There was always a breeze.
‘I like it here,’ said Lars. ‘I love the sea. Just the sound of it, you know? It calms me down. But I think I prefer being on top of it than underneath it.’
‘It makes a good change from London,’ said Toby. ‘Especially in a rainy November.’
‘I can see why Bill comes up here so much.’
‘Have you taken a look around outside Barnholt?’
‘I went for a little drive along the coast in the rain this morning. Had lunch in a pub somewhere.’
‘I’ve been talking to Bill,’ Toby said.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah. He told me what happened on the Alexander Hamilton. About how it was you who first tried to incapacitate the captain. About how you were arrested and then Bill smashed Craig over the head with a wrench. And about how the captain then checked his orders and found the launch instruction was an error.’
‘He told you all that? That surprises me.’
‘Megan had found a letter from Bill to Donna that referred to it. Is that right? What Bill said?’
‘Yeah, that sounds about right.’
‘So why did you lie to Justin about killing Craig?’
They were walking on the firmer sand just below the high tide mark, next to the dunes. The wide expanse of beach was almost empty. A woman with a dog was way ahead of them, and a couple were hunched against the breeze down by the sea.
‘Bill has been awfully good to me over the years. And to Justin. Bill wrote me when Justin figured out Craig was his real father; that really cut Bill up. And then he lost Donna, and his daughter was accused of murder. He didn’t need Justin causing trouble. It just suddenly occurred to me that it would be better all around if Justin thought I killed Craig. After all, I had tried to kill Commander Driscoll. He didn’t need Justin hating him. I couldn’t give a shit if Justin hates me. Also…’ he hesitated.
Toby waited.
‘I meant to kill Commander Driscoll, I really did. But I’m kind of glad I didn’t and it was Bill who ended up killing someone. And that someone was our friend. I’ve always felt guilty about that. So, I was happy to take on a little of the blame.’
‘Weren’t you afraid the police would find out what you had told Justin?’
‘Not really. The Navy would never set them straight. Frankly, I’m more worried about the stretch in jail in Guadeloupe. It doesn’t look like that has surfaced yet, but it probably will.’
‘I’m amazed they managed to keep what happened on the Hamilton quiet for so long.’
‘It’s quite an achievement,’ said Lars. ‘There were a hundred forty men on that submarine. But we were all shaken by what happened. Bill and I left the Navy, and so did over half the crew. Most of them failed the Personal Reliability Program that’s supposed to confirm you are psychologically prepared to press the button. After you have been through what we went through, the answer has to be: not really.’
‘Were you and Bill court martialled?’
‘No. Commander Driscoll and the XO came up with a story. I’m not sure how much of the truth they told to their senior officers, but it was made real clear to the crew that no one should ever speak about what happened on the submarine. Bill was a hero. And so was I, kind of.’
‘What happened to Commander Driscoll? You told me he was dead, and I assumed Bill had killed him to stop the launch.’
‘He did die,’ said Lars. ‘A few months later.’
‘How?’ Toby asked. But he knew as he asked the question what the answer was going to be.
‘Blew his brains out. He was a decent guy, but he couldn’t handle knowing he had nearly destroyed humanity. Once he was sure the cover-up would stick, he checked out. It was sad.’ Lars stared at his feet trudging through the sand. ‘Made me wonder what I was still doing on this earth. Still does, sometimes.’
‘And the XO? He stayed?’
‘Yeah.’ Lars hesitated. ‘He had his own issues. But he’s done well. Vice Admiral. With the captain gone, he’s the one who holds us all together. Goes to the reunions. Keeps the crew in line.’
Toby thought how quick Bill had been to get in touch with Admiral Robinson after Sam’s murder.
‘And it’s held?’
‘It seems to have,’ said Lars. ‘When Sam Bowen came to see me in Wisconsin, he said the rumours about the Hamilton had started from guys who had worked in the Pentagon. I guess a number of people there must have known what happened; Bill told me they set up some commission afterwards to change the launch protocols.’
They walked on in silence. The beach was empty now, apart from the small green boat dragged up against the dunes. Far out to sea, distant windmills waved desultorily towards them.
Toby tried to imagine what it would have been like to have come that close to finishing the world. He couldn’t.
Donna must have felt vindicated. That was probably why she and Bill had got back together again.
Then Toby remembered something.
‘Bill said that the FBI came to see him at the submarine base. And you and Craig. About Donna. Is that right?’
Lars stiffened. ‘I don’t remember.’
Oh yes you do, thought Toby.
‘Yeah. And there was a woman she had been talking to. Pat Greenberg, I think her name was?’
Lars shook his head.
Toby decided to confront him. ‘Lars. You’re holding back on me.’
Lars glanced out to sea before looking straight at Toby. ‘Maybe I am. But don’t go there, Toby. I mean it, don’t go there. I’m really surprised Bill told you about that.’
‘It was only in passing,’ Toby said.
‘He’s losing it,’ said Lars.
‘Why were the FBI interested in Donna?’
Lars stopped. ‘No, Toby. Do you hear me? No.’
They faced each other. Toby knew he was getting close to something. And he wasn’t going to let Lars shut him down.
‘Alice is under arrest; the police think she’s a murderer. If you know something, you have to tell the police. Or at least tell me. We can figure out what to do together.’
Toby could see Lars was wavering.
‘Did you kill Sam, Lars?’
‘No,’ Lars replied firmly, as if relieved to be able to give a straight answer.
‘Then do you know who did?’
There was a loud crack, and a look of surprise flashed across Lars’s face. A crimson hole appeared on his chest. Another crack, another hole.
As Lars’s legs gave way and he slumped to the ground, Toby dived to his right.
There was a third crack, and sand erupted a foot in front of Toby’s face.
The dunes were no more than ten yards away.
Toby pushed himself to his feet and sprinted for them, crouching low.
A fourth shot. Toby didn’t know where it had landed; all he knew was it had missed him.
He flung himself into a shallow gap between the dunes and crawled as fast as he could.
He thought that fourth shot had come from the green boat: he believed he had seen a muzzle flash in his peripheral vision, but he wasn’t really sure. He also wasn’t sure what to do. Hide? Or run?
Toby glanced around him. To his left was the beach and the sea. Ahead was a shallow hollow of beach grass, with the dunes rising in a row beyond it. And beyond that was the marsh and the dyke.
He dashed across the hollow, Rickover on his heels, waiting for the crack of the rifle or the blow of a bullet in the centre of his back, but it never came. He sprinted up and over a dune, and slid down the other side. Here the dunes were bunched more closely together, which was good. He spotted two humps of grass-covered sand, each about ten feet high, and darted between them. Fear spurred him on, but fear sharpened his mind.