To the hilt [en]

Staggered by the extent of the ruthless search, I left Himself arguing with Zoл Lang and went into my home to see what damage had been done inside.

To my surprise and relief, very little. Jed had brought back my pipes. The place looked tidy. The picture, wrapped in its sheet, stood on the easel. It seemed the searchers had left the core of the search until last.

I went out to protest to Zoл Lang about the work of her fanatical friends, about ten of whom were still digging holes in every direction, but as I approached her my mobile phone, which I by now carried around out of habit, buzzed weakly in my hand, demanding attention.

Because of the bad reception in the mountains, and the whining noise of the metal detectors and yelling all around of the conservationists, I could hear nothing in the receiver but a crackle, with the faintest of voices in the background.

To obliterate at least some of the noise, I carried the mobile phone into the bothy and closed the door.

I said loudly into the receiver, 'Whoever you are, shout.'

I heard an earful of crackle, and one word, 'Tobias.'

I shouted, unbelieving, 'Tobias?'

Crackle.

His faint voice said, 'I've found it.'

Another load of static.

His voice said again, 'Al, I've found the money.'

I couldn't believe it. His voice said, 'Are you there?'

I bellowed, 'Yes. Where are you?'

Crackle. Crackle. 'In Bogota. In Columbia.'

I still couldn't believe it. There was a sudden clearing of the static and I could hear his voice plainly. 'The money is all here. I found it by accident. The account here had three names on it, not just one or two. A person's name and two corporate names. I put them ah1 on an application form by mistake, and it was like pressing a button, a door opened, and they are asking for my onward directions. The money will be back in Reading next week.'

'I can't believe it. I thought you went away for the weekend.'

He laughed. 'I went to Panama. We were getting nowhere electronically. I went to bang a fist… and the trail led to Bogota.'

'Tobe…'

'See you soon,' he said.

The crackle came back. I switched off the telephone and felt my knees weakening as in the phrase 'weak at the knees' which I had never believed in before.

After a while I took the wrapping sheet off the picture, and even to me the force of it filled the small room.

I had thought I would need time's perspective to know what I'd done, but the power of the concept seemed to have taken over and made me its instrument. The picture might not comfort, but one wouldn't forget it.

During the past few weeks I had painted that picture, the brewery's money had been found, and I'd discovered how far - how deep - I could go into myself.

I had met Tobe and Margaret and Chris.

I'd slept again with Emily and would stay married for as long as she wanted.

I had come to a compact with Patsy.

There wasn't a great deal I would undo.

Shakily, I went out of the bothy and walked on the weak knees to where Himself and Zoл Lang were gesticulating in each other's air-space with none too gentlemanly fury.

Himself stopped abruptly, alerted by whatever he saw in my face.

'What is it?' he said.

'The money is found.'

'What money?' Zoл Lang demanded.

Himself didn't answer her. He stared at me alone with the realisation that what had been paid for had been miraculously delivered.

Zoл Lang, thinking that I had found some treasure or other within the bothy, strode off in that direction and disappeared inside.

'Tobias found the money in Bogota,' I said.

'Using the list?'

'Yes.'

Himself's rejoicing was like my own; unexpressed except in the eyes, a matter of central warmth rather than triumphal whoops.

'Prince Charles Edward's hilt,' he said, 'is irrelevant.'

We looked around at the determined searchers. None of them was now metal-detecting in the right place, but they might succeed if they went on long enough. The prize had been within their reach: they had dug quite near it.

I thought ruefully that this lot wouldn't burn me to make me tell them where to look. Zoл Lang wouldn't strike a match. I wouldn't have wanted her to be Grantchester.

'Will they find it, Al?' my uncle asked.

'Would you mind it very much?'

'Of course I would. That woman would crow.'

I said, 'If she perseveres long enough… she will.'

'No, Al,' he protested.

'When I hid it,' I said, 'it was from burglars, not from a zealot with a mission. When her cohorts give up, that's when she'll start thinking. Up until now, I'd guess she believes she's dealing with simple minds, yours and mine. She suffers from the arrogance of the very brainy. She doesn't expect anyone to keep up with her on level terms.'

'Your mind is far from simple.'

'She doesn't know that. And my mind is simpler than hers. She will find the hilt. We could go away and not watch her gloat.'

'Leave the battlefield?' He was outraged. 'Defeat may be unavoidable, but we will meet it with pride.'

Spoken like a true Kinloch, I thought, and remembered briquettes flaming.

Zoл Lang came out of the bothy and walked towards us still carrying a metal detector, basically a long black stick with a white control box near the top and a flat white plate at the bottom.

When she reached us she ignored Himself and spoke directly and with penetration to me alone. 'You will tell me the truth,' she said in her old voice. 'I am sure you are a very good liar, but this time you will tell me the truth.'

I made no reply. She took it as assent, which it was.

She said, 'I saw that picture. Did you paint it?'

'Yes.'

'Is it you who has hidden the Kinloch hilt?'

'Yes.'

'Is it here… in your bothy? And would I find it?'

I said, after a pause, 'Yes… and yes.'

My uncle's mouth opened in protest. Zoл Lang flicked him a glance and thrust the metal detector into his arms.

'You can keep the hilt,' she said. 'I'll look for it no longer.'

Himself watched in bewilderment while she told one of her helpers to round up the searchers, that they were leaving.

'But, Dr Lang…' her helper objected.

'The hilt isn't here,' she said. 'We are going home.'

We watched while they picked up their spades and pickaxes and metal detectors and drifted across to their mini-van transport, and when they'd gone Zoл Lang said to Himself, 'Don't you understand?'

'No, I frankly don't.'

'He hasn't seen the picture,' I said.

'Oh.' She blinked. 'What is it called? Does it have a name?'

'Portrait of Zoл Lang.'

A tear appeared in each of her eyes and ran down her wrinkled old cheeks, as Jed's wife Flora had foreseen.

'I will not fight you,' she said to me. 'You have made me immortal.'

Himself looked long at the picture when Zoл Lang had driven away in her small white car.

'Immortal,' he said thoughtfully. 'Is it?'

'Time will tell.'

'Mad Alexander, who messes about with paints…'

I smiled. 'One has to be slightly mad to do almost anything such as hiding a treasure.'

'Yes,' he said. 'Where is it?'

'Well,' I said, 'when you gave me the hilt to hide all those years ago, the first thing I thought about was metal detectors because those things find gold almost more easily than any other metal. So I had to think of a hiding place safe from metal detectors, which is actually almost impossible unless you dig down six feet or more… and under water is no good because water is no barrier.'