North Star

'About the rig?'

'Ja.' And she nodded, her fair hair falling over her face. 'But it is not only about the rig. She is convinced the man in charge of the operation will make it look so that you are responsible. She is afraid for you. She thinks perhaps it is your dead body-'

'Did you report this to the police?'

'No, that was a condition she made. She was concerned for you, not the rig.'

'Surely you warned Ed Wiseberg?'

'Yes. As soon as we reached North Star I talked with him by loudhailer. I tell him something is planned to happen to the rig. But he thinks the Duchess is there to cause trouble — to frighten the men or something. He tell us to Eff Off.' She smiled. 'He is very tense, you know, already occupied with his testing. So then I ask the stand-by boat if you are on board or perhaps on the relief boat. But they don't know anything about you, so we stay around the rig, watching. And when it is dark and the relief boat arrive, we keep downwind of her with our lights turned off.'

'She told you I was going to be put in a boat?'

'No, she don't say that. But Johan and I, we think it is possible. We just don't know what is going to happen, only that we must stay in the vicinity of North Star. Then Ken Stewart say there is a torch blinking an SOS in the water and that's how we come to pick you up.' And she added very quietly, 'So you don't 3S6 owe your life to us, but to Fiona.' She was gazing at me wide-eyed, waiting for some reaction.

But there was nothing I could say, and I went on eating, feeling helpless, propped up in the bunk and thinking of Fiona risking her liberty, perhaps her life, because of something that was finished, dead, buried in the past. What the hell could I say?

She sat there waiting until I had finished my food, then she took the tray and stood there, holding it in her hand and looking down at me. 'Do you want me to send a message? I know where she is staying.'

'Tell her I'm safe,' I said.

'I already send a telegram to say that. But she will expect something more — a message from you.' She reached down to the locker beside the bunk and handed me a writing pad and ballpoint. 'You think it out. We will be in Aith in about an hour. Then you can send it yourself.'

She left me then, apparently thinking my reluctance due to her presence. I stared at the pad, knowing there was nothing I could say that wouldn't encourage Fiona to think there was still something left of our marriage. She loves you, I think, very much. It was Gertrude I wanted to think of, not Fiona — Gertrude who had brought her trawler north, to stand by the rig in the hope of finding me. And she had done that after three months without a word from me, knowing that I was somehow involved.

One hour, she had said. Then we would be in Aith, tied up at the pier. I thought of all the telex messages being sent out by North Star — to Fuller, to the Aberdeen office, to Villiers in London. And the news broadcasts. It would have been on the radio this morning. TV would have it by midday, newspaper presses rolling the story out, a rig broken adrift and suspected sabotage. Aith might only be a small place, but it was on Mainland, and once we were in, press, reporters, police, they would all be there.

A wave crashed aft as we were pooped, but I barely noticed it. I hardly heard the strange noises the hull made as the plates worked under the pressure of the seas. I had one hour, just one hour to myself to get a clear statement down on paper. I was still tired, my head throbbing, but I knew it had to be done. And, once I had started, I found myself writing fast and with concentration, so that I barely noticed the decrease of movement, the growing quiet as we came in under the lee.

I hadn't quite completed it when I felt a bump on the starboard side, the sound of feet on deck and voices. We were alongside, and a moment later Gertrude came in followed by a tall, stooped figure in a tweed jacket. 'Inspector Garrard,' she said. 'He wants to see you alone.'

The inspector came forward, ducking his head to avoid the steel angle irons of the roofing. 'Before the reporters get at you,' he said. He waited for Gertrude to leave, then pulled up a chair and sat down, opening his briefcase. 'Since I'm not sure whether you're one of the villains or not I suppose I ought to caution you.'

'You want a statement, is that it?'

He nodded. 'Yes, I'll need a statement.'

'I've just been writing it for you,' I said and handed him the pad.

'Good. That saves a lot of time.' He took it and there was a long silence as he read it through. When he had finished, he said, 'With what Mrs Petersen has told me and the messages we've had from North Star, this is about what I had expected.' He hesitated, smiling slightly. 'We kept tabs on you, of course. From the moment I had them release you from the Hull Central Station we've been following your movements, but at a distance. The trouble was we weren't sure exactly who was involved and how it would be done. We hoped you'd lead us to that. But then it all happened too. quickly.'

It was a shock to realize that this quiet academic-looking man had been making use of me so deliberately. But my reaction was only one of relief. 'What about Dillon?' I asked.

'His real name is McKeown. Until now he's always worked in the background. We've been trying to-'

'Yes, but what's happened to him? Where is he now?'

He shrugged. 'You're probably right in saying they've destroyed the fishing boat after transferring to another vessel.'

'But you don't know. You don't know what's happened to them.'

He shook his head. 'A navy ship is out there now, searching. But I'm afraid we moved too late.' And he added, 'We've pulled in Sandford, of course. He doesn't seem able to tell us much, but what he has told us tends to corroborate your statement.'

He stayed there for about half an hour, asking questions and checking my answers against information in a file from his briefcase. Finally he rose. 'I have to be getting back to Lerwick now. Like you, I wish we knew what happened after the rig's cables were cut. But it's been a bad night out there. North Star has dragged about three miles and one of the remaining anchor cables snapped under the strain. But the forecast is for less wind, so the rig should hold. And Villiers arrived by plane this morning. He's in Scalloway now. He'll want to see you. Also, the media. They'll want the story, too.' He put the file back in his briefcase and snapped it shut. Then he stood looking down at me and I sensed a sudden awkwardness. 'One other thing. Mrs Petersen said she told you your wife was in Aberdeen.'

I nodded, something in his expression warning me so that I think I knew what was coming.

'You saw her in Hull, at your hotel. And she was in court that day. We kept track of her after that, so we knew where to pick her up for questioning.' He hesitated. 'I'm sorry about this, Randall, but I had a call from the Aberdeen police just before I left Lerwick. When they went to her lodgings last night, they found she'd been taken to hospital that morning suffering from an overdose of barbiturate.'

He didn't have to tell me. I knew from the expression on his face. 'Dead?'

'Yes, I'm afraid so. She was dead on arrival at the hospital.'

I didn't see him go. I just lay there staring at the rusting paint of the roofing, thinking of Fiona alone in some wretched boarding house. Was it my fault? Was I to blame? If I'd been there, if I hadn't left her… If I'd gone back to her that night when she had come to my hotel room… But it wouldn't have been any use. I knew that. It was something in her make-up, the restlessness, the nervous vitality, the constant shifting from one cause to another. And drugs her only solution. Poor Fiona! I should have wept for her, but my eyes were dry and I felt no loss, only a sense of relief that it was over.