The Lethal Target (4 page)

Then a worrying thought struck Jake.

‘With all these different interested parties here, you don’t think one of them might recognise you?’

‘Blonde hair? Helen Cooper? I hope not,’ said Lauren. ‘I’m hoping their attention will be on the Russians.’

‘OK,’ said Jake. ‘But if we manage to get hold of this book, then all attention is going to switch to us. We need an escape plan to get us off this island at speed.’

‘I know,’ said Lauren.

‘Have you got one?’ asked Jake.

‘No,’ admitted Lauren. ‘But I’m working on it.’

Chapter 6

At breakfast the next morning, Jake and Lauren, and the two birdwatchers, Pam and John Gordon, were the only ones in the dining room. The American, Ian Muir, had apparently already had his breakfast and left.

‘He says he likes to be out there before anyone else,’ Lauren said. ‘The early bird catches the worm, that sort of thing. He says all the best things in nature happen around dawn.’

‘Or, he gets a chance to watch the Russians before anyone else is in action,’ murmured Jake.

‘That’s my guess,’ said Lauren.

‘If he is CIA, I can’t imagine him working alone,’ said Jake.

‘I thought of that. He must have a contact somewhere else nearby,’ agreed Lauren. ‘We’ll be passing the cottages I told you about on the way to the dig site. His contact could be there.’

‘So why isn’t he with them?’ asked Jake.

Lauren shrugged.

‘Maybe they’ve got people in different places all over the island, watching what’s going on. Staying close to the opposition,’ she suggested.

‘Keeping an eye on another pair of prime suspects?’ whispered Jake, and he turned and smiled at Pam and John Gordon, who were sitting at a table at the far side of the dining room. The couple smiled back.

‘Lovely day for going out walking!’ called Pam Gordon.

‘It certainly is!’ Lauren said.

Before they could embark on a long conversation, Jeannie MacClain appeared by their table, notepad at the ready.

‘Are you ready to order?’ she asked.

They gave her their orders: a full Scots for Jake, and cereal followed by kippers for Lauren.

‘Excellent!’ Their hostess beamed. ‘My daughter Rona’s helping me in the kitchen today. A full breakfast will give her something to keep her busy.’

‘Mr and Mrs MacClain have run this guest house for twenty years,’ said Lauren.

‘It’s a beautiful place,’ said Jake. ‘But it must be lonely for you out of season.’

‘No, there’s always something to do,’ said Jeannie. ‘Repairs, renovation, decorating. Making sure we’ve got enough fuel for the winter months. And there are always people who want to come to Mull in the winter months, especially around Christmas and Hogmanay time. Believe me, island life is far from lonely. I have a sister who lives in Edinburgh, and when I visit her it’s often struck me that city life is far lonelier for many people, even with all those thousands crammed in one small space.’

‘She’s got a point,’ said Jake, as Jeannie MacClain went to the Gordons’ table to take their breakfast order. He lowered his voice and asked: ‘So, if the MacClains are Watchers, how many of them are there? I’ve met Mrs MacClain’s husband, Alec, and their daughter Rona’s in the kitchen.’

‘She’s fifteen,’ said Lauren. ‘She’s working here during the school holidays. Then there’s their son, Robbie. He’s sixteen. He spends most of his time with his uncle, Alec MacClain’s younger brother, Dougie. Dougie’s a fisherman, plus general handyman, does odd jobs around the island.’

‘Ideal cover for a Watcher,’ murmured Jake.

‘Exactly what I thought,’ said Lauren.

After a breakfast that was so huge, Jake was sure he wouldn’t need to eat anything again for a couple of days, they put on their boots and anoraks, packed a small rucksack with provisions provided by Jeannie MacClain, and notebooks, maps and a guide book, and with binoculars hanging around their necks, set off. They were heading for the dig where the Russians were claiming to be unearthing an ancient Neolithic site.

As Jake and Lauren stepped out of the guest house, once again he was struck by the vastness of the sky above them; it wasn’t something he had ever thought about living in London and the south-east. But here, there was so much space!

