They were low concrete structures which had the appearance of military blockhouses, probably because they were windowless. From what had been said about Cladach Duillich they were the only type of building which could survive there. I had no more time to study the place because a man was approaching at a run. He slowed as he came closer, and said abruptly, 'Can't you read?' 'I can read.' 'Then clear off.' 'The age of miracles is past, friend. Walking on the water has gone out of fashion. The boat's gone.' 'Well, you can't stay here. What do you want?' 'I want to talk to Dr. Carter.' He seemed slightly taken aback, and I studied him as he thought about it. He was big and he had hard eyes and a stubborn jaw. He said, 'What do you want to talk to Dr.
Carter about?' 'If Dr. Carter wants you to know he'll tell you,' I said pleasantly. He didn't like that but there wasn't much he could do about it. 'Who are you?' 'Same thing applies. You're out of your depth, friend. Let's go and see Carter.' 'No,' he said curtly. 'You stay here.' I looked at him coldly. 'Not a chance. I'm wet through and I want to dry out.' I nodded to the buildings. 'Those look as bloody inhospitable as you behave, but I'm willing to bet they're warm and dry inside. Take me to Carter.' His problem was that he didn't know me or my authority, but I was behaving as though I had a right to be there and making demands. He did as I thought he would and passed the buck. 'All right, follow me. You see Carter and you go nowhere else.'
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX As we walked towards the buildings I looked around at Cladach Duillich. It was not very big-about a third of a mile long and a quarter-mile across. Life had a poor existence on this rock. What grass had managed to gain a roothold was salt resistant marram, growing in crannies where a poor soil had gathered, and even the dandelions were wizened and sickly growths. The seabirds appeared to like it, though; the rocks were white with their droppings and they wheeled overhead screaming at our movements below. There were three buildings, all identical, and I noted they were connected by enclosed passages. To one side, on a level bit of ground, was a helicopter pad, empty. I was conducted around the corner to one of the buildings and ushered through the doorway, bidden to wait, and then taken through another doorway. I looked back and realized I had gone through an airlock. We turned sharply left and into a room where a man in a white coat was sitting at a desk and writing on a pad. He was slightly bald, had a thin face and wore bifocals. He looked up and frowned as he saw me, then said to my escort, 'What's this, Max?' 'I found him wandering about loose. He says he wants to see you.' Carter's attention switched to me. 'Who are you?' I glanced sideways at Max, and said smoothly, 'Who I am is for your ears only, Dr. Carter.' Carter sniffed. 'More cloak and dagger stuff. All right, Max. I'll take care of this.' Max nodded and left, and I stripped off the anorak. 'I hope you don't mind me getting out of this stuff,' I said, as I began to take off the waterproof trousers. 'Too warm for indoors.' Carter tapped on the desk with his pen. 'All right. Who are you, and what do you want?' I tossed the trousers aside and sat down. 'I'm Malcolm Jaggard. I've come to see Dr. Ashton.' 'Didn't you ring me last night? I told you she wasn't here-she's on the mainland.' 'I know what you told me,' I said evenly.
'You said she'd be back this morning, so I came to see her.' He gestured. 'You've seen the weather. She wouldn't come over in this.'
'Why not? I did.' 'Well, she hasn't. She's still in Ullapool.' I shook my head, 'She's not in Ullapool, and she wasn't there last night, either.' He frowned. 'Look here, when I asked last night you said you were ringing from London.' 'Did I? Must have been force of habit,' I said blandly. 'Does it make a difference where I rang from?' 'Er… no.' Carter straightened and squared his shoulders. 'Now, you're not supposed to be here. This establishment is, shall we say, rather hush-hush. If it became known you were here you could be in trouble.
Come to that, so could I, so I'll have to ask you to leave.' 'Not without seeing Penny Ashton. She's supposed to be here. Now isn't that a funny thing. I'm where I'm supposed not to be, and she's not where she's supposed to be. How do you account for it?' 'I don't have to account for anything to you.' 'You'll have to account for a lot, Dr.
