Colonel Butler's Wolf

'What—?' The word stuck in Butler's throat.

'I'll give the Press a field day. The bastards are afraid of the students as it is. But I'll give them something to get their teeth into—I'll give them Paul Zoshchenko and Peter Ryleiev.'

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'Poppycock!' Butler tried desperately to force derision into the word. But he could only remember what Audley had said back in London: You can imagine what the Press would do with Comrade Zoshchenko if they got hold of him! 'You're crazy!'

'Crazy!' McLachlan laughed. 'Terry Richmond tipped the papers off about Ortolanacum—they know something's up. I'll tell 'em a lot more.'

'They'll not believe you—nothing happened at Ortolanacum, damn it.'

'I'll give them something happening—something they'll have to believe. I'll give them you, Colonel Butler!' He giggled. 'I'll give them you with your head blown off!'

Butler looked down the twin barrels: the black holes seemed enormous now, like the mouths of cannon.

Tomorrow the girls would get his Edinburgh postcards— Princes Street for Diana, Arthur's Seat for Jane and Mons Meg the Cannon for little Sally.

And he was looking down Mons Meg—this mad boy who was too scared to go home empty-handed would squeeze the trigger and he'd be dead when the postman knocked and the girls came scampering down the stairs.

'Don't be a fool,' he croaked. 'Put it down!'

'Put it down, Dan!' Polly Epton commanded out of the mist.

XX

SHE WAS SOMEWHERE away to the left, ahead of him and behind McLachlan, but he couldn't see her.

'Don't turn round, Dan—you couldn't do it quick enough. And, you're in the open.' Polly's voice sounded preternaturally clear in the silence between the rocks and the stones. 'Put it down.'

She was behind the Wall. Alongside them it rose head high, but it dropped abruptly a yard or two behind McLachlan, who would have to swing the shotgun almost 180 degrees to get in a shot at her.

But the muzzle covering Butler only shook a little.

'If he shoots me, tell Audley, Polly—nobody else!' Butler barked urgently.

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He let the breath drain out of his lungs; until that second he hadn't felt them strained to bursting point.

Now he let himself relax without taking his eyes off McLachlan.

'You can't win now, boy. Do as she says.'

'I can still pull the trigger. Then it'd be too late for you.'

'Aye. But so can she. Then Audley would deal with things. You'd still lose.'

'Another tragic accident?' McLachlan was getting a grip on himself. He raised his voice to carry over his shoulder. 'Would you really shoot me, Polly dear?'

'Try me.'

'Have you ever killed anyone before? With a shotgun?'

Polly said nothing. The stillness was thick on the crag, as though the rain and mist had blanketed every sound as well as every object outside the twenty yards of visibility that was left to them.

'Makes an awful mess of a man, you know, Polly. At this range you'd make an awful mess of me.'

'You wouldn't be the first man the Eptons killed on the Wall,' Polly said. 'I'm running true to form.'

Good girl.

'Touche!' McLachlan laughed. 'But tell me—'

'He's talking to put you off your guard, Miss Epton,' Butler cut in. 'He's cornered and he knows it.'

'Cornered?' McLachlan shook his head. 'It's you who are cornered, Colonel. If Polly pulls the trigger, then my finger's just as likely to squeeze too. It seems to me you get it either way.'

'I don't see that's going to do you much good, boy. The only hope you've got is to put down your gun.'

'And the only hope you've got is for Polly to go away.' McLachlan's eyes flickered. 'Do you hear that, Polly. If you clear off smartly I won't kill him. That's fair.'

'If you go away, Miss Epton, he'll kill us both. Me first, then you.'

'I'm not going away. Put the gun down, Dan.'

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'No.' McLachlan's mouth tightened. 'I'll count ten.'

'It won't do any good.'

'One.'

'I only heard the last part of what you were saying to him, Colonel—'

'Two.'

'—Who is he?'