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    The Weather Station
    The Weather Station
    The Weather Station
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    The Weather Station

    By Dick Morris

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    About this ebook

    When four friends arrive on a remote Scottish island, they think they have found the holiday destination of their dreams. The island is rugged, exposed, and visited by the ferry only once a week, and lightly populated too, for this early in the season. The local publican makes them very welcome, and his wife serves wonderful food. But parts of the weather station are something of a mystery.

    Gradually, the friends begin to figure out that all is not well here, and that mysterious and dangerous undercurrents operate in this community. They are trapped here too, for one whole week, during which very small things, like a football match result, can have far reaching consequences… 

    About 20000 words.             

    Contains sex scenes. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDick Morris
    Release dateMay 3, 2015
    ISBN9781513055534
    The Weather Station
    Author

    Dick Morris

    Dick Morris served as Bill Clinton's political consultant for twenty years. A regular political commentator on Fox News, he is the author of ten New York Times bestsellers (all with Eileen McGann) and one Washington Post bestseller.

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      Book preview

      The Weather Station - Dick Morris

      Table of Contents

      The Weather Station

      Postscript.

      Post-postscript.

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      The Weather Station

      A novel by Dick Morris

      Start reading now!

      Copyright © 2015 Dick Morris

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, please contact:

      http://richygm.wix.com/dick-morris-books

      ––––––––

      Published by: dick morris – carla bowman - books

      Other books by Dick Morris:

      Pelican - Escape or Die*

      Dark Harbour*

      The Investigators*

      The Black Hats*

      The Killers*

      The Curse*

      The Castle*

      The Ruin*

      Blood Island*

      Cursed Slaughtered Hunted*

      Three Horror Stories*

      *Also available as paperbacks.

      This is a work of fiction, and all characters are imaginary. Any resemblance they might have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

      (UK spellings generally used in this novel)

      ––––––––

      Strangward closed the high-security door behind him and fired an imaginary dumdum bullet into the back of Clarkson’s head. Clarkson heard the door shut and turned and looked in Strangward’s direction. He smiled as he put the coffee cup to his lips. He drank a little. Thirsty work, he said, in his London accent, as Strangward walked towards him. Strangward nodded as Clarkson stepped back to let him get to the coffee machine. Agreed. It must be those bloody protective suits. But we’re making good progress. He took a fresh paper cup from the holder, placed it in the machine, and selected latte.

      So, are you enjoying your stay here? On this island? Clarkson asked, his eyes studying Strangward’s florid face.

      It’s quiet.

      That’s an understatement. But I suppose there are some compensations.

      Yes, there are, Strangward said. He thought: Especially for you, you bastard.

      Strangward took his own cup of coffee from the machine and sipped it. He could see why Clarkson was such a hit with the ladies. The guy was good-looking, Strangward supposed, and very well built. About six feet two – meaning he was almost six inches taller than Strangward himself – he was obviously in very good physical shape, and had a very strong presence. Square jawed, and with neatly kept blond hair, he jogged every day, and visited the gym twice a week. He played several sports too, including squash. And he played them well. Naturally. Strangward himself, on the other hand, very rarely exercised, and spent most of his free time drinking or watching sport on the television. He did do a little fishing. But that was about it. And wasn’t Clarkson a judo black belt too? Not that that was in any way important. In any physical contest between them, there could only be one outcome.

      Hello there, mystery men!

      The greeting came from Mike Merryman, the manager of this meteorological installation. Merryman, a short, overweight, black-haired, and black bearded, Cornishman, had not been happy when told Strangward and the others would be joining him and his staff. This may have been because it had been made clear to him that he would have no control of any kind over the newcomers. Or, it may have been because he had been told that the nature of the work they would be doing would not be divulged to him, or to anybody else. Over the two months that they had been here, however, he had mellowed. If only just a little. Having fun in there, are you? Merryman asked, as Clarkson and Strangward moved aside to let him get to the coffee machine. Neither Clarkson nor Strangward responded.

      What’s the weather forecast then? Clarkson asked, instead.

      Good for the next few days, Merryman said, taking a paper cup from the machine. But then look out! Some pretty nasty stuff is on the way for the end of the week. And we, out here, will get the brunt of it.

      The high security door opened, and Bill Davies looked out. One of the three security men assigned to this operation, he was a tall, well-built, former Army man. He wore a private company uniform that made him look ‘official’, but at the same time did not link him to any government organisation or department. And he was very good at his job. As, indeed, were his two colleagues. He located Strangward, and called out: Have you finished in here for today, Doctor Strangward?

      Yes, Strangward called back. Lock everything down, and make the place secure, will you please?

      Will do, Davies called out, and disappeared inside and closed the door.

      Lucky devils, finishing early, Merryman said, finally taking his coffee from the machine.

      It’s one of the compensatory things we get for being cooped up this far from civilisation, Clarkson said.

      "We don’t get your sort of privileges," Merryman said, before sipping a little of his drink.

      "Maybe your lot gets paid more than our lot," Clarkson said, tossing his empty coffee cup into the nearby bin.

      I wonder if we really do, Merryman said. With your lot being so secretive, there’s no way of knowing. Is there?

      *

      With a grating sound sharp enough to put a lot of people’s nerves on edge, the prow of the ferry made contact with the sloping concrete slipway. The ferry’s bow door clattered down onto the concrete and two crewmembers hurried ashore to place two chains over two fixed mooring bollards. This they did every week – on Mondays – the ferry having made the journey from Skye as it had done for several years. The ferry brought supplies for the island’s small community, for the staff based at the meteorological installation, and for the holidaymakers staying at the island’s holiday cottages, or camping here, and took people back and forth. The last vehicle to board the vessel, as always, and the first vehicle ashore

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