Against the Tide

by John Hanley

  ‘So it was an accident?’

  ‘Yes, it was the most unfortunate accident.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Williamson wanted to see Lawrence that day. I was driving. We stopped at Cloud’s Hill but he wasn’t there. We drove into Bovington. On the way, I saw him riding towards us.’

  He stopped. The words seemed to be stuck in his throat. He looked at me, his eyes liquid. ‘As we passed each other, I waved. He looked round in surprise, recognised me and smiled. Then he was gone out of sight over the rise –’

  ‘The black car.’

  ‘Jack, nearly all cars were black then but you’re right – I was driving the mystery car. There was a national appeal to find it but Williamson wouldn’t come forward.’

  ‘But didn’t you stop to help Lawrence?’

  ‘We didn’t see the accident. Williamson decided he wanted a newspaper and told me to drive into Bovington before we went to see Lawrence.

  When we returned, the road was closed. An ambulance shot past us. I asked a soldier what had happened. He mentioned a motorbike accident and I knew immediately.’

  He exhaled deeply. ‘I told Williamson but he ordered me to find another route to Cloud’s Hill. He sent me in to see if I could find anything which might have been incriminating. Stupid bigot. He trusted me – not very bright for a eugenicist.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Eugenics. Breeding humans, keeping the herd healthy. We’ve practised it for thousands of years but only with animals. Like Hitler, Williamson believes in improving the bloodline through selective mating. More importantly, he believes in removing all contaminants. All those with a mental illness, Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals. In short, anyone who isn’t of pure Aryan stock.’

  ‘What? Aryan supermen like Himmler, Goebbels and Goering?’ I’d seen their photographs. It was laughable.

  ‘That’s what I mean about brain cells. The BUF seem to have had theirs bred out of them.’

  I tried to refocus. ‘Did you find anything?’

  He sipped his tea and looked out of the window. His face was gaunt in the reflected sunlight. He made his decision. ‘The less you know about that the better.’

  ‘Why, Uncle?’

  Malita rattled her cup, spat something in Spanish at him then turned to me. ‘Is reason we go to France. I tell you if he don’t.’

  ‘Right, Lita, if he’s that desperate to know.’ He grabbed my wrists. ‘Even she doesn’t know where they are and I won’t tell you. If I don’t survive… then the diaries will never be found, which is just as well.’

  ‘What’s in them?’

  ‘You don’t want to know. It’s the connection with the bike that you’re after, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but this could be the reason why these men are so interested in Boadicea –’

  ‘Possibly – anyway, they were written in exercise books. After I was instructed to steal the bike back by my masters, I rolled them up, slotted them into the tubular frame and sealed it. I crated the bike up, locked it in a garage in Birmingham and gave them the key. I thought the books would be safe there. And they were. The party sent me to Spain soon afterwards.’

  He smiled at Malita. ‘When we returned, they were so grateful they gave me the crate. And that’s it, Jack. That’s the story.’

  ‘At least all you’re going to tell me.’ I must have sounded exasperated.

  ‘For the moment, Jack. One day, perhaps.’

  ‘So, when they broke into your house, they were looking for the diaries?’

  ‘I don’t really know. I have no idea how they might have guessed where they were. The only one who might have suspected I had them was Williamson.’

  He picked up the photographs. ‘This is what’s important now. I have to meet Hélène, show her these, get her advice on the diamonds, but I can’t get to France and they’ll probably stop her getting in.’ He scratched his wiry hair. ‘I wanted to keep you out of this, Jack. You know I did but –’

  ‘It’s alright, Uncle. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. What do you want me to do?’ I just hoped it was something violent to that little Carl bastard.

  ‘I need you to ask a favour of your friend Saul.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘His boat, the Star?’

  ‘Jacob’s Star.’

  ‘Would he take me –’

  ‘Us,’ Malita interrupted. ‘He take us. I go with you this time.’

  ‘Us.’ Fred rolled his eyes. ‘ To Les Écréhous.’

