The Pirate Ship

by Peter Tonkin

  ‘Both. I’m the solicitor for both of them.’

  ‘I see. Please wait here, Mr Balfour. Captain.’

  They eyed each other as they waited. ‘Well,’ she said grudgingly, ‘it’s a start, I suppose.’

  ‘We’ll get there,’ he promised.

  ‘This afternoon. I have to see him today.’

  ‘I can’t promise, Robin.’

  ‘I know you can’t, Andrew. But … Oh God …’

  A door nearby was opened and the thin sergeant said, ‘Please come this way.’

  He led them into a corridor with doors all along one side. At the third door he stopped, then he opened it and showed them into a small interview room. There was a table and a selection of wooden chairs. ‘Would you like tea?’ he asked gently.

  He brought them tea himself, hardly keeping them waiting at all. It came thick and dark in big porcelain mugs. The sergeant put the mugs on the table, arranged some milk and sugar, and left.

  ‘One extreme to the other,’ said Andrew, thinking of the thimbles the Chiu Chow tea had come in. Robin said nothing. Her control was so obvious and so clearly costing her so much to maintain that she could almost have been screaming at the top of her voice. When he looked at her, Andrew thought that she seemed to be shaking and he remembