'We can't do anything about it,' Eve said, lighting a cigarette.
Recalling the remark later it struck Philip as cold-blooded, indifferent. But she was right. He couldn't reach the mansion by driving down the slope to their left – it was far too steep. He couldn't even scramble down it if they drove closer down the ridge – the wet muddy surface was so treacherous he'd lose his balance and plunge down a lethal distance.
'Pity we couldn't raise the alarm, call the fire brigade,' he worried.
'You haven't a mobile phone, then?'
'No.'
Tweed, his chief and Deputy Director of the SIS at Park Crescent in London, had banned his staff from using the instrument. It was so easy these days to intercept any phone calls and Tweed was wary of a hostile group listening in.
'I can't see how either Sterndale or his son could have escaped such a conflagration.' he remarked.
The flat gorge inside which the house stood ran straight from it to the sea. The gale was screaming down the natural funnel, fanning the flames, blowing them in crazy shapes. Reluctantly Philip put his monocular glass back into his pocket.
'Get moving,' he said. 'We'll report it as soon as we can. Those bloody shutters Sterndale told us he locked every night must have trapped them. Stop! Just a minute…'
He had seen movement beyond the doomed house. For the first time clouds crossed the moon, blotting out the landscape. Suddenly it was dark apart from the blazing mansion. He still tried focusing his monocular on the road beyond the mansion, leading to the village of Langton Matravers by a roundabout route. In the darkness he could see nothing.
'What are you looking for?' Eve asked, letting the engine idle. 'It's ruddy cold up here.'
'Thought I saw another four-wheel-drive heading away from the mansion with several men aboard.'
'Could it have been Sterndale and Co?' she asked in a bored tone as she lit another cigarette.
'No. He'd have used the Bentley – and that's still parked half inside a barn. He told me his only other transport, another vintage effort, was in for repairs.'
'You probably imagined it. Still dizzy from looking over that cliff. Can we get moving? It's freezing up here.'
'Yes…'
Again Eve could have been right. He had caught only a brief glimpse of a vehicle tearing away from the inferno. Eve handled the Land Rover with great skill, driving faster than he had, frequently slithering almost out of the ruts on to the spongelilce ground on either side, but managing to keep to the track.
I'm enjoying driving your jalopy. It's fun – a test of nerve under these conditions.'
'Is it?'
Again a danger signal flashed at the back of his mind. He dismissed it as they passed the mansion below, which was now assuming the appearance of a blackened funeral pyre in the moonlight, which had reappeared. The bleakness of the Dorset landscape returned – barren-looking ridges marching away to the west one behind the other. They were descending to the point where the track met a road when Philip heard the sirens of a fire engine below, saw it pass with blue lights flashing, then another.
Turn left for Kingston.' Philip said as they entered a lonely road with a decent tarred surface and left swampland behind.
'OK. But why?'
'Because – it's a long way round – but if we take another left later we'll eventually reach the road which leads to Sterndale Manor. We could report what we saw.'
'What you think you saw. Sheer waste of time. We know the fire brigade has arrived in force. Is there a pub in Kingston? I could do with a drink.'
'A good one. All right. We'll keep on for Kingston.'
Philip was puzzled. Even though his brain was muddled – still reeling under the grief of the sudden death of his wife over a year before and now experiencing for the first time a rapidly growing interest in another woman – one part of it was functioning normally. Why was Eve so reluctant to report the tragedy they had witnessed?
They had descended a tricky hairpin road to Kingston. Eve swerved several times to avoid water-splashes which were like lakes. The gradient was very steep and Philip had further proof she was a first-rate driver. I don't know a thing about her since that first meeting at dinner at the Priory, he was thinking – only that she's enormously attractive. I must ask a few questions while we're having a drink…
The Scott Arms, perched at one end of Kingston, was built of dark ancient stone like the rest of the small village, still high up in the Purbecks. Inside it was a labyrinth of different levels and secluded nooks, some with only a single table in front of a banquette.
'Be careful here,' Philip told her, taking her arm. 'It goes up and down and there are tricky steps everywhere.'
'I'll be all right.'
She took her arm away, again demonstrating her almost aggressive independence. Philip chose a table at the lowest level in a nook which faced a large window looking east. He ordered a glass of French dry white wine while Eve requested a large vodka.
'I'd better drive the rest of the way to the Priory,' he said with a smile.
'Why? You think one drink makes me incapable?' she demanded.
'Let's see how we feel later.'
'Philip, what do you do for a living?'
I'm in insurance. It's rather specialized, confidential. How about you?'
'I'm in security. And it's rather special too…' She paused. 'I've probably said too much already.'
As they sampled their drinks a burly youngster clad from neck to foot in black leather passed them, carrying a helmet. He never gave their table a glance. It seemed to Philip he very deliberately didn't look at them and Philip sensed something odd about him.
'How long are you staying at the Priory?' Eve asked casually.
'About a week. Unless the office calls me back. What about yourself?'
'I'm a free agent. Let's explore the Purbecks together. You need company after what you told me about Jean. Is this your first trip away since she died?'
He swallowed, had trouble controlling his emotions. It was the offhanded way – something in the past – she had recalled his wife's death that disturbed him. Get a hold on yourself, he thought.
'Nice idea,' he said eventually. 'Yes, we'll do that. I welcome the very desirable company.'
Eve Warner had taken off her coat and wore a trim navy-blue suit over a white blouse with a high collar. Her jet-black hair had been coiffured close to her head and her shapely neck. Her face was almost triangular with the apex a pointed chin below a wide mouth suggesting determination. Her nose was Roman but it was the eyes below dark brows which were so arresting. A dark brown, they watched him as though they could see inside his head. A striking woman, in her late thirties Philip guessed, with a forceful personality.
The pub was very quiet and no one else was near them as she flashed her engaging smile.
'Philip, what are you thinking of? You looked miles away.'
'That I could do with some female company.'
'There you are, then. We will explore Dorset together
His mind had gone back to how they had first met a few hours ago at dinner in the large cellar with high old stone walls where the meal was served. Philip had been sitting at a table by himself and nearby another single table had been laid. The only other occupants had been a middle-aged couple at a table at the far end of the room lit by wall lights.
Eve had appeared suddenly as she came down the curving stone steps leading into the cellar. At the foot of the steps she had paused before a waiter approached, scanning the strange room.
Philip had been attracted from the moment he set eyes on her. Bet she's got a boy friend with her, he told himself. No rings on her left hand.
