Part 50 (1/2)

'He's locked the door. I heard him.'

'Of course he has. He's no fool. Not that it matters. He's got to come out sooner or later. We'll take him then.'

'Good,' Hector said.

His brother poured another whisky. 'And don't forget. I get the girl.'

Devlin, Fox, Trent and Brodie drove up to Larwick from Dunhill in an old blue Ford van which the police sergeant had borrowed from a local garage. He parked it outside the general store in the village and went in while the others waited. He returned five minutes later and got behind the wheel of the Ford.

'Hector Mungo was in earlier for groceries. The old girl in there runs the saloon bar at the pub in the evenings. She says both of them are around, but no strangers, and they'd stick out like a sore thumb in a place like this.'

Devlin looked out of one of the rear windows in the van doors. There was really only one street, a row of granite cottages, a pub, the store and the hills lifting steeply above. 'I see what you mean.'

Brodie started the engine and drove away, following a narrow road between grey stone walls. 'The only road and the farm at the end of it.' A few minutes later he said, 'Right, this is about as far as we can go without being seen.'

He pulled in under some trees and they all got out. 'How far?' Trent asked.

'Less than a quarter of a mile. I'll show you.'

He led the way up through the trees at the side of the road, scrambling up through ferns and bracken and paused cautiously on the ridge line. 'There you are.'

The farm was below in the hollow a few hundred yards away. 'Cannery Row,' Devlin murmured.

'Yes, it does look a bit like that,' Fox replied. 'No sign of life.'

'What's more important, no sign of the jeep,' Devlin said. 'Maybe I was wrong after all.'

At that moment, both the Mungo brothers came out of the kitchen door and crossed the yard. That's them presumably.'

Fox took a small pair of Zeiss fieldgla.s.ses from his pocket and focused them. 'Nasty looking couple,' he added, as they went into the barn.

A moment later Morag Finlay came into view.

Trent said excitedly, 'It's the girl. Has to be. Reefer coat, Tarn O'Shanter. Fits the description exactly.'

'Jesus, Mary and Joseph,' Devlin said softly. 'I was right. Harry must be in the house.'

Trent said, 'How are we going to handle this?'

'You've both got personal radios?' Fox asked.

'Sure.'

'Right, give me one of them. Devlin and I will go in from the rear of the farm. With any kind of luck, we'll take them by surprise. You go back and wait in the van. The moment I give you the good word, you come up that road like an express train.'

'Fine.'

Trent and Brodie went back towards the road. Devlin took a Walther PPK from his pocket and c.o.c.ked it. Fox did the same.

The Irishman smiled. 'Just remember one thing. Harry Cussane isn't the kind of man to give any kind of a chance to.'