Cape Wrath (6 page)

“This is insane,” he said, rising to his knees, trying to stop her. She weaved her way past him, however, and set off barefoot back towards the camp. “Linda … wait!”

“The others'll be up by now, we've got to get back,” she said over her shoulder. “And for Christ's sake, don't follow me straight away … give me five minutes first.”

He watched her go mournfully. He'd like to have thought he'd be surprised by this, stunned even. But in truth he wasn't. Linda was an emotional girl, but she didn't hang by those emotions. Anyone who deliberately bruised her could expect serious and prolonged payback. Not necessarily indefinitely, of course. She wasn't that much of a basket-case
–
but while genuine contrition might eventually pave the way to forgiveness, raw animal lust certainly wouldn't, no matter how neglected the girl's own needs happened to be.

 

Alan gave Linda a good 10 minutes, before he ventured back himself. When he finally got there, he found the rest of the group in a state of intense excitement; so much so that no-one at all seemed to question their absence.

One after another, artifacts were brought out of the chamber which defied any but the most optimistic level of expectation. The Professor herself uncovered two axe-heads carved all over with symbols of the
Aesir
; Clive found a gilded bronze casket containing chess pieces fashioned from walrus ivory. Everywhere they searched inside the tomb there were priceless items.
Barry – big clumsy Barry, came up with ornaments cut from jet, jade and bluestone. Immediately after that, Linda found a horse-collar of solid gold. There were emeralds as well, rubies, sapphires, superb objects worked in amber, antler, amethyst. As the Professor said, whoever it was that had been buried here, he'd sought to take his entire wealth to eternity with him. And as Nug replied, that definitely sounded like Ivar.

Alan, though as impressed as everyone else, was finding it hard to share in their joy. Throughout the dig, in the midst of shouts and shrieks of amazed laughter, he remained distracted by the events of earlier that morning, and several times tried to get close enough to Linda to speak privately to her. For her part, the girl seemed to have thrown herself back into the mission with a vengeance. It was just before lunchtime, and she was sitting cross-legged beside the field-lab, dusting down a small idol, when he finally came up and crouched next to her.

“Hi,” he said, keeping his voice low.

She glanced at him, then continued with her work. “
Seen this?” She held the idol up for his inspection. “Gerde, the giantess. The Prof reckons it's solid silver. I'll tell you, we're re-writing archaeological history here.”

“Yeah. Very nice …”

“She's talking about getting a forensic pathologist over, to date the bones. That'll strengthen the case for this being …”

“Look, sod the bloody bones!”

Alan hadn't meant to raise his voice, but it simply came out that way. He looked worriedly around, but none of the others seemed to have heard. Linda, on the other hand, was regarding him coldly, her mouth clamped shut like a trap.

“I want to talk about this morning,” he said after a moment.

She made no reply.

“I'm … well, I'm sorry.” He hung his head. “For what it's worth. I thought … you know, I thought you were fully consenting … I thought the whole thing was above board.”

A moment passed, then Linda got on with her brushing. “It was.”

“So … what's the problem?”

“Like I say,” she replied, “forget it.”

“How can I?”

“Try!”

“I can't.”

“Well try harder!” she snapped, finally rounding on him. “
I
have and it's worked a treat. Because, do you know what? Nothing happened this morning, Alan. Nothing at all. I got up, you got up. The day commenced.”

She made a show of getting to her feet, but he did the same and grabbed her by the wrist. “So now we're in fucking denial, are we!”

She yanked herself free, at last furious with him. “Don't you dare talk to me like that! Ever!”

And she stormed away over the top of the ridge, stopping only to plonk the idol down in the specimens tray. Alan followed her, no longer worried about drawing attention to himself.

“Linda … come on,” he pleaded. “I've said I'm sorry. Just come back, eh. Come on.”

“I'm busy,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I'll do anything …”

“Then leave me alone,” she hissed. And with that she was gone, hurrying away down the hillside towards the outer cover of the pines, finally breaking into a run.

Alan was left there like a spare part, staring after her, as bewildered as he was crestfallen.
And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, there was a voice in his ear, murmuring quietly. “
Look … Alan, I don't want to make a big thing out of this …” Alan turned sharply, to find Clive there, a disapproving frown on his broad, normally genial features. “But, listen, we're going to be pretty busy over the next few days. So the last thing we need is stresses and strains in the ranks …”

“Yeah, well it's fucking all right for you, isn't it!” Alan retorted aggressively. “I mean you're fixed up aren't you, Clive. You've got Miss Bloody … Bloody …”

And then it came back to him:
reality
, swimming around him as though a fog had suddenly lifted. This wasn't just a tutor he was talking so rudely to, but a friend and colleague, someone who'd been with him, providing care and guidance, since pre-grad. On top of that, it was also someone who'd be marking his end-of-course papers, who'd be assessing his general performance, both in the class and in the field, someone who'd be making recommendations and references. In short, someone who was in a very good position to damage Alan's prospects for further advancement, if he so desired. Not that this was Clive's style, but beneath the cuddly, loveable exterior, they'd always suspected there'd be a bullish core, and now, briefly, it showed itself. The tutor's expression hardened; his normally grinning mouth curled the other way for once. His private life was strictly off-limits. That was one area in which he notoriously took no prisoners, especially in relation to his out-of-hours contacts with Professor Mercy. He and she were the worst-kept secret on campus, but woe betide anyone who started blabbing about it.

Hurriedly, Alan held up his hands. “Okay … okay. Sorry. Well out of order, and I know it. Just a bit stressed … All this excitement, you know.”

