Free Dutch Courage by Elizabeth Darrell Page A

kitchen at the moment.’
    â€˜Grab some breakfast while you can. Tom, I owe you an apology. I came upon Sam Collier lying in the road last night. Clarkson dismissed the notion of a hit and run. Claims he’d been given a severe going over by a couple, or even a group. And I do mean severe. He looked a mess. You’re right, there’s something deeper than resentment behind the campaign against the Colliers. We have to sort it before there’s a tragedy.’
    â€˜Has his wife been told?’
    â€˜I went to the house with the Duty Officer. She took one look at us and dropped in a faint. Thought I was a padre and we’d come to tell her her husband was dead.’
    â€˜Think she’s aware of what’s behind the campaign?’
    â€˜Do you?’
    â€˜It’s possible, I guess, but unlikely.’
    â€˜I’m going to question him first thing, and I suggest you call on her to suss out just how involved she is.’
    There was a fractional pause before Tom said, ‘Right.’
    Max grinned. ‘Don’t bother to put bread in the toaster, chum, just hold it between your hot little hands.’
    After his breakfast Max surrendered again to the urge to call Livya. Same invitation to leave a message. He tried her mobile number. It was switched to voice mail. So she did not want to speak to him. Or to anyone else. That was her privilege, but it was curious. As he drove to the Medical Centre he worried about her inaccessibility. Had something happened to her? He knew her parents’ number, but he would only call them in an emergency situation. The swiftest means of checking on her safety would be to call his father, but that would be his last resort. He would tackle the problem this evening.
    Because he had been on call last night, Charles Clarkson was not officially on duty today, the daily sick parade being taken by the civilian doctor who served the base in harness with his military counterpart. However, the Major was in the small ward when Max arrived, and he came from it with no greeting other than an unsmiling nod.
    â€˜He came through the night without a problem, then?’ Max asked.
    â€˜He won’t be out of the woods until tonight. We’re still watching his pupils for signs of dilation. Most of the visible blood came from his nose and mouth. Good dental work will repair the damage to his teeth, and the sutures I put in his lip and cheek should ensure he’s left with only faint scars. There’s a curious element to the damage to his torso, however.’
    â€˜In what way curious?’
    Clarkson frowned. ‘There are raised stripes across his back that suggest flogging.’
    â€˜ Flogging! ’
    â€˜Mmm, like the good old days of military and naval service. Fifty lashes as the sun goes down.’ Seeing Max’s expression, he gave a grim smile. ‘No, no, if he’d suffered fifty he’d be in hospital. The bruises on the upper arms indicate to me that he was restrained while being lashed with something like thick rope. The weals are too broad for a cane or a riding-crop.’
    â€˜Poor bastard!’
    â€˜Indeed. If they’d bared his back, he’d now be in a life-threatening condition after being left on the road in such a low temperature. I’d guess the blows to his head were designed to stun him enough to prevent resistance to being held against a wall and thrashed. The back of his sweater is roughed-up and torn in places, but it gave him some slight protection. I shall monitor his kidney function today. That area appears to have taken the brunt of the attack.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Will that indicate the height of the assailant?’
    â€˜It’ll be a strong pointer in that direction,’ Max told him thoughtfully, missing the slight sarcasm. ‘The most natural swing of his arm. If you can pinpoint the areas where the weals are the most damaging, it could tell us whether the man was right