by Jack Higgins
Langley took him down in the Mercedes and the rest of us followed in the Landrover. He actually did get out, but conducted his inspection from the quayside, discussing the Palmyra with Barzini in a considerable amount of technical detail, showing a surprising knowledge of small sea-going craft in general.
Langley finally took him away and we got on with our final equipment check. Barzini went through the list with Nino, then I did the whole thing again, helped by Angelo Carter, just to make sure.
Finally, Barzini and I had a look at the charts in the wheelhouse while Nino and Angelo topped up the tanks from four fifty-gallon drums we'd carried as deck cargo.
"What do you think?" I said.
"We should be all right. I got the weather report on the radio. Three to four wind. Rain squalls. It might blow a little harder before morning, but nothing to get worried about." He chuckled. "Maybe enough to keep this Langley with his face in a bucket."
"You don't like him?"
"Half a man," he said contemptuously. "What is there left to like?" He stuck one of those vile Egyptian cheroots in his mouth. "And this Stavrou." He shook his head. "It must have been a very large stone, but underneath one is where they found him."
Nino called, "Someone coming."
The Landrover came down the dirt road and paused at the end of the jetty. Simone got out, wearing a straw hat, dark glasses, and a bikini and carrying a large beach bag. She glanced towards us briefly, then started down to the shore, and the Landrover moved on.
Langley got out and stood at the edge of the jetty. "Ready for off, are we?"
"Just about," I said.
"Mr. Stavrou would like a word before you go--with all of you."
Behind him, Simone dived off a rock and started to swim out into the bay in a fast, powerful crawl. There was little point in arguing, so I nodded to the others, who were standing listening to the conversation, and everyone got into the Landrover again.
Stavrou was waiting on the high terrace, seated at the table. This time the bottles in the bucket were champagne. The waiter filled glasses quickly and brought them round on a silver tray. He even wore white gloves.
Stavrou raised his glass. "A toast, gentlemen. Fair winds and good fortune."
The whole thing was getting more farcical by the minute. I said, "Can we go now? I'd like to get started."
"Time for another glass, sir, and I'd like a word in your private ear before you leave." He pushed himself up, balancing on the sticks. "Your friend may join us if he wishes. He may find what I have to say of some interest"
He moved to the parapet, Langley carrying his champagne for him and Barzini and I followed. Langley handed him the glass and Stavrou looked over the ramparts. "A long way down, gentlemen."
Nobody made any comment. We all waited and after a while he said, "You are familiar with Greek mythology, Major Grant?"
"Get to the point," I told him.
"I'm thinking particularly of the Theseus legend. When he returned from Crete his crew hoisted black sails, the signal of ill-success, in error and Aegeus the King, thinking his son dead, threw himself into the sea."
There was a heavy silence and even Langley wasn't smiling. Stavrou said softly, "When you are sighted on your return, Major Grant, I shall be waiting up here on the high terrace with your sister and I will expect to see my son on deck as you enter the bay. If not, then I regret to say that history, in a manner of speaking, will repeat itself."
I fought for breath, schooling myself to stillness, fighting to keep my hands off him, for there was no purpose to be served in that--not now. When I finally spoke I was surprised at my own calmness.
"You've got a clump of bamboo down by the fountain that reminds me of Vietnam. The Viet Cong were rather partial to a lethal little item called a punji stick. Sharpened bamboo stuck in the ground smeared with excrement. A nasty festering wound if you stepped on one. I once saw a marine who'd been tied down across half a dozen of them and he'd taken a long time to die. Now I'll do this job for you. I'll try and get your bloody stepson out, but you harm my sister in any way and you know what you get, my word on it."
His eyes were very dark, the face white. Strangely enough it was Langley who tugged at my sleeve and said quietly, "I think we should go now, old stick."
I turned on my heel and went down through the garden without another word and the others followed. We all got into the Landrover and Moro took us down to the jetty. There was no sign of Simone, not that it mattered, for reaction was setting in and I was filled with a blank, despairing, killing rage. I stumbled going over the rail and when Barzini took my arm I started to shake.
"I'll kill him! I'll kill the bastard!" I said hoarsely.
"We'll go now," Barzini said firmly. "Take the wheel."
He was right, of course, for at least it gave my hands something to do. I went into the wheelhouse and pressed the starter, the engines picking up instantly. Nino and Angelo cast off, I took Palmyra round past the Cessna in a long sweeping curve and headed out to sea.
7
Dead on Course
I took the first watch and nobody argued, mainly because I was fit company for no man in that mood. Dusk was falling now, and I switched on the navigation lights and checked my course.
I stood there in the gathering darkness staring out to sea, crushed by guilt for the moment. The consequences, if I failed, were terrible to contemplate and it was all my fault for if I had not been the man I was, led the sort of life I had done, Hannah would not have been touched by any of this.
The masthead light swung rhythmically from side to side and spray scattered across the window. A couple of points to starboard the red and green navigation lights of a steamer were clearly visible. It had its own kind of peace, all this. I felt a little calmer, put her on automatic pilot and sat back in the swivel seat to light a cigarette.
