David.
Oh, God, and she had suspected him, she had got everything wrong. Had Farrell killed him? If that had happened she could never forgive herself. She couldn’t think about it, wouldn’t let herself think about it. She had to be calm. She had to act the same way with Farrell, had to play along with him, had to keep him from guessing that she knew.
If only she were an actress instead of a singer. If only she were a better liar.
“Ellen? Something on your mind?”
“Oh, no. No, I was just looking at the scenery. It’s really glorious, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” He reached over to pat her hand paternally, and she could barely manage to keep from flinching away from him. “You’re still nervous, aren’t you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Oh? You seemed nervous.”
“It’s just that I’m impatient to get to Shannon and out of the country. I keep worrying that he’ll try to ambush us there.” Lies, lies, and her voice sounded false to her own ears, and how could he fail to notice it? Oh, God!
“This is Conor Pass coming up. The view is glorious from here, Ellen. You can see Brandon Bay and Tralee Bay and Dingle Bay all from one spot. You can even see clear back to Dingle town when the visibility is right.”
“It must be breathtaking.”
“Oh, it is.” He slowed the car. “Why don’t we stop and have a look at it, Ellen?”
“We don’t want to waste time...”
“Ah, but surely we can afford a minute?”
“David—”
“He doesn’t even know you’ve left Dingle, child. And he’ll never suspect we’ve taken this road. Sometimes days go by without anyone driving a car along this route. Everyone goes the short way. There’s probably not another motor car within miles.”
A shiver went through her like a sword.
The car slowed to a stop. “Come,” he said, opening his door. “Let’s have a look at the scenery.”
She didn’t want to get out of the car. She was afraid. But she couldn’t argue with him, couldn’t let him see that she was frightened. That would certainly tip him off, and she couldn’t afford that.
She opened her door and got out of the car. She left her purse with the passport in it on the seat. He put the car in neutral, pulled up the hand brake, and left the car with the motor idling.
“This way,” he said, taking her gently, gently by the hand. “A grand view, isn’t it? That’s Brandon Bay on the left and Tralee Bay on the right, and the stretch of sand between them is Rough Point. It looks like Italy turned upside-downs doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.”
“You’re shaking, child. Not afraid of heights, are you?”
She wasn’t, but she clutched at the straw. “I always have been. I can’t help it — I get weak in the knees from looking down.”
“Oh, it’s a common fear,” he said “One of the most common, I believe. I understand they call it acrophobia. Fear of great heights, and one of the most common of the irrational fears. Although it’s not always irrational, is it?”
And, in the same conversational tone of voice, he said, “How long have you known, Ellen?”
“I don’t understand...”
“You’re not afraid of heights, you’re afraid of me. And quite rightly so, I’m afraid. How did you guess? You’re far too smart for your own good, child. You should have stayed stupid — you’d have saved your life that way. You could have gone to Berlin in perfect safety and never gotten into any trouble at all. But now you know, don’t you? I must have made a slip or two along the way. The camera? Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?”
She backed away from him, her hands out in front of her, her eyes wide in terror.
With a terrible smile on his lips, he moved toward her.
Fourteen
There had to be a way out. She wouldn’t die, couldn’t die. There had to be a chance. The car — if she could get to the car, she could get away from him. The car was her only chance. But meanwhile he was coming for her, slowly, patiently, and he was going to kill her, and she had to stop him. One way or another she had to stop him.
She said, “You don’t have to kill me.”
“Don’t I? Of course I do.”
“No. No, if you kill me, then I can’t take the microfilm to Berlin for you. But if you let me live I’ll take it. Just as you planned. I’ll take it, I’ll let your men there take it from me, I’ll never breathe a word of it to anyone. I swear...”
He shook his head sadly.
“I mean it. I’ll do it, I’ll do it perfectly, you can trust me. You can stay with me in Shannon and put me on the plane yourself. I couldn’t possibly doublecross you that way because it would be easy for you to check on me. And then you could have someone meet the plane the moment it lands, and I’d give him the film right away. It would work—”
“No, Ellen.”
“But why not?”
“You could tell the pilot. Or you could slip away from me in Shannon. You’re a bright and resourceful girl, too much so for your own well-being. If only you had stayed stupid a day or two longer, then everything might have been different.”
“I wouldn’t try to get away from you. I—”
“And afterward, after it was over in Berlin, you would go straight to the American Embassy. You’d tell them names and descriptions and all sorts of things which I really don’t want them to know. The less those people know about me, Ellen, the better I like it.”
“Are you a Communist?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, come now! Certainly not. I’m afraid I’m far too fond of the things money buys to dream of a world without the profit motive. As a matter of fact, Ellen, it’s possible that your scrap of film will wind up in American hands after all. It just depends who’s prepared to pay the highest price for it. The Americans, the Russians, the Chinese — they’ll all have a chance to bid against each other in Berlin. I’ll be happy to do business with any of them.”
He wasn’t even a spy for patriotic reasons, she thought. That motive she might have sympathized with, but he was involved in all this spying and killing just to make a profit. That made him somehow more frightening and bloodless than ever. She could expect no mercy from him, and she knew it now. Her only chance was the car. And her only way of getting to the car, of having an opening, was to keep him talking. As long as she kept the conversation going she would be alive, and as long as she was alive there was a chance, however slight, that he would make a slip and give her an opening.
“How did you know, Ellen? The camera? That was a foolish mistake on my part. I searched your room last night, went through your luggage. So of course I knew that you had no camera with you, but I forgot how I’d learned as much. Is that what tipped you?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“Koenig. I never said a word to you about him, and then you mentioned him out of the blue. That was when I knew.”
“Ah. Another mistake.”
“You made other mistakes, too.”
“Oh, did I?” He seemed amused. “Tell me about them. I’ll have to learn to avoid them in the future.”
She told him about the Penal Laws, how he had mixed up his history. And how he had made the mistake about Gallarus Oratory.
He nodded, interested. “An old fault of mine,” he said. “When I get into a role, I have a lamentable tendency to carry it too far. I like the sound of my own voice too much, you see. Just a frustrated actor at heart, perhaps, but I tend to overdo things. You didn’t suspect then?”
“No.” And bitterly, she added, “I trusted you.”
“You should never trust anyone, Ellen. Not even an Irish priest.”