The Tightrope Men / The Enemy (20 page)

‘The chief study here at Sompio is the ecology of wetland,’ said Dr Matti Mannermaa. ‘In northern Finland we have many marshes caused by the slow drying out of the shallow lakes. Sompio was chosen as a nature preserve because it not only has such a marsh but also has high ground of an altitude of over five hundred metres and a small part of Lake Lokka. Thus we have a varied habitat for many creatures, especially birds.’

‘Very interesting,’ said McCready, hoping the interest showed in his face. He was bored to death.

‘I am an ornithologist, of course,’ said Dr Mannermaa. ‘My work here is similar to that done at your English research station at Slimbridge.’

‘I’ve been there,’ said Harding with enthusiasm.

‘So have I,’ said Dr Mannermaa. ‘I spent many months there investigating British methods. We have adopted the rocket-driven net for use here. We ring a lot of birds for the study of migratory patterns.’

McCready indicated the rack of shotguns on the wall of Mannermaa’s office. ‘I see you shoot them, too.’

‘We must,’ said Mannermaa. ‘We have a continuing study in pesticide residues in body fat. We break a lot of eggs, too, Mr McCready—to study the thickness of the shells. Decreasing shell thickness is mainly a problem with the
raptors, of course.’ He laughed. ‘I am not a sentimentalist about birds; I like roast duck just as much as anyone else.’

‘I’m a wildfowler,’ said Harding. ‘We get good shooting in Norfolk.’

‘I hope you don’t take a shotgun into Sompio,’ said Mannermaa. There was a twinkle in his eye which belied the gravity of his voice. ‘Well, now; let us look at the map and decide what is best for you to do.’

He stood up and went to a wall map. For a few minutes they discussed routes and possibilities. ‘Here there is a hut,’ said Mannermaa. ‘On the edge of the marsh just below Nattaset—that’s the mountain here. It’s equipped with bunks and cooking facilities—rough living but better than tenting.’

‘Most kind of you,’ said McCready. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘A lot of our technical equipment is stored there. Please try not to disturb it.’

‘We won’t touch anything,’ promised McCready. ‘Thank you for everything, Dr Mannermaa.’

As they shook hands Mannermaa said, ‘I hope your companions are successful in their shopping here. Vuotso is a small place and the range of choice may be restricted.’

‘All we need are basic rations.’

‘If you run out you’ll find some tinned food in the hut,’ said Mannermaa. ‘You can pay for it when you get back.’

McCready and Harding left the office and emerged on to the main street of Vuotso. Harding said, ‘Co-operative chap, isn’t he? Those credentials Carey supplied must be really high-powered.’

‘But we mustn’t take a shotgun into Sompio,’ said McCready. ‘I wish we could take a machine-gun.’

‘Do you think we’ll be followed here?’

‘It’s a certainty—we left a trail like a bloody paper chase. Carey’s plan is working and that’s just fine for Carey, but I
have a feeling that we’re left holding the sticky end.’ McCready sounded angry. ‘It’s all very well for him to set us up as targets but who likes being shot at? His plan that I should be an outside guard has already broken down. I have to sleep some time. It’s too big a job for one man.’

‘You’ll be with us this time, then?’

McCready nodded. His brow was furrowed as he tried to cover all the angles. ‘Another thing—how will Denison hold out?’

‘He’s got remarkable resilience,’ said Harding. ‘That crack on the head stirred things up and a lot of the blocks on his memory have been shaken loose. He’s remembering more and more as time goes on, but he seems to have the ability to handle it.’

‘What happens when he gets it all back? Does he crack up and go back on the bottle?’ asked McCready sourly.

‘I don’t know. I tried him on whisky last night. He seems to have a positive aversion to it.’

McCready grunted. ‘I hope he stays that way.’

In fact, Denison felt remarkably well. As they went on foot into the Sompio nature preserve he tried to analyse the reasons for his feeling of well-being and came to the conclusion that it was because of the absence of panic when he probed into the past. And then, of course, there was the immediate environment. He stopped and took a deep breath of the cool clean air and looked about him.

They were skirting the mountain called Nattaset and keeping to the high ground. Below there was a vista of the northern wilderness breathtaking in its beauty. Where there was firm ground the ever-present birches grew, but in between a multitude of islets there was a lacework intricacy of watercourses reflecting the blue of the sky, and in the distance an island-dotted lake shone like silver. Closer at hand white wreaths of last winter’s snow lay all about.

