Читать книгу Paul Temple and the Curzon Case - Francis Durbridge, Francis Durbridge - Страница 5

Dulworth Bay was a noisy place at night when the tide came in. The sea broke angrily against the shore, retreated with a rush of sand and pebbles and then crashed forward again. Ridges of white foam caught the moonlight as they rode towards the beach. The darkness was like a soundproof blanket pierced by a few stars and the distant lighthouse. The rowing boat a hundred yards out from the shore was alone, cut off by the noise.

A man rested on his oars and looked blindly into the sky; among the sounds of the sea he could distinguish the approaching drone of a twin-engined Hawker Siddeley; his eyes traced a path towards the coast as the aeroplane passed overhead. The man flashed a lamp three times in signal.

The drone of the engines grew louder again as the aeroplane circled back. Then the man saw a winking orange wing light passing through the clouds, dropping low out of the sky and swinging towards the cliffs. He didn’t see the aircraft until the roar of the engines became a screech of agony several seconds later. He heard a dull explosion, and simultaneously a lick of white light shot into the sky. Fire billowed down the cliffs and burned itself out in the sea.

The man in the boat watched for nearly a minute, and then quite slowly he pulled towards the wreckage.