Death's Foot Forward

by George B Mair

  ‘Which just goes to show once again the difference between professionals and amateurs,’ smiled Chang. ‘I confess that I have slipped up there. Any suggestions? This ship can do 23 knots. Not fast enough I suppose.’

  ‘Not by a long chalk,’ said Grant thoughtfully. ‘Better go on bluffing. Send a radio shore-side and say that a temporary repair has just been completed but that before giving it a final O.K. the engineers want a test run. Say we’ll do a few tests and report progress in an hour. Ask them to let Intourist know and say you want a hotel for tomorrow night. Suggest throwing a party and say that you’ll have the officers ashore before morning. Explain that you appreciate all the help you have been getting and that your guide-interpreter has been invaluable.’

  Silently Chang pressed a bell and delivered a stream of instructions in Cantonese as the ship’s captain reported a full head of steam. Minutes later they heard the staccato beat of the radio-operator’s morse and sat impatiently chain-smoking until he returned with a buff-coloured flimsy. ‘All well,’ said Chang curtly. ‘Permission granted for a trial trip. Intourist is reserving a suite and we have refused offer of help.’

  The vessel was already throbbing silently to the beat of her powerful engines and nosing southwards into the night when they heard the clang of signals from the bridge. ‘Full ahead.’

  ‘What about the police?’ asked Grant quietly.

  Chang shrugged his shoulders. ‘We shall put them off on a small boat somewhere near the Turkish coast and let them fend for themselves.’

  ‘And how about your original guide? When and how will she be released?’

  ‘That is absolutely none of your business,’ said Chang curtly. ‘One of my Moscow people will handle that and I am not prepared to discuss the matter with anyone. I might, however, remind you that without my help both you and the young lady would still be on the run and with a very fair chance of being either jailed or dead within a few days.’

  ‘Meaning that I owe you something?’

  ‘Yes. These space-germs are highly important, or I certainly wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to get you out of Russia alive. And it was no part of our contract that I should rescue your girl friend, so the least you can do is prove that they are safely in your possession.’

  Grant shook his head. ‘Not until we are in safe waters. Anything could happen tonight. Your radio message will have gained us an hour or so at the most, but when monitor stations see that we are really on the run they’ll send an aircraft after us for sure.’

  Chang glanced at his watch. ‘We have been aboard for just under one hour and we ought to have travelled about fifteen miles since we received official permission to have the so-called trial trip. But a great deal has happened since then. Would you care to go out on deck?’ Lifting a lightweight evening coat he draped it round his shoulders and pointed to the door. ‘Let me show you round.’

  Maya slipped her hand through Grant’s arm and together they stepped on to the bridge. It was a glorious night of full stars and velvet blackness relieved by a shimmering half moon which tinted the low waves of the Black Sea with silver as they rippled towards the Crimean coast, now only a dark haze in the distance. The vessel was alive with action, shadowy figures working furiously aft on the ’tween deck putting the finishing touches to superstructures which had completely changed the lines of the ship. A second, and dummy, funnel had also been lifted into position and the boat deck continued aft to fuse with the poop. ‘All prefabricated for this purpose from lightweight alloy materials,’ smiled Chang with a self-satisfied shrug of the shoulders, ‘and all capable of being morticed into position within fifty minutes. In fact we carry them with us all the time. Our name has also been erased and you may notice that you are now sailing under the Liberian flag on s.s. Kulikoro, registered in Monrovia.’

  But Grant was watching two men painting in the new name on nearby lifeboats. The set of one head was familiar and as the man climbed down from his short ladder to open a fresh tin of paint his features were caught against the reflection of light from a saloon. He was wearing dark blue denim uniform, but Grant rarely forgot a face and could still remember the scraggy feel of the man’s neck as he had half-strangled him in Lyveden Hall six months earlier. So he had been Chang’s man after all, he thought grimly. No wonder it had been so easy to get rid of him! Gritting his teeth, he turned away and patted Chang softly on the back. ‘Very smart indeed. But what about Formosa Lily? The Russians aren’t all that stupid. If they send out a reconnaissance aircraft they’re going to want to know where she is. And they’ll also want to know where the hell we’ve come from.’

