Last Out From Roaring Water Bay (32 page)

“How noble of you Deveron, although a little too late for redemption, don’t you think?” My tone was hard but he deserved the full delivery.

“Dreams of greatness, Mister Speed, that was my guilt. Young, proud, I wanted to be one of the great ambassadors of Ireland, a respected hero to the Irish people, to grace the same pedestal as my peers did. I wanted even greater credibility. To be remembered as the greatest fighter of Irish freedom. Gold would have achieved me that status. But world events changed those idealistic views. I changed. The older I got; the wiser I got. Wars and killings solved nothing. I only wish that I could have changed my mistake; turn back the clock.”

“You kept looking for Craven’s Spitfire regardless?”

“It was my intention to put the record straight and bring Craven home.”

“And did that include finding the gold?”

“You’ve got me wrong, Mister Speed. Finding Craven became my only priority.”

“If you’d felt that guilty then owning up at the time would have been more honourable than hiding behind a military rank. With more help you might have found Craven earlier.”

“And face the hangman’s noose for what I did in 1944?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Think about it, Mister Speed. A Spitfire riddled with bullet holes from the bullets from another Spitfire; the aviation authorities would have put the pieces together. I’d have stood trial. Owning up to my treachery would be a little foolhardy don’t you think, Mister Speed? I was sorry for what I did but I certainly wasn’t prepared to die for it.”

“You’d have probably wrangled your way out of a death penalty.”

“That may be so, but I would have expected to be sentenced to thirty years stuck in a military prison. No thank you, Mister Speed, I kept my mouth shut, and after the war I kept on looking for Craven’s Spitfire during my time in office. Alas the years passed and faded, as did my dream of finally finding his plane, almost forgotten until Shayna brought the memories flooding back into my senile world when she told me the story of the intrepid Shackleton Speed and the discovered Spitfire.

“But I wasn’t satisfied that he’d been found, Mister Speed. I killed Craven on an assumption, now I want to know if the reason for my actions would have been justified when I shot him from the skies.”

“You want to prove to yourself that you were right with what you did?”

“Is there something wrong with that, Mister Speed?”

“It sounds as if you’re incredibly stupid or we’re back to you wanting to find the gold?”

“The gold as well, for reasons of self satisfaction, not wealth, Mister Speed.”

“Well jolly good show to you, Deveron! Only you gained nothing by shooting down Craven’s Spitfire. If you’re expecting to find the submarine, then forget it! Not that we can forget that you murdered Craven for nothing. There’s no gold. There never was. You fell for a piece of speculative bullshit from an unknown source in another part of the world; how pathetic is that!”

Deveron smirked. “I’ll lay you a pound to the penny that you’re wrong about there being no gold, Mister Speed.”

The crafty bastard was on the counterattack, I concluded. He obviously knew something I didn’t, but then I assume that was Deveron all over and he always had a get out clause hidden somewhere up his sleeve.

“I’d probably loose the bet, Deveron.”

“You would indeed, Mister Speed. I have a distinguished guest arriving later for dinner. We are old acquaintances during my final years at the ministry. He is an attaché at the Japanese embassy in London. I’ve persuaded him, and his lovely wife, to spend some prime time in Ireland. They arrive today. I would very much like you to meet him, Mister Speed. The conversation that will aspire should be quite riveting and should reveal some interesting facts concerning the I-52. It will be exhilarating to examine the comparisons of information you both have. You will, of course, stay for the remainder of the day, dinner in the evening, and I wouldn’t dream of sending a guest hurrying across Ireland in the middle of the night. Therefore, a room is being prepared for you. I hope that is to your satisfaction?”

I hadn’t planned to stay longer than I needed to. Yet the chance to exchange information with the Japanese dignitary had me hooked.

I said, “I’ve always been a sucker for a free dinner.”

Deveron almost broke into smile. “I have one of the best cooks in Ireland, Mister Speed.”

“I can’t refuse then.”

“I was always confident you would stay.”

“Don’t be too over confident. I might decide to leave early.”

“And miss the highlight of the evening, a man of your endeavour? You’re not the type to dismiss such an opportunity. You’re a treasure hunter hiding under the banner of metal detector enthusiast. You sell what you find to the highest bidder with a total disregard to the treasure trove act. This is going to be a treasure hunt you can’t ignore. You might get lucky.”