Denison turned and saw McCready trailing about half a mile behind. He, too, appeared to have stopped and Denison thought he was doing a search with field glasses—and not just to look at the view. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder then, as far as McCready was concerned, this view would be bleak indeed. There were far too many places for a man—or even a regiment—to hide.

Denison hitched his pack to a more comfortable position and set off again, keeping up a fast pace so as to catch up with the others. He drew abreast of Lyn, and said, ‘It’s lucky no one took a crack at us when we were leaving Kevo. I was so woozy I wouldn’t have been much help.’

Lyn looked at him worriedly. ‘How are you feeling now?’

‘Fine,’ he said lightly. ‘I feel a lot better now I can remember things. This morning I remembered the name of the man in the flat above mine; Paterson—a nice chap.’

‘And you remember being a film director?’

‘Yes.’ He laughed. ‘Don’t run away with the idea that I was one of your big-time movie moguls—my stuff wasn’t shown in the West End. I make educational films mostly.’ He frowned. ‘Or, at least, I did. I was fired from my job.’

‘Don’t worry about that, Giles,’ she said quietly.

‘I’m not worrying; I have more important things on my mind at the moment. All the same,’ he said, looking into his past. ‘I don’t seem to have been a nice character.’

There was violence in her voice. ‘Forget it!’ she said crossly.

He glanced at her face in profile. ‘You worry about me, don’t you?’ There was a tinge of wonder in his voice; it had been a long time since anyone had worried about what happened to him. All Fortescue had worried about was whether the job would get done—he hadn’t given a damn about Denison himself.

‘What do you expect me to do? Cheer when you get slugged on the head?’ She walked on a few more paces. ‘You should never have agreed to this mad scheme.’

‘Carey talked me into it—he’s a very persuasive man. But you talked yourself into it. Nobody asked you to come. Now why did you do that?’

She offered him a wan smile. ‘You know, you’re rather like Hamlet; you let yourself be pushed around.’

He grinned. ‘Ah, the fair Ophelia.’

‘Don’t class me with that damned ninny,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not going to go mad in white satin. But I still think that if Hamlet had had someone to give him advice, to put some backbone into him, things would have turned out differently. As it was, all he had was that wet, Horatio.’

He felt suddenly depressed. ‘Are you offering to supply backbone?’

‘All I’m saying is that you mustn’t depend on this gang of Whitehall thugs. Don’t believe everything Carey tells you. He’s in business for himself, not you.’ She seemed angry.

He was silent for a while. ‘You could be right,’ he said at last. ‘I have no illusions about this job. I know I was thrown into it involuntarily but I carried on of my own will and with my eyes open. I know I’m being used and I don’t particularly like it. At the time when Carey put the proposition I was mixed up, to say the least, and I dare say Carey took advantage. I don’t blame him for it—I was all he had.’

‘But you’re becoming better,’ said Lyn. ‘You’ll be getting ready to make your own decisions.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Denison thoughtfully. ‘We’ll see.’ He hitched the pack on his back. ‘When do we get to this hut?’

They pressed on late that night because Diana wanted to reach the hut. ‘No point in staying in the open when we can have a roof over our heads,’ she said. Travelling late was no problem; the light never left the sky and they were able to move as fast at midnight as at midday and they saw the hut at two in the morning.

It was built of birch logs and was bigger than they had expected. It was in the form of a letter ‘H’, wings having been added as was necessary. The living quarters were in the cross-bar of the ‘H’ and they were glad to divest themselves of the heavy packs. The two women began to prepare a meal and sent the men to get water.

Harding and Denison took buckets and went outside, and Harding stopped just outside the hut and looked across the marsh which seemed to consist of reeds and water for as far as the eye could see. ‘Good wildfowling country,’ he said appreciatively.

Denison slapped at his neck. ‘Good mosquito country,’ he grumbled.

‘Don’t worry; they’re not malarial.’

‘You mean I’m merely being eaten alive?’ Denison slapped at himself again. ‘Let’s get the water.’

They went down to the water’s edge and Harding inspected it critically. ‘It looks all right; but we’d better boil it to make sure.’ They filled the buckets and then Harding straightened. ‘I wonder what that is.’

Denison followed the direction of his gaze and saw a low wooden hut on the water’s edge about a hundred yards away. ‘A sauna probably. The Finns like to have them on the edge of the water so they can jump right in. You won’t catch me in there.’

