Midnight Never Comes

'And how does he intend to leave here?'

'He has his own plane parked in the meadow on the other side of the house-a Beaver.'

'Interesting,' von Bayern said. 'He's certainly thought of everything.'

'And not a damned thing we can do about it. Even if we got out of here, reached Mallaig and they put a general alert into operation, by the time they reached Fhada it would very probably be too late and, as far as I know, it's impossible to land by air.'

'That's not quite true,' von Bayern said. 'I was very thoroughly briefed on the island before coming and there was considerable information on flying conditions which interested me particularly as an old pilot.'

'I didn't realise you'd been a flyer.'

'Oh, yes-I was in the Brandenberg Division for a considerable part of the war-special operations. Handling a plane was just part of the job. Apparently there is a real problem in the Hebrides with down-draughts which makes the use of helicopters often impractical. So many crashed attempting to put down on Fhada, that last year your Army Air Corps experimented in landing light aircraft at the northern end of the island.'

'But I thought the cliffs were about six hundred feet high?'

'True, but when the tide goes out, it uncovers a very large area of firm sand. They found that landing was no trouble. Unfortunately, the tide turns so quickly that it was impossible for the planes to stay very long and there were other problems. The carriage of cargo up the cliffs and so on. I understand the idea has been abandoned.'

Chavasse turned to look at him, his face pale in the half light. 'Could you fly a Beaver by any chance?'

'But of course.' Von Bayern shrugged. 'A common enough military aircraft.'

Chavasse got to his feet and walked restlessly to the other end of the cell. 'Fifteen minutes' flying time from here to Fhada, it couldn't take more.'

'And we could all go,' von Bayern said. 'My men included. A nasty surprise for Herr Donner. Unfortunate that we can't get out of here, isn't it?'

Chavasse kicked the door in impotent rage and the German pulled him down beside him. 'Have another cigarette, Paul, and relax. Anger is a negative emotion. We must wait patiently and grasp what opportunities present themselves. There is nothing else to be done.'

It was perhaps half an hour later, that they became aware of voices raised in song, faint in the distance and then the door at the top of the cellar stairs was opened and heavy steps descended.

The singing stopped and Hector Munro appeared at the grill, Rory at his shoulder. They laughed foolishly, obviously half drunk and Hector kicked the door.

'Are ye still there, Mr. Chavasse?'

'I'm here,' Chavasse said. 'What do you want?'

'Just checking,' the old man said. 'I'm in charge here now, you know. Stavrou's away to Loch Dubh to see to things at the castle.' He laughed harshly. 'Are ye comfortable enough in there, the two of you?'

'It could be worse,' Chavasse said. 'It could be a prison cell with a fifteen-year sentence for treason stretching into the distance.' He laughed coldly. 'But why bother? You'll know all about that soon enough.'

The foolish smile disappeared from Rory's face and he turned to his father. 'What's he talking about, Da?'

'Never you heed him,' old Hector said. 'Come this evening, Mr. Donner will be back here to pay us our thousand pounds and we'll be away out of this and damn all this fella will be able to do about it.'

Rory's face cleared. 'Right you are, Da. We'll pick up Fergus at Tomintoul. If we get the evening train from Fort William, we could be in Glasgow in time to catch the nine o'clock boat to Belfast. No passports needed.'

The old man cackled. 'And crossing the border into Eire is no trick for the likes of us.'

What was it von Bayern had said? You grasped the opportunity that presented itself? Chavasse gripped the bars of the grill as they started to turn away.

'Just a minute, Munro.' The old man turned, swaying slightly. 'You said something about Fergus waiting for you in Tomintoul?'

'So what?'

Chavasse shook his head and said softly, 'He won't be there, Hector. Donner got to him first.'

The old man stood there staring stupidly at him, his face drained of all colour. 'It's a lie,' he said hoarsely. 'You're lying.'

'Let me out of here and I'll show you.'

'Maybe it's a trick, Da,' Rory Munro said.

'If it is, I'll kill him.' The old man took a bunch of keys from his pocket, tossed them across to his son and thumbed back the hammers of his shotgun. 'Let him out.'

'Do you know what you're doing?' von Bayern whispered.

Chavasse nodded. 'Don't try to be a hero when he opens the door. I don't think it's going to be necessary.'

When he stepped into the corridor, Rory slammed the door shut behind him immediately, locking it again. They both stood there covering him with their shotguns and Chavasse nodded.

'This way,' he said and moved down the passage.

He turned the corner at the end and found the cell he had previously been imprisoned in with no difficulty, recognising it at once by the bar across the door. It was in the next cell that Asta had told him she found Fergus.

'He's in there,' Chavasse said.

Hector glanced at him suspiciously, then nodded to Rory. 'Watch him. I'll take a look.'

He opened the door and fumbled for the light switch. A second later, he gave a terrible cry and his shotgun clattered to the floor. Rory turned involuntary to glance inside and his eyes widened with horror.

'Help me!' the old man moaned. 'Help me get him down.'

Rory leaned his gun against the wall and ran inside. Chavasse moved into the doorway and watched as they lifted the pathetic broken body from the hook and lowered it. The old man dropped to his knees and gently touched the blood-streaked face. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes.

'Donner did this?'

Chavasse nodded. 'Miss Svensson was a witness.'

'Hung up and butchered like a side of beef. I was bought and paid for, so murdering my son didn't matter.' His hand came out of his pocket holding the bunch of keys and he tossed them across. 'You'll be needing these, I'm thinking.'

Chavasse picked up the old man's shotgun and collected Rory's on the way out and neither of them made the slightest objection, trapped in a world of their own private grief.

He ran back along the passage, calling Asta's name as he went and she answered him at once. There were at least a dozen keys on the ring, but they included a master key obviously intended for all the doors and in a moment she was in his arms.

'What happened?'

'The Munros have just changed sides. I showed them Fergus.'

They hurried along to his own cell and von Bayern stared through the grill in astonishment as Chavasse unlocked the door.

'A miracle, my friend?'

'Something like that. I'll explain later.' As the German emerged, Chavasse gave him one of the shotguns and turned to Asta. 'Is there a gun room upstairs?'

She nodded. 'Next to the library.'

Chavasse handed the keys to von Bayern. 'I'll see what I can dig up. You release the others and we'll meet in the hall.'

He went up the cellar steps, Asta at his heels and from below, they could hear the excited babble of voices as von Bayern moved to release his nine soldiers and the two British Army drivers.

It was quiet in the passage outside the kitchen and Asta led the way quickly through to the hall. When they went into the library, a fire still burned fitfully on the hearth and she opened the far door into the gun room.

Such rooms were a common feature of old Scottish houses with estates which provided good shooting, but remembering Duncan Craig's remarks about Donner's lack of interest in hunting Chavasse didn't expect to find a great deal.

It could have been worse. Although most of the racks were empty, there were three double-barrelled shotguns, a Winchester.22 target rifle, probably kept for the rooks and an old.45 Ballard amp; Moore, powerful enough to stop an elephant.