They walked along the road, past a small group of holiday cottages, and then turned off on to a path that rambled across a vast expanse of heathland. Wild flowers were everywhere, and huge bushes exploding in a riot of colours.

‘Wow!’ said Jake. ‘What are they?’

‘Rhododendrons. It’s a parasite,’ said Lauren dismissively. ‘It poisons the ground and kills off other plants.’

‘So why do they allow so many of them to grow?’ asked Jake. ‘They’re everywhere!’

‘Because once they’ve been planted, it’s almost impossible to get rid of them,’ said Lauren. ‘You have to dig up the roots, and if you leave a piece of the root in the ground it’ll spread very fast. But the Victorian plant hunters didn’t realise that when they brought them back to Britain. Like you, they just saw a plant that looked beautiful. But beauty often hides a secret killer.’

‘And on that grim note . . .’ muttered Jake.

They continued on the path for almost two miles, and suddenly they were out of the bushes and saw, about half a mile ahead of them, an almost industrial monstrosity: a wire fence over three metres tall, topped with razor wire, surrounding a large area.

‘What on earth is that?’ burst out Jake.

‘That is the Russians’ dig site,’ said Lauren.

‘What? In a beautiful place like this! How did they get permission for it?’

‘How do rich Russians get permission for anything?’ asked Lauren. ‘Planning permission for a fence like that in a conservation area like this. Or a controlling monopoly interest in some nationalised industry.’

‘You’re suggesting money talks?’

Lauren nodded.

‘Exactly. It’s an international language.’

As they drew nearer to the site, Jake could see a small party of about half a dozen people at work, two digging and the rest crouching down and sifting through the earth that had been turned over.

‘It’s a massive site,’ murmured Jake.

‘Which means they don’t know the exact spot where the book was buried, just the general area where it was hidden,’ said Lauren.

By now they had reached the fence. They walked along it until they came to a gap, an open gateway. A piece of rope had been hung across the gateway to stop people from wandering in. Jake and Lauren stopped by the rope and looked into the site. Some sections of the area had already been dug up; there were mounds of earth dotted all over the site. But it was being searched methodically, and about half of the site had been uncovered: the topsoil turned over and the rocks beneath exposed.

‘It doesn’t look much like a Neolithic site,’ murmured Jake.

‘Who can tell what a Neolithic site looks like?’ responded Lauren. ‘They didn’t plan their buildings the same way later civilisations did.’

Just then there was an angry shout.

‘Go away!’

They turned and saw a man approaching them from within the fenced-off area, a grim scowl on his face.

‘Pardon?’ asked Jake.

The man arrived by them, on the other side of the rope. He was short and squat, dressed in what looked like a navy-blue boiler suit. He pointed a stubby finger at them and repeated: ‘Go away! Private property.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Jake. ‘It may be on that side of the rope, but not where we’re standing.’

‘Dmitri!’ came another voice.

And then another man was hurrying towards them, this one older, taller, thinner, and with an apologetic expression on his face. The short squat man, Dmitri, turned and looked at the new arrival, the scowl on his face even deeper. The taller man stopped by the rope and said something to Dmitri in rapid Russian. Even though Jake and Lauren couldn’t understand the words, they recognised the firm tone. The tall man finished talking, and Dmitri nodded, turned on his heel, and went back into the centre of the dig site, still scowling. The tall man gave Jake and Lauren a friendly smile.

‘I must apologise for Dmitri,’ he said. ‘His English is limited, and as a result he can only say a few words, which means he can come across as rude and brusque. He’s not like that at all, really.’

I bet, thought Jake sceptically, watching the short squat figure stomp away. The man in the blue boiler suit looked like a wrestler, the sort who threw his opponents out of the ring.

‘I hear you’re digging for Neolithic remains,’ said Jake.

‘Yes.’ The tall man nodded. He held out his hand to them with a smile. ‘Professor Fyodor Lemski,’ he introduced himself.

Jake shook the man’s hand; then it was Lauren’s turn.

‘I have seen you here before,’ said Lemski to Lauren. ‘You were here yesterday, and the day before, I believe, watching from a distance.’

