Borrowed Time Page 21

  ‘Beautifully devious,’ Sabrina said. She looked at Mike. ‘How do you prove it?’

  ‘The same way I prove anything. First of all I convince myself. That gives me the thrust to get proof that’ll stand up to scrutiny.’

  ‘And have you convinced yourself Dr Arberry is our baddie?’

  ‘You could say so. The driver I shot —’

  ‘The one we left for the vultures,’ Sabrina said.

  ‘Yeah, him. Remember I said I’d seen him some place before?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Well it came back to me. He answered the door and served at table the night Ram and Lenny and I had dinner at Arberry’s house. The butler. And the woman with the memorable eyes who drove the car away?’

  ‘Surrounded by all those boxes,’ Sabrina said, ‘just like the kind that high-grade amphetamines are supplied in …’

  ‘Right. Well she served at table, too. She’s Arberry’s maid.’

  ‘All this speculation,’ Philpott sighed.

  ‘No, sir,’ Mike said. ‘Something harder than that.’

  ‘Where are the drugs manufactured, then?’ Ram said.

  ‘Arberry has acres of farm and forest land,’ Sabrina said. ‘Growing the necessary crops wouldn’t be a problem. Could he maybe be making the stuff in his clinics and labs and teaching units?’

  ‘Nah.’ Mike shook his head. ‘I can always spot a man who enjoys a risk. When the doc showed Lenny and Ram and me the gilded cavern, he was really showing off, and maybe at the same time he was showing his skin to the wind — you know, taking a delicious risk. I’d bet anything that cave’s the spot. There, or somewhere damn near there.’

  ‘What do we do?’ Sabrina said. ‘Go take a look?’

  ‘Right now,’ Mike said.

  Sabrina started to open the door, then turned back to Philpott. ‘Sir, why did you say you thought we might have come by Range-Rover?’

  ‘I presumed you’d got it back.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The police vehicle you managed to lose. I saw it a few minutes ago, on my way back to the car.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Parked at the gates there, by the trees.’

  ‘Must be another one,’ Mike said.

  ‘What, with police code plate A1? I’m hardly likely to forget that, am I? Especially since I had to write it out on the triplicated cash transfer forms I signed to pay for the ruddy thing.’ Philpott sniffed. ‘Good job I haven’t processed the forms yet.’

  ‘But sir,’ Sabrina said, ‘we didn’t find the Range-Rover again.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘We didn’t —’

  ‘Hell’s teeth!’ Mike threw open the door. ‘Sabrina! Come on!’

  27

  The Golden Cavern smelled like a slaughterhouse.

  The last time Mike had seen it there had been lights shining from every angle, making the pyrite rocks sparkle so brightly that they hurt his eyes. Now a solitary floodlamp threw dark shadows into the craggy lower reaches and highlighted the spreadeagled, mutilated bodies scattered across the rocks.

  ‘God almighty …’

  It took seconds to register. Mike stood with Sabrina at his shoulder, automatically counting the dead: seven, maybe eight. All of them men, all wearing white coats splashed and smeared with their blood. It had only just happened: the fresh warm smell was unmistakable.

  ‘Look,’ Sabrina breathed.

  In a deep, hollowed-out corner of the cave Dr Arberry crouched, hugging himself, staring at a point behind a huge glittering rock. As Mike and Sabrina watched, Paul Seaton stepped into the light. He brandished a long curved sword, its blade clotted with blood and tissue. He turned and nodded slowly to Mike.

  ‘My timing’s a tad out.’ Seaton pointed the sword at Dr Arberry, who went on staring at him as if he was frozen that way. ‘I had to wait for the doctor’s visitor to leave. Then I brought him along to witness the cancelling of his empire. I was going to add him to the pile. You, or whoever, were supposed to find nothing here but dead people and a wrecked factory.’

  ‘Who are those men?’ Mike said.