“What? Aiding and abetting a criminal is lucky?”

“Come now, Mister Speed, you’re as much a criminal as I, only I’ve retired. I know you’re intrigued to hear the story of the I-52 that never was because if you hadn’t been I would have expected the Garda arriving at my door instead of you, Mister Speed.”

The crafty old goat, I thought. He had me sussed. Was I that predictable?

In reality, Deveron had done me no harm personally, providing he wasn’t frigging lying about not being involved in endangering my life and messing up my affairs. I also thought of something else or rather I thought of someone else in particular.

“Is Shayna joining us tonight?” I asked casually.

Deveron smiled. “She wouldn’t want to miss the occasion, Mister Speed. It was her idea to contact you so we could have this discussion today.”

“She likes to dominate men, I can vouch for that.”

“She’s something special; such a beautiful woman, don’t you agree?”

I’d no argument about her beauty but she was no Cinderella in my eyes. I still had the wounds to show from our last get-together and I still hadn’t reverted from calling her a bitch! And after dinner I’ll listen to their pack of lies.

The door of the study opened and a nurse entered.

Deveron said, “All this excitement has rather worn me out. You must excuse me, Mister Speed. This wonderful creature has just arrived with my afternoon medication. Please, feel free to wander anywhere about the house, I’ve nothing to hide. Examine my wonderful collection of old library masterpieces: works from all the great literary writers of our times. Feel free to roam the gardens. They are full, absorbing, tranquil, and most importantly, help yourself to the drinks. Dinner will be served at seven.” He paused and looked at me seriously. “There is one more thing I need to ask you, Mister Speed?”

“What’s that?”

“If I was the man responsible for the demise of your friends, would you have carried out your threat?”

I expressed my gunslingers stare, the squinted eyes, and said coolly, “Without hesitation.”

Deveron nodded. “I do believe you would have, Mister Speed.”

The nurse aided Deveron to his feet.

I watched them leave the study. I still hadn’t acquired any sympathy towards Deveron despite his obvious health problems. I still felt that he owed me something other than dinner and a bed for the night. The moment the door closed behind them I rose and went to the bar, poured a good helping of straight dark rum and swallowed the alcohol in one swig. I twisted the empty tumbler back and forth between my fingers and thumb and thought about my next move. In five seconds flat I knew that I didn’t have a next move to consider? I was here now and I could do nothing until somebody else made the wrong move first.

I left the study by the French windows and wandered out into the gardens for some fresh air, as the stagnant atmosphere of doubtfulness had stifled my lungs. The walk would give me the time to reflect on my brief encounter with Dillon Deveron the war-time murderer.

I’d no planned route for my walk I just followed my shadow cast by the mid afternoon sun. The pathway guided me down to the shoreline of a large lake and that was about as far as I could go unless I wanted to follow the shoreline to who knows where. I turned to retrace my steps and that’s when I heard splashing coming from the lake.

The splashing noise came from beyond a large expansion of shoreline bushes and willow trees. I edged closer and moved around the bushes and there she was emerging from the lake, a naked bronzed sculptured goddess that left me gasping for breath. Shayna was undoubtedly a classic woman; a portrait of pulchritude. Her skin glistened as the suns rays bounced off the droplets of water dripping from her primed muscles that stretched from her shoulders to her calves. In comparison she made my body look like a wrecked temple. I had a cold sweat as I watched her. I could feel her magnetism attracting me and even though she never turned around to check, I sensed she knew I was standing there watching her.

She towel dried her body and began to dress; a striptease in reverse. She slipped into a pair of white lace panties, no bra, put on a white shirt and white pants, and soft white shoes. I found I was lusting after her despite my bitterness towards her.

Without turning round to acknowledge me, and over her shoulder she said, “What did you think of my grandfather?”

“Honest opinion?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She ran a large toothed comb backwards through her damp hair.

“He’s certainly eccentric,” I said positively. He’s possibly crackers. And he’s a murderer to put it in better prospective.”

“He told you then?”

