The captain nodded, but his huge face was a mask of unhappiness.
“Come along, Mr. Anders.” O’Connor showed Jonathan into the hall, closed the dining room door. “Ah, Stanley, you will take this gun back and go into the study. There is a peephole overlooking the drawing room, you see, Mr. Anders; it is amply large enough to fire a gun through.”
Jonathan watched the butler disappear through the door into the study, leaving the doctor and himself alone in the hall, with the dining room already closed. He turned, heart pounding, looked down the barrel of a snub-nosed revolver.
“I’m a psychiatrist, Mr. Anders. It’s my job to know what’s going on in people’s minds. After you.”
Jonathan sighed, went into the drawing room. Crater stood at the huge windows, peering out at the night-shrouded forest. He turned at their steps, his chin thrust forward aggressively, only to check in surprise at the sight of Jonathan.
“Mr. Crater!” Brian O’Connor had pocketed the gun. He advanced across the room, his hand outstretched. “What a pleasant surprise. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Yeah?” Crater shook hands, but frowned at Jonathan. “What gives?”
“It’s a long story.” Jonathan watched the mirror on the inner wall. There was no sign of an opening. But he did not doubt that Stanley was there.
“Oh, sure,” Crater said. “The local fuzz have also been telling me a long story. Something out of the Arabian Nights, if you ask me.”
“A story which, remarkably enough, was the absolute truth,” Brian O’Connor said. “Isn’t it, Jonathan?”
“Every word of it,” Jonathan said.
“Yeah? Then why did they refuse to give me your address?” Crater demanded.
“Because I asked them for a little bit of privacy,” Brian O’Connor said. “I happen to have had no sleep at all last night, and neither did any of my guests. On the contrary, while you were snug in your bed, Mr. Crater, we were drifting around the Atlantic Ocean. But I see the police’s reticence did not hinder you in any way.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Doctor.” Crater flushed. “Finding you wasn’t exactly difficult. Not once I knew you lived here. And what about Gerry?”
“My daughter is suffering from exposure, shock and extreme exhaustion. She is in her bed, sound asleep,” O’Connor said. “Jonathan and I were about to follow her example, having had a good dinner and a glass of brandy. But I’m sure we could stand another, couldn’t we, Jonathan? I’ll see to it.” He left the room.
Crater watched him go. “But say”—he dropped his voice to a whisper—“what really gives here?”
“Now, really, Thomas,” Jonathan said loudly. “Why don’t you stop asking foolish questions and use your head. That was Brian O’Connor, remember? This is his house. I am his guest. Does anything, anything, strike you as suspicious?”
Crater frowned, and Jonathan remembered that he had planned on using the photographer’s muscle, not his brain. “You mean that fire was a genuine accident?”
“It was caused by an overheated stern tube, as I imagine the police told you.”
“Gee. I was wild when I heard about that, and with that hurricane on its way. I’ve been trying to get on a plane all day, but this evening was the first one in.”
“Well, I’m truly sorry, Thomas. I’m afraid you and I boobed rather badly. I really owe Dr. O’Connor and Mr. Malthus a vote of thanks for not taking offense at the way I barged on board. But Gerry was very decent about it.”
Crater scratched his head. “And after all that fuss I made with the police. Well, I guess I’ll go look for a hotel room in Roseau.”
“I’m afraid you will have to, Mr. Crater.” Brian O’Connor returned into the room with a fresh decanter and a tray of glasses. “I’d ask you to stay out here with us, of course, but with everyone off the schooner here there simply isn’t any room. But you’ll have a drink before you go?”
Crater sipped moodily. “I’ll see if I can catch a plane back to Barbados tomorrow morning. You going back, Jonathan?”
“Tomorrow morning, yes, I think so.” Jonathan gazed at O’Connor. “I’ll see you on the plane.”
“What about the guy you were after? Is the steward your man?”
“No, unfortunately,” Jonathan said. “But Benny will be coming back on the plane with me. After all, with the schooner sunk, there’s nothing to keep him here, is there?”
“Oh, I feel I’m obliged to offer Benny a job with me, Jonathan,” Brian O’Connor said. “But, of course, the decision is up to him.”