Carter, if Penny Ashton doesn't turn up pretty damn quick. How did she get to Ullapool?' 'By boat, of course.' 'But this establishment doesn't have a boat. All journeys are by helicopter.' He moistened his lips. 'You appear to be taking an unhealthy interest in this place, Mr. Jaggard. I warn you that could be dangerous.' 'Are you threatening me, Dr. Carter?' 'For any purpose prejudicial to the safety of the State, to approach, inspect or enter any prohibited place, or to-'
'Don't quote the Official Secrets Act at me,' I snapped. 'I probably know it better than you do.' 'I could have you arrested,' he said. 'No warrant is needed.' 'For a simple scientist you appear to know the Act very well,' I observed. 'So you'll know that to arrest me automatically brings in the Director of Public Prosecutions.' I leaned back. 'I doubt if your masters would relish that, seeing that Penny Ashton is missing from here. I told you, you'll have to account for a lot, Dr. Carter.' 'But not to you,' he said, and put his hand on the telephone. 'I hope that's to give instructions to have Dr. Ashton brought in here.' A cool and amused voice behind me said, 'But. Dr Carter really can't have her brought in here.' I turned my head and saw Cregar standing at the door with Max. Cregar said, 'Doctor, I'll trouble you for the use of your office for a moment. Max, see to Mr.
Jaggard.' Carter was palpably relieved and scurried out. Max came over to me and searched me with quick, practised movements. 'No gun.' 'No?' said Cregar. 'Well, that can be rectified if necessary. What could happen to an armed man who breaks into a government establishment, Max?' 'He could get shot,' said Max unemotionally. 'So he could, but that would lead to an official enquiry which might be undesirable. Any other suggestions?' 'There are plenty of cliffs around here,' said Max. 'And the sea's big.' It was a conversation I could do without. I said, 'Where's Penny Ashton?' 'Oh, she's here -you were quite right about that. You'll see her presently.' Cregar waved his hands as though dismissing a minor problem. 'You're a persistent devil. I almost find it in me to admire you. I could do with a few men of your calibre in my organization. As it is, I'm wondering what to do with you.' 'You'd better not compound your offences,' I said. 'Whatever you do about me, you've already done for yourself. We've linked you with Benson. I wouldn't be surprised if the Minister hasn't already been informed of it.' The corners of his mouth turned down. 'How could I be linked with Benson? What possible evidence could there be?' 'A letter dated the fourth of January, 1947, carried by Benson and signed by you.' 'A letter,' said Cregar blankly, and looked through me into the past. Comprehension came into his eyes. 'Are you telling me that Benson still carried that damned letter after thirty years?' 'He'd probably forgotten about it-just as you had,' I said. 'It was hidden in the lining of his wallet.' 'A brown calf wallet with a red silk lining?' I nodded and Cregar groaned. 'I gave Benson that wallet thirty years ago. It would seem I tripped myself.' He bent his head, apparently studying the liver spots on the backs of his hands. 'Where is the letter?' he asked colourlessly. 'The original? Or the twenty photocopies Ogilvie will have already made?' 'I see,' he said softly, and raised his head. 'What were your first thoughts on seeing the letter?' 'I knew you were linked with Ashton because you brought him out of Russia. Now you were linked with Benson, too. I thought of all the odd things that had happened, such as why a gentleman's gentleman should carry a gun, and why you tried to discount the fact he had shot Ashton when we had the meeting on my return from Sweden. It seemed hard to believe he was still your man after thirty years, but I was forced into it.' Cregar lounged back in his chair and crossed his legs. 'Benson was a good man once, before the Germans got him.' He paused. 'Of course he wasn't Benson then, he was Jimmy Carlisle and my comrade in British Intelligence during the war. But he lived and died as Benson, so let him remain so. He was captured in a Gestapo roundup in '44 and they sent him to Sachsenhausen, where he stayed until the end of the war. That's where he got his broken nose and his other brutalized features. They beat him with clubs. I'd say they beat his brains out because he was never the same man afterwards.' He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. 'He was in a mess after the war. He had no family-his father, mother and sister were killed in an air raid-and he had no money apart from a disability pension. His brains were addled and his earning capacity limited. He'd never be any good in our line of work after that, but he deserved well of us, and by 1947 I pulled enough weight to help him, so I offered him the job of shepherd to Chelyuskin-Ashton as he became. It was a sinecure, of course, but he was pathetically grateful. You see, he thought it meant he wasn't finished in his job.' Cregar took out a packet of cigarettes. 'Are you finding this ancient history interesting?' He held out the packet. I took a cigarette. 'Very interesting,' I assured him. 'Very well. We switched him into the person of Benson at the same time we switched Chelyuskin to Ashton, then he hung around for a while. When Ashton got going Benson had a job in Ashton's office, and then later he became Ashton's factotum.' 'And Ashton knew what he was?' 'Oh, yes. Benson was the price Ashton had to pay for freedom. I knew that a man with that calibre of mind would not long be content to fiddle around in industry and I wanted to keep tabs on what he was doing.' He smiled.