The Origin of the Crabs (Crabs Series Book 3) by Guy N. Smith

Author:Guy N. Smith [Smith, Guy N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
ISBN: 9781907846120
Publisher: Black Hill Books
Published: 2010-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Bruce McKechnie stared out of the study window on to a sunlit autumnal scene. The loch shimmered peacefully, a golden brown carpet lay beneath the avenue of tall beech trees, the leaves still falling gently, drifting earthwards like flakes of snow. There was not a breath of wind.

His fists clenched and unclenched, and the veins on his forehead knotted as he seethed inwardly with rage. His eyes were focused on the winding rutted road that led from the Cranlarich Hotel down the whole length of the valley. He watched the car, a silver Rolls Royce, the chauffeur driving slowly, attempting to avoid the many potholes.

The Jag and the Mercedes had left earlier. Only his own Range Rover stood on the paved forecourt, a symbol of desolation. They had gone, these wealthy sportsmen from the south, and they would not be returning. Dissatisfied customers who would spread the word, telling in their exclusive clubs of how the sporting empire of Cranlarich had crumbled. The game had gone, the villagers shunned the place, and there were no beaters to be had. Neither money nor the wages of fear could persuade the latter to drive the grouse to the guns. The previous day's sport had resulted in a fruitless foray with the shooters attempting to walk their birds up. A row had developed at the end of the afternoon and McKechnie had refunded the money to his departing clients. It was the least he could do in an attempt to keep the Cranlarich reputation in exclusive sporting circles.

Five guests due to arrive at the weekend had telephoned their cancellations. That had nothing to do with the absence of birds. The publicity over the two missing shooters was responsible for the blank week which lay ahead. Rumours were circulating in high sporting circles. It was bound to happen. And the crabs were to blame!

Bruce McKechnie slumped down at his desk and rested his head on his arms. His rage had simmered and died. The man's self-control had triumphed. First came anger, then despair, finally cold reasoning.

He lit a cigar and went over the recent events again in his mind. Just when he was congratulating himself on the crustaceans having left Loch Merse they had snatched another victim. In a way they had done him a favour. Freddie Law had been a nuisance for the past decade. But the continued presence of the creatures worried the laird.

He came to a decision. If the crabs would not go back to the sea then they must be exterminated. They must be wiped out before the public became aware of their existence. But how?

Then he had an idea. It came to him so suddenly that the simplicity of it astounded him. He recalled a poaching incident the previous year on a stretch of the River Annan. A gang had used dynamite. Several hundred pounds of salmon had been cleared before the bailiffs had arrived on the scene. The townspeople, a couple of miles away, heard the explosions

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