He made straight for the house, skirting it, only approaching to examine the corner where the telephone cable entered the building. It hadn’t been cut. He waited in the darkness a while, listening for noises from inside the house, then he headed for the whaleboat house. It was deserted. He tucked a gutting knife into his boot before leaving.
He approached the barn with caution, glancing around him as he went. Ideally he would have checked the interior from one of the high windows, but the ladder he required was inside the barn.
He made two tours, drawing progressively closer. There was no way of entering unnoticed, no loose cladding to be gently prized aside, he knew that, he’d nailed the boards in place himself not even a year before.
This only left the main doors, slightly ajar, the tall crack of inviting light. He made his way over, alert, strongly suspecting he was treading a path expected of him.
Nothing, though, prepared him for what he saw through the gap in the doors.
Rollo was lashed to a chair near the base of one of the main supports. He was gagged and his chin rested on his chest. For a terrible moment Conrad thought he was dead, but Rollo raised his head and glanced around, wild- eyed, struggling with his bonds, only to slump again in defeat.
Whoever was present must be somewhere behind Rollo, lurking in the shadows. This didn’t help Conrad much. He would have to enter regardless.
He tucked the handgun into the back of his waistband, pulling his shirt down over it, then eased the doors open a fraction.
‘Come in, Mr Labarde.’
Rollo’s head snapped up, his desperate eyes fixing on Conrad. Conrad fought to stay calm: mustn’t let his anger cloud his actions.
‘I haven’t got all night,’ said the voice from the shadows.
Conrad pulled open the doors and stepped inside.
‘Move to the other end of the barn.’
Conrad did as instructed, skirting the long workbench that ran down the center of the building beneath the whaleboat suspended in the rafters.
‘Put your gun on the table.’
‘I’m not armed.’
‘Then you won’t mind stripping down.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
Conrad began unbuttoning his shirt.
‘You should know I have a gun aimed at the back of your friend’s head.’
As he eased the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, Conrad pulled the gun from his waistband, letting it fall to the ground in the shirt.
‘Turn around,’ said the voice. ‘Now the pants.’
Conrad loosened his belt and dropped his pants.
‘And the underwear.’
Conrad did as instructed. ‘Like I said, I’m not armed.’
‘Take off your shoes.’
Conrad undid the laces and pulled off his boots, concealing the gutting knife in his pants as he stepped out of them.
‘Now toss everything over there by the door.’
Conrad bundled the clothes and boots up tightly so the weapons wouldn’t spill out. Not that it would have mattered. At that distance, they’d play no further part in what was about to happen.
‘Turn around.’
Conrad stood naked, facing Rollo down the other end of the workbench. ‘It’ll be all right,’ he said to his friend, only starting to believe his words as his eyes settled on a hand ax lying within reach on the workbench.
There was movement in the shadows behind Rollo, and a man stepped into the light. It was the same man who had followed him to Sag Harbor, though somehow he had looked taller behind the wheel of the black sedan. The long-barreled handgun was leveled at the center of Conrad’s chest.
‘I’ll get straight to the point,’ said the man. ‘You’ve got something I want, and I’ve got something you want.’ He rested a hand on Rollo’s shoulder.
‘Who are you?’
‘It doesn’t matter. What matters is the document, the one you went to the lawyer about.’
‘What lawyer?’
The man placed the end of the barrel in Rollo’s ear.
‘Don’t mess with me.’
Conrad stared into Rollo’s terrified eyes. Then it came to him—one slender chance.
