. I should never have gotten you involved in all this. I would never forgive myself if you were hurt.’
‘Your aunt is absolutely right, Clémence,’ said the old man. ‘You should go with her.’
‘No!’ said Clémence.
‘Yes,’ said the old man.
‘But what are you going to do?’ Clémence asked him.
‘I am going to go back to Culzie and find that exercise book. And then I will probably call the police.’
‘We should call the police now!’ said Clémence.
The old man glanced at Madeleine. ‘If you call the police now, you will have to stay here to talk to them. Get yourself to safety. I’ll be much happier then, and so will your aunt. If Jerry Ranger shoots me, so be it. I probably don’t have many years left in me and as we have all agreed, my life is pretty worthless anyway. What do you think, Madeleine?’
‘On this, Alastair is absolutely correct, chérie.’
Clémence glanced at Callum, who was listening closely. After all they had been through together, she couldn’t bear to abandon the old man — her grandfather. And she, too, wanted to know what was in that black exercise book. Alastair had found something out before he fell and hit his head. Something that propelled him all the way to America to confront Iain and Nathan. Possibly something that had led to Nathan’s death. Now that something was causing Jerry whoever-he-was to want to kill.
Something bigger than anything they had discovered so far.
Callum was looking at her oddly. As if he was trying to pass a thought onto her. An idea. And she believed she knew what it was.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave too. How shall we do this? Are you packed, Aunt Madeleine?’
‘My suitcase is in Davie’s taxi,’ said Madeleine. ‘He’s waiting for me.’
‘You should go directly to the airport,’ Clémence said. ‘I need to talk to Callum and to pack up, but I’ll follow you. I’ll take the train, maybe from Inverness. We probably shouldn’t travel together.’
‘Let’s meet in London, then,’ said Madeleine. ‘I’ll be staying at the Connaught. I’ll book you a room for you there. Do you need some cash for the ticket?’
Madeleine gave Clémence six fifty-pound notes from her purse.
‘I’m not sure I’ll get all the way to London by tonight,’ Clémence said. ‘I might have to stop over somewhere on the way. Or get the sleeper.’
‘What about Callum?’ said Madeleine. ‘Do you want to come with Clémence?’
‘That’s all right, Mrs Giannelli,’ said Callum. ‘I think I’ll go straight back to Glasgow. I’ve got a shift in the pub tomorrow lunchtime.’
They all looked at the old man. His face was still pale, but his cleft chin was jutting out proudly. Clémence realized that this was what he wanted. To be left to face his past alone, even if he might die for it.
22
The train pulled into Dingwall station, and Stephen stepped onto the platform with his small bag. It had been an early start and a long journey, but he knew the day was not over yet.
He checked into the hotel over the road, dumped his bag and asked directions to Madeleine’s hotel. He took a taxi up a hill behind the town, through a housing estate to a castle. It was now one of those fancy country-house hotels that Stephen read about in the Sunday papers, but in which he could never afford to stay. Besides, he had no intention of sharing a hotel with Madeleine.
She had checked out.
Which left Stephen only one option.
So, when he returned to his waiting taxi, he had a question for the driver.
‘How much is it to go to Loch Glass?’
Madeleine dropped Clémence and the old man at the vet’s farmhouse; Callum was following on his bike. Madeleine instructed Davie to take her on to the airport, making Clémence promise to call her at the Connaught as soon as she arrived at King’s Cross, whether it was that night, or, more likely, the following day.
‘What now?’ said the old man. Clémence’s heart went out to him. He looked both desolate and determined at the same time, and so frail.
He straightened up. ‘I know what you are thinking. But you promised Madeleine you would leave and leave you must.’
‘All right,’ said Clémence. ‘Let me just have a quick word with Callum, and I’ll see you upstairs.’
The old man went into the house as Callum freewheeled down the farm track. Clémence trusted Callum to see things more objectively than her, and she needed to check that she had read his thoughts correctly.
She had.
She went up to the room. The old man was sitting on his bed, staring into space. Clémence picked up the telephone and dialled the number from the card that Davie had given her.
‘Yes, I’d like a taxi please...’
She watched the old man watch her.
‘Yes. That’s for three people... the Wyvis Estate by Loch Glass... as soon as possible.’ She hung up.
The old man frowned. ‘The Wyvis Estate?’
She smiled at him. ‘As soon as we’ve found and read that exercise book, we call the police, OK? Just don’t tell Aunt Madeleine.’
He raised his eyebrows and then grinned. ‘All right, Clémence. We’ll do it your way.’
Jerry was seated at a table in the corner of the Inverness Public Library, poring over a map of Scotland and scribbling in the notebook he had bought that morning from WH Smith. Smith’s was one of the few things in this country that hadn’t changed since his childhood.
His initial thought had been to find a remote spot off a minor road in which to lie low. But the more he thought about it, the more he felt he was vulnerable in the countryside if the police launched a major search operation. Wherever he was hiding, there was the chance that a local shepherd, or ghillie, or forester would find his car and wonder what it was doing there. And, unlike the countryside of southern England which was criss-crossed with a network of minor roads, the Highlands were traversed by a limited number of through routes, all of which could be easily monitored by the police.
But in a city, he could blend in. No one would know that he was a stranger, and now he had shaved his beard and his hair, there was no description or photograph that the police could issue that would enable him to be recognized. He could easily lose his American accent and resurrect his old one. The Peugeot was parked on a residential street not far from the centre of town, where no one would remark on it. Also, a city gave easier and more anonymous access to public transport.
Inverness was a city, but a small one. It wasn’t quite anonymous enough for Jerry’s purposes; after wandering around its few main streets for an hour or so, he realized that people might begin to recognize him. He considered fleeing to Glasgow, where they would never find him, but he might be spotted on the way. Besides, he wanted to remain within striking distance of Wyvis or Dingwall, in case he had an opportunity to finish what he had started.