Free The Mask of Destiny by Richard Newsome Page B

Turner told him.’
    â€˜Miss Turner?’ Sam said. ‘How is Mr Fry’s squeeze going?’
    â€˜He gets phone calls from Delhi every day,’ Gerald said. ‘I think they’re meeting up when Miss Turner brings Alisha out for the start of school.’
    Sam laughed. ‘Old Fry has a girlfriend! That’s too funny.’
    Ruby sat back in her seat with a thump. ‘Well, it’s nice that some people get a happy ending,’ she said. She turned and stared out the window.
    Gerald and Sam looked at each other. ‘What’s the matter with her?’ Gerald said.
    Sam shrugged. ‘Girls,’ he said, as if that explained everything that was unknowable in the world.
    The intercom crackled through from the cockpit. Mr Fry’s voice was tense. ‘I think you ought to hear this,’ he said. There was a click and then the gravel voice of Inspector Jarvis filled the cabin.
    â€˜â€¦I say again, all airports across the UK have been placed on alert. There is nowhere you can go where I will not find you. You must surrender now or face the direst of consequences. I have sought permission to use force and will not hesitate to use that authority.’
    No one spoke while the words sank in.
    â€˜Have you responded?’ Gerald asked.
    â€˜No,’ Fry replied. ‘They seem to think we’re still in the country and I see no need to let the rotten beggars know where we are.’
    â€˜Mr Fry!’ Ruby said. ‘Are you feeling rebellious?’
    There was a pause, then, ‘An accusation against the young master is an accusation against the house of Archer. He may be undeserving, ill-disciplined and irritating in the extreme, but I don’t believe he is a murderer.’
    Gerald let out a hollow laugh. ‘Tell us what you really think, St John,’ he said.
    â€˜Can’t they see us on the radar?’ Ruby said.
    â€˜I am flying too low, Miss Valentine. They have no idea where we are.’
    â€˜Nice work, ace,’ Gerald said. ‘How long till we’re there?’
    There was a frosty silence for a second before Mr Fry replied: ‘We will be approaching Mont-Saint-Michel in twenty minutes. Would young sir like me to land or tip him out from a reasonable height?’
    The Archer corporate helicopter skimmed close to the waters of the channel, skirted the Cherbourg Peninsula and traced a path beyond the islands of Guernsey and Jersey. Sam was the first to catch sight of their destination. About a kilometre off the coast, at the end of a narrow causeway that jutted into a sweeping bay, the island of Mont-Saint-Michel was lit like a fairytale castle.
    Waves crashed against the broken rocks along the shoreline, infusing the air with a fine mist. Floodlights captured the spray, making the island glow against the dark waters of the bay.
    â€˜It’s just like your sketch,’ Sam said to Gerald. ‘Amazing.’
    Three noses pressed against the glass as the helicopter swept closer. Sitting on top of the huge granite rock that soared out of the bay was a medieval castle, its stone turrets and battlements winding up the monolith until they peaked in a colossal spire that pierced the night sky. The edifice looked as if it was carved from a single block of grey stone, as ancient as creation.
    â€˜That is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,’ Ruby said. She wiped a clear patch in the window where her breath had fogged it up. ‘It’s like we’re stepping back in time.’
    Mr Fry guided the helicopter in a broad sweep around the top of the castle. They gazed down on a corkscrew of narrow laneways that wound their way up from the city gates to the top of the mount. The place appeared to be deserted.
    â€˜I’ll have to put down on the mainland,’ Mr Fry’s voice sounded through the intercom. ‘Too windy to risk the causeway.’
    Minutes later, Gerald, Sam and Ruby were standing on French soil,