  ‘That has already been taken care of,’ said Chang impassively. ‘Listen.’

  The crackling of morse was again ripping out from the radio-operator’s cabin and at the same time there was a heavy splash as a derrick load of timber and spars were dropped overboard. A fifty-gallon drum of oil was emptied out at the same time, and as the last drops poured on to the dark sea below Chang lighted a cheroot and smiled. ‘We are now notifying Yalta that an unidentified ship has blown up a mile to port and that she appears to have sunk with all hands in less than two minutes.’

  ‘But that in accordance with the finest traditions of the sea we are carrying on without looking for survivors.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Chang grimly. ‘We are now going to sail round and round in circles until some Soviet aircraft or ships arrive on the scene and only then shall we continue, having first reported that no survivors have been picked up and that we shall make a full report on arrival at our next port, which ought to be Istanbul.’

  ‘What a very thorough man you are, sir,’ said Grant quietly.

  The tone of his voice made Chang look at him suspiciously. ‘You sound as though you are either envious of the amateur or else that you don’t approve.’

  ‘Neither,’ drawled Grant. ‘I just admire efficiency.’

  ‘Then perhaps you will feel more efficient yourself in the morning,’ said Chang. ‘And since we are all needing a good sleep I suggest that we leave everything to my captain. How about bed?’

  A steward had appeared as though by magic. ‘This boy will show the young lady to her cabin, and since you will be using the guest suite next to my own I shall see you to the door.’

  Grant squeezed Maya’s hand and forced a smile. ‘Off with you, sweetie. See you at breakfast.’

  The girl stood uncertainly watching the two men. Grant was leaning easily against a broad teak rail and lazily dropping ash into the sea whilst Chang stood in the background studying the slowly glowing end of his cheroot. Everything looked very normal but she knew Grant well enough to sense the quivering expectation which was seething behind his deadpan face and drawling accents. ‘Follow me, pliz,’ smiled the steward.

  ‘Bed,’ said Grant quietly. ‘Your troubles are over. Sleep tight and pleasant dreams.’

  Impulsively she stretched up and brushed his cheek with her lips. ‘Goodnight, David.’ And then she paused beside Chang and held out her hand. ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough. See you tomorrow.’

  Chang watched her walk away and then turned to Grant. ‘Well, sir. What exactly have you got on your mind?’

  ‘Only bed,’ said Grant smoothly, lifting his case and pointing towards the saloon.

  ‘And your sample of bacteria?’

  ‘I’ll show you it tomorrow.’

  ‘May I take that as a promise?’ Chang’s eyes were wary and his manner coldly formal.

  ‘Yes,’ said Grant curtly. ‘As soon as we are in safe waters I’ll show you the damn thing even if it is only to stop you nagging. And now how about bed?’

  Chang paused at the door of the guest suite. ‘Ring if you want anything. A steward is always on duty. And don’t worry about being disturbed, because my captain is well trained and there should be no trouble of any sort during the night. At least so far as you are concerned.’

  Grant sighed with relief and reaction as he closed the d
oor and flopped down on the bed. He could have slept for weeks. But first a bath! An hour later, and fresh for the first time since leaving Maya’s house almost two days earlier, he took stock of his position. He knew that Chang proposed to cut straight across the hundred and eighty miles of narrows from Yalta to Inebolu on the Turkish coast. Already they had travelled at least twenty and were in international waters fully fifteen nautical miles outside Soviet jurisdiction. A point which wouldn’t matter one solitary dime in hades if the Russians guessed what they had been up to. On balance, however, he reckoned that nothing would happen. Chang would get away with it. And doing twenty knots ought to take them off Turkey by morning, even allowing for time lost cruising around a patch of oil and drifting spars until rescue ships hove in sight. With luck they would be entering the Bosphorus on the following afternoon. Cautiously he took stock of his assets. The bag was safe. Carefully he manipulated the fusing device to detonate five minutes after opening the snecks and then stowed the thing under his pillow. His Parker pen was still unused. Leaving it carelessly clipped against the pocket of his Malayan jacket he hung the suit in a spacious built wardrobe and hoped that the delicate mechanism was still working. His ring was also still loaded and the magnetic watch-clip had been repolarised a week earlier, but the Magnum had been removed by Sokolnikov in the Torture House and his arm-pit felt uncomfortably empty. The precious ampoule of space-sickness germs was also still in his handkerchief pocket, probably the last place in the world Chang would expect him to carry it, and all in all, he reflected, he still had a trick or two up his sleeve.

