INCARNATION (70 page)

At five to three, the phone rang, waking him from an uncomfortable sleep. He let it ring at first, lacking the courage to pick it up. But it persisted, and in the end he answered.

It was Call Minder, to tell him he had messages waiting. He rang back with his heart in his mouth. A woman’s voice told him he had one message, left at twelve ten, when he was on the phone with Blennerhassett.

'Dad, it’s Maddie. I don’t know if you’ll get this, or when you’ll get it. Look, I don’t have much time, he’s just gone downstairs, but he’ll be back any minute. I think he wants to take me back up to Scotland. It’s not easy to find, but I’ll tell you what to look for when you come home. I suppose you‘re home now, if you‘re listening to this. Have you got a pen and paper?"

H
e took the 6.15 train to Inverness. It would have been much faster to have flown, but that would have meant leaving his guns and other equipment behind. There was no point in going in against someone like Farrar without the right hardware.

He slept and woke, slept and woke. Sometimes he would open his eyes to see dark forest hemming the train in, sometimes he would look up to see mountains or the shimmering surface of a lake. His mobile phone was in his bag, and from time to time he felt an urge to use it, to ring the hospital and be done with it. But he knew that doing so might affect Maddie’s chances, so he let the phone lie where it was.

There were two changes, one in Edinburgh and the other in Perth. A signal failure north of Edinburgh caused two hours’ delay. He arrived just after five, swept along the platform by a crowd of holidaymakers, his gaunt figure and heavy bag marking him out as something different. Parents lifted their children out of his path, and watched him go as though he carried a taint. The station-master knocked his pipe out on to the palm of his hand and shook his head: he knew trouble when he saw it.

He hired a Landrover from a garage in Harbour Road, and drove to the town centre to buy provisions and to eat a proper meal. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t know how long he might have to stake out the house. When he finally drove out of town, it was nearly eight. He recited Maddie’s directions like a mantra. At every moment, beneath all other thoughts, he kept imagining the circumstances of Nabila’s death. It had become a reality to him now, a fixed point in his universe, around which everything else would revolve from now on.

This far north, the summer sun would not go down till ten or so. He needed darkness for his final approach, but in the meantime, the extra hours of sunlight could prove invaluable. They would give him time to scout the territory around the house before he made up his mind to go in. The first thing he had to make sure of was whether Farrar and Maddie were actually here. They could not have come up by plane or train, only by road - and that would have taken until now at least, even if Farrar had been able to drive straight through without any breaks.

He drove past the house, glancing at it quickly as he went by. There was no car in sight, no visible sign of occupancy. He continued on for several hundred yards, hemmed in on either side by thick forest. Getting the Landrover off the road wasn’t going to be easy. And then he saw a small opening on his left, a private road used by Forestry Commission vehicles. He pulled in, and in seconds he was well out of sight.

Dressed like a hiker, he made his first approach, keeping himself as far as possible in the shadow of the trees. There was no sign of perimeter security that he could see. That made sense in a place as remote as this, crisscrossed every night by all manner of wild animals.

He made a full circuit of the house and decided no one was at home. There was no alarm system that he could see, and only a minimum of locks on either doors or windows. Letting himself in through the back door, he moved quickly through the house, disengaging locks here and there, so that he could effect a silent entry later if need be.

There was a car in the garage, a small 4x4 vehicle with local plates and a sticker from an Inverness garage. He didn’t think they’d come up from London in this.

There was a sun terrace at the back, and below it a lawn sloping down to the lake. It was hard to believe that he’d been in the centre of the world’s worst desert only a few days before, and that he was here now, watching sunlight dapple the bright belly of a lake like glass. If only … He shook himself, determined to keep his emotions under control a little longer.

Looking at the edge of the lake, he noticed a small boat tied up at a landing stage by the lawn’s edge. It was tempting to go down and untie it, and go drifting out alone on the water’s face. He walked down slowly, and sat on the landing stage: he’d hear any car arriving in good enough time to make himself scarce.

