‘Then I guess you’ll be wantin’ a bit o’ company?’
Carter drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. ‘No, Silas, not this time. But I am going to ask you to do something for me, and I swear it will be the last time I do.’ He rubbed his hand through his windblown hair. ‘This favour. It’s not exactly above board.’
The old man gave a snort. ‘Since when have I cared a jot about that?’
Carter smiled. ‘I know, you old rogue, but still, it goes against the grain to ask you.’
‘Then don’t ask. But you know I’ll help you, no matter what.’
‘Remember the old Causley Eau pumping station?’
‘Aye, on the Saltern Drain. Been falling to bits for years since they stopped usin’ it.’ Silas thought for a while. ‘They say it’s dangerous, so no one goes there anymore.’
‘I know.’
‘Then we better get off, hadn’t we? I’m supposing you want to be back to catch the tide?’
Carter opened up the side door of the Land Rover, and called to Klink. ‘In you get, lad.’
‘Boot’s good enough for him, grubby little tyke.’
Carter shook his head. ‘Not this time. I need the space.’
Silas shrugged. He slid the flat, badly wrapped package behind the passenger seat.
They drove for a few minutes, then turned down a slip road and bumped along the drain edge for about a quarter of a mile.
The old pumping station had been empty for years. The steam engine that had helped feed water from the reclaimed saltmarsh fields had been moved off to a museum, and now a new station did all the pumping and drainage.
Carter backed up the Land Rover close to the building and got out. He produced a key from his pocket and opened the padlocked doors.
Klink refused to get out, even when Silas ordered him to. Carter decided that he was better off where he was, so they left the dog in the vehicle.
With Silas a few steps behind him, Carter walked slowly and deliberately towards the back of the building, where he used a second key to open a small storeroom. If Silas was shocked by the smell, he didn’t show it. And Carter made no comment.
The bundle was tightly wrapped in layers of extra thick black plastic sheeting, taped tightly with gaffer tape, and carefully concealed behind some old rotting wooden shelving units.
Between them they half dragged and half carried the cumbersome bundle to the Land Rover. Carter opened up the back and they pushed it into the boot.
Klink gave a low growl. Silas spoke to him quietly, but his hackles were raised.
They said nothing on the trip back to Stone Quay, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Carter felt like a boy again, back where he ought to be, sitting next to Silas Breeze, the only man he really trusted.
It took them no time at all to get Suzanne’s body off the quay and into the Eva May. He tried hard not to imagine what she looked like after eighteen months, but he had seen too many rotting corpses in his time on the force not to know. Even so, he felt no compassion for her. She had been a cruel, heartless bitch. Whenever things didn’t go exactly her way, she turned on Tom. She physically battered and abused him, and the gentle giant never raised a hand or said a word against her.
‘Tide’s about right, young’un.’ Silas was making his way slowly down the ladder from the quay.
‘Go back, Silas. I have to do this alone. For my fourth friend. For Tom.’
‘Go back up and fetch Klink, would you?’
Carter frowned.
‘Go get my dog . . . please?’
‘Oh Silas, no . . .’
‘He bit a kid last night, boy. There’ll be a knock on my door later today, and we don’t want to be there when they come for him.’
Carter felt a lump in his throat. He climbed back up the ladder and carefully lifted the old dog down into the Eva May.
Silas nodded. ‘Everything in order?’
‘Shipshape and Bristol fashion, Cap’n.’ He saluted smartly.
‘I don’t mean the boat.’
‘Nor do I.’
With a long look at his two unexpected crew members, Carter started the engine.
‘Sweet as a nut,’ Silas crooned. ‘That lad knew his engines, didn’t he?’
Carter turned the Eva May out into the river and felt the wind tug at his hair. Oh, it felt so good! He breathed in the salty ozone and let out a whoop of delight. ‘We’ve done it, Si! The Eva May is back where she belongs!’
‘Should be horns and sirens and bunting! An escort out into the Wash!’ Silas’s old eyes sparkled.
‘Then raise the flag, old timer, and let’s drink a toast to the Eva May and the men who put her back together again.’ He pulled a bottle from under one of the seats and passed it to Silas. ‘Will this do you?’
‘Single Highland malt! Twenty-five years old — and a Speyside. That would have made a big hole in your pocket, boy. Three figures?’
‘It’s a special occasion. And as we are underway, the Ensign is waiting to be attached.’ He grinned at Silas, ‘And I’ve not brought metal clips either.’
Silas happily launched into a speech about flag etiquette and halyards, and Carter felt a rush of affection for him. He was glad after all that his oldest friend and his crazy dog were with him.
They poured the whisky into plastic tumblers and drank toast after toast. They did not drink to Suzanne Holland.
‘I’ve been thinking for a while about making a will.’ Silas suddenly became serious.
Carter stared at him. He thought of the ramshackle hovel of a cottage and its contents, and began to laugh.
‘Tek the proverbial, if you will, but there’s “The Poacher” to consider.’
Carter stopped laughing, and considered what the old man was asking of him. ‘Ah, right.’ He took out his mobile phone, sent a brief text message and switched it off. ‘Sorted.’ He then looked long and hard at his old friend. ‘Why are you here, Si?’
‘Saw the doc last week, not that I got too much faith in them and their new-fangled machines. Still, there weren’t much point arguing with the results of my tests.’ He shrugged and sipped his drink. ‘A trip on the Eva May is my whole bucket list rolled into one.’ He looked around contentedly. ‘And we picked a great day for it, didn’t we?’
The only sounds were the thrum of the engine and the occasional call of a water bird. Around them, the water, the marshes and the big Lincolnshire sky. Carter breathed again. He was free of enclosed spaces, the smell of burning. And there were no voices other than his own, and that of Silas.
‘He killed her, didn’t he? Your friend Tom?’ He looked intently at Carter, and then his eyes narrowed. ‘Or did he?’