Crash Course by Derek Fee (pdf to ebook reader .txt) 📕

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Penhalion team had managed to get their boat loaded and tied down on the trailer. It had been a long hard day and Doc was looking forward to a couple of pints of beer in the Charlie Chaplin with the other boys. Kane had left a message that he had to return to London urgently. Doc reckoned that it had something to do with Davenport so he didn’t ask any questions. He was there as support and to act as a conduit.

“Doc.” Morweena stood beneath the point on the trailer where he was making the final fastening. “I’d like a word if you don’t mind.” She had noticed that Doc and Kane had become quite friendly. It was rather peculiar. Kane wouldn’t give the other mechanics the time of day but he and Doc always seemed to be stuck in some corner or other having what appeared to be deep discussions.

“Yes, Miss Penhalion.” Doc climbed reluctantly from the trailer.

“Morweena,” she said. She smiled and her stunning blue eyes opened wide. She hit him with her total charm offensive.

“Yes, Morweena.” Christ Almighty, Doc thought, who the hell could resist this woman in full flow?

“I couldn’t help noticing that you and Mark have struck up quite a friendship,” she said.

“We get on,” Doc said, wondering where the conversation was going. “We stayed in the same pub back in Falmouth.”

“And you never met before?”

Doc put on his best puzzled look. “No.”

“Strange isn’t it,” she continued. “Tom insisted that both of you be engaged by my father. Quite independently you both arrive and amazingly you strike up this friendship. Quite a coincidence.”

“You could say that but it could as easily have been Reg or Bill that got on with Mark. Maybe he and I have a few things in common that he doesn’t have with the others.”

“Like what?” she pursued him.

“Well, the British Army for instance.” Doc was unflustered by her questions. The answers had all been prepared by Davenport before he ever set eyes on Morweena Penhalion. “We’re both old soldiers. I was a simple squaddie but Mark was a ‘Rupert’. But it doesn’t seem to matter once you’re in civilian life.” He saw the puzzled look on her face. “A ‘Rupert’ is an officer, miss,” he said quickly. “We seemed to hit it off and that’s all there is to it.” He examined her face to see if she was buying his story.

“You sound so convincing, Doc, that one is tempted to believe you. What about Mark’s disappearance? Any ideas?”

“Totally in the dark, miss.” Doc noticed her frowning. He put on his most earnest face. “Honestly. I don’t know where or why he’s gone.”

“You and Mark are beginning to intrigue me.” She scratched beside her right eye with her right index finger as though deep in thought. “You both arrive out of nowhere. Highly skilled at what you do. Tom stumbled across both of you, I suppose. You’ve never met but you immediately strike up a friendship. Neither of you has any visible family attachments. No wedding rings. No pictures of progeny being shown around. Two mystery men. All very strange, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Doc was struggling for something convincing to say. “I’m a mechanic and I needed a job. Tom Bell took me on at his plant in Leeds and told me I was being seconded to Penhalion Marine for the duration.”

“He insisted that my father employ you.” She scrunched up her nose. “What’s up, Doc?”

He was forced to laugh and she joined him.

“Very funny, miss,” he said after his laughter had subsided. “There’s nothing up. Both Mark and I are working to make the Penhalion team the best on the circuit. That’s it.”

“So you won’t tell me where he’s gone?”

“I would tell you if I knew.”

“Are you my friend, Doc?” she asked.

“I’d like to be, miss,” Doc said earnestly. He was happy that the inquisition seemed to be over. But he was aware that he had not acquitted himself too well. Too many bloody civilians in this one, he thought.

“Thank you, Doc. I’ll remember you said that.”

They’d been rumbled. Doc would have to pass the word to London. Miss Penhalion was asking questions that were difficult to answer. Davenport should know that the operation was on a knife-edge.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kane sat in the small chapel attached to the crematorium. The soft strains of Londonderry Air played over the discreetly located loudspeakers. The coffin bearing the body of his mother sat on the elevator which would carry it into the furnace. While she had been taking her last breath, he had been racing a powerboat in the Mediterranean. It shouldn’t have been that way. He should have been with her at the end. Perhaps in a blinding moment of lucidity, she would have recognised him and allowed him to bid her farewell. But he doubted it. The parson had finished his intonations and they were left in that moment before the coffin made its final journey. He’d arrived at the church twenty minutes before the service began. Davenport had informed him of his mother’s death the previous evening and he had been fortunate enough to get seats on the late-night flight to London. He listened to the strains of the soft music. It was his mother’s favourite, her party piece at family gatherings and a tune she hummed when she was happy. It was a long time since he had heard it. He glanced at his father. They were the only ones seated in the front row. Behind them, in the ten or so rows of pews, a small group of his mother’s friends sat quietly. They had dispensed with the church ceremony. His mother hadn’t had much time for religion and what credence she had in an Almighty Being vanished altogether the night she viewed the dead bodies of her two grandchildren. His father had delayed the closing of the coffin until his son had arrived. He had had ten