“Yeah.” Crater finished his drink, gazed around the sparsely furnished room with a mystified air. “Well, I’ll be away. I guess I owe you an apology, Doctor. Maybe I could call in here for Jonathan, tomorrow morning. I’d like to apologize to Gerry, too.”
Brian O’Connor smiled. “Gerry will be coming out to the airport, Mr. Crater. So you can see her then. But I wouldn’t waste your time coming back here. Shall I have my chauffeur drive you back into Roseau?”
“That’d be very decent of you.” Crater went to the door, hesitated. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jonathan.”
He walked into the hall. O’Connor went at his elbow, and Jonathan followed. After his earlier experiences, it was impossible to believe that O’Connor might have made a mistake, but at this moment all three of them were removed from the sight of the mirror. He would never have a similar opportunity again.
“Look out, Tom!” he yelled, and hurled himself across the room.
CHAPTER 9
Brian O’Connor turned, reaching for his pocket as he did so. But Jonathan was already on him, striking him in a football tackle just above the knees, bringing him heavily to the ground. Crater stared at them in surprise.
“Have you gone mad?” he demanded.
Brian O’Connor tried to sit up, and pulled his hand from his pocket, grasping the revolver. Jonathan closed his fist and hit him on the chin. The doctor gasped and fell backward, and Jonathan wrenched the revolver from his fingers, turned, still on his knees, hesitated as Stanley came through the door from the study.
“Daddy?” The voice came from the gallery above them. “Whatever’s happening, Daddy?”
“That’s Gerry,” Crater said unnecessarily, running to the stairs.
“Drop it, Mr. Anders,” Stanley said.
Jonathan sighed, hesitated. He had seen Stanley shoot. Besides, he couldn’t risk a gun battle with Geraldine in the middle. He dropped the gun, stooped, assisted Brian O’Connor to his feet. “It was just an idea.”
The doctor rubbed his chin. “A very poor one, Mr. Anders. Come in here, Harman.”
Harman came out of the kitchen, armed with an automatic pistol. Geraldine, wearing a dressing gown, was standing at the top of the stairs, and Phyllis Malthus, also wearing a dressing gown, and as usual carrying Aristotle in her arms, leaned over the banister.
“Jonathan?” Geraldine cried. “Whatever’s happening? Tom? Tom Crater? Oh, I might have known if there was trouble you’d be mixed up in it.”
“Believe me, Gerry, I only wish I knew what I was mixed up in.”
Strohm and Benny came out of the dining room, half carrying Malthus between them. “He ain’t feeling very good, Dr. O’Connor,” Strohm said. “I think you’d better take a look at him.”
“James!” Phyllis Malthus screamed. “You’re hurt!” She dropped the dog, came down the stairs like a human cannonball. Aristotle followed her.
Malthus lifted his head, gave a convincing groan. “I’ve been shot.”
Phyllis Malthus turned toward Jonathan, strongly suggestive of a female elephant about to charge. “You shot him!”
“What with?” Jonathan asked. “Those are the chaps with the artillery.”
“He shot me.” James Malthus stared at Stanley.
Phyllis Malthus slowly turned toward the butler and O’Connor.
“But why?” Geraldine cried. “What happened? Daddy? Why haven’t the police been called?”
&nb
sp; O’Connor went to the front door, opened it. “Byrne,” he shouted. “Come in here, will you.”
The mate came inside, carrying a rifle. Lilian came from the back of the house, also armed, although her gun was a .22.
“This is quite an army, Doctor,” Benny remarked. “We could have used them this morning.”
“Daddy?” Geraldine begged. “Please explain.”
“I was just making sure no one left without my permission.” O’Connor sighed. “You’re a smart young man, Anders. I suppose you thought that if you could just get the ladies down here you’d be all right. The funny thing is, I would have made a deal with you. To hush up Malthus’ death I was prepared to forgo the forty thousand dollars, let you and Benny slip away on tomorrow morning’s plane.”
“My death?” Malthus shouted. “I’m not going to die. Am I?”
