alistairmaclean.bearisland-第42节
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〃Christopher Marlowe？ just like the playwright； eh？〃
〃My parents had literary inclinations。〃
〃Uh…huh。〃 He paused again。 〃Remember what happened to your namesake…stabbed in the back by a friend before his thirtieth birthday？〃
〃Rest easy。 My thirtieth birthday is lost in the mists of time。〃
〃And you're really a doctor？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃And you're really something else； too？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Lonnie。 Marital status。 Children or no。 You may rely on Conrad's discretion。〃
〃Thanks；〃 I said。 We moved apart。 We were walking to the north for two reasons…the wind； and hence the snow； were to our backs and so progress was easier in that direction； and Allen had e stumbling from that direction。 In spite of Allen's professed total lack of recall of what had happened； it seemed likely to me that we might find Stryker also somewhere in that direction。 And so it proved。
〃Over here！ Over here！〃 In spite of the muffling effects of the snow Hendriks's shout sounded curiously high…pitched and cracked。 〃I've found him； I've found him！〃
He'd found him； all right。 Michael Stryker was lying face down in the snow； arms and legs outspread in an almost perfectly symmetrical fashion。 Both fists were clenched tight。 On the snow； beside his left shoulder； lay a smooth elliptical stone which from its size…it must have weighed between sixty and seventy pounds…better qualified for the name of boulder。 I stooped low over this boulder； bringing the torch close； and at once saw the few dark hairs imbedded in the dark and encrusted stain。 Proof if proof were required but I hadn't doubted anyway that this was what had been used to smash in the back of Stryker's skull。 Death would have been instantaneous；
〃He's dead！ Jungbeck said incredulously。
〃He's all that；〃 I said。
〃And murdered！〃
〃That； too。〃 I tried to turn him over on his back but Conrad and Jungbeck had to lend their not inconsiderable weights before this was done。
His upper lip was viciously split all the way down from the nostril； a tooth was missing and he had a peculiar red and raw looking mark on his right temple。
〃By God； there must have been a fight；〃 Jungbeck said huskily。 〃I wouldn't have thought that kid Allen had had it in him。〃
〃I wouldn't have thought so either；〃 I said。
〃Allen？〃 Conrad said。 〃I'd have sworn he was telling the truth。 Could he…well； do you think it could have happened when he was suffering from amnesia？〃
〃All sorts of funny things can happen when you've had a bump on the head；〃 I said。 I looked at the ground around the dead man； there were footprints there； not many； already faint and blurred from the driving snow： there was no help to be gained from that quarter。 I said： 〃Let's get him back。〃
So we carried the dead man back to the camp and it wasn't； in spite of the uneven terrain and the snow in our faces； as difficult a task as it might have been for the same reason that I'd found it so difficult to turn him over…the limbs had already begun to stiffen； not from the onset of rigor mortis； for it was too soon for that yet； but from the effects of the intense cold。 We laid him in the snow outside the main cabin。 I said to Hendriks： 〃Go inside and ask Goin for a bottle of brandy…say that I sent you back for it； that we need it to keep us going。〃 It was the last thing I would ever have remended to keep anyone warm in bitter outdoor cold； but it was all I could think of on the spur of the moment。 〃Tell Goin …quietly…to e here。〃
Goin； clearly aware that there was something far amiss； walked out casually and casually shut the door behind him； but there was nothing casual about his reaction when he saw Stryker lying there； his gashed and marble…white face a death's head in the harsh light of several torches。 Goin's own face was clear enough in the backwash of light reflected from the snow。 The shocked expression on his face he could have arranged for： the draining of blood that left it almost as white as Stryker's he couldn't。
Jesus Christ！〃 he whispered。 〃Dead？〃
I said nothing； just turned the dead man over with Conrad's and Jung beck's help again。 This time it was more difficult。 Goin made a strange noise in his throat but otherwise didn't react at all； I suppose he'd nothing left to react with； he just stood there and stared as the driving snow whitened the dead man's anorak and； mercifully； the fearful wound in the occiput。 For what seemed quite a long time we stood there in silence； gazing down at the dead man： I was aware； almost subconsciously； that the wind； now veering beyond south； was strengthening； for the thickening snow was driving along now almost parallel to the ground： I do not know what the temperature was but it must have been close on thirty degrees below freezing。 I was dimly aware that I was shaking with the cold： looking around； I could see that the others were also。 Our breaths froze as they struck the icy Mr。 but the wind whipped them away before the vapour had time to form。