After the absolute silence of the desert, this place was full of sound. Birdsong shimmered like water all around the lake. Small animals chattered and cried, and a heron fished in the lonely water through red and gold and green light.

Looking out across the lake, he noticed what must have been a small boat. He watched it idly for a while, then decided to take a closer look. He took his binoculars from his bag and trained them at full magnification on the little bobbing object. It took a while to get the right justification, then, as the boat and its occupants sharpened into focus, he stiffened.

The distance was too great for him to be sure, but something about the two figures made him suspect that they could be Farrar and Maddie.

He laid down the binoculars. How the hell was that possible? he thought. And then he guessed part of the answer. He stood and got himself into the trees, out of sight from the lake. He wondered how he could have forgotten that Farrar had his own private plane, a Cessna that he flew out of Luton.

Over an hour passed. In the sky, the westering sun had started to change colour. The little boat began to pull for the shore.

He watched them disembark, Farrar and Maddie as large as life. The expression on her face was fixed, as though more than life had gone out of it. David was tempted to go in right away, to take Farrar unawares at the earliest opportunity. But Maddie was too close. Safer to wait. Farrar must be tired by now, he’d sleep soon - and then David would go in.

He watched lights go on in the house, upstairs and downstairs. Carefully, he crept round the house. Curtains had been drawn only on the first floor. Maddie sat downstairs in a long living room, watching TV. She flicked indolently from station to station, then back again, going round and round without any obvious interest. Twice she got up and walked around, and David was sure she was heavily drugged.

He wondered whether he shouldn’t go in now, but he was at a disadvantage in not knowing exactly where Farrar was. Even if he succeeded in getting Maddie out of the house, he still had to get her to the car, and then away. And all the time Farrar would be on the loose.

Then Farrar appeared in the living-room door. He was wearing a long black dressing gown. He ignored Maddie at first, striding towards the TV and switching it off. Making for the CD player, he slipped a disc inside and started it playing. David recognized it at once: a recording of ch’in music by the late Master Hsu. It seemed perfectly pitched for the setting and the mysterious time of day. Outside, the sky was reddening, and the waters of the lake seemed as rich as blood.

David squeezed himself back out of sight as he saw Farrar come to the French window and look out. From where he stood, David could see that tears were running down the other man’s cheeks. What the hell was going on?

Farrar went back inside, and David resumed his original position. The first thing he noticed was that Maddie had changed. She’d been wearing a simple mustard summer dress when she came in from the boat; now she had on a long robe not unlike Farrar’s.

Before David could grasp what was happening, he saw Farrar gesture at Maddie, and saw her robe fall in one movement to the floor.

David felt an overwhelming sense of shame and anger sweep through him. Without thinking, he took out his pistol, then stepped to the window and pulled it open.

‘Put your robe back on, love,’ he said. He could hardly bear to look at Farrar. Maddie did not move. ‘It’s all right, love. It’s me. I’m back.’

‘Nice to see you, Laing. You’ve got to admit she’s got better skin than Lizzie. Better arse too. Better all round.’

‘All right, Farrar, put your hands behind your head.’

‘Have you brought my tapes, Laing? I’ve been looking forward to those. Though I hadn’t expected to receive them here. How on earth did you find this place? To be quite honest ...’

‘Shut up. I am having very great trouble not shooting you. Now, I would like you to kneel on the floor and put your arms behind your head.’

‘Can’t do that, Laing. You can’t expect me to, can you?’

‘Listen to me. If you don’t put your hands on your head, I will shoot you. I won’t kill you, but I will disable you. You’re coming back with me. You’re going to tell all our friends every last detail of what you’ve done.’

‘I must say your timing is lousy. But then, it always was. When there’s time, you must tell me exactly how you got out of China. It must have been terribly exciting. What a pity a memoir’s out of the question.’ 

‘Hands.’

Farrar grunted and put his hands behind his head. ‘I don’t suppose you got within sniffing distance of Chaofe Ling. I’m told it’s most impressive.’