  ‘I see. Clever thinking. Halfway to France – no active customs or immigration, only a few people staying overnight.’

  ‘One of your relations has a cottage out there, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he goes there most weekends though.’

  ‘How about tomorrow afternoon? Do you think he’d let you have the key?’

  Thursday, half-day closing. No school. Saul would jump at the opportunity.

  ‘Don’t worry about the key, I know where it’s kept. I’m sure Saul will help, any excuse to put to sea. He knows about the diamonds but not about Hélène or Lawrence. Are you prepared to tell him more?’

  Fred looked at Malita who nodded. ‘Do you think he’ll understand?’

  I tapped my nose in imitation of Saul. ‘Well I’ll only tell him enough to get to sea. The rest can wait until needed.’

  I left Boadicea with Fred and retrieved my own bike, Bessy, from the yard. On the journey to Saul’s, I tried to make sense of Fred’s story. I found the information about Lawrence quite disconcerting and, should I ride her again, I would feel more wary of Boadicea – perhaps I should call her by her real name and change her sex.

  I was way out of my depth but the anguish caused by Caroline and Kohler grated with me like a broken tooth. I had to resolve that even if the other issues were way out of my reach.

  I contemplated visiting Ralph and showing him my bruised body. I rehearsed the scene in my mind.

  My patronising uncle stood up to greet me. Refusing his hand, I pulled out my shirt. No explanation just a sardonic “thanks” then I marched out without waiting for a response. It was tempting, but what would it achieve?

  I didn’t plan to show Saul my bruises. I didn’t want to frighten him. He laughed at my cricket outfit then ushered me into the kitchen and pointed to his purchases.

  ‘I could only get six tins of Lyle’s golden syrup and I tried three shops. That’s twelve pounds in weight but I’m not sure it’s enough. Have you got any?’

  ‘I don’t make cakes but I know my mum keeps some in the larder. I’ll see what I can find. What about the bleach?’

  He pulled a crate from under the table. ‘Here we are, six bottles of the best. I got some strange looks buying these at the same time as the syrup.’

  ‘You think this will work? Wouldn’t it be easier to dump some seawater in the tank?’

  ‘Much simpler but you’d need quite a lot and if the tank is nearly full, it would spill over. It’s only plan B but, if you can find two more tins, that should give us nearly a gallon of sludge. Add in about the same of bleach. The tank in Hayden-Brown’s boat probably holds about 200 gallons.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Now, if we were to mix some ammonia in with the bleach, we would liberate some chlorine gas and have a nice little explosion.’

  ‘Saul, surely you remember why you were removed from chemistry classes?’

  ‘Spoilsport. The fuel mixture is plan B anyway. Don’t forget that torque wrench. You have to get the injectors back on at the right tension after you’ve dropped the ball bearings in. Everything should appear normal so the engines have to start and run. We don’t want them breaking down in the harbour.’

  ‘I’ve had another thought about that. Those ball bearings will certainly bugger the engines but they may not get very far. We need them to break down way out at sea. I wonder if something smaller but more abrasive might be better –’

  ‘Good thinking and how appropriate. I’ll pick out a handful of the hardest d
iamonds and you can pop them in. Hoist with his own petard, as we naval folk like to say.’ He was getting overexcited now.

  ‘Calm down. We’ve got to sneak aboard first and hope that the key is still where it was when I was last there with Caroline. If we can’t get in without breaking something then it’s plan B. We mustn’t forget the fuel funnel from your boat.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve checked the tides and it’s quite a big one this evening – over thirty-seven feet. It’s not going to be dark until the tide is falling though so we need to wait until after eleven to make the move. I’ll get a taxi to run me and the supplies down there early evening and load the tender. You meet me at the harbour at ten o’clock. Afterwards you can run me back here.’

  ‘Hang on. Do you really think it’s a good idea to get a taxi driver involved?’

  ‘Well we can hardly carry them on your thrusting steed.’ His eyes lit up. ‘I know, I’ll drive the MG.’

