The Chessmen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Whistler’s blackhouse had a deserted look about it, even from the road. Fin could not have said quite why, but he knew that he wasn’t going to find Whistler there. It wasn’t until he had climbed the hill that he realized the door was not closed, but lying several inches ajar, swinging back and forth in the wind, as if the house were breathing.

Carefully, he pushed it open wide, scraping it over the flags, and letting his eyes accustom themselves to the gloom before stepping inside. He half expected that he might find wee Anna there, as he had done the day before. But the house was empty. He walked in and felt the chill of the place, a smell of damp in the air. The remains of a days-old peat fire in the hearth were as cold as death. The house felt oddly abandoned, as if there had been nobody here for days. And for the first time Fin began to fear for his old friend. The Lewis chessmen stood lined up along the wall, silent witnesses lurking in the dark. But witnesses to what?

It was with a creeping sense of foreboding that Fin stepped back out into the wind. The tide was in, emerald water a foot deep over acres of golden sand, splinters of distant sunlight stabbing through breaks in the cloud, firing light in fast-moving flashes across the far machair.

A Range Rover pulled up on the road below, and two men stepped out. Fin had to squint to see their faces against the glare of sea and sun behind them, but he knew from the vehicle that the driver was Jamie. It was only as they began the climb up to the blackhouse that Fin recognized the set of the other. Solid and square, with his cap pulled low over his brow. Big Kenny.

Jamie came to a stop in front of Fin, breathing a little heavily from the climb. Kenny remained a couple of paces behind him, catching Fin’s eye briefly, then averting his gaze almost as if ashamed.

‘Is he there?’ Jamie said.

‘Who?’

Jamie tutted his irritation. ‘Macaskill, of course.’

‘No.’

‘Where is he, then?’

‘I haven’t the first idea.’

Jamie tilted his head and cast a sceptical eye over Fin. ‘You were with him when you found that plane.’

‘Can’t keep a secret around here.’

If Jamie suspected insolence, there was nothing in Fin’s tone to betray it. ‘So you took the bait, went up to Tathabhal after him that night?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing.’

‘He wasn’t poaching?’

‘No.’

Jamie sighed, barely able to conceal his annoyance. ‘So what happened?’

And Fin wondered just how much, or how little, he should tell him. His own stupidity was an embarrassment. The only other witness to events up at the loch the night before the storm was James Minto. And Minto, Fin was sure, was unlikely to say anything. Although he regretted now that he had ever involved the man.