“I left him no option. I already knew what he was. By the way; did he teach you terrorism or is it built into the genes?”

“Stop trying to be clever, Shackleton, or I might rip your head off.”

I smiled cheekily. “Is that a promise?”

She obviously knew what I meant.

“Your mind is in a very sick condition, Shackleton.”

“People I know usually call me, Shacks.”

“I’ll stick to Shackleton. It has that adventurous sound that impresses me. Walk with me back to the house?”

I’d nowhere else to go. “Yes…sure. I was about to head back anyway.”

We sauntered back with the deliberate slowness of newly met lovers trying to make time last a little longer. And we didn’t find one thing to squabble over until I decided to spoil the occasion.

“You do know Deveron is dying?”

“He’s told me. I suppose that’s the reason why he was prepared to tell you of his deceitful past. He obviously feels he’s nothing to hide anymore.”

“He could be challenging the law to come and try to get him for his crime?”

“You want to turn him over to the police?”

“He deserves nothing less.”

“It wouldn’t be beneficial to anyone by putting him in prison now.”

“It makes me proud that I’ve uncovered a murderer from the past.”

“He’s not to blame for your loss.”

“Is that your professional opinion or do you know something differently?”

“I know enough to confirm that he isn’t your target. All he wants to do is rectify a mistake he made during the war. You can help him do that.”

“He wants me to participate in his treasure hunt?”

“Would it be that difficult for you?”

“He might not be strong enough to survive the quest; if there is one.”

“Maybe he won’t but it isn’t going to prevent him from trying to put things right.”

I gestured toward the approaching building and said, “And when he’s gone to hell what will happen to all that splendour?”

“I believe I’m the sole beneficiary of his entire estate.”

“What will that gain you?”

“I’ll not be poor.”

“It’ll be no use to you when you’re dead too.”

“I’ve no intention of dying for a long time.”

“I should imagine the life span of an active terrorist diminishes with every day that passes.”

“I’ll retire.”

“You could, but I can’t quite picture terrorist chiefs leaving you in peace when there’s a fight to be won. Can you? Once a terrorist always a terrorists, it simply can’t be erased from your record.”

“I might just surprise you, Shackleton.”

“I don’t think you’ve anything left that would surprise me, Shayna.”

“We’ll see.”

We entered through the kitchen door and back into the hall where we met a stoutly built woman who I presumed to be Deveron’s housekeeper.

Shayna said to her. “Greta, is my grandfather resting?”

Greta wasn’t the prettiest of women I’d come across. She was on the plump side and had greying hair tied back, yet she spoke with such charm that if I were to shut my eyes for a moment I could have quite easily mistaken her for a younger woman rather than her fifty years of age. “Yes, my dear. And the maid has prepared Mister Speed’s room as instructed. Shall I take him there?”

“Thank you, Greta, but there’s no need. I’ll show Mister Speed to his room.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

Greta smiled at me as she passed.

I followed Shayna up the stairs and along the landing like a besotted stalker. She could have been leading me into a trap but I didn’t care. She stopped outside an oak panelled door, turned the handle and went inside to spring the surprise. Like a fool I followed her into the room rather hoping that when I entered she would ravage me with all that sexual starvation she had bottled up inside. She disappointed me. She didn’t make any attempt to ravage me. I wondered if my expression gave away the fact that she hadn’t.

“I hope you find everything comfortable, Shackleton. There are evening suits of different sizes hanging in the wardrobe. All brand new. There’s a bathroom through the far door where you will find all utilities: shaving equipment, soaps, cologne, bathrobe, pyjamas.”

“I never wear pyjamas,” I said quickly.

“Am I supposed to be impressed? Anything else, just ask.”

“This
anything
, does it literally mean anything?”

“Within reason, please Shackleton. See you at seven.”

She closed the door behind her leaving me in a room of silence, so still and quiet I heard one of my shoes creak as I began to move. I had a quick shufti round the room looking for hidden miniature microphones or concealed cameras checking me out. I quickly dismissed the idea as pretty stupid. Even if the room had any type of listening device, it would be ineffective and serve no purpose as any conversation between me and my sub-conscience was solely restricted to my head. And as far as I know I don’t talk in my sleep.