〃Accident？〃 Goin said hoarsely。 〃It could have been an accident？〃
〃No；〃 I said。 I saw the boulder that was used to crush his skull in。〃
Goin made the same curious noise in his throat again and I went on： 〃We can't leave him here and we can't take him inside。 I suggest we leave him in the tractor shed。〃
〃Yes； yes； the tractor shed；〃 Goin said。 He really didn't know what he was saying。
〃And who's going to break the news to Miss Haynes？〃 I went on。 God alone knew that I didn't fancy doing it。
'What？〃 He was still shocked。 〃What was that？〃
〃His wife。 She'll have to be told。〃 As a doctor； I supposed I was the one to do it but the decision was taken from my hands。 The cabin door was jerked abruptly open and Judith Haynes； her two dogs by her ankles； stood there framed against the light from the interior with Otto and the Count just vaguely discernible behind her。 She stood there for some little time； a hand on either doorjamb； quite immobile and without any expression that I could see； then walked forward in a curiously dreamlike fashion and stooped over her husband。 After a few moments she straightened； looked around as if puzzled； then turned questioning eyes on me； but only for a moment； for the questioning eyes turned up in her head and she crumpled and fell heavily across Stryker's body before I or anyone could get to her。 Conrad and I； with Goin following； brought her inside and laid her on the camp cot so lately occupied by Smithy。 The cocker spaniels had to be forcibly restrained from joining her。 Her face was alabaster white and her breathing very shallow。 I lifted up her right eyelid and there was no resistance to my thumb： it was only an automatic reaction on my part； it hadn't even occurred to me that the faint wasn't genuine。 I became aware that Otto was standing close by； his eyes wide； his mouth slightly open； his hands clenched together until the ivory knuckles showed。 〃Is she all right？〃 he asked hoarsely。 〃Will she…〃
〃She'll e to；〃 I said。
〃Smelling salts；〃 he said。 〃Perhaps…〃
〃No。〃 Smelling salts； to hasten her recovery to the bitter reality she would have to face。
〃And Michael？ My son…in…law？ He's…I mean…〃
〃You saw him；〃 I said almost irritably。 〃He's dead； of course he's dead。〃
〃But how…but how…〃
〃He was murdered。〃
There were one or two involuntary exclamations； the shocked indrawing of breath； then a silence that became intensified with the passing of seconds by the hissing of the Coleman lamps。 I didn't even bother to look up to see what the individual reactions might be for I knew by now that I'd learn nothing that way。 I just looked at the unconscious woman and didn't know what to think。 Stryker； the tough urbane； cynical Stryker had； in his own way； been terrified of this woman。 Had it been because of the power she had wielded as Otto's daughter； his knowledge that his livelihood was entirely dependent on her most wayward whim； and I could imagine few more gifted exponents of the wayward whim than Judith Haynes？ Had it been because of her pathological jealousy which I knew beyond all question to exist； because of the instant bitchiness which could allegedly range from the irrational to the insane or had she held over his head the threat of some nameless blackmail which could bring him at once to his knees？ Had he； in his own way； even loved his wife and hoped against hopeless hope that she might reciprocate some of this and been prepared to suffer any humiliation； any insult； in the hope that he might achieve this or part of it？ I'd never know but the questions were academic anyway； Stryker no longer concerned me； I was only turning them over in my mind wondering in what way they could throw any light on Judith Haynes's totally unexpected reaction to Stryker's death。 She had despised him； she must have despised him for his dependence upon her； his weakness； his meek acceptance of insult； the fear he had displayed before me； for the emptiness and nothingness that had lain concealed behind so impressively masculine a facade。 But had she loved him at the same time； loved him for what he had been or might have been； or was she just desolated at the loss of her most cherished whipping boy； the one sure person in the world upon whom she knew she could with impunity vent her wayward sple