  ‘The chemists. Some of the cleverest, the brightest and the most cunning. Drawn from around the world, lured by money and attractive working conditions.’ Seaton grinned. ‘It would break some people’s hearts to see all this talent spilt and spattered, lying around like so much chopped liver. But it’s neat. The axe was laid to the root and Arberry’s operation is finished. It took about five minutes, if you’re interested.’ Seaton tilted his head, smiling at Sabrina, raising the sword in a little greeting. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘How do you feel now? That leg healing up nicely?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Sabrina said. ‘How … What put you on to Arberry?’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Your papers. They were in the buggy you left us, in a bag in the back.’ Seaton watched her frown as she tried to remember. ‘It was a confused and delirious time for you, wasn’t it? I guess you didn’t know what you were doing with half your stuff. But I was glad you kept ol’ Hafi’s correspondence.’ The smile dropped away. ‘Tell me something, was it you that killed him?’

  Sabrina nodded.

  ‘You did the world a service.’

  ‘My reasons were more selfish than that.’

  ‘He had ambitions to kill me, you know,’ Seaton said. ‘He reckoned I had no right to be here, me being from the USA and all. That’s stupid, of course. A man belongs wherever he can hang on.’

  ‘How did the papers help you settle on Arberry?’ Mike said.

  ‘The mention of the Grotto of Moksha being the centre of the new trade in drugs.’ Seaton waved the sword in an arc above his head. ‘This is it. This is the Grotto of Moksha. Ten days ago we picked up a big Indian frightener called Iqbal. He was chasing a runaway. On principle we hate people like that — he made a living out of terrorizing and probably killing his own kind. Anyway, there was something about Iqbal told me we should hang on to him. We did, and after I’d read Hafi’s letters I asked him if he knew anything about the Grotto of Moksha, and he told me. He told me everything.’

  ‘Why did he do that?’ Mike said.

  ‘Because he thought I was going to kill him. I did kill him, afterwards. He was a big eater, expensive to run. But before the end he told me all about the work he did, and about his boss, who was none other than Simon Arberry, the saviour of Kashmir.’

  Seaton turned and looked at Arberry, who still cringed in the hollow, staring up at him.

  ‘He doesn’t look anything special now, does he? To hear old Iqbal talk, you’d have thought this was a god. He certainly tried to live like one. The Grotto was the first piece of real estate he bought, and later he built his house and his grounds around it.’

  ‘Why did he want the Grotto?’ Sabrina said.

  ‘It came with a built-in trick compartment. Behold …’

  Seaton leaned on the big rock beside him. Grunting, he levered its side with his knee and it moved suddenly, jerking over by degrees until it was horizontal. A moment later the wall of glimmering rock behind Seaton folded inward, dividing in two. Behind it was a high rectangular space, a windowless room, fitted with benches, cabinets and laboratory equipment. All the equipment appeared to have been smashed.

  ‘I made the chemists wreck it before I wrecked them,’ Seaton said. He smiled. ‘I have to tell you something. One of the reasons I let you two go was because I realized you were on the trail of this parasite. You told me that catching these people was part of your brief. So I was going to have you watched and followed. The way it turned out, I didn’t have to take that trouble.’ He jerked his head at Arberry. ‘Will you stay for the final touch?’

  ‘I can’t let you kill him,’ Mike said.

  Seaton seemed to consider that. ‘Let? Let? I think there’s a semantic problem here. You’re in no position to let me or not let me do anything.’

  ‘He’s got to be taken into custody. The law will deal with him.’
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  ‘You talk like a machine, you know that? No feeling, just a tin heart pumping out procedure.’

  ‘I’d say you’re the inhuman one,’ Mike said.

  ‘Semantics again, brother. Let’s cut the crap. Arberry’s history. You can stay and witness his transfer or you can go. Please yourselves.’

  Mike nudged Sabrina. She threw herself forward and ran across the uneven floor of the cave, dislodging a couple of bodies as she clambered down to where Arberry lay. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.

  ‘Come on!’ she yelled. ‘Run!’

  Seaton was off balance, as Mike guessed he would be. All the time he was talking he had moved nearer the narrow end of the ledge he stood on. Now he hadn’t the manoeuvring space to turn quickly and get between Sabrina and the stairs. She ran past Mike, dragging the dazed Arberry behind her.

  ‘Get him outside,’ Mike yelled. He turned to face Seaton.

  At the foot of the stairs Sabrina stopped, turned to Arberry and smacked him hard on the face. He jumped back, astonished. She grabbed him again.