“Not of that wound, James, certainly. But you see, while up to an hour ago I was prepared to be amused by your machinations, past and future, knowing that I could always charge you with attempted murder should you prove troublesome, I now have to face the fact that you could bring such a charge against me. This is unfortunate, but I was never one to cry over spilt milk. The real tragedy is that you have unwittingly involved all of these good people in your demise.”
“Daddy?” Geraldine whispered. “What are you saying?”
“If only you know how much I had hoped to avoid this, Gerry. But these people are my enemies. I have tried to come to terms with them, and they have refused. Their sole objective is to destroy me. So I am left with no alternative but to destroy them. Lilian, put Miss Geraldine back to bed.”
“I’ll tell,” Geraldine shouted. “I’ll tell the police everything. I won’t let you get away with it.”
Lilian swept the girl over her shoulder and went up the stairs. Geraldine kicked and pounded the housekeeper’s back with her fists, but there was no possibility of her getting free.
“Stay with her, Lilian,” Brian O’Connor called. “I’ll be up in a few minutes to give her a sedative.”
“And then what?” Crater demanded. “You’re going to keep her under sedation for the rest of her life?”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Crater. As Mr. Anders knows, and as you have probably observed from the manner in which my house is furnished, I intend to leave Dominica in the immediate future, for a new home. I think Gerry will come with me, to keep house for me; I have missed her terribly, these last three years. And soon she will agree to see things my way, I’m sure. She will write her mother and explain her decision; she is, after all, over twenty-one.”
“Why, you.…”
“Easy, Tom,” Jonathan said. “Let’s choose our time.” The rifles still pointed in their direction.
“A very sensible decision, Mr. Anders,” Brian O’Connor said. “Now, Strohm, it still needs, my word, only a few hours to dawn. No wonder I feel so tired. I wish you to tie these people’s hands behind their backs and stow them in the cellar while I take a look at James’ arm. We can’t let you walk around with a bullet in your shoulder, my dear chap; you’re looking quite done in. You’ll find some rope in the kitchen, Strohm.”
The captain shifted from foot to foot. “I’m real sorry it had to come to this, Doctor. After Benny and Mr. Anders fought so well with us down in that valley.”
“Believe me, Captain, I’m sorry too. I have formed quite a liking for Mr. Anders. But you must understand that we have no alternative, now. Anders is obviously a dedicated British agent, and always will be. Crater is clearly an assistant of his, and I can see that Phyllis will always oppose me as well. Yes, I think the three of them will have to meet with the same accident I had planned for James.”
“You forgot somebody, Doctor,” Benny said. “I’ve decided to tag along with Mr. Anders.”
Brian O’Connor smiled. “Oh, no, Benny. Not you. To make sense out of anything, I must collect for you, now.”
“Just what do you have in mind?” Jonathan asked. “Malthus has a bullet in him. You can’t fake accidents around something like that.”
“It makes it more difficult, certainly. That bullet will have to come out, as I just said. I am a doctor, Mr. Anders. I had to do my stint of normal medical training before I could attempt to qualify in psychiatry. Of course, the evidence of an operation will remain, so I’m afraid once the bullet has been removed, poor James will have to be destroyed almost completely. I’m rather attracted by this fire business. It certainly consumed the schooner, didn’t it? Yes, I think that James and Phyllis will offer to drive you and Mr. Crater out to the airport. On the way you will have an accident. The road climbs fairly high in certain places, and there is a steep embankment on either side. You will leave the road and plunge down the slope into the forest, and the car will burst into flames.”
“You … you.…” Malthus’ parchment face seemed to glow with rage. He took a step toward the doctor, gave a little gasp, and fell to the floor.
O’Connor knelt, tested Malthus’ pulse. “Poor James has fainted. I’m afraid he has lost rather a lot of blood. Byrne! Stanley! Carry Mr. Malthus into the drawing room, please. I’ll be there in a minute to attend to him.” He glanced at his watch. “Let me see. The first of the taxis with passengers for the morning flight usually leaves Roseau about six; so we should be on our way by five. That gives us three hours. These people can stay in the cellar until then, Strohm.”
“I’d like to wring your neck,” Phyllis Malthus said. “Aristotle! Aristotle! Get him, pet.”
Aristotle did not reply.
“Oh, of course,” O’Connor said, “we must not forget that beastly dog. I’m sure you’d have him in the car with you, Phyllis. Where is he?”
“He ran out the door,” Harman said.
“Well, go and get him back.”
“You hurt Aristotle and I’ll have you before the Humane Society,” Phyllis Malthus shouted.
The captain had already secured Crater’s wrists. Now he turned his attention to Jonathan. “I’m truly sorry about this, Mr. Anders,” he said softly.
“But you’re going along with him.”
Strohm ignored him, went on to Phyllis Malthus. “The lady would be dressed for the drive to the airport, Doctor.”
“Lilian will have to see to it later.” O’Connor opened a door behind the main staircase. “Ah, Byrne, is Mr. Malthus comfortable? Good, I wish you to keep an eye on the prisoners. Take your rifle.” He smiled at Benny. “Would you really like to accompany them, Benny? You can talk over your adventures for the next couple of hours. Stanley, you’d better take the lantern down, and see that it’s filled with oil.”
Stanley lit the wick, led the way. Jonathan felt his way onto a rickety landing, uncertain of his balance with his hands tied behind him. Stanley had reached the foot of the stairs, holding the lantern above his head. The steps led down some eight feet, into a corridor, off which doors opened into six separate cellars, three on each side. The wood of the steps had recently been renewed. Nothing else. Where there had been doorways there were crumbling stone holes, and beyond was only darkness. The stone floor of the corridor itself was submerged by a tangled, slimy green growth. The pitted stone walls were running water, and moisture accumulated on the rotting beams above their heads. There was a constant drip, but there were other noises, too, less soothing, rustlings and scurryings in the darkness, while over everything there hung the dreadful smell of decay.
“I’m not going down there,” Phyllis Malthus said.
“Phyllis, you talk too much,” Brian O’Connor said. “Will you walk, or would you rather be pushed?”
She sighed, clumped down the steps. Crater followed her, and then Benny.
“Now, I am going to lock the door from out here, Byrne,” the doctor said. “Place the lantern in the middle of your charges, so that you will be able to see them, but they will not be able to see you. And you will be relieved in two hours. Is that satisfactory?”
“Don’t worry about me, Dr. O’Conno
r,” Byrne said. “I’m not afraid of the dark. Or the rats.” He sat on the top step, the rifle across his knees. “Why don’t you sit down, lady and gentlemen? So the ground’s wet. It’s cooler than where you’ll be going, eh?”
Phyllis Malthus sat down heavily, causing a fresh scurrying of rats from the darkness. “Oh, I hate rats. I do wish Aristotle were here. He’d show them a thing or two. And he gets so lonely when he’s separated from me. Oh, if anything happens to him I’ll just murder Brian O’Connor.”
“Pity you didn’t think of that a long time ago,” Crater grumbled. “When I think of Gerry.…”
“Pack up the talking and sit quiet,” Byrne said. “You guys make me nervous.”
The cellar became quiet, except for the rats. They were everywhere, their eyes gleaming in the darkness; they rustled and squeaked, while the candle guttered, and the water dripped, and Byrne smoked endless cigarettes, and their lives, Jonathan realized, ticked away. He could only remind himself that he had been equally badly off once before, in the turbulent seas off the coast of Guernsey, and then he had survived. But then he had had friends working to help him, whereas this time all his friends were tied up with him, here in this rotting cellar.
The bolt scraped, and Byrne scrambled to his feet. “Man, you gave me a start. Two hours gone already?”
“Not quite,” Strohm said, and hit the mate a tremendous swinging right-handed blow which tumbled him down the steps. “You people all right?”
“Strohm!” Phyllis said. “Remind me to leave you something in my will.”
“I knew you’d come round, Skipper,” Benny said.
“I didn’t know,” Jonathan said. “But I was praying.”
“I had to wait for the doctor to finish getting that bullet out,” Strohm explained. “He’s just gone upstairs to wash up. You guys sneak out and get into the car and take off.” He finished untying them.
“We can’t leave without Gerry,” Crater said.
“Nor James,” Phyllis Malthus said. “No matter how he’s behaved.”
Operation Manhunt Page 17
