CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHEN they reached Scardale, Costello drove the truck straight into the barn and parked it behind the shooting brake. When he cut the engine, Rogan jumped to the ground and nodded to Morgan and Fletcher.
‘Inside, you two, and stay there.’
As Hannah and Costello came round from the cab, Fletcher said, ‘What the hell do you mean, inside? I’ve just about had enough of you and your bleeding orders.’
He came forward with a rush. Rogan waited till he was close, then pulled out his automatic and struck him heavily across the face.
As the steel sight on the end of the barrel sliced across his cheek, Fletcher gave a cry of agony, hands going to his face as blood spurted.
‘You wait, you bastard,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll fix you. I’ll fix you good.’
Rogan looked at Morgan coldly. ‘Any questions?’
Morgan shrugged. ‘You’re the boss.’
Fletcher stumbled out of the barn and Morgan followed him. Rogan held out his hand to Costello.
Til take the truck keys.’
Costello handed them over hastily. ‘Do you want me inside with the others?’
‘For the time being.’
The old man went across the yard and Hannah pulled
off her scarf and shook her hair free. ‘You’re harder than I ever thought you could be.’
‘With scum like that, it pays.’ He took her hand and pulled her close for a moment. ‘How do you feel?’
‘How am I supposed to feel?’ She shrugged. ‘Tired, washed out. I could sleep for a week.’
‘What you need is a cup of tea with a drop of the right stuff in it and something to eat.’
She smiled wanly. ‘Maybe you’re right. What about you?’
‘I’ll be in later. Something I want to do here first.’
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her briefly and fine straw dust drifted down through the cracks in the loft above. When they looked up, they saw Brendan peering over the edge.
He dropped to the ground and scrambled to his feet, white with excitement. He tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing, but nothing emerged and Hannah put her hands on his shoulders.
‘Take your time. Just take your time.’
The boy breathed in deeply and the words came out of him in a great rush. ‘There’s a man at the house. He came up the valley road just after you’d gone.’
‘A big man with black hair?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Jack Pope,’ Rogan told Hannah.
‘I think he was trying to find me,’ the boy said. ‘He looked everywhere, but I hid under the hay in the loft.’
Hannah looked at Rogan anxiously. ‘What do you think they’re up to?’
‘I should have thought that was obvious.’ He stood thinking, a slight frown on his face, then nodded. ‘You go in and prepare a meal.’ She opened her mouth to protest and he gave her a small push. ‘Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.’
Fletcher sat on the edge of the kitchen table, cursing as Morgan fixed another large strip of sticking plaster across his cheek.
‘Anybody’d think he had it in for you, Jesse,’ Morgan said with a grin.
Fletcher cursed and snatched the tumbler into which Costello had just poured a generous measure of whisky. Til fix that swine yet.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ Morgan jeered.
He left them there and went along the passage to his bedroom. Rogan was tough all right and he’d be a hard nut to crack. But whatever happened, Morgan hadn’t the slightest intention of allowing a hundred and forty thousand pounds to slip through his fingers without trying to do something about it.
He opened the bedroom door, turned to close it and found Jack Pope standing in the corner, a revolver in his right hand. The tension oozed out of Pope in a long sigh and he wiped sweat from his forehead.
‘I thought it might be Rogan.’
‘He’s still in the barn,’ Morgan said. ‘Did yon have any trouble getting in?’
‘No, but I couldn’t find the lad anywhere.’
‘Not to worry. That kid wanders around all over the place.’ Morgan pulled the revolver from Pope’s grasp. ‘Where did you get the shooter?’