‘Please…’ he indicated a leather chair. ‘Sit down.’
‘I’m afraid I’m rather wet…’ I said in apology, looking down at my waterproof trousers. What he couldn’t see was that the flannels beneath them were soaked through.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said, almost irritated. ‘We’ll deal with your clothes in a minute. Please sit down and tell me what this is all about.’ As he spoke, he went over to a large mahogany desk that was set against one wall, beneath a huge portrait of some Victorian whom I assumed was my benefactor’s ancestor, despite the lack of any familial similarity I could see. He went into the drawer and pulled out an Enfield revolver and a box of shells. He looked at me inquisitively, breaking the revolver open and filling the chambers from the box, as matter-of-factly as if he had been filling his pipe.
I told him about being surprised in the bothy by the blond man whom he had seen taking potshots at me, how they had frogmarched me down into the valley and how I had made my escape.
He snapped shut the revolver and placed it on the burnished surface of the desk, going to the window once more and checking.
‘That’s all good and well…’ he said. ‘You have explained the what but not the why. Why did these men try to abduct you?’
I explained that I was an enquiry agent and I believed these men were responsible for the murder of Andrew Ellis, a Glasgow businessman. I explained that they believed I knew the whereabouts of funds Ellis had withheld.
‘Funds for what?’
‘A Hungarian emigre group. Ellis was Hungarian by birth and had patriotic leanings. He was helping — illegally — refugees get out of Hungary and into the West.’
‘But there is no need, surely, to do so illegally. Great Britain has offered hundreds asylum.’
‘Yes, but not the numbers and not the type that Ellis was helping.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ellis was a straightforward kind of guy. Not a lefty, but no rabid nationalist either. He thought he was helping liberals and intellectuals get out of Hungary — even a few dissident communists.’
‘But he wasn’t?’
‘No. I don’t know what happened — maybe he saw a face in a photograph, or a name he recognized — but something must have made him realize that he was actually helping former members of the Arrow Cross.’
‘Arrow Cross?’
‘Hungarian Nazis. Many of them were executed for war crimes at the end of the war. Hungary had a breed of Nazi all of its own that started while Adolf was still a corporal. Rabid anti-Semites and Magyar racial purists. The communists had a lot of them locked up and others reduced to life in menial positions and under constant surveillance. The Hungarian Uprising was the ideal cover for getting them out and into the West.’
He shook his head. ‘This is all very interesting, but what has this to do with us up here. Listen… sorry, what’s your name?’
‘Lennox,’ I said, too tired to lie. The truth I was giving him was incredible enough without adding any fiction to it.
‘Listen, Mr Lennox, we are as far removed from international politics as it is possible to be. The only border disputes we have are over fences and grazing rights. I can’t see why the devil we have men rampaging over our countryside firing shots at each other because of events in Moscow and Budapest.’
‘Because there is something up here… or around here… I don’t know what… A meeting place.’
‘I see…’ he said contemplatively. There was an urgent knock at the door and he checked through the window before going out into the hall, leaving the revolver on the desk. I heard him open the door and issue orders.
‘That’s three men from the farm, armed with shotguns,’ he said when he got back. ‘They will keep guard until the police get here. What you said about this meeting place… when we were in the Land Rover you said you had thought I represented the Apaches when I was really the cavalry. I take it by that you thought this house was this group’s meeting place?’
‘I did. At least it made most sense.’
He froze for a moment, something troubling him.
‘These men who are chasing you, the men from this Hungarian group
… you didn’t mention your suspicions about this house to them?’
‘No, why?’
‘Because they might then have worked out that this is where you would head, with or without my help.’
‘Of course,’ I said.
‘But you still haven’t explained why you found your way here, of all places. Why you thought the meeting place would be anywhere around here?’
I told him about Ellis’s map and the T marking the location.
‘And what it the significance of the T?’ he asked.
‘It stands for Tanglewood, which is the code word for their meeting place. The significance of it escapes me, I’m afraid,’ I said.
He picked up the Enfield from the desk and pointed it at me. I made a start but he shook his head.
‘Don’t be silly, Mr Lennox. It’s really very simple,’ he said. ‘You’re sitting in Tanglewood… without boring you with etymologies, the name of this house, Collieluth, is an anglicization of the Gaelic Choille Thiugh Dhluth. It means “the crowded, dark wood”. Tanglewood.’
‘And you are what?’ I asked. ‘Some British Arrow-Cross fellow traveller? Or do you have deep Hungarian roots.’
‘You have no idea who or what I am. And I have absolutely no interest in or intention of telling you…’
‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I know exactly who you are. I know the name you’ve been using and I know how long you have been in Scotland.’
‘I really don’t care…’ He started to move towards the door. ‘Now, just stay exactly where you are…’
‘Or what?’ I said, standing up. He brought his aim up, straightarmed, to my head.
‘Don’t be stupid…’ he said.
‘Well, you see, I have a habit of being stupid. I’ve gotten just about everything wrong, every step of the way. But you I didn’t buy. Not for a minute. That’s why I emptied your gun when you were at the door…’
I held out my hand and let the shells fall onto the floor. He squeezed the trigger and when he heard the click he made a rush for the door, but I was already on him. I swiped him across the throat with the blade edge of my hand, just like they’d taught me in training. It shut off his air supply immediately. When you can’t breathe, you can’t do anything, can’t think of anything else. I pulled out the Femaru-Frommer automatic from under my anorak and, hauling him back by the collar, threw him down on the floor.
‘I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Mr Lang. This is for Andrew Ellis…’
I slashed the barrel of the automatic across his temple and the skin burst, blood flowing into his hair. Beneath his desperate gasping, he made some kind of noise. I hauled him to his feet. And jabbed the muzzle of the pistol into the small of his back.
‘Now, Ferenc, we are going to take a walk out to the Land Rover. You are going to tell your monkeys out there to pile their shotguns into the back of the Land Rover, then lie face down on the ground. If you don’t, or if they don’t do as they’re told, I’ll blow your spine through your belly. You got that?’
He nodded.
‘Because I want you to understand something, Ferenc, I really want to kill you. Just give me an excuse and I’ll do it in a heartbeat. You got that, too?’
‘Yes…’ he said, his voice hoarse.
I led him out into the hall. My plan was to get as far as I could as quickly as I could. I just hoped that the Land Rover had enough gas in it to get us to Glasgow and St Andrew’s Square.
The tricky part was getting out of the drive.
I swung open the door and pushed Lang through, lifting the gun and pushing the barrel into his cheek to show his men that I meant business.
Except they weren’t there.
Blondy and Curly stood next to the Land Rover. And they weren’t alone.
‘Well, well…’ I said. ‘Mr Hopkins, the disappearing intelligence man.’ I pushed Lang down the steps and he fell
