Desmond Bagley - Running Blind by Running Blind v1.1 (html)

Author:Running Blind v1.1 (html) [v1.1, Running Blind]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter IV

I left Laugarvatn at eight that night. Punctuality may be a virtue but it has been my experience that the virtuous often die young while the ungodly live to a ripe age. I had arranged to meet Jack Case at five o'clock but it would do him no great harm to stew for a few hours, and I had it in mind that the arrangement to meet him had been made on an open radio circuit.

I arrived at Geysir in Gunnar's Volkswagen beetle and parked inconspicuously quite a long way from the summer hotel. A few people, not many, were picking their way among the pools of boiling water, cameras at the ready. Geysir itself - the Gusher - which has given its name to all the other spouters in the world, was quiescent. It has been a long time since Geysir spouted. The habit of prodding it into action by tossing rocks into the pool finally proved too much as the pressure chamber was blocked. However, Strokkur - the Churn - was blasting off with commendable efficiency and sending up its feathery plume of boiling water at seven-minute intervals.

I stayed in the car for a long time and used the field-glasses assiduously. There were no familiar faces to be seen in the next hour, a fact that didn't impress me much, however. Finally I got out of the car and walked towards the Hotel Geysir, one hand in my pocket resting on the butt of the pistol.

Case was in the lounge, sitting in a corner and reading a paperback. I walked up to him and said, 'Hello, Jack; that's a nice tan -- you must have been in the sun.'

He looked up. 'I was in Spain. What kept you?'

This and that.'

I prepared to sit down, but he said. 'This is too public -let's go up to my room. Besides, I have a bottle.' 'That's nice.'

I followed him to his room. He locked the door and turned to survey me. 'That gun in your pocket spoils the set of your coat. Why don't you use a shoulder holster?'

I grinned at him. 'The man I took the gun from didn't have one. How are you, Jack? It's good to see you.'

He grunted sourly. 'You might change your mind about that.' With a flip of his hand he opened a suitcase lying on a chair and took out a bottle. He poured a heavy slug into a tooth glass and handed it to me. 'What the devil have you been doing? You've got Taggart really worked up.'

'He sounded pretty steamy when I spoke to him,' I said, and sipped the whisky. 'Most of the time I've been chased from hell-and-gone to here.'

'You weren't followed here?' he asked quickly.

'No.'

'Taggart tells me you killed Philips. Is that true?'

'If Philips was a man who called himself Buchner and Graham it's true.'

He stared at me. 'You admit it!'

I relaxed in the chair. 'Why not, since I did it? I didn't know it was Philips, though. He came at me in the dark with a gun.

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