‘On the contrary, it’s just a lump of black tar by now. You can forget about arms for Iraq for at least ten years.’ Farrar’s face went pale.

‘No doubt you’re going to tell me you accomplished all this single-handed.’

‘No, not single-handed. I had help all the way. Now, stop wasting my time.’

What happened next happened too fast to be more than a blur. Farrar moved suddenly, putting himself behind Maddie and out of David’s line of fire. Then he pulled her to him, and spun her round, one hand about her neck holding a long blade.

‘I’d have used this on her sooner or later,’ he said. ‘Throw your gun this way. Gently, now.’

David looked at Maddie. He had not seen her naked since she was a small child. Now, seeing her like this, it brought home to him the fact that during his absences and failures of love, she had become a woman. She had her own torments, her own bleak vision of the future. But she was still his daughter. He wondered if Farrar had had sex with her very often, or had this been the first time?

He dropped the gun.

‘Good. Now, kick it towards me. That’s right.’

Farrar picked up the gun, then began to move backwards to the French windows, pulling Maddie with him. Once outside, he started running, holding Maddie by one hand. Too high to know what was happening, she struggled to keep pace with him.

David stepped out on to the terrace. There were .three shots in quick succession, then the sound of a boat bumping against the landing stage. Silence, then oars being slipped into rowlocks, and finally blades dipping into water. All over the dim lake moonlight lay like snow. He walked to the water’s edge and saw them, a dark shape thrusting through the darkness, made visible by the white light falling on everything. A second boat lay in the water a little along the landing stage, but even as David watched it was filling with water. It would last maybe fifteen minutes out on the lake.

He walked back to where he’d left his bag, and slung it over his shoulder.

T
here was a rubber dinghy on a frame in the garage. David wheeled it round and manhandled it on to the landing stage. He pushed off into the silence, scarcely knowing which way to go. Farrar’s boat was no longer visible, the sound of his oars no longer audible. David just headed out across the lake.

After a long time, he shipped his oars and let the little craft float in whichever direction it chose. He listened intently, waiting for the first hint of a creak or the plunge of an oar. He went on in silence like that, for half an hour or more. Above him, stars the size of tangerines brought back memories of the desert.

Sometimes a light breeze would blow from the direction of the house, bringing with it snatches of the ch’in music, faint and mournful. The tense, quivering strings made a slow, plangent music, hovering on the night air and falling away again.

He heard voices somewhere ahead of him. Looking hard, he made out the other boat. Farrar was sitting in the bow, with Maddie behind. Carefully, he inched his way towards them.

The voices shifted, blown across the water by the breeze, or caught up with the music from the shore. David would hear a snatch of coherent words, then lose them again as the wind changed direction. What he heard was angry, a torrent of tearful railing from Maddie fended off by Farrar’s dry sarcasm. But though he could hear words and sometimes sentences, David could never make out the sense of the whole thing.

He shipped his oars without a sound and crouched in the front of the boat, resting his rifle on the gunnel. All he wanted was one clear shot. The night-sight gave him a clear image of Farrar. He pulled back gently on the trigger, getting ready to fire the moment the boat steadied.

Suddenly, Maddie grew agitated. The boat she was in began to shake violently as she threw herself on Farrar, pummelling him hard with her fists. David took his finger from the trigger; he had no wish to kill his daughter accidentally.

Farrar pushed Maddie back, punching her hard in the stomach. As she tumbled into the back of the boat, David put his eye to the sight and took aim quickly. But moments before he fired, Farrar moved, tipping the boat. The bullet went through the rear sheet without touching him. Turning his head, he caught sight of the dinghy, though it was too dark to make out David’s figure crouched behind the front.

Farrar bent down and grabbed Maddie, pulling her upright. He took a gun from his pocket and rammed the barrel against her jaw.

'Put the rifle down, Laing. Shooting me won’t solve anything. On the other hand, talking with me could pay off handsomely.’

‘If you shoot her, you won’t last more than a few seconds.’

'That won’t bring her back. Just push the rifle to the back of the dinghy.’