‘It doesn’t look tall enough to be a sauna,’ said Harding. ‘The roof’s too low. I think I’ll take a look.’

‘The girls will be screaming for water.’

‘I won’t be a minute.’ Harding walked away following the shore line, and Denison shrugged. He picked up a full bucket and took it up to the main hut. Upon being told there was an insufficiency of water he went back for the other bucket. Harding called, ‘Denison; look what I’ve found.’

Denison walked towards the little hut and thought Harding was probably right—the roof was so low that there
would be barely sitting room in the hut, let alone standing room. He walked around it and found Harding squatting on his heels. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a gun punt,’ said Harding. ‘Haven’t seen one for years.’

From this side Denison could see that the hut consisted of roof only and was merely a shelter over a flat boat which looked like an enlarged Eskimo kayak. ‘So?’

Harding shook with laughter. ‘Mannermaa told us not to bring a shotgun, and all the time he had this here. The old devil!’

Denison bent down beside Harding. ‘I don’t see what’s funny.’

‘You wouldn’t. I bet the gun is up at the hut. I’ll have to see if I can find it.’ Harding pointed to the foredeck of the punt. ‘Look there; that’s where the breech ropes go.’

Denison looked at the two eyebolts—they told him nothing. ‘You’re not being very comprehensible.’

‘I don’t suppose I am. These things have gone out of fashion. There are a couple still in use on the east coast back at home, but I didn’t expect to see one in Finland. You’ll understand better when you see the gun, if I can find it.’ Harding stood up. ‘Let’s go back.’

They went back to the hut, taking the second bucket of water. On the way they encountered McCready who was just coming in. He seemed tired and depressed. ‘Not a sign of anyone,’ he said. ‘But that’s not surprising.’ He waved a hand at the marsh. ‘How deep would you say that water is?’

‘Not very deep,’ said Harding. ‘Not at the edges, anyway. Two or three feet, perhaps.’

McCready nodded. ‘You could hide a bloody army in those reeds,’ he said glumly. ‘What’s for supper?’

Denison smiled slightly. ‘I’ll lay you ten to one it’s bully beef stew.’

‘That’s not very funny,’ said McCready as he went into the hut.

After he had eaten McCready felt better. It had not been bully beef for once and, with his belly full, he felt sleepy. He glanced at the bunks in the corner of the room where Diana and Lyn were already asleep, huddled in their sleeping bags. ‘Well, here we are—right in the middle of the bullseye,’ he said. ‘I suppose someone should keep watch.’

‘You get some sleep,’ said Denison. ‘I’ll toss with Harding as to who takes first watch.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Looking around for some kind of gun.’

McCready came alert. ‘A gun?’

‘Something to do with a boat he found. He’s a wildfowler, you know. He didn’t make much sense.’

‘Oh, a sporting gun.’ McCready lost interest. He stretched for the coffee pot, refilled his cup and then produced a flask. He laced the coffee with whisky and offered the flask to Denison. ‘Want some?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Lost the taste for it?’

‘Seems so.’

McCready put away the flask and sipped his coffee. ‘You can keep watch from the hut,’ he said. ‘Take a turn outside once every half-hour and keep an eye on the hillside. Not that it matters but it would be nice to have warning of anyone coming.’

‘They’ll come?’

‘If not today then tomorrow. We give them what they want and maybe they’ll go away. Maybe.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not getting killed for the sake of a scrap of paper that doesn’t mean a damned thing. Anyway, we’ve got her to think about.’ He nodded towards the bunk where Lyn lay asleep.

‘Nice of you to be so considerate,’ said Denison.

‘Don’t be so bloody snippy,’ said McCready without rancour. ‘We didn’t ask her to come—she forced it.’ He stretched. ‘I’m going to bed.’

Denison picked up the binoculars. ‘I’ll do a check outside.’

He went out of the hut and looked around, studying the hillside through the glasses, especially in the direction from which they had come. There was nothing to be seen. Next he turned his attention to the marsh. A long way out there were dots on an open stretch of water which, through the glasses, proved to be birds. They were unmoving and apparently asleep. Too big to be ducks they were, perhaps, geese. Harding might know. Not that it made any difference.

After a while he went back into the hut, moving quietly so as not to wake anybody. Harding had just come back; he beckoned to Denison and said in a low voice, ‘I’ve found it—and look!’ He opened the palm of his hand and revealed a dozen small copper cylinders rather like .22 cartridge cases without the bullets.