The House on the Shore (47 page)

He picked up his two-way radio.
“Luke to
base.
Over.”

“Go ahead.”

“Ewan, it looks like a car crashed through the dry-stone wall at the bottom of the hill, about a mile east of Home Farm.
I’m going to check it out.
Over.”

“Checking the map.
Hold on.
O
kay
, Luke. I see where you are.
I’ll radio the mountain rescue team leader and pass on your location.
Over.”

Luke clipped the radio back on his belt.
With the dogs at his heel he re-traced his steps.
The tracks cut a swath through the rough pasture, flattening everything in their path.
Clumps of heather and cotton grass gradually gave way to silver birch and rowan, interspersed here and there with tall Scots pine.
As he neared the trees, the ground
inclined
steep
ly
, and
he
saw the raw wounds where branches had snapped off bushes and trees.
A young birch lay on its side, its willowy trunk clearly no obstacle to whatever had passed this way.

Treading carefully
, he picked his way through the trees.
He stopped and listened.
Without warning
, a combination of wet grass and loose stone sent him plummeting down a steep bank.
He reached out wildly,
seiz
ing
a tree root with his left hand.
Thankfully, it held.
His shoulder muscle screaming with pain, he thudded to a stop right at t
he edge of a high-sided ravine.

Breathing heavily, he thanked God he
didn’t roll another six inches.

Then he saw it: Anna’s Land Rover.

It lay in a heap.
Rear wheels in the air, the
hood
curled around the trunk of a huge Scots pine
, t
he only thing between it and the boulder-strewn floor of the
narrow gorge fifty feet below.

His heart pounding, Luke dragged himself backwards to firmer ground and got shakily to his knees.
As
bruised and sore
as he was, somewhere down i
n the gorge lay Morag.

Ensay and Rhona barked in the distance.
He didn’t hold out much hope for the radio, but unclipp
ed it from his belt
and
hit the send button.

“This is Luke.
Can you hear me?
Someone answer!”

A burst of static, then, “Search control.
Over.”

He offered up a silent prayer.
“I’ve located the Land Rover.
Repeat.
I have found the Land Rover.
Over.”

“You’re breaking up.
Confirm.
You have found the vehicle.”

“Affirmative.
It’s halfway down the gorge.
I can’t tell if anyone’s inside.”

“Understood.
Emergency personnel are on their way.
Stand by.”

Fearful of dislodging boulders lest they upset the vehicle’s precarious balance, he removed his pack and inched his way tow
ards the mass of twisted metal.

“Morag!
Morag, are you there?”

Silence.

He hoped
she was okay, b
ut he feared the other possibility, which seemed much more likely.

He called her name again.
There was nothing but the sound of a few birds twittering in the branches of the trees above him
and the tumbling river far below
.
He crawled back to his rucksack and opened a bottle of water, pouring it over his head.
The cold stream felt good, but it did nothing to diminish his growing fear.
This was Anna’s best friend.
How could he not find her?

His muscles and joints heavy with fatigue, he rose, and using first one tree, then another for support, wove his way back up the incline to the waiting dogs.
He kneeled down,
and gave them a reassuring pat.

“Where’s
your mistress?
Where’s Anna?”

The dogs panted
, but
gave no other reaction.
Luke walked to the edge of the trees and called her name once more, hoping she’d respond.
A
s before, there was
only
silence.
Surely
,
she’d heard the dogs barking, so why hadn’t she come to investigate?
He knew he should stay with the vehicle, at least until the emergency services arrived.
He thought for another moment, turned, and with an impatient shrug of his shoulders
,
walked back to
the dogs and sat down to wait.

Luke leaned against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes.
Perhaps he was the target
all along
.
H
e’d put enough people behind bars du
ring his time with the agency.

Could this be payback time?

It was no secret he lived on Cape Cod
,
and that he kept Sandpiper in the local marina.
A
nyone could have climbed aboard and installed a tracking device without his knowledge.
If they’d wanted to kill him, they could have done so while his yacht was in open water, where it would have sunk to the seabed without a trace.
A small incendiary device, hidden in the engine compartment or fastened to the hull, would have blown him to
h
ell and back.
Everyone would have assumed it was an accident.
He could even see the headlines—‘Cape Cod
artist perishes at sea.’

He shuddered.

Before he had a chance to consider the possibilities further, a siren wailed in the distance.
Anna
must
hear it, and
realize
its signific
ance.
Luke braced himself
,
this was the moment he’d been dreading.
While he hoped his fears for the outcome were premature, he was also realistic.
Morag’s injuries, no matter how superficial or serious, would have been compound
ed by the delay in finding her.

