Seff knew how she felt all right. He poured some whisky into his empty glass, pressed it into her hand. ‘You are to drink this,’ he said sternly, as to a child. ‘Go on, drink it up.’ Obediently she did so.
The operator’s voice cut into the room. ‘I can’t raise them.’ The simple statement required no elucidation. Hargreaves took the telephone receiver from Gatt. ‘Put your commanding officer on the line.’
‘Colonel Sumner speaking,’ said a voice of unmistakable authority. ‘I have been listening on the line.’
‘Good. Well, I don’t have to tell you what to do.’
‘I’ll call Air-Sea Rescue at once. And I’ll send up another chopper.’
‘No, don’t do that, Colonel. It’s too dark in that loch.’ He paused. ‘How long would it take you to fit a car headlamp to one of your machines?’
‘I have already done so. I’m afraid I anticipated this possibility — but I wish I’d thought of it sooner.’
‘It’s not your fault, Colonel. What are their chances? We might as well know.’
‘It’s impossible to say. They only had twenty feet to fall. But looking at the gloomy side, it could have been rock underneath. And of course if you catch a blade it’s apt to smash up the whole machine.’
‘What about the danger of fire?’
Involuntarily Sophie said: ‘Oh God, no!’ and turned away so that the others couldn’t see the expression on her face.
‘There is a danger, of course. But we can see quite a long way upstream from here. I think if there was a fire we would see the glow. I’d better get on with it now, sir.’
‘Yes, of course. You will let us know…?’
‘The moment we have any news.’
The Director hung up, and there was a long silence in the room. At length he said: ‘If that boy has gone to his death, there’s someone who should hang for it.’
Seff looked down. ‘I know what you mean,’ he said quietly. ‘But I still don’t think you should have sent Simmel in.’
Sophie, white even to the lips now, had the last word. ‘I do,’ she said simply.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘I’m glad you asked me round, Kate,’ said Angela. ‘I wouldn’t have cared much to spend the evening on my own.’
Kate put the sugar in the coffee and handed her a cup. She attempted a smile, but it didn’t come off very well. ‘Nor me!’ She lowered her eyes. ‘Do you happen to know what Dick is doing up at Glennaverley? Something pretty dangerous, isn’t it?’
‘Now, you stop thinking about Dick.’
‘I find that difficult.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean. One does.’
‘I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had you to talk to tonight. The worst part, of it is, I ran into the girl at the office today, and I can’t even hate her.’
‘Well, don’t try. Being bitter doesn’t help, believe me.’ Angela lit a cigarette nervously. ‘Do you mind if I phone the hospital? I want to let them know where I am.’ She picked up the phone. ‘June’s baby is about the only happy prospect there is, at the moment — except for the way Jack has rallied-through in this business. Hallo… Private wing, please.’
‘Private ward — Sister speaking.’
‘This is Mrs Seff; I’m a friend of Mrs Springle’s. Is there any news yet?’
‘Oh, good evening, Mrs Seff. Yes, Mrs Springle has just arrived, and she was hoping you’d ring. I got the impression that she’d rather like you to be near at hand. You know, it’s her first, and she’s quite nervous really, though she’s very composed and very happy. We can’t let you see her, of course, until after the baby has been delivered. But it would be nice for her if she knew you weren’t far away.’
‘Of course, I’d be delighted to come. I’ll leave right away. Thank you, Sister.’ She hung up. ‘June wants me to go to the nursing-home, Kate. I’d suggest you came, too, but—’
‘It’s all right, Mrs Seff. I’m hardly in the mood to witness the happy event! I’ll call you a cab. In any case, I’d better stay here. You never know; they might just need me at the office. It looks as if they’re going to be there all night.’
‘You’ll be okay, won’t you?’ Angela sounded genuinely concerned.
‘Oh yes,’ she smiled. ‘Absolutely okay!’
Blackness.
No, net blackness. There was some sort of light. A round, yellowish light. Like looking through a porthole.
That’s right! It is a porthole. It’s a ship. It’s the Dunster Castle, and soon it will steam into Liverpool. Demob., leave, an orgy of theatres…
But the deck is wet. Water slopping over everything. And the ship isn’t moving. And somewhere, an odd sort of croaking noise…
A voice said: ‘Are you all right, Simmel?’ Then, more urgently, ‘Simmel?’
The voice reminded Dick of stale chicken sandwiches. But for a moment he couldn’t place it. But the porthole had become the moon, and he could make out the outline of some sort of rocky gorge, opening out above him to the night sky. A thing that looked like a boat oar — a giant one — was sticking out of the mud near his right arm.
And when he realised that it was part of a blade belonging to the rotor, he remembered the old lady and knew where he was. ‘Poor old lady,’ he said aloud.
Major Pentecue said: ‘Thank God you’re all right! You’ve been unconscious.’ They were both silent for a while, and there was only the slight sound of the water lapping around them and the intermittent croaking noise. Pentecue was out of sight, somewhere behind the bulk of the wreckage. Eventually he said: ‘Are you hurt badly?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t feel my right leg. I can’t move it. Perhaps it’s broken. I banged my head, too. How about you?’
‘I can’t really tell. There’s a lot of rubble on top of me, and it’s just not on, even to attempt to move. I think I’ve smashed a few ribs. Chest hurts like hell.’
Dick said: ‘I’m bloody sorry. I got you into this mess.’
‘Don’t be a clot! We’re both damn’ lucky to be alive. I can’t think why there wasn’t a fire.’ The croaking noise again. ‘What the hell is that?’
‘Sounds like a frog. And I think the horrible thing is crawling up my leg! Wait a minute; I’ll see if I can reach my torch.’ When Dick delved into his pocket a shooting pain in his shoulder made him cry out.
‘What’s happening? You all right?’
Dick managed to get the torch out. ‘Yes, sorry. I’ve evidently done something to my shoulder as well. Now let’s see if it’ll work.’ It did. Well, that’s a miracle!’ He searched for the offending frog. ‘Now, where are you, you slimy beast?’
The frog stared back at him, hypnotised by the flickering light. It was a pretty stupid-looking frog, Dick thought. There appeared to be something wrong with it, though the animal didn’t seem to be aware of any deficiency.
‘Have you found your frog?’ asked the Major. He was in more pain than he cared to admit, and it showed in his voice.
Dick took a closer look at the animal.
Then he saw what was wrong with it. The sight made him want to vomit.
Sprouting from each knee joint of the hind legs were two extra feet. The thing had got six legs.
Struggling to keep his voice level, Dick said: ‘I hope to God they get us out of here soon. I’ve just seen something I hope I never see again.’
‘What was it? The Loch Logie Monster?’