I was strongly tempted to tell him what. There wasn’t time. John trotted back with the birth certificate and we spent the rest of the evening on family history. I have never heard such lies as John told when Gus started inquiring about the English and American branches.
When the mellow tones of the old clock in the corner boomed eleven times, Gus rose. ‘Come with me to the window, Vicky,’ he said. The sun had dipped below the far mountains, outlining their snowcapped heights in molten gold. The storm had left a patch of broken clouds, like bloody footsteps running down the west. The shore lay deep in shadow, a slope of unbroken green whose reflection deepened the water to dark malachite.
‘I stand here each night,’ Gus said quietly. ‘Before I go to bed. Each night it is different, each night it is beautiful. You must see it in winter, Vicky, when every tree is trimmed in ermine and the full moon turns the snow to silver.’
‘I can see why you love it,’ I said.
‘It is part of your heritage too. I am so glad you are here to share it with me.’
‘Mr Jonsson,’ I blurted, ‘there’s something I have to tell you – ’
‘You must call me Gus. Cousin Gus.’
‘That’s very sweet of you, but I want to tell you – ’
‘I don’t think this is the time, Vicky,’ said John, close behind me.
‘No, it is late,’ Gus agreed. ‘You will be weary from your journey.’
He escorted us to our rooms. They were on the ground floor in a separate wing. I had seen mine when I went to wash up before dinner, but I had not realized that Gus’s room was next to mine and that John had been given a room at the far end of the corridor – with Gus’s door between.
‘I bid you goodnight,’ Gus said, standing tall in his doorway. ‘I am a light sleeper, so if there is anything you require in the night, do not hesitate to call me.’
As if that weren’t enough of a hint, he continued to stand there with the look of a man who is prepared to remain in the same spot all night.
‘Good night, sir,’ John said. He looked at me. Gus looked at me. Neither of them moved until I had closed my door.
If I had kept my wits about me, I could have invented a valid reason for a private interview with John – vague references to ‘family matters’ would have done it. Gus’s old-fashioned notions of chaperonage did me in; I was too entertained to think quickly, and once those bedroom doors were closed, the die was cast. The dignified, loveable old man intimidated me. He wouldn’t say anything if he caught me sneaking into John’s room in the middle of the night, but he would be disappointed and hurt and disapproving.
Excuses, excuses. It’s easy to think of them once the damage is done. I didn’t have any sense of urgency. The physical isolation of the island gave me a feeling of security, and John’s relaxed air implied that he had no fear of immediate pursuit. I had even begun to wonder whether the far-out story about the criminal conspiracy and the fiendish silhouette cutter might not be an invention of John’s, and his attempt to get me to go back to Munich an example of reverse psychology. I definitely had to talk to the rat, but morning would be soon enough. I would corner him first thing, when I was rested and calm and better able to deal with his lies.
Like so many good intentions, that one now forms a paving block on the road to the bad place. In fact, a considerable stretch of that path owes its solidity to me. It is small consolation to reflect that even if I had acted on my instincts instead of trying to behave calmly, things would have turned out just the same.
I WAS WAKENED once during the night by a strange, high-pitched cry. It was not repeated. I concluded I must have been dreaming, but I was sufficiently concerned to get out of bed and go to the door.
Dim lights burned in the hall. Gus’s door was slightly ajar. His room was dark, but as I listened I heard faint rustling noises, like someone turning over in bed. That put an end to any idea I might have had of seeking a midnight rendezvous with John. So I went back to bed. Not that it would have made any difference . . .
It was a little after five when I was awakened for the second time, and on this occasion the noises could not be mistaken for the products of my imagination. Crashes, thuds, and curses echoed through the house.
Like the fool that I am, I dashed into the hall. The noises came from John’s room. Gus’s door was now closed; either he was up and about, or he was a heavier sleeper than he had claimed, for he did not appear.
John’s door was open. By the time I reached it, the noises had stopped. The room was a disaster – furniture overturned, sheets torn off the bed, and a handsome lamp smashed to bits. At the foot of the bed, sprawled in awkward abandon, was a body. It was that of a man with longish brown hair, wearing a dirty white sweater and faded jeans. A pair of horn-rimmed glasses, miraculously unbroken, lay on the floor by his hand. Over him, breathing heavily and dripping blood from a split lip, stood John.
I hadn’t quite taken all this in, much less absorbed the full effect of John’s pale-blue silk pajamas with the gold crest on the pocket, when the muslin curtains exploded into the room and another man appeared. There was no mistaking his identity. It was fully light outside, and he filled the entire window embrasure. His eyes bulged, and his hair bristled like that of an antique warrior in the grip of the insane berserker rage. After one quick glance, from the recumbent body to John, he let out an animal howl and flung himself forward.
His shoulders stuck in the window. The delay gave John time enough to leap aside. Leif stumbled forward, assisted by John’s foot, and hit the floor with a crash that shook the room. One of his outflung arms sent me reeling backward. I bounced off the wall and sat down harder than I wanted to.
John appeared to be a trifle put out, but he had not lost his grasp on essentials. He snatched up a heavy brass candlestick and headed for Leif, who was grunting and gasping and trying to get his wind back I scrambled to my feet and wrapped myself around John in time to stop the blow.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he gasped, trying to free his arm. ‘I want to – ’
‘I know what you want.’ He got his left hand free. Leif struggled to his knees, shaking his head dizzily. John curled his fingers into his palm and hit me under the ear. I sat down again. Leif sat up. John weighed the new developments and opted for flight He was halfway to the door when a fresh complication appeared.
The man was pretty big, but not as big as Leif. In this case, however, size did not matter. He’d have been just as effective if he had been four feet tall. He pointed the gun at John and said, ‘Halt.’
John halted. The man with the gun advanced into the room. John retreated, tactfully avoiding Leif and the body which was making uncouth noises and jerking its limbs. A second man followed, also carrying a gun.
‘
‘
‘
He went out.
The body rolled over. It was the man John had described. He looked deathly ill, his cheekbones jutting sharply, his skin sallow. When he opened his eyes the nature of his complaint was evident. They were red-rimmed and bloodshot. From his sagging mouth a trickle of saliva ran down into his matted beard.
I made a little noise of pity and revulsion. Leif lifted the limp body so that it was supported against his shoulder.
‘Behold the work of your friend, whom you were so careful to protect,’ he said bitterly. ‘A pretty sight,
John’s stare held no pity, only disgust. With a shrug he turned to the guard and said calmly, ‘I’d like to put on my dressing gown, Hansel. Watch that trigger finger, eh?’
The Frenchman returned. ‘
I demanded my robe and was allowed to get it, with the Frenchman as an escort. They were quite an international crowd. I suppose I should have been scared, but everything had happened so fast, I couldn’t take it in. All those people turning up out of nowhere . . . There was only one character missing.
He was waiting for us in Gus’s study, leaning back in the desk chair as if he were the owner of the house. He wore the thick grey wig, but he had replaced his sweater with an expensive-looking three-piece-suit As we were ushered into the room, he rose politely.