  I groaned. ‘Just remind me what happened last time you tried that?’

  ‘So the roads are a bit narrow, I over corrected on a couple of corners –’

  ‘And your father forbade you from ever driving again. He even set up an account for you with Luxicabs so you wouldn’t be tempted. I’ve never understood why he lets you use his boat anyway.’

  ‘Well, what his eyes don’t see won’t worry his wallet.’

  ‘Wallet? My father would drown me in the bloody bilges if I defied him like that.’

  ‘As you know, we can’t choose our fathers but perhaps I’ve been luckier in life’s lottery than you. Never mind the philosophy what are we going to do about the car?’

  ‘How long has it been in the garage?’

  ‘How should I know, I don’t drool over it and polish its arse every week. A month or so?’

  ‘So the battery’s probably flat. Has it got any fuel? Is there a starter handle?’

  ‘Okay, clever clogs, just because you can mate with anything mechanical, there’s no need to be so bloody superior. You can drive the fucking thing, if you want.’ He got up and rummaged in a cupboard then threw me a set of keys. ‘Instead of asking stupid questions, go and have a look for yourself.’

  I caught the bunch and let them dangle from my hand. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all day. Have we’ve got this right? Get your atlas again. I’m still not convinced.’

  ‘Never thought you’d turn into Hamlet. Remember Shylock: “A sentence, come prepare” – surely you’ve sharpened your knife?’

  ‘But we still don’t know if he’s going to use the bloody boat. They could be flying directly to Berlin, freight to Cherbourg –’

  ‘You carry on torturing yourself and looking for excuses to back out if you wish, I’ll get the atlas.’

  Unbelievable, the studious wit, Saul Marcks, had turned into the man of action while I dithered and prevaricated.

  He dumped the atlas on the table and turned to the double-page political spread showing Africa and Europe. Over half of Africa was coloured in the red of the British Empire.

  ‘Look, that green chunk is Belgian: Congo and Ruanda. Apart from Nigeria to the north, Gold Coast, Sierra Leone and tiny Gambia, the rest is run by the Frogs. It’s a good 5,500 miles from those diamond mines by sea but once the ship is in international waters, it’s safe. Try to transport diamonds by rail or road and you have to cross British or French territory. If you can get to Libya, it’s possible the Italians would help but they’d want a big cut. It’s possible by air but they’d have to land to refuel. No, it’s much safer by sea, especially as the Portuguese control Angola which forms the southern border.’

  ‘But why bring the cargo to Jersey?’

  ‘You have to think like Hayden-Brown and his cronies. They can’t rely on foreign customs not sniffing around. They might be able to bribe a few but they can’t guarantee the cargo won’t be intercepted and confiscated. I still think they will have rendezvoused somewhere outside territorial waters, unloaded their samples onto Lorelei and brought them ashore. They would have told harbour control they were out for a spot of fishing and didn’t plan to visit France, so when they returned, there wouldn’t be any customs visit.’

  ‘Caroline did say she thought he’d been to St Malo to collect them –’

  ‘There you are. Perfect. I bet you a pound of biltong to a pint of your sour milk that there’s a cargo ship riding at anchor somewhere between Gorey and Granville.’

  ‘But, you can’t just park your ship in the channel.’

  ‘Of course you can. The territorial waters only stretch for three miles from each coast in this area. So they would be in international waters and safe from any inspection. If some busybody did enquire, they could claim engine problems and say they were trying to fix them and waiting for a part from the opposite side.’

  ‘So you really believe there’s six million carats of diamonds sitting in the hold of some ship just out of sight.’

  ‘Perhaps not six million, that’s a lot of production, but I bet she’s Portuguese.’

  ‘If you’re right, then what we are planning is worth it –’

  ‘And if I’m wrong, it’s still worth it. Just imagine the look on Hayden-Brown’s face when his gin palace seizes up.’

  ‘Plan A will bugger his engines, plan B might. Do we need plan C?’

