A Prospect of Vengeance

Ian lifted his binoculars, towards a distant dust-cloud on the track.

dummy2

'Mr Buller!' Mitchell didn't wait for an answer. 'You go down and say 'hullo' to Mrs Audley, and Miss Audley — okay? And keep them down there, in the rocks, until I call you. And do be a good fellow, and make a noise when you're going down, so as not to embarrass Mrs Audley — okay!'

'It's a little car — a SEAT, or a Citroen — or a Renault ... a little car — ' Ian read back what he could see automatically.

That will do.' Mitchell was taking on his 'additional character'

now. 'Off you go, Mr Buller.'

'I'm goin' — I'm bloody-goin' — Dr Mitchell!' Reg Buller was going.

'It's a Citroen 2-CV, Dr Mitchell,' Ian confirmed his sighting.

'That's just fine!' Mitchell was Field-Marshal Montgomery and Alexander of Macedon. 'You stay up here, Mr Robinson: talk to Dr Audley about the battle of Salamanca — tell him how you would have fought it from here — okay?'

'Oh — that's just fine!' Audley complained as he surrendered.

'We walk up and down, to give him a target — ?'

'He doesn't want you, David. His payment is on Mr Robinson.' Mitchell looked at Ian. 'Are you prepared to walk, Mr Robinson?'

That was too much! 'Ian — '

'Shut up, Jen.' But he grinned at her. 'Like the man said —

' the rights and duties of an Englishman' — ? And ... at least I've got a better chance than Mrs Fitzgibbon had, this time —

haven't I, Dr Mitchell?'

dummy2

Mitchell picked up the rifle. 'Down there, Miss Fielding — on your tummy, by that flat rock — there? See?' He held the rifle to his chest with one hand and pointed with the other. The moment he gets out of the car, then I've got carte blanche, if he's got his rifle with him. And you can drop down then, Mr Robinson. And when you're down you stay down. Because I'm not at all sure that I can hit him, with this gun, at this range — not with my first shot, anyway.' He reached down into the open case, and scooped up a handful of the left-behind cartridges, and stuffed them into his pocket. And then grinned at Jenny. 'But... no problem, eh?'

It didn't seem like that at all, to her. But, then, it was quite out of her experience.

'What about behind us?' Audley's voice was cold. 'MacManus always operates with a partner — a back-up? And . . . my family is down there, Paul.'

'Don't worry about behind us.' Mitchell nodded at Jenny. ' If you please, Miss Fielding— ? Go!'

There was something in Mitchell's face which made any sort of protest contemptible, however much she wanted to argue with him, to assert herself.

So ... over the dead grass, and the scatter of autumn crocuses, to where he'd indicated, and down behind a safe rock —

Mitchell was saying something, behind her; and so was Audley — but she couldn't hear what they were saying. Then he was beside her — first, on his knees — on his knees, but dummy2

with the rifle carefully cradled in one hand, to keep it off the ground . . . and then easing himself carefully alongside her.

'No need to watch, Miss Fielding. In fact, I'd prefer that you didn't — you'll only distract me.' He took a khaki handkerchief from his pocket and spread it out behind the rock and put two of his spare cartridges on it. 'Nothing to see, anyway. He's just stopped to have a final look around, just in case.'

She lowered her head, keeping her eyes on him. Because there was something to see, of course — something she'd never expected to see at all, ever ... let alone like this, within touching distance: one man preparing to kill another man.

'And now there's a further delay — an unforeseen occurrence.' Mitchell was peering round the edge of the rock, keeping his own head low. 'There's a farm tractor coming behind him, towing a load of something. So he'll have to pull into the side to let it past, and wait for it to disappear. And he won't like that — not one bit.'

She could hear the tractor. 'Why not?'

'A witness.' He didn't look at her. 'Not that he plans to stay around afterwards, to be identified. And there'll be a different car waiting for him, another vehicle, anyway —

maybe a lorry, or something like . . . Goods for Portugal, maybe. We're only two or three hours from the frontier, after all.' He looked at her suddenly. ''Quickly in — quickly out': that's his usual method. You can never tell for sure, of course

— not with a wild animal. But it's always worked for him in dummy2

the past.' He returned his attention to the front again as the noise of the tractor's diesel rose. 'And he certainly doesn't want to hang about in Spain, that's for sure. He's taken one hell of a risk already, as it is ... Although his friends will have looked after him this far ... so they may have other plans for him now, at that!'

'His friends?' The sound of the tractor rose to a crescendo, but then suddenly died away as it passed the headland of the Greater Arapile and continued on towards the ridge behind them. 'His friends — ?'

'Now he's waiting again. And, if he's got any sense he'll turn round and wait for another chance . . . Go on, you bastard!