Part 36 (2/2)

And something weighing down his pocket which might just be a gun. Who's to say it hadn't been him who caused all this?

She said to him, 'Dinah was here, wasn't she?'

'. . . She was.'

Zoe said, 'Sarah '

'A little child. A four-year-old girl.'

'Four years, yes. Something like that.'

'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'

'Sarah '

'She was bait. You b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'

The man tugged at an ear. Then said, 'Well, yes, technically. But she wasn't meant to get hurt.'

'You thought Michael would just turn up and ask for her nicely?'

'Sarah '

'Anything could have happened!'

'Anything more or less did,' he pointed out.

'Sarah, would you pack it in?'

'Huh?'

Zoe was looking at her strangely; trying to pa.s.s messages with her eyes . . .

'The question is,' the man said, 'where is he now?'

'He's left.'

'Yes, very good. He's left. You wouldn't happen to know where though, would you? Mrs Trafford?'

'I've got no idea.'

'Perhaps now would be a good time to give it some thought.'

'Thing is,' Zoe said, 'we've got to be off.'

'You've got to be off.'

'Boat to catch. You know how it goes.'

'Leaving the scene of the crime?'

'It's not our crime.'

'So you say. But you are the only other people here. There's bound to be an investigation, yes? You're witnesses to a death.'

'Thing is, Mrs Trafford here's already been witness to one of those. And by the time you lot were finished with it, it turned out it never happened.'

'My lot?'

'Spooks. Spies. Men in grey.'

'Yes, well . . . '

'And what's worrying me is, you want to disappear this little ma.s.sacre, you might get ideas about disappearing us. You follow?'

'I think you're being unnecessarily '

'Fine. Think what you like. But I'll say it again, we've a boat to catch. The same guy who dropped us here. Who knows who we are. Who has a cheque with my name on it. Who has friends who know where he is. Am I making this clear at all?'

'As crystal.'

'Great. We'll be off then.'

The man's hand, which had dropped to his pocket, dropped away again. And, Sarah noticed, Zoe withdrew her own hand from her shoulder bag: it was holding her lighter, though she already had a cigarette going . . . Sarah herself was holding the blue bear. She felt like a shoplifter, an attention-seeking thief. Hadn't even realized she'd brought it out with her.

'Sarah?'

'. . . Yes.'

Zoe was backing away, not taking her eyes from the balding man. Who watched, politely, saying nothing; he looked like, if he'd had a hat, he'd have tipped it.

'Sarah? Are you coming?'

'I'm coming.'

Bear tucked under her arm, she came. And back along the track they went together, watched a good part of the way by the strange little spook, who frankly looked more accountant than spy . . . 'f.u.c.king amateur,' reckoned Zoe.

Hey-ho, thought Howard.

He walked over to where the corpse lay, the second corpse he'd found, and idly kicked its apple at a nearby rock. There were a lot of nearby rocks on the island. The apple bounced, bruised; a sizeable chunk flew up, and flopped to the ground. Perhaps he'd kicked it harder than he'd intended.

Howard looked at the corpse. 'So what are you supposed to have died from, then? Fright?'

The corpse rolled over. A large and not particularly convincing wound stained his s.h.i.+rt front.

'I was on my back initially. But it wasn't too comfortable. I rolled over.'

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