  ‘Oy fucking vey. Stop it already.’

  His enthusiasm was becoming infectious. Now would be a good time. ‘I’ve got something else to ask you.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Fancy a trip to Les Écréhous reef tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Uncle Fred needs to meet someone from France. Immigration have confiscated his passport.’

  ‘What the fuck are you getting us into? Diamonds, sabotage and now some commie plot?’

  ‘Will you do it?’

  He smiled. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Are you sure? It could be dangerous.’

  ‘Having you as a friend is dangerous but always interesting. If we’re not banged up in prison, I’ll get both of you out there. Hey, we could take a peek to see if I’m right about the freighter.’

  ‘There you are, plan C. Ram the fucker!’

  ‘That’s the spirit. I’ll need some help getting the boat out of the harbour though.’

  I scratched my head. ‘Slight problem. I’m not going to be able to get away until lunchtime.’ I was going to try to find out more about Hayden-Brown’s plans, sneak around his house if I could, but Saul didn’t need to know that. ‘What’s the latest you can leave with the tide?’

  ‘Eleven o’clock and that’s pushing it. If I can get over to the main harbour, I can wait by the lifeboat landing stage but I’ll need help to get the legs in.’

  ‘I’ll bring Alan to help you. He’d love an excuse to skip school for the morning.’

  ‘What, that meschuge brother of yours?’

  ‘He’s fine. He’s also very good with boats. He’ll crew for you. Wait until midday and the rest of them can join you.’

  ‘Rest of them? How many more for God’s sake?’

  ‘Only Malita. You can have a pleasant chat in Yiddish with her.’

  32

  After giving Fred the news and discussing arrangements, I rode back home, trying to work out how best to get Alan’s cooperation.

  He was in the kitchen munching on some toast while scanning the Evening Post. We might not have a telephone but the paper was delivered every evening.

  ‘You’re in the manure’ was his greeting.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘You forgot, didn’t you?’

  ‘What did I forget?’

  He folded the paper, wiped the crumbs away from his mouth and grinned. ‘It’s Wednesday isn’t it, third one of the month? What’s special about that?’

  I groaned.

  ‘Ah, the penny drops. White glove night for the old man. Full regalia at the temple and mum’s knitting circle at the rector’s. I won’t even bother to repeat what Dad said. A
nyway, I did your share so you owe me one.’

  Normally, he’d be so cock-a-hoop that I’d messed up, he would be relentless in his teasing until I clocked him one. However, I needed him on side this evening.

  ‘Sorry, Alan, I’ve been a bit preoccupied.’

  ‘Is that the new word for it?’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you alone.’ That got his interest. ‘I need your help.’

  ‘Yuk. You got two girlfriends, surely you can manage on your own.’

  ‘This doesn’t involve either of them. Just you, me, a couple of friends and a boat trip.’ I waved his question away. ‘Before I tell you any more, you need to swear on whatever it is you hold dear that you will not tell a soul about this.’

  A flicker of alarm crossed his face. ‘Is it legal?’

  ‘Perfectly. Now, will you swear?’

  He got up and walked to the dresser. I thought for one bemused moment he was going to get the Bible but he bent down and scooped up Tonto. The little cat wriggled in his arms as he held him between us.

  ‘I solemnly swear to keep my brother’s nefarious activities secret – on Tonto’s life.’

  The little bundle shot free and rushed up the stairs. I always thought he understood more than he let on.

  ‘Okay, here’s the deal. Tomorrow, I want you to take the morning off school and help Saul get his father’s cruiser from St Helier to St Catherine’s then take a trip around the Écréhous.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘That’s it? Hooking off school and swanning around in a boat? What’s the catch? Who else is coming?’

  ‘Uncle Fred and Malita.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘They moving house?’

  ‘No, and you will be polite. Promise?’

  ‘Will we have time for some fishing and a swim?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will I have to be polite to Saul as well?’

  ‘No, you can be as rude as you like but don’t come crying to me if he rips you apart with his tongue.’