"Smith, Guy N - Crabs 01 - Night of the Crabs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

It was as consciousness began to slip from his fear-crazed mind that he realised what had happened to his left leg. It had been amputated! Then he felt his right leg cracking. Mercifully he lost consciousness.

Cliff Davenport was in his laboratory shortly before seven o'clock on that Monday morning. There were certain tasks that had to be attended to before Ian and Julie arrived at nine. Certain specimens from sea plants had to be removed from the glass tanks and allowed to dry before the next stage of discovering their nutritional benefits could be started. They would be ready for his two assistants to get to grips with as soon as they got back from holiday.

As he worked, the botanist caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water. He smiled. At least he didn't think that he looked any older. Those lines in his lean, aquiline face marked the passing of his dear wife. They could never be erased, like his memory of her. His receding hairline and the odd flecks of grey in his dark hair, were all that denoted his age. His lithe figure was as sprightly as ever, and the pipe drooping out of the corner of his mouth reminded him of the time when he had portrayed Sherlock Holmes in a local amateur dramatic society's presentation of The Speckled Band.

His task completed, he retired to his study. There he poured himself a cup of black coffee and relit his pipe. He felt vaguely hungry, but he knew that Julie would automatically prepare him something to eat once she and Ian arrived.

The morning wore on, and still there was no sign of Ian Wright and Julie Coles. Cliff became impatient, yet he was not unduly worried. Probably they had lingered over a 'last night' somewhere together and slept late as a result of it.

By lunch-time, however, he was becoming increasingly worried. No longer were sexual procrastinations uppermost in his mind. Instead his thoughts dwelt on road accidents. Ian had always been inclined to drive far too fast in that old heap of an MG of his!

It was shortly after three o'clock in the afternoon that the doorbell rang. As Cliff Davenport saw the two blue uniforms through the frosted glass, his stomach muscles tightened. The MG...

'Professor Davenport?' the thin-faced sergeant had an expression on his face that boded distinct ill-tidings.

'Yes, yes.' Cliff's tone could not conceal his anxiety.

'I'm afraid, sir,' the officer said as he stepped over the threshold without being invited to do so, 'we might have some rather grave news for you.'

'Might?'

'Well.. , er .. .' the policeman shuffled his feet awkwardly. The Merioneth Force have reason to believe that a red MG sports car, registration number MNO 897, is the property of Mr Ian Wright, your nephew, who resides at this address. The vehicle in question was found abandoned on Shelf Island. The gentleman in question's clothing was found in it, along with those of a lady. A search has been made, in fact it's still going on. The coast guards are using helicopters. They, er, they haven't found anything yet. It appears that . . . your nephew and his lady friend have been washed out to sea whilst bathing.'

Cliff Davenport sat down on a nearby chair. His face was ashen. His whole body trembled.

'Impossible! ' His dry croak lacked conviction.

'I'm afraid ...' the sergeant began, but stopped as he saw the look in the other's eye.

'Thank you, Sergeant.' Cliff was on his feet as though he had instantly shrugged off the sudden shock, 'Perhaps you will let me know at once if you find anything.'

The two policemen stepped outside into the bright sunlight. Both heaved sighs of relief. It had been easier than they had anticipated. The Professor had taken the news admirably.

Inside the house Cliff Davenport stood with his back to the closed door. He knew in his heart that he would never see either Ian Wright or Julie Coles again.










Chapter Two