He smiled. "There's a bottle of champagne over there in the bucket, my love. Go and open it and I'll tell you."
At Ardmurchan Lodge, the light was on in the garage, the diving equipment arranged neatly on the floor. There was a steady hum from the compressor as Dillon showed Kim how to fill the first air tank.
Hannah came in and stood watching, arms folded. "Does he know what he's doing?"
"Kim?" Dillon laughed. "I've just shown him, haven't I, and you only show a Ghurka something once." He said to Kim, "All six."
"Yes, Sahib, I'll take care of it."
Dillon followed Hannah in through the side door and through the kitchen to the sitting room, where they found Ferguson sitting at the desk.
He glanced up. "All in order?"
"So far," Dillon said.
"Good, so the plan is simple. As soon as Morgan leaves in the Citation, we get to work. You hold the fort in the house, Chief Inspector, while Kim and myself go out with Dillon in the whale boat."
"Dillon, I'm totally ignorant about diving," she said, "so forgive my questions that seem stupid. Just how difficult will it be and just how long will it take?"
"Well, to start with, I'll go down very fast, my weight belt helps with that. If Sir Keith's positioning is accurate I could be onto the plane in minutes, but it's going to be dark down there and there's no way of knowing what the bottom's like. There could be ten feet of sludge. Another thing, the depth is important. The deeper you go the more air you use. It's astonishing how much ten or fifteen feet reduces your bottom line. Ideally, I'd like to do this dive within sport-diving limits, because if I can't, I'll have to decompress on the way up and that takes time."
"Why, exactly?"
"The deeper you go and the longer you're there, the more nitrogen you get in your bloodstream. It's like fizz in a bottle of champagne wanting to burst out. It can give you the bends, cripple you, and sometimes kill you." He smiled. "Here endeth the lesson."
"I must say it all sounds rather heavy to me."
"I'll be all right." He went and helped himself to a Bushmills. "I've had a thought though, Brigadier."
"What's that?"
"Have Kim up at the airstrip in the morning with a pair of field glasses. I mean, we'll hear that plane leave, but let's make sure it just doesn't have the pilots on board."
"Good idea," Ferguson said. He glanced at his watch. "Eleven o'clock. I've had an even better idea, Dillon, another of your little night forays up at the castle. See if you can have a word with Asta."
"I'm surprised we haven't heard from her," Hannah said.
"I'm not, too damn dangerous for the girl to use the phone, unless she's absolutely certain Morgan isn't around," Ferguson told her. "No, you take Dillon up there like you did the other night, Chief Inspector, and we'll see what happens."
It was still raining as Hannah turned in at the side of Loch Dhu Castle and switched off the engine. As on the previous occasion, Dillon wore black. He took out his Walther and tested it, then put it back into his waistband at the rear.
"Seems to me we've done this before."
"I know," Hannah smiled. "You'll have to think of a variation."
He pulled the sinister ski mask on, leaving only his eyes and lips visible. "I could always give you a kiss."
"While you're wearing that thing? Don't be disgusting, Dillon. Go on, on your way."
The door closed gently and he disappeared into the darkness in a second.
He negotiated the wall in the same way as before and made his way through the grounds to the lawn and paused in the trees, looking across at the lights of the castle. After a while, the French windows to the study opened and Morgan appeared smoking a cigar, followed by Asta wearing a sweater and slacks, an umbrella in her hand.
"What are you going to do?" Morgan demanded.
"Walk the dog. You can come too, Carl."
"In this rain? You must be crazy. Don't be too long," he told her and turned back inside.
She put the umbrella up and moved down the steps of the terrace. "Come on, boy," she called and the Doberman came out of the study in a flash and hurried across the lawn.
There was a small summer house and Dillon moved to stand to one side of it. The dog stopped dead and whined. Dillon gave that peculiar low whistle and the dog bounded to his side and licked his hand gently.
"Where are you, boy?" Asta said.
"Over here," Dillon said softly.
"It's you, Dillon." She hurried forward and stood there, clutching the umbrella. "What are you up to this time?"
"Oh, I didn't want to let you go without a word," he said. "You are leaving in the morning, that's right, isn't it?" He pulled off his ski mask.
"Eight o'clock," she said.
"Yes, that's what Morgan told us at the airfield. So graceful in defeat he was. So bloody graceful that we didn't believe a word of it. He's coming back, isn't he, Asta?"
She nodded. "He didn't expect you to believe him, that's what he told me. He said you'd expect him to return so the only thing to get right was the timing."
"All right, tell me."
"We leave at eight in the Citation. Carl said he would anticipate you making the dive the moment we're on our way."
"Then what?"
"You know how far Arisaig is?"
"About twenty miles."
"Exactly. There's another ex-RAF airstrip there like Ardmurchan. He and Marco took the estate car down there and came back in the Shogun. The Citation will land there after leaving Ardmurchan. We'll come back by road in the estate car. The pilots will give it an hour, then fly back to Ardmurchan."
"Where we'll have been caught with our pants down?" Dillon said.
"Exactly."
"Oh, well, we'll have to see what we can come up with." He put a hand on her shoulder. "You're managing, are you?"
"Yes," she said, "I'm managing just fine."
"Good for you." He pulled on the ski mask. "Keep the faith," and he disappeared into the darkness.
Carl Morgan appeared on the terrace. "Are you there, Asta?"
"Yes, Carl, I'm coming," she said and went across the lawn, the umbrella raised, her hand in the dog's collar.
Kim was at the airstrip by eleven-thirty. He hadn't taken the car in case he was seen and lay on the edge of a small copse with a pair of field glasses and observed the Citation in the hangar. He could see the two pilots walking around doing their checks, and after a while, the Shogun appeared. It stopped just outside the hangar and Morgan and Asta got out. The two pilots came forward, there was a brief conversation, and they got the luggage out. As Morgan and Asta went into the hangar, Marco drove the Shogun inside.
Kim waited. After a while the engines fired and the Citation moved out into the open and taxied to the end of the runway, turning into the wind. He watched it race to the end of the runway and lift into the gray sky, then got up and ran back to the lodge.
Dillon had his diving suit on and was already pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with four air tanks down to the little jetty, where Hannah and Ferguson waited in the whaler. It was raining unmercifully and yet in spite of it there was a cloud of mist ten or twelve feet high rolling across the water, reducing visibility considerably. Ferguson wore an anorak and a rain hat, Hannah was wearing an old raincoat and trilby she had found in the cloakroom. There was a smaller rowing boat, several inches of water swishing around inside it.
As Hannah got out of the whaler to meet him he said, "Pull that one out of the way."
She did as he said, and as he started to pass the air tanks down to Ferguson there was the sound of the plane taking off. "There they go," Ferguson said.
"Right," Dillon told him. "I'll make do with the four tanks. With any kind of luck I won't need all of them. I'll get the rest of my gear."
He pushed the wheelbarrow back up to the lodge, loaded it with everything else including the two Sterlings. As he started back down to the jetty, Kim came out of the trees on the run. He caught up with Dillon just before he reached the whaler.
"You saw them go?" Ferguson demanded.