“What have you done?” demanded Kate; afraid they were moments too late.
Saint Claire jumped from the boat with a rope in his hand. He tied it roughly round a jagged rock. The rope went taut as the boat rose and pulled away, but it held firm. Satisfied he turned to Kate, his lank hair hung around his face. McEwan caught a whiff of rancid sweat and could see that Saint Claire"s long waxed coat was heavily soiled.
“I have begun unlocking a door,” he said, a glint of mischief in his eye. “A prison door. I"m hoping to free a group of people you will know as Watchers from their unjust imprisonment.”
“It"s what we feared, then,” said McEwan, he paused and came to a decision. “Robert Saint Claire, I"m arresting you on suspicion of murder, interfering with a criminal investigation and possession