  ‘Now run!’ she shouted. ‘Run or you’ll die!’

  It got through. Arberry looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide and terrified. He saw Seaton move towards him and he began running, clinging tight to Sabrina’s hand as he took the stairs two and three at a time.

  ‘I’m not letting you past,’ Mike told Seaton. He moved until they were facing each other over a five-metre gap.

  ‘Get out of my way!’ Seaton was panting with the effort of jumping off the ledge and scrambling across the rocky floor. He waved the bloody sword in front of him. ‘One side, or I’ll slice you with this.’

  He looked past Mike at the stairs. Arberry and Sabrina were a third of the way to the top.

  ‘You should never have tangled with me,’ Seaton grunted.

  His free hand flashed to his belt and as it came away again something glinted in the air ahead of him. A split second later Mike felt a searing pain in his arm and cried out. A knife was buried for half its length in his shoulder.

  The pain was like electricity, raging and disruptive. He couldn’t steady his shuddering. He couldn’t get his fingers round the knife handle.

  He heard his own howl of pain and remembered the selfsame noise coming out of Lou Kelly’s throat as they put him on a stretcher in the parking lot behind the ball ground.

  He saw Seaton start to run. He was going for the stairs and to do that he had to pass Mike. Mike shut his eyes tight, still hearing that echoing cry, himself and Kelly, both of them victims …

  ‘Aah!’

  Mike roared with agony as he gripped the knife and dragged it out of his shoulder. He brought it up and round, tightening his hold on it, seeing his own blood fly in the air before him. Seaton’s bulk loomed, his feet pounded the rock as he rushed for the stairs.

  Mike kept the knife swinging, bringing it down and round, throwing the weight of his body behind it. The blade pointed outward again and met the impact of Seaton’s belly.

  He roared and fell sideways, his head striking the rock. Mike stood swaying, watching, the pain like fire in his shoulder. He watched Seaton try to pull the knife out of his stomach, scrabbling at the handle, unable to grip it for the rush of slippery blood.

  As Mike watched, the movements became weaker and finally Seaton’s fingers dropped away from the knife. He looked up at Mike as if he might say something, but by the time his mouth opened he was already dead.

  28

  The following afternoon Philpott called an informal meeting in the living room at the cabin. Mike, Sabrina and Ram were present. Business was on the agenda but the atmosphere was informal. There were platefuls of Indian finger-food and a jug of chilled white wine.

  ‘Much sifting, sorting and tidying has taken place,’ Philpott announced from his armchair. ‘I have spent the better part of a sleepless night and all of this morning collating the data that’s come to hand. If there are gaps or omissions I’m sorry. I must plead weariness.’ He made a little smile. ‘I’m weary but content. I have to say I’m pleased.’

  ‘There’ll be a blue moon tonight,’ Mike muttered.

  Philpott asked him how his shoulder felt. Mike had been bandaged and stitched at the general hospital in Srinagar.

  ‘It’s sore, but it’s a wound I’ll wear with a touch of pride.’

  ‘Well said.’ Philpott sipped his wine and squared the notes on his knees. ‘Information time. First, Dr Arberry is at police HQ in Srinagar. Commissioner Mantur tells me he is still uncommunicative. The shock of seeing his employees and his business empire wiped out in the space of minutes has unhinged certain of his brain’s moving parts, I fear. But I’m sure he’ll recover in time to face the charges against him.

  ‘Meanwhile, the response to our transmission of Dr Arberry’s fingerprints has produced a voluminous history. He turns out to be a misanthropic, hugely materialistic scoundrel with a well-cloaked history of pharmaceutical villainy.’

  ‘Is he a real pharmacologist?’ Sabrina said.

  ‘Yes, he is. With more aliases than some people have teeth. He has great skill at playing the likeable benefactor, usually a wistfully brave widower, although he never married. That talent rises from the same pit of ingenuity which told him Kashmir would grow lucrative drug-producing plants, as well as providing access to a well-heeled customer base.’

  ‘And there was even a ready-made supply of peasant mules,’ Mike said, ‘with a heart-warming capacity for fear.’

