Richardson caught his breath. 'Hell, no. It was Dan who blew the gaff on the others—he's with Polly and Mike Klobucki just back there. I ran ahead hoping to catch David— we've got to get word to him.
It's this thing of Handforth-Jones's—the bloody Portuguese—'
'We know. When are they coming?'
'You know!' Richardson gaped at him. 'How the devil do you know?'
'Never mind that. When are they coming? How far are they behind you?'
Richardson shook his head. 'I don't know for sure. Dan said they were just putting the resolution to the meeting when he walked out. But it can't be long because there wasn't going to be any disagreement, Dan said. Terry Richmond and a chap called Greenslade from King's had got 'em properly steamed up.'
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'So what did you do?'
'I tried to ring out, but the phone's dead.'
'What about Dr Gracey?'
'There was a call from Cumbria this morning early—a fire in the admin block—' Richardson grinned wolfishly. 'The bastards got him off the premises before they tried anything, and Epton won't stop 'em so long as they promise to be nonviolent. Christ—non-violent!'
Butler stared at Richardson. So easily—so ingeniously—was the thing done. A false call, and then a little well- placed sabotage. After that the time factor would take care of everything.
'I thought of taking my car, but it was right in front of the room where they're holding the meeting,'
went on Richardson. He spread his hands, 'and even then if the lodge gates were locked—and if the car started—Dan and I thought it would be better to get up here to you.'
'He doesn't know about Audley?'
'No, of course he doesn't. But he reckoned you might know what to do. And we caught up with Polly and Mike on the way.' Richardson paused. 'What are we going to do?'
Butler thought for a moment. 'Are you armed?'
Richardson looked at him, shame-faced, knowing well how Butler felt about firearms.
'Well, ever since David said—'
'Are you armed, man?'
'I've got a little automatic.' Richardson admitted. 'A Beretta.'
A whore's gun, thought Butler contemptuously. But it made the next order easier.
He nodded towards Low Crags. 'Have a quick scout up there—no more than ten minutes. Alek might be up there, somewhere where he has a line of fire on Ortolanacum. Don't try to flush him if he's there—
just come back and tell me.'
Richardson started to say something, and then stopped before the first word had formed. Then he nodded and started up the hillside on the track beside the Wall.
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For the very first time Butler's heart lifted to the young man. When the crunch came he had acted quickly and now he had proved that he could obey a dirty order without argument. He had passed the test.
'Sorr!' Arthur called to him from his vantage point on the hillside to the right of the milecastle. 'There's some more of 'em comin'—just the three, an' I think one of 'em's a female.'
Butler climbed up beside him.
' 'Tis not the hair—some of 'em have it to their shoulders— 'tis the hips, see,' Arthur confided. 'An'
there—see—she's got a fine pair uv tits too—that's a girl an' no mistake!'
Butler followed the stained finger. McLachlan would fight, that was sure beyond a doubt. But whether the American would, and whether Polly would, with her father on the other side in spirit if not in body, was another thing.
'See here,' he growled to the Irishman, pointing down to the gap beneath them. 'We're not waiting on the Wall for them to come—not these three, they're friends—we're going to move in front—'
That was how the Wall had been designed, though never for anything like this . . .
'On the causeway there, by the ditch. Three of us on the causeway, and one at each end of the ditch by the cliff.—'
'Heh-heh-heh!' The little man beside him cackled. 'Push 'em into the water—that'll damp 'em down!'
'That's exactly what I don't want you to do,' snapped Butler. 'Once they go in the water, they've got nothing to lose crossing the ditch, and we can't hold them. I'm depending that they won't want to go into it—at least not for a time, anyway.'
'Ah, I see what ye're drivin' at, sorr. 'Tis a terrible muddy ditch. I wouldn't like to go in it for the Holy Father himself!' Arthur nodded wisely. 'So we pushes 'em back, an' we cracks 'em on the shins.'
'I don't want any injuries.'
'No injuries, sorr. We pushes 'em back gentle, like the little lost lambs they are.'
There was a light in the man's eyes that belied the innocence in his voice. It was clear that he could not be relied on for any delicacy in action, and it was unlikely that his comrades would be any better. The plain fact was that Arthur could smell a fight, and if it was within his power to provoke, one, a fight there would be.