‘Yes,’ said Lauren. ‘I was curious about what you were doing, but was too shy to ask.’

Jake grinned.

‘I don’t have those same kind of inhibitions.’ He beamed at the professor.

‘You are interested in archaeology?’ asked Lemski.

‘Very much so.’ Jake nodded. ‘Both of us.’ He gestured into the site where the people were at work. ‘Perhaps we could come and see what you’re doing up close?’

Jake thought he saw a momentary flicker of alarm in the professor’s face, then the smile was back in place, as apologetic as before.

‘Unfortunately, much as I would love to, we are hampered by insurance.’

‘Insurance?’ queried Lauren.

Lemski nodded.

‘As part of our getting permission to dig, we had to take out insurance to cover against accidents or anything going wrong. And the terms of our insurance are very strict, only our own people are allowed on the site.’ He sighed unhappily as he gestured at the towering wire fence. ‘Which is why we were forced to erect this terrible fence. It appears that despite warning signs being put up, some people have been known to creep into archaeological sites under cover of darkness and have fallen down where digging has taken place, and have unfortunately been seriously injured. Some have even been killed.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Jake.

Lemski nodded, his expression sad.

‘And if that were to happen here, we would be held responsible.’ He shrugged. ‘It is the way of the world, now. Everyone sues. So, I am sorry I cannot invite you in. But, rest assured, we will be publishing a report of our findings for all to see.’

‘Excellent,’ said Lauren. ‘We look forward to seeing it.’ She turned to Jake. ‘We’d better get on.’ To Lemski, she explained, ‘We’re going down to the cove to explore the caves, and we don’t want to get cut off by the tide.’

‘Of course.’ Lemski nodded. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you both.’

As Jake and Lauren walked away, Lauren whispered, ‘So we’re warned off, with a smile from the professor, and a scowl from Mr Grumpy in the blue boiler suit.’

‘I think Mr Grumpy is armed,’ whispered back Jake. ‘I’m sure I saw the outline of a shoulder holster.’

‘Yes, I spotted that too. So, definite keep-out warnings, and armed security. Notice how he subtly mentioned people being killed at archaeological sites?’

‘I’d hardly call that subtle,’ said Jake. ‘Why would he feel it necessary to warn us off like that, do you think? We’re supposed to be just two ordinary holidaymakers. Do we look suspicious?’

‘To people like the professor, who are searching for the book, everyone is suspicious,’ said Lauren.

Suddenly she stopped, her attention caught by something.

‘What have you seen?’ asked Jake.

‘Someone creeping around on the far side of the site, behind those rocks.’

‘One of the Russians?’ asked Jake.

Lauren shook her head.

‘It looked like Mr Muir. The American I told you about.’

‘How can you tell from this distance?’ asked Jake.

‘He’s got a distinctive way of moving. A limp.’

Jake wasn’t convinced.

‘From this distance, how can you tell that someone moving across those rocks moves with a limp or not?’ he asked.

‘It’s hard to say,’ said Lauren. ‘It’s just a feeling. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him this evening. He’s usually in the bar.’

‘The CIA keeping watch?’ asked Jake.

‘I would imagine that everyone’s keeping watch,’ said Lauren.

Chapter 7

As they left the dig site behind them, Jake asked, ‘What was all that about going down to the cove?’

‘It seemed like a good idea to move on before he started asking too many questions about us,’ replied Lauren. ‘Also, the cove is a great place. Beautiful. And the tide does come in quite rapidly.’

Jake followed Lauren along a rough track, then they turned off on to a path that suddenly started to descend, twisting and turning through the cliffs as it went down. Thick bushes and bramble bordered the path, growing out of the rocks, screening any view. The ground underfoot was loose stones, and Jake had to use his hands to steady himself against the rock face a few times. Finally they made it down to level ground, and as Jake stepped off the path, he stopped, stunned by the view: the sea loch directly in front of him, and the hills and mountains covered in purple and green in the distance on the other side of the loch. The rocks gave way to white sands, going down to the shore. Birds wheeled overhead.