I reached under the chart table and released a spring catch. A flap fell down which held a Stechkin machine pistol in spring clips, a slight improvement Barzini and I had fitted up together the previous evening when Nino and Angelo weren't around.
The door clicked open behind me. I tried to close the flap, too late, and Simone said, "Very neat, but then you always did like to be prepared for any and every possibility."
I said, "What's the story?"
"I waited until you'd all gone up to the villa, then came on board and hid in the engine room," she said. "I had clothes in my beach bag."
"All right--why?"
"Because I couldn't stand being with Stavrou anymore. Because I love you."
"Am I supposed to feel flattered?"
There was a short pause and then she moved forward so that I could see her face disembodied in the light from the compass.
"Not really. But that's what I was told to say." She moved very close now, sliding her arms about my neck, pushing those good breasts against me. "I'm also supposed to prove it in every possible way."
I put my hands on her waist which seemed the natural thing to do. "Stavrou sent you?"
"That's right."
"Does Langley know?"
"Of course."
"I see. You're supposed to help him out. Pass on any useful information and so forth?" I put my hand under the chart table and dropped the flap again. "You could tell him about this for a start."
"I suppose I could." Her lips brushed against my right ear. "I'm sure of one thing. Langley's up to something. I don't know what, but it's a fact of life."
"Why should I trust you now? I tried it once, remember."
"I know," she said. "So you'll just have to chance your arm because what we're talking about now isn't me or you, but your sister." She pulled away slightly. "Whether you believe this or not doesn't really matter, but the first thing I knew about her involvement was when Justin flew her in from Palermo."
"All right," I said. "A change of heart. We'll see." I closed the flap under the chart table, reached up to the bulkhead and dropped another one down containing an Israeli Uzi sub-machine gun.
"Tell him about that one. He'll think you're nicely on the ball."
"All right."
She stayed close to me, her right leg trapped between my knees. I flicked the intercom switch and pressed the buzzer. Barzini said, "What's up?"
"Better get up here," I said. "And bring Langley with you. We're carrying excess cargo."
They were with us in a few moments, Barzini leading the way. He pulled up short when he saw Simone. "What's all this?"
"She's decided to change sides, that's all," I said.
Langley certainly put on an excellent show. "Why, you stupid little bitch," he said. "Stavrou will have your hide for this."
He reached for her and I knocked his arm away. "She's with me from now on, so hands off. I'll sort it out with Stavrou when we get back."
Langley laughed shortly. "Suit yourself, old stick, and much good may it do you. I mean, she has rather been passed from hand to hand. Did she tell you about that whorehouse she worked at in Paris, by the way? All sorts of peculiar goings on there, I can tell you."
She lunged at him and Barzini got in the way. Langley moved out while the going was good, laughing delightedly and Barzini leaned against the door to stop the girl following him.
Simone turned, furiously angry. I said, "I'm damned if I know who put up the better performance. You or Langley."
"What do I have to do to convince you?" She slapped me across the face. "Cut off my right hand?" For the first time there was a hint of genuine distress in her voice. "All right, Oliver, maybe I've spent too much time at gutter level, but you've been there yourself."
"Okay," I said. "If it makes you feel better, I believe you. Take her below, Aldo, and put Nino and Carter in the picture."
He opened the door for her. As she turned to go I added, "Don't forget to tell him about the submachine gun. His reaction might prove interesting."
They left me and I sat there thinking about things for a while. Not that there was any solution, not at that time, so I unlocked the automatic steering, altered course a point to starboard and sat there, hands on the wheel as Palmyra plowed on into the night.
Barzini reappeared after a couple of hours with a mug of coffee. "You get some rest now. I'll take over for a while."
"All right," I said.
He moved past me to take the wheel and I gave him the course. He said, "What in the hell goes on?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. The only thing I'm certain of is that Stavrou hasn't told us everything. That's why Langley was slipped in at the last moment. If it hadn't been for the Arabic thing they'd have come up with some equally valid excuse."
"What about the girl?"
I put him in the picture there. Told him everything including the bit about the Uzi in the bulkhead flap.
"I see," he said. "You think if she tells him about that he'll think she's doing a good job?"
"Something like that."
"Can we trust her?"
"I don't know. She knows about the Stechkin as well, remember."
"I see. She tells him about the Uzi, but doesn't tell him about the Stechkin, means she's on our side?" He shook his head. "How will you know? Langley wouldn't be fool enough to take them. Not at this stage of the game."
"Exactly, so we wait and see. I'm going to get some sleep now. Wake me in three hours and I'll take another turn at the wheel."
I opened the door, moved along the heaving deck, head down against the rain and went below.
I slept in the aft cabin and when I awakened it was almost three o'clock. Simone was fast asleep on the other bunk covered by a blanket, her face calm and untroubled.
Nino and Angelo, I knew, were bunking forward and when I went into the saloon, Langley was lying on one of the bench seats. He seemed to be asleep although I couldn't be sure. Not that it mattered and I went up the companionway softly.
There was quite a sea and cold spray stung my face as I moved along the deck and opened the wheelhouse door. Barzini was standing at the wheel, a cheroot between his teeth. The smell was terrible and I opened a window.
"Don't say it," he told me cheerfully. "I don't know how I stand it myself."
"Years of practice," I said. "What's the situation?"
"Dead on course and making good time. There's been a sea running for about half an hour now. Nothing to worry about. I tried getting a weather report, but there was too much radio interference. Electric storm somewhere out there."
Lightning flickered on the horizon. I eased past him and took the wheel. "I'll spell you again in three or four hours," he said and went out.
I sat there feeling the wheel kick in my hands and outside the wind scattered the rain in silver cobwebs through the navigation lights. It was all rather pleasant. The world, the outside world, in a manner of speaking, had ceased to exist.
It was perhaps a couple of hours later that the door opened softly and Simone came in with a tray. I could smell coffee and something more. The delicious scent of fried bacon.
"Now what are you trying to do, spoil me?"
She put the tray down on the chart table, pulled out a stool and sat down. I helped myself to one of the bacon sandwiches. "I hear you and Langley had your heads together earlier."
"That's right."
"Did you mention the Uzi?"
She nodded. "I told him that I saw you checking it through the window of the wheelhouse."
"And what did he have to say to that?"
"Nothing much." She shrugged. "He said he'd take care of it and told me to keep my eyes open for anything else out of the ordinary."
There was a light on the horizon to starboard.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Malta," I said. "St. George's Head light."
"And how far have we to go?"
"From our starting point to Cape Misratah on the Libyan coast is about three hundred and twenty miles."
I think she'd asked the question more for something to say than anything else. For a while she sat there in silence while I finished the sandwiches and then said with some slight hesitation, "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something."
"All right," I said. "Fire away."
"I read the file Stavrou has on you. Some of the things you did when you were an Intelligence Officer were incredible, but afterward..."
"There was only one difference," I said. "Afterward I did it for rather large sums of money."
She said fiercely, "I don't understand. There was no need. With your background, your intelligence, there wasn't a single thing you couldn't have done if you'd wanted to. Instead ..."
"I turned thief," I said. "To put it in simple and honest terms."
"But why? I don't understand."
"Because I enjoyed it."
"I don't believe you."
"Why not? The kind of intelligence work I did for the army before I was kicked out was simply criminal behavior made legal and I happen to have a flair for that sort of thing."
"You ruined yourself." There was a note of genuine concern in her voice. "What you did for that student who was in trouble in Czechoslovakia was magnificent, but the other things." She shook her head. "You threw everything away. Career, reputation, and for what?"
"Money," I said. "Lots of it. On top of that I've enjoyed it. Every golden moment."
She went out angrily without another word, banging the door. I didn't have much time to consider what she'd said because right about then it started to blow, hail rattling against the windshield like lead bullets.
I checked the chart again, then altered course a couple of points and increased speed, racing the heavy weather and the waves grew rougher, rocking the Palmyra from side to side.
The door opened in a flurry of rain and Barzini came in wearing a yellow oilskin. "So, it starts!"
"Likely to get worse before it gets better," I said.
He looked pleased at the prospect, but then he always had been more at home with a deck under his feet than a pavement. "Good, I'll take over for a while. You
get some more sleep."
I didn't argue, gave him the wheel, negotiated the heaving deck, not without some difficulty, and went below.
Langley was still sleeping, or apparently sleeping, in the saloon, but there was no sign of Simone when I went into the aft cabin. Presumably she was in the galley, not that I intended to lose any sleep over it because I was suddenly rather tired. I closed my eyes and opened them again, apparently in the same moment, to find her shaking me gently.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Almost two o'clock. You've slept about seven hours. Mr. Barzini told me to leave you."
Gray light streamed in through the port hole above the bunk and waves slapped against the hull with a sullen angry sound. I followed her out into the saloon and found Barzini seated at the table eating ham and eggs.
He grinned. "Heh, she can cook, this girl."
He slipped an arm around her waist. She said to me, "See, I'm appreciated by someone."
"That must make you feel warm all over," I said. "If you can spare the time, I'll have the same."
She went into the galley and I helped myself to coffee. "Who's got the wheel?"
"Langley," Barzini said.
I frowned. "What about Nino and Carter?"
"See for yourself."
I opened the door of the forrard cabin and the smell told me everything I needed to know before I looked in. Nino was sitting on the edge of a bunk with a plastic bucket between his knees and Angelo Carter was flat on his back groaning loudly.
I closed the door. "Not so good."
"Men of straw," Barzini said.
I watched him shoveling in the ham and eggs and suddenly my own appetite seemed to have waned considerably. I put down the coffee and reached for an oilskin.
"Tell Simone I changed my mind. I'll go topside and see how Langley is doing."
The sea really was running now and cold rain lashed my face as I went along the heaving deck to the wheelhouse. Langley was standing at the wheel, a cigarette in his mouth.
"Ah, there you are, old stick. Anything to eat down there?"
"I should imagine so." I took over the wheel and he moved out of the way. "How's it going?"