  ‘This was Arberry’s biggest scam to date,’ Philpott said. ‘I think we can assume it was his last. The important thing is, it’s all over.’ Philpott took another sip of wine and held up a fax sheet. ‘From Harry Lewis at WHO. A note to tell me that the late Reverend Alex Young’s sister is now in New York City to sort out his affairs with his diocesan administrators. She has told Harry that she recalls she was here in Kashmir when Arberry asked her brother to send an appeal to the UN. Arberry said it might appear like some kind of elitist pleading if a man in his position were to send the letter himself.’

  Ram asked if Young’s sister knew that Arberry was being charged with her brother’s murder.

  ‘She will,’ Philpott said. ‘And now, there is one final piece of excellent news. Agent Amrit Datta of Drugwatch International yesterday kept a rendezvous on the Chinese border. He supplied high-grade drugs to three bulk purchasers from Thailand.’

  ‘I knew that guy was the right stuff,’ Mike said.

  ‘The buyers were each arrested as they took possession of their consignment. Agent Datta has been slated for a commendation, and he should be back amongst us tonight in time for a celebratory noggin before we leave for the States.’

  ‘So have we managed to make the authorities happy, too?’ Sabrina said.

  ‘With Amrit Datta’s help,’ Philpott said. ‘The revelation that an American interloper was behind the new trade in drugs has soothed the Pakistani authorities, who are delighted to learn that no blame attaches to them or their people. India is relieved to have something so ghastly uprooted from the Vale of Kashmir, and the Thai police are delighted that three big-time drug peddlers have been delivered to them on a plate.’

  Philpott put aside his glass and his notes. He rose, went to the kitchen, and returned with a tray of filled champagne glasses. He distributed them and took one himself.

  ‘A toast,’ he said. ‘To the triumph of style and cool common sense over old-maidish philistinism.’

  Mike, Ram and Sabrina looked at each other.

  ‘You’re going to have to explain that one, chief,’ Mike said.

  ‘I managed to score a triumph in New York without even being there,’ Philpott said. ‘Whitlock reports that our battle with Policy Control ended in victory for UNACO. There will be no changes in the way our show is run.’

  ‘Brilliant!’ Sabrina said.

  ‘Isn’t it, though? Secretary Crane of Policy Control has offered his resignation and Director Lubbock is asking to be reassi
gned. Full details when we get back.’ Philpott raised his glass. ‘To success — and to C.W. Whitlock, who scored this particular goal.’

  ‘Success and C.W.!’

  They emptied their glasses. Sabrina looked enquiringly at Philpott. He nodded towards the kitchen. She went through and came back with a fresh chilled bottle.

  ‘Quite a catalogue of wins for you,’ she said, pouring the boss more champagne. ‘Has it something to do with the way you surround yourself with reliable people?’

  Philpott looked at her resentfully. But he couldn’t hold the look. He gave way and smiled. ‘I suppose it has everything to do with that,’ he said, ‘although I’ll never admit it when I’m sober.’

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I am grateful to Hasan Mantu and Desmond Hare for all the dope on Kashmir, to Reg Godwin who demystified digital cameras, and to Tamara Drake for explaining covert image transmission.

  My thanks also to Sarah Leigh, who worked hard on my behalf and was always kinder than she had to be.

  ALISTAIR MACLEAN’S BORROWED TIME

  Alistair MacLean, who died on 2 February 1987, was the international bestselling author of thirty books, including world-famous novels such as The Guns of Navarone and Where Eagles Dare. In 1977 he was commissioned by an American film company to write a number of story out-lines that could be adapted into a series of movies; two, Hostage Tower and Air Force One is Down, were, with Alistair MacLean’s approval, published as novels by John Denis; these were followed with six by Alastair MacNeill, the highly successful Death Train, Night Watch, Red Alert, Time of the Assassins, Dead Halt and Code Breaker, and two, Borrowed Time and Prime Target by Hugh Miller.

  Hugh Miller was born in Scotland but now lives in Warwick. He is the author of the bestseller Ambulance, as well as the highly acclaimed Mike Fletcher crime novels. He is an acknowledged expert on forensic medicine and has numerous TV credits.

  Borrowed Time is the ninth title in the UNACO series.