“What a nice sound,” murmured Tyndall, now almost on top of her. “So feminine, so inviting...”
“Get off me!” cried Sarah. She could smell the whisky on Tyndall’s breath as his face bore down on hers. She struggled but he was proving too strong for her. He had hold of both her wrists and was pulling her up off the chair. “We’ll be more comfortable here,” he gasped. He was breathing heavily when he pushed her down on to the couch and smothered her with his own body. She could feel the roughness of his beard on her cheek as he reached down with his right hand to start pulling up her skirt. She heard the material tear and her legs become free.
Sarah beat against Tyndall’s back with her one free hand but it was useless. Her anger was now interspersed with sobbing and pleading. “Get off me you animal!” she gasped, as she felt his right knee wedge itself between her legs, prising them apart.
Tyndall paused for a moment to lift his head and look down at Sarah. “I’ve heard that some women like it rough,” he snarled. “So be it.”
Sarah could not believe that she had been so wrong about the man. She simply could not believe that the beast on top of her was the shy, ineffectual little man she had met at the hospital reception. The shyness must have been a mask for arrogance, the diffidence really contempt for everyone around him. If only she had heeded Ryan’s warning! She cried out as Tyndall bit her right breast through her top and forced his hand into her crotch to tear away her underwear.
Lafferty looked at his watch and saw that only half an hour had gone by. He couldn’t relax; he had done little else but pace up and down since Sarah’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t know why he felt so uneasy. After all, Sarah was probably right; she was a grown woman and knew what she was doing. Once again, he failed to convince himself. He looked at his watch yet again. The thought that he didn’t even know where she had gone occurred to him and made him feel even worse if that were possible. He had been out of the room when Sarah had made the phone call so he had not heard her repeat an address. This fact niggled away at him for the next five minutes until he thought of something he could do. He remembered a boy scout trick from long time ago. You could sometimes find out what had been written on a piece of paper by lightly shading the piece under it on the pad. Sarah had written the address down on his phone pad.
Lafferty rifled through two or three drawers before he found a pencil and then had to contend with the fact that it was broken. He couldn’t find a sharpener so he used a kitchen knife. He returned to the phone pad and held the pencil almost horizontal to the paper as he scribbled back and forwards very lightly and quickly across it. He put down the pencil and held the pad up to the desk lamp. He could read the address. The Elms, Seaforth Road, North Berwick.
Lafferty felt himself go cold at the mention of North Berwick. He froze with the paper in his hand. Tyndall lived in North Berwick? It had to be coincidence, he told himself. Lots of people must live by the sea in North Berwick and commute to the city. Why not Cyril Tyndall?
Despite this argument, Lafferty found he could not rest easy with the ‘coincidence’. Tyndall, the director of the Gelman Holland Institute, living in North Berwick with its past association with witchcraft and, in particular, the use of the Hand of Glory. There had to be a connection. Lafferty could not bear the anguish he felt any longer. He grabbed his coat and ran out to the car. He was going to find Sarah.
The clutch release bearing on Lafferty’s car gave an angry squeal as he took off a bit too quickly for its liking. “Don’t let me down now,” he murmured. “Just one more night. That’s all I ask.” The bearing decided on a compromise; it disintegrated as he changed down into third gear on entering North Berwick. Lafferty let the car coast to a halt and got out. He stopped the first person he met and asked them where Seaforth Road was. The man pointed in the general direction of the hill leading away from the main thoroughfare. “About half a mile that way,” he said. Lafferty started running. He didn’t even consider the possibility that he might be making a complete fool of himself until he had found Seaforth Road and had to rest for a moment in order to get his breath back. He didn’t have to look for the house; he could see Sarah’s car standing outside it.
As his breathing settled, Lafferty noticed how quiet it was. The houses in Seaforth Road were few and far between, large mansions standing in their own grounds surrounded by high stone walls. The wind had dropped to nothing as if the night was holding its breath. As Lafferty started towards The Elms, he heard the sound of large rain drops hit the leaves of a dense laurel hedge to his right. He heard five or six before the first touched his cheek. Any minute now it was going to pour down. He fastened up the collar of his coat.
He paused at the entrance to the house and saw that it was in complete darkness. What did it mean? Had Sarah and Tyndall gone out? That seemed unlikely. He walked up to the door and rang the bell. There was no answer so he rang again and again. He couldn’t think what else to do.
At last he heard a sound from inside and the hall light was switched on. “What is it?” asked an angry voice as the door was opened.
“Professor Tyndall?” asked Lafferty, taking in the dishevelled state of the man in front of him.
“Yes, what is it?” snapped Tyndall.
“I am looking for Dr Sarah Lasseter,” said Lafferty calmly. “I believe she’s here?”
Tyndall’s eyes took on a startled look. He patted his ruffled hair nervously. “What makes you say that? Who are you?”
“Sarah’s car is outside your gate. Where is she?”
Tyndall seemed unsure of what to say and it alarmed Lafferty. He started to lose his temper. “Where is she?” he demanded.
“She’s here,” admitted Tyndall. He stood back to allow Lafferty to enter the hall. “Wait here a moment please. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Lafferty watched Tyndall go downstairs. As he reached the foot of the steps he glanced back up at Lafferty and called out pleasantly, “Sarah, my dear, it’s someone for you.” He disappeared from sight and Lafferty turned to look at the pictures and photographs which adorned one wall of the entrance-hall. One was a large print of North Berwick harbour. Lafferty leaned closer to examine the date when he heard a sound from downstairs. It was the sound of a lock being turned. Tyndall was unlocking a door. Sarah had been locked in!
Lafferty ran downstairs lightly on his toes and heard voices as he turned in the direction he had seen Tyndall go. They were coming from behind the white door. He put his ear to it and heard Tyndall rasp, “You set me up! You led me on, you silly bitch. If it comes to it, I will deny everything about tonight and you can say good-bye to your career, so think about it. Now pull yourself together!”
Lafferty opened the door and found Sarah wiping her tear stained cheeks. Her skirt was torn. Tyndall turned round and opened his mouth to say something, but Lafferty hit him with a swinging right hand that carried all of his thirteen stones and a great deal of anger. Tyndall was lifted clean off his feet and tumbled over backwards to land in an untidy heap on the floor. Sarah flew into Lafferty’s arms and the tears came. “Oh Ryan,” she sobbed. “I’ve been so stupid.”
Lafferty held her close to him while watching Tyndall over her shoulder. “Are you all right Sarah?” he asked gently. “Did he..?”
Sarah shook her head against his shoulder and said quietly, “You arrived just in time.”
“Stupid bitch,” snarled Tyndall from the floor. He dabbed at his bleeding mouth with the back of his hand. “There isn’t a court in the land who would take her word against mine in the circumstances.” His face filled with fear as he saw the look in Lafferty’s eyes as he gently disengaged himself from Sarah and started towards him. “Keep away from me!” he squealed.