Part 67 (1/2)
”Do you think they'll ring later?”
”I don't know.”
”Or tomorrow?”
”I don't know.”
”What about Samantha? What do you reckon will happen to her now?”
”I don't know.”
”In short, you don't know anything?”
”Nothing I haven't already told you.”
”We don't believe you,” growled Miller.
”And until we do,” said Golding, ”you won't be leaving here.”
Frank's argument that they should wait until nightfall before a.s.suming the worst was wearing thin as far as Derek was concerned. His inability to suggest an alternative course of action was in fact the only reason why he had not left the hotel room, which uncertainty and lack of information had turned into a prison he longed to escape.
When the telephone rang, he grabbed at it instinctively, wanting nothing so much as to hear Charlotte's voice at the other end. But he did not.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Derek?”
For a second, he did not believe his own senses. It sounded like Colin. It undoubtedly was Colin. But how? Why? ”Colin? Is that really . . . What . . . I mean . . .”
”I was released this morning. Since n.o.body seemed to know where you were, I called at your house. I met Charlotte Ladram there.
She told me how to contact you.”
”Charlotte did? But . . . Where is she?”
”In police custody.”
”Why?”
”You know why, Derek. You know very well why. Drop the pre - tence. It won't wash. She told me everything. Well, she didn't really have much choice. It was either that or . . .” Colin sighed. ”Against my better judgement, like the soft-hearted fool I am, I agreed to act as her messenger. I'm at the shop now. By some miracle, the phone's not been cut off. But I certainly can't afford too many international calls.
So, pin your ears back. I've a lot to tell you.”
CHAPTER.
TWENTY-THREE.
They had arrived half an hour ago. Since then, the morning had strengthened its chill grasp on the valley. But there had been no other change, no breath of wind to blunt the silence, no hint of movement to lessen the isolation. Derek s.h.i.+fted in his seat and gazed around once more, at the sheer slopes on either side and the flat unbroken body of water between, at the ever bluer gulf of sky above their heads and the narrow winding road down which they had come.
They had left Corunna the previous afternoon and covered the 230 kilometres to Castro Caldelas by early evening. There they had spent the night in a miserable room above the village's liveliest bar, before setting off again at dawn, following the prescribed route down into the deeply cut gorge of the Sil river, zig-zagging round the terraced vineyards and rocky outcrops until they had reached the reservoir at the foot of the gorge and the concrete bridge across it which was their destination.
Frank had turned the Land Rover round to face uphill. He had not explained why and Derek had not asked him to, for the possibility that they might need to make a speedy departure required no explanation. Derek was glad, in a way, not to be able to see the bridge from where he sat. He would see it soon enough, when Galazarga and his men arrived and he would have to set out across its slender span to meet them. Or to meet one of them. Whichever one it was.
If Charlotte had asked him outright to do this, he would surely have refused. But she had not asked him. She had promised he would because she could do nothing else. And now he was about to keep her promise for the same reason. How strange it seemed, how foolish-and yet how inescapable.
He was on the point of looking at his watch to see how much longer they would have to wait when Frank laid a restraining hand on his arm. ”They're here,” he murmured.
And so they were. Two vehicles, one a sleek black limousine, the other a small red van, had appeared on the road and were heading 410 R O B E R T G O D D A R D.
down towards the bridge. No other traffic had pa.s.sed them in either direction. It had to be them.
Derek watched, transfixed, as the two distant objects moved steadily on, obscured briefly by boulders and bushes, but clearly visible more often than not as their descent continued. Then he did look at his watch. The time was eight fifty-three.
Frank opened his door and climbed out. Derek did the same and joined him at the back of the Land Rover. He could not avoid looking at the bridge now, at its stolid grey legs planted in the water above their own reflections, at the blurred line of the railings which he would shortly follow to its centre.
The two vehicles slowed as they reached a flat stretch of road at the water's edge, vanished behind one last outcrop, then reappeared, cruising to a halt ten yards or so short of the bridge. It was eight fifty-five exactly.
”Prompt, aren't they?” said Frank.
”Let's hope they stick as closely to all the arrangements.”
”Nervous?”
”What do you think?”
”I think it's not too late for you to back out. I'd happily go in your place.”
”But they specified me. So, it has to be me, doesn't it? If anyone's to break the agreement-”
”Let it be them, eh?”
”Let it be n.o.body. That's all I ask.”
Doors opened and closed on the other side. A figure recognizable as Norberto Galazarga conferred with the driver of the van, who climbed out, walked to the back of his vehicle and pulled the double doors wide open. A girl scrambled out, dressed in jeans and a baggy sweater. Was it Samantha? Derek had met her only once, in vastly different circ.u.mstances. He could not say for sure. But he wanted it to be her. Very much.
”It's nearly nine,” said Frank.
”I'll move when it's exactly nine. Not before.”
”All right. But keep calm. And be careful.”
”I will be. Very careful.”
Galazarga walked forward to the limousine and leant in for a word with one of the occupants. Then he stepped back to allow his in-terlocutor to climb out. He was a tall frail-looking man wrapped in a H A N D I N G L O V E.
411.