Clive said nothing. Simply stared him out for a few seconds, then gave a curt nod and ambled away. When he'd gone, Alan glanced around worriedly, wondering who else's cage he might have rattled. There was no sign of Barry; he was probably inside the barrow … which was something of a relief, no matter how unimportant Alan held him to be. Nug was leaning over a table up at the field-lab, studiously involved in something; his back was firmly turned. And of course, Craig and David hadn't showed up yet from their morning's excursion. That left only Professor Mercy. She was over by the megalith, studying the inscription there. She too seemed to be preoccupied, but Alan knew it wasn't his imagination that she was scrutinising him from the corner of her eye.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “Fuck, fuck fuck …”

 

It was shortly after one o'clock when David re-appeared, still yawning, scratching his overhanging belly as he sauntered lazily through the trees.

“Wow,” he said. “Something smells good.”

Nug nodded. “It was.”

“Uh?” David glanced around, non-plussed. There was no sign of the fried bacon he'd been sniffing. In fact, the fire had been doused. Everyone else now seemed to be wrapping up their plates, and laying out their tools again.

“Lunch is finished, David,” Professor Mercy said.

“Oh, come on …” he protested.

“Where've you been all day?”

“Oh.” He rubbed his brow. A yellow crust of sleep was still visible under each of his eyes. “Er … sorry about that. Didn't get much kip last night. Ended up dozing off on a nice patch of dry grass. Totally lost track of time.”

She pursed her lips as she considered.

David looked round hungrily. “I accept I've missed the fry-up, but is there
anything
going? I'm starving.”

Clive tossed him a packet of peanuts. “Here. These'll help keep your energy up.”

David examined the snack disconsolately, as the rest of them got their equipment together. “It's a laugh a minute, this, isn't it,” he finally said.

“How can you think of food on a dig as exciting as this?” wondered Nug.

“Listen pal, I can think of food at any time,” was David's tart reply.

“Where's Craig anyway?” the Professor asked him.

He looked up at her, surprised. “Isn't he here?”

There was a brief silence, then Alan came forward. “What do you mean, ‘Isn't he here'? He was with you.”

“Only for about 20 minutes,” David replied. “The moment he started climbing, I sloped off. Been wandering around the island, sight-seeing. Like I say, I finally ended up nodding off.”

Professor Mercy gazed at him for a moment, then turned to Alan. “Craig went climbing alone?”

Alan made a helpless gesture. “Well yeah … but it's not as if he's inexperienced, is it?”

By this time, everybody else was listening. There'd been no sign of Craig Barker since most of them had woken up.

“I don't care how experienced he is,” the Professor said. “Solo climbs are risky. You
know
that, Alan.”

“I doubt he'll try and tackle any rock-faces,” David offered. “I mean, he hasn't got the ropes or pins or anything.”

Alan shook his head. “Craig climbs freestyle.”

“What time did he set off?” the Professor asked.

“Five-ish,” Alan replied. “Said he'd be back for breakfast.”

She turned to David again. “And
you
definitely haven't seen him?”

David shook his head.

“He's probably just lost track of time,” Alan put in. “I'll find him.”

The Professor nodded. “David, go with him, please. Show him exactly where Craig went. And get a move on, can you, lads. We've had only half a team on all morning, as it is.”

The two of them made their way speedily downhill, slogged around the western edge of the bog-pools, passed the cave and were soon walking back uphill via the island's inner southern slope.

“I just assumed he'd be all right,” said David, after a few moments.

“He probably is, don't worry,” Alan replied.

“I mean, there wouldn't have been much I could have helped him with, anyway.”

“I know. Like I say … don't worry.”

They proceeded in silence, tense minutes passing as they pressed on, threading between the trees, breathing progressively harder. Sweat started to bead their brows as the slope angled steeply upwards.

“I'm pretty sure we went
this
way,” said David, veering towards the left but still ascending.

Forty yards ahead, the ground rose up into an almost sheer gradient of roots and broken earth. They'd come perhaps 1,000 yards from the camp, and the pine cover had thinned out dramatically, until only one or two of the sturdiest specimens remained. Not far beyond those, the slope suddenly transformed into a vertical wall of rock, which climbed tier upon tier towards the azure sky.

“I'd left him to it by this time,” said David, leaning forwards, panting. “I assume he went straight on.”

Alan shielded his eyes to gaze upwards, hoping against hope that he'd spy Craig's lanky frame coming gracefully down, leaping from ledge to ledge in that carefree, goat-like manner that he had, a big cherubic grin on his wholesome Welsh face. There was no such sign. The thought was reassuring, however, that their pal – who, of course, on this first ascent had not intended to get all the way up to the eagle's nest – had let his enthusiasm get the better of him, and had kept on going, finally finding a fantastic angle on the eyrie, and was now snapping shot after shot. That would certainly be like the ornithologist, though he was generally more responsible than to while away so many hours without at least letting someone know where he was.

Alan scrambled forwards again, not exactly sure where he was going to go from this point; unlike Craig, he had minimal skills on the rock-face, but he was urgently aware that he had to get a result of some kind. It was now well into the afternoon, and the sun was at its zenith.

It was this that gave them their first clue.

It threw a misshapen shadow onto the cliff-face. At first it was an amorphous blot, a confluence of branches twisted here, there and everywhere, tangling themselves in a knot at the centre. The more Alan stared up at this, however, the more he fancied he could see human limbs inside it – limp and dangling, maybe the indistinct outline of a lolling human head. Suddenly, a bolt of terror went through him. Alan stopped dead and turned, gazing up into the trees behind them. David did the same.