A short time later a vehicle arrived, the words ‘Mountain Rescue Team’ emblazed on its side.
A tall, burly, bearded man climbed out
and strode towards him.

“Andy Munro, Team Leader,” he said in a broad Scots accent.
“Are you Tallantyre, the guy who found the missing vehicle?”

“It’s hanging over the gorge.
It’s
in a precarious position and looks
very unstable.
I couldn’t
tell
whether the driver is still inside.”

A hand the size of a ham descended on Luke’s shoulde
r.
“Well, we’d best find out.”

“Wait a minute.
Is this the
whole
team?”
Luke looked over his shoulder at the two men accompanying Munro.

“We’re
just
the first to arrive.
The rest will be here soon, along with the police.
There’s an ambulance on its way from Fort William.”

“An ambulance?
What about a doctor?”

“Mike, our doctor, is travelling in the second vehicle.
Don’t worry, laddie, we’ve all been trained for this.
Your friend, assuming she’s still inside and alive, will be in good hands.
Besides, if things are as bad as you say, it’s going to take some time to secure the vehicle and get her out.”

“Sure, but won’t you need a helicopter?”

Munro rested his other hand on Luke’s shoulder.
“I know you’re concerned, but to be frank, the longer you keep me here talking, the more critical the situation becomes.
I’ll decide whether we need to call in a helicopter nearer the time.
Now
,
suppose you show me where the vehicle is
.
R
obbie
will
wait here until the rest of the team arrives.”

“It’s this way.
W
hat happens now?”
Luke asked, as he, Munro and another man walked briskly towards the gorge.

“Jamie, my deputy, will help me do a
recce
—that’s what we call a reconnaissance of the scene.
Once we’ve decided on the best way to approach the vehicle, I’ll go down and assess the situation.”

The three men crawled towards the edge of the ravine, and peered over, visually measuring its
depth.

“You can reach it, can’t you?”
Luke asked.

“I think so,” Munro replied.
“But
search and rescue is an imprecise affair, m
ore art than science.
O
ftentimes our success depends on prayer.
If you haven’t already started praying, I suggest you do so now.”

Luke stood off to one side as Munro, already geared up in safety helmet and harness, abseiled down to the Land Rover.
With great care, he manoeuvred around the vehicle,
and
examin
ed
it from every angle.
Occasionally, his foot dislodged a small rock,
sending it
plummeting down the hillside into the gorge below.
By the time he climbed back to the top
,
the rest of the team had assembled
and were waiting to be briefed.

“Right, lads.
This is a tricky one.
We need to stabili
z
e the vehicle before we attempt to extract the driver,” explained Munro.
“We’ll do that with a combination of pulleys and winches.
I want a
five-point
anchor belay for the stretcher.
It’s too dangerous to lower
it
to the bottom of the gorge for a carry-out.”

Luke’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Morag’s inside?
Alive?”

“Aye.
Incredulous as it sounds, the driver is still inside the vehicle.
S
he appears to be in a bad way.”

As he turned to walk away Luke caught him by the arm.
“There must be something I can do to help.”

Munro was about to say ‘no’, but thought better of it.
“You can give us a hand unloading the equipment.”

Luke dragged a rucksack out of the Land Rover and heaved it on to his shoulder.
It had to weigh all of thirty pounds.
By the time he reached the top of the gorge he was breathless and sweating.
After three trips he
felt
exhausted.

The rescuers gathered on the top of the bank, a vast amount of equipment at their feet.
Luke watched in awe as two team members set up a complicated system of winches and pulleys, while two others hammered wedge-shaped metal blocks into cracks in huge granite boulde
rs for the rope belay anchors.

Carefully avoiding tree roots and ropes, Luke made his way to where the medical te
am
was
assembling their gear.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, taking hold of one half of the stretcher and holding it steady while
a young woman inserted a bolt.

“Thanks,” she smiled.
“This thing can eat fingers.
I’m Irene, by the way.”

“Luke.
I can’t begin to tell you how impressed I am by all of this.
You guys are truly
awesome
.
They must pay you very well.”

“I wish.
We’re all
volunteers.
Didn’t you know?”

“
I thought
you were like the police
,
on call
twenty-four/seven
.”

“We are.
But e
very team relies on donations.”

“And yet you risk your lives trying to save others?
I don’t know what to say.
‘Thank you’ seems so inadequate.”

Irene grinned.
“Care to help me get the vacuum mattress out of this bag?”

“The
what
?”

“Vacuum mattress.
We use it to immobili
z
e anyone who’s been injured.
Once the air is pumped out
,
it forms a rock hard shell around the patient and helps reduce the risk of further injury.”