  Before switching off the light he bolted the door, double checked that there was no other obvious entrance and then set his own private mental alarm to trigger off at the first unusual sound. The bed was deep and comfortable, his pillow stuffed with down, and the extra blanket unnecessary. As he was dozing off to sleep he heard the droning hum of aircraft circling overhead and sensed the engines slowing to half-speed, all part of Chang’s sustained bluff to whip his prize away from the most heavily guarded country in Europe. And nothing less complicated could possibly have worked, he reflected sourly, as he dropped at last into the slumber of near exhaustion.

  He wakened only twice during the night: once when shouting voices showed that messages were being exchanged with another ship, probably some sort of gunboat, he guessed dopily. And the second time when the engine-room bells again clanged full ahead and quivering bulk-heads and furniture showed that she was touching top speed in her dash south-west.

  In the morning he wakened to the glowing comfort of sunshine streaming through his cabin window. Rolling hills piled several miles to port and a small Turkish fishing smack was lying against the wind almost within hailing distance.

  Neither Maya nor Chang appeared for breakfast and he ate alone on the boat desk, sheltered from the breeze by a plate-glass screen which had not been there the night before.

  The ship had again changed her lines. The extra funnel and dummy deck had been removed and a fast painting job had again been worked with the name. No doubt, he thought grimly, Formosa Lily would register arrival at Istanbul and be completely ignorant of all the excitement on the previous night. The mysterious explosion would be accepted as one more Russian mystery and be forgotten in the week. And whatever way one looked at it, he grinned, Chang deserved a pat on the back. For sheer effrontery his bluff would be hard to beat.

  After breakfast he unearthed a paperback from the ship’s tiny library and was immersed in an Agatha Christie when Chang with Maya joined him for coffee. The girl was radiant. ‘Think of it,’ she laughed. ‘Istanbul in a few hours and all these horrible things forgotten. You are the two most wonderful men I’ve ever met.’

  ‘When do we enter the Bosphorus?’ asked Grant, forcing himself to keep his voice level.

  ‘Shortly after luncheon,’ smiled Chang easily. ‘Say three o’clock. Are you impatient to go ashore?’

  ‘Yes, I was just thinking it might be a good idea to fly home all together. These bugs are beginning to worry me. I’d like to see the last of them.’

  ‘And I’d like to see the first of them.’ Chang’s manner was vaguely menacing. ‘You promised to show me your prize once we were in safe waters. Surely this is safe enough?’

  ‘Not for me,’ snapped Grant dryly.

  ‘You say that as though you had something on your mind, Doctor,’ said Chang quietly. ‘How about putting some more cards on the table.’

  Grant eased his chair over towards Maya and stretched out comfortably. ‘First I’d like to know the true story of Lyveden’s house-boy. You probably remember reporting that he had died before being questioned by your captain as to what he had been doing at Lyveden Hall. And yet he’s now a crew member of this ship. How come?’

  ‘Anything else?’ asked Chang slowly.

  ‘Yes. The whole thing has been handled quite artistically, but it has been impossible for me to have a private word with Maya since we came aboard, and, having a suspicious mind, I’d say you were trying to keep us apart.’

  ‘And is that all?’

  ‘No. I’m also curious to know why you’re in such a god-dam hurry to lay your hands on these bacteria.’

  ‘Any more aces up your sleeve?’ Chang was now sitting motionless and bolt upright, his eyes narrowed to slits above a mask-like face which looked more sallow than ever in the brilliant sunlight.

  ‘No,’ said Grant cautiously, ‘but I don’t mind bluffing, and I’ll lay you fifty to one that you don’t mean to share this secret with anyone. My private bet is that you figure on taking the ampoule back home to Formosa and letting your own people build up a nice little reservoir of bugs for use against the Communists across the water. Your pal, Chang Kai Chek, hasn’t a hope of ever occupying China through either military or political means, but if he drenched the country with space-sickness he might stage a comeback to Pekin before the end of the year. And I don’t fancy an epidemic started by Nationalist China any more than I do by Russia.’

  Maya was staring at both men, her face again lined and tense as she watched Chang’s fists clench with rage. ‘I was right about your instincts, Mr. Grant. You would have won your bet. My own country does come first and it is true that there seems little or no chance of overthrowing the Communists in my lifetime. These germs, however, would alter the picture completely and I had hoped to take them from you peacefully, but if you are going to be difficult I am afraid you will have to accept the consequences.’

  ‘How about Lyveden’s house-boy?’

  ‘He was relatively unimportant, but I decided that a tape of our conversation would be a useful jog to memory so I planted him in Lyveden’s house as soon as I knew we would be meeting there. I like to keep detailed records.’

  ‘And why have you kept Maya and me apart?’

  ‘Your own imagination. Nothing like that was intended. But now that you know my position may I ask you for the ampoule?’

  ‘And have I your promise that the thing will be used only against Red China? Would you be prepared to hand over a specimen to America and Britain as a guarantee of your good faith?’

  Chang shook his head. ‘The weapon will be used only against Red China but I don’t propose to share it with anyone.’

  ‘And what if I have guessed a step ahead of you and thrown the damn thing away?’ As he relit his pipe and carefully tossed the match overboard Grant was eyeing Chang with a speculative curiosity which reminded Maya of their hours with Sokolnikov, and a shiver of fear ran up her spine.

  ‘In that case both you and the young lady would have to disappear, because it would be against my country’s interests to have you running around with a story like that, quite apart from making it difficult for me to use Lyveden and Alvis for my own purposes in the future.’

  ‘One more point. What happened to the two Soviet policemen?’

  ‘Naturally one couldn’t have them returning to tell the true story of Formosa Lily, and so, regrettably, they were thrown overboard ea
rly this morning with their feet firmly embedded in a keg of cement. That was a method favoured by the Russians during their revolution so it seemed appropriate.’

  ‘And if I do agree to give you the ampoule?’ asked Grant.

  ‘Then you will accompany me to Formosa as honoured guests and be released with a suitable reward after my scientists have proved the value of your specimens.’

  ‘Everything cut and dried, in fact,’ murmured Grant sarcastically. ‘Except for the fact that if I did play ball with you I would be finished at home.’

  ‘Quite!’ said Chang dryly, ‘and that makes me hope that you might then be prepared to accept an offer of service from myself. The salary would be adequate even for your expensive tastes. And I can use a man of your resources.’

  ‘Even although he was a traitor and had sold out to his own people?’

  Chang raised his eyebrows sarcastically. ‘Being an Oriental tyrant, as you once called me, I have no illusions about that sort of thing. Money and power are the only things which count with men like ourselves. I want power and you want money, so we ought to be able to work together.’

  There was a long silence whilst Grant drew steadily at his briar. ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll see you. The bag is in my cabin and the story about it exploding on opening is a bluff, so you can send a steward down for it with complete safety.’

  Chang smiled apologetically. ‘Pardon my suspicions, David Grant, but I wouldn’t put it beyond you to be working a double bluff and I don’t want either my men or my ship damaged so I’ll wait for you here with the young lady and you can handle the bag yourself. Knowing, of course, that if anything untoward happens she will join her fellow countrymen in the sea. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘As crystal,’ said Grant, glancing swiftly around before stepping past the others into the saloon which led to the cabins. The coast was less than two miles away and the Bosphorus could lie only a few miles ahead. Inside his suite he lifted the bag, made sure that the fuses were set to detonate in five minutes and opened the snecks. The cabin was at least eight feet above the water-line but a ventilating shaft had been built into one wall. Prising out the grid he forced the bag through and listened to it slither down inside until he reckoned that it had been blocked by a right-angle bend, probably below water-level. He then placed the glass ampoule in his hip pocket, eased out his Parker 61 and returned on deck. ‘No explosion, you see, Mr. Chang. And you’ll find the ampoule inside this pen.’