“No, Ryan!” called out Sarah, rushing forward to put a restraining hand on his arm. “Don’t! Please don’t.”
Lafferty paused, looking down at Tyndall, his eyes filled with contempt. “So this is what a potential Nobel Prize-winner looks like,” he murmured. “The brightest and best of his generation!”
“Ryan, take me away from here,” said Sarah, her hand still on Lafferty’s arm.
Lafferty turned and Sarah pulled him towards the door. They had almost reached the head of the stairs when they heard Tyndall’s voice behind them. “Wait!” he commanded.
Lafferty turned to see Tyndall standing at the foot of the stairs pointing a shotgun up at them.
“Oh for God’s sake,” exclaimed Sarah. “This is getting out of all proportion. Put the gun down, Professor!”
Tyndall started up the stairs towards them. The gun in his hands had brought back his confidence. “Why did you really come here tonight?” he demanded of Sarah. “What were you after? And why tell a priest you were coming here?”
“This is...” Words failed Sarah as she watched Tyndall level the shotgun at Lafferty’s stomach. “Stop this, Professor!”
There was a Chinese patterned vase standing on a small table next to Lafferty. Tyndall saw him glance at it and warned, “Don’t even think about it. That’s a Ming.”
Lafferty had been thinking about it, although its size and weight had taken precedence over any consideration of origin or value. When Tyndall’s eyes moved momentarily to the vase, Sarah saw her chance and flung her handbag at him. It opened in mid-flight and Tyndall was showered with keys, coins, lipstick and her hospital bleeper. It was the surprise factor more than the objects that caused him to over-balance and tumble backwards down the stairs. He let go of the gun and it clattered down the steps behind him to lie silently across his still legs.
“Oh my God,” said Sarah putting her hands to her mouth. “Is he all right?”
Lafferty was unsure about whether Tyndall was unconscious or just shamming. The gun was within easy reach for him. For a moment he was in two minds whether to go downstairs or not, but he overcame his reservations out of human concern and started to descend a step at a time. He reached the bottom and pulled the gun cautiously away from Tyndall by the barrels. Tyndall still didn’t move. Lafferty put his hand to Tyndall’s neck to feel for a pulse but couldn’t find any. “Sarah,” he said softly. “I think you better take a look at him.”
Sarah joined him at the foot of the stairs and knelt down beside Tyndall. After a moment she looked up at Lafferty and said, “His neck’s broken. He’s dead.”
Seventeen
Lafferty closed Tyndall’s eyes with his forefinger and thumb before picking up Sarah’s belongings. Sarah herself seemed to be in a trance; she couldn’t take her eyes off the body. Lafferty put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.
“It’s all my fault,” said Sarah quietly. “If I hadn’t been so stupid none of this would ever have happened.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Sarah,” said Lafferty. “Fate was holding the reins.”
Sarah shook her head and refused to listen, but Lafferty persisted. He made her look at him. “This is not your doing,” he insisted. “It just happened, that’s all. His death was an accident.”
Sarah looked back at Tyndall’s lifeless body. “He was a gifted man,” she said. “Whatever he tried to do to me.”
“Maybe,” said Lafferty coldly.
Sarah looked at him questioningly.
“Do you know how long he’s been living here?” asked Lafferty.
“He told me that he and his brother were brought up here. This was the family house. Why?”
“Because this is North Berwick. An intelligent man who’s lived here all his life must have known about the past connection with witchcraft and the Hand of Glory.”
“You think that Cyril was involved?” gasped an incredulous Sarah. “But he was a brilliant scientist! Why on earth would he get involved in anything criminal?”
Lafferty shook his head and said, “I don’t know, but you didn’t reckon on him being a rapist either.”
Sarah conceded the point in silence.
“Oh Ryan,” she whispered, her voice reflecting the hopelessness she felt. “This is all just too...”
Lafferty drew Sarah to him and held her for a moment before leading her slowly up the stairs.
“What do we do now?”
“We should call the police,” replied Lafferty.
Sarah considered this for a moment before saying slowly, “I managed to get the key to the Institute...”
Lafferty looked at her as if he found it hard to believe what she was suggesting. “You can’t be serious — after all you’ve been through,” he said softly.
“I want us to see it through together,” said Sarah firmly. “We’ve come this far.”
“If you’re absolutely sure...” said Lafferty, his voice betraying the doubts he felt.
“I’m sure,” said Sarah, but she sounded as if her confidence was balanced on a knife-edge. “If we call the police, these people might still get away with it. We owe it to John McKirrop, the O’Donnells, John Main and God knows how many others, to see that they don’t.”
Lafferty saw the determination in Sarah’s eyes and his heart went out to her. The feeling alarmed him but it was undeniable. “Come on then,” he said. “We’ll have to use your car. Mine has given up the ghost.”
Lafferty drove the Fiesta back at Sarah’s request. They didn’t speak until they had cleared the outskirts of North Berwick, when Sarah asked Lafferty how he had come to be there in the first place.
“I was worried about you,” he replied. He told her about the trick with the phone-pad.
“Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“Would you take your collar off, please?”
Lafferty glanced sideways then complied without question. He tossed it over his shoulder on to the back seat. Sarah rested her head against his arm. “That’s better,” she murmured. “And Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“Right now you are wondering what you should say. The answer is nothing. Just don’t say anything.”
Lafferty remained silent.
Sarah remained with her head resting against his arm for the remainder of the journey. She wasn’t asleep, but she kept her eyes closed until she heard the engine note slow as they approached a roundabout. She sat up straight and looked out of the window.
“How are you feeling?” Lafferty asked.
Sarah thought for a moment before replying, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid in my life.”
As they drove through the outskirts of the city Sarah asked, “Do you think we could stop off at the hospital? I’d like to change.” She fingered her torn skirt.
“Of course.”
Lafferty was glad it was still raining as he parked Sarah’s Fiesta in the car-park outside the residency. It gave him a feeling of security. He supposed it was psychological, but a dark, wet night suggested that most people would be indoors. There would be less chance of being seen by casual passers-by.
Eventually, Sarah emerged from the building wearing jeans and her suede jacket. She ran down the steps and got into the car, brushing the rain from her hair with her hand. “Sorry I was so long,” she said.
Lafferty ignored the apology and said, “Sarah, you really don’t have to do this. I can go alone to the Institute. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll get in touch with you later?”
Lafferty was puzzled when he saw a flash of anger cross Sarah’s face. It was still reflected in her eyes when she said, “Ryan, don’t ever treat me like the little woman. Understood?”