Part 51 (1/2)

Devlin opened Fox's s.h.i.+rt and examined the wound just below the breast on the left. Fox's breathing was bad, his eyes full of pain. 'You were right,' he whispered. 'He's good.'

'Take it easy,' Devlin said. 'I've called in Trent and Brodie.'

He could already hear the Ford approaching. Fox said, 'Is he still in the house?'

'I doubt it.'

Fox sighed.-'We c.o.c.ked it, Liam. There'll be h.e.l.l to pay over this. We had him and he got away.'

'A bad habit he has,' Devlin said again, and the Ford entered the farmyard and skidded to a halt.

Cussane sat sideways in the pa.s.senger seat of the jeep, feet on the ground. He was stripped to the waist. There wasn't a great deal of blood, just the ugly puckered lips of the wound. He knew that was a bad sign, but there was no point in telling her that. She carefully poured sulfa powder on the wound from his small medical kit and affixed one of the field service dressing packs under his instructions.

'How do you feel?' she asked anxiously.

'Fine.' Which was a lie, for now that the initial shock was wearing off, he was in considerable pain. He found one of the morphine ampoules. They were of the kind used on the battlefield. He gave himself an injection and the pain started to ease quite quickly.

'Good,' he said. 'Now pa.s.s me a clean s.h.i.+rt. There should still be one left.'

She helped him on with it and then his jacket and raincoat. 'You'll be needing a doctor.'

'Oh, sure,' he said. 'Please help me. I've got a bullet in the shoulder. The first thing he'd reach for would be a telephone.'

Then what do we do? They'll really start hunting you now. All the roads covered.'

'I know,' he said. 'Let's have a look at the map.' After a while, he said, 'The Solway Firth between us and England. Only one main route through to Carlisle via Dumfries and Annan. Not much road to plug.'

'So we're trapped?'

'Not necessarily. There's the railway. There might be some sort of chance there. Let's get moving and find out.'

Ferguson said, 'It's a mess. Couldn'rbe worse. How's Harry Fox?'

'He'll live, as they say. At least that's the local doctor's opinion. They've got him here in Dumfries at the general hospital.'

'I'll make arrangements to have him s.h.i.+pped down here to London as soon as possible. I want him to have the best. Where are you phoning from?'

'Police headquarters in Dumfries. Trent's here with me. They're turning out all the men they can. Road blocks and so on. The weather isn't helping. Still raining like h.e.l.l.'

'What do you think, Liam?'

'I think he's gone.'

'You don't think they are going to net him up there?'

'Not a chance in the wide world.'

Ferguson sighed. 'Yes, frankly, that's how I feel. Stay for a while with Harry, just to make sure, then come back.'

'Now - this evening?'