It took him five minutes to strip the policeman and dress in his uniform. When he was ready, he fastened the man’s wrists behind him with his belt and moved towards the motorcycle.
At that moment, another patrol car swept by. He waited until the sound of its engine had faded into the distance, then ran the machine out into the road, mounted it and kicked the starter. As the engine roared into life, he pulled down the goggles and rode away.
Half a mile further on he came to a bridge. On the other side a police car was parked half across the road leaving room for single line traffic only and two constables blocked the way. Morgan changed down and started to slow, at the same time getting ready to accelerate.
There was no need. As he went over the bridge, the two constables moved out of the way and one of them waved a hand casually. It was as easy as that. Morgan changed into top gear and sped away into the rain.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WHEN Rogan cut the engine and jumped out of the shooting brake, there was no sign of Brendan and the rain hissing down into the water of the dam was the only sound.
Hannah moved around the brake to join him. ‘I wonder where he is?’
‘God knows, but we’ve got to get moving. If we don’t get through the tunnel and down to Ambleside Road within fifteen minutes, we’ve had it.’
There was a sudden restless baaing and several sheep ran between the ruined houses, scattering to avoid Brendan who raced after them brandishing a stick. They plunged up the mountainside and he paused, slightly out of breath, and grinned.
‘I thought I’d better set them free.’
‘Never mind about them now, we’ve got to get going. Where are the mailbags?’
‘I put them in the punt, Mr. Rogan.’
They hurried round the side of the dam and through the clump of trees that masked the old landing stage. Brendan had moored the punt to a rusty iron ring and several inches of water slopped in the bottom. The mail-bags were in the prow where it was dry, and Hannah sat down on them. Rogan crouched in the centre and Brendan shoved off from the rear.
The sound of the rain faded as they moved into the cold darkness and he looked at his watch. It was almost five o’clock and it wasn’t dark till seven thirty, which didn’t help. It wouldn’t take the police long to work out what had happened when they found the shooting brake. One fast patrol car to block the end of the other valley was all that it would take. Certainly, if Dick Vanbrugh
was in on things, the hunt was up with a vengeance.
And what happened if the jeep wasn’t there? But he pushed that thought away from him. If they could get down to the Ambleside road and reach the track that led between Rydal Water and Grasmere to Elterwater they might stand a chance. Beyond was the lonely road over Wrynose and old packhorse tracks that crossed over the fells to the coast, places where only a jeep or a similar vehicle could go.
They drifted out into the heavy rain and bumped against the side of the stone landing stage. Brendan scrambled up and fastened the line, then gave Hannah a hand and Rogan passed up the two mailbags.
Brendan ran on ahead through the trees and Rogan and the girl followed. When they reached the old stable, the boy had already got the doors open, revealing the
jeep-He opened the rear door and Rogan heaved the two mailbags inside. ‘All right, let’s get moving.’
Brendan scrambled into the rear, Hannah got into the passenger seat and Rogan slid behind the wheel. He pulled out the choke and pressed the starter and the engine turned over at once. In one smooth movement he reversed out of the stable, swung the wheel, moved into first gear and roared down the track towards the mouth of the valley.
‘We’ll try that route you told me about on Wednesday,’ he said to Hannah.
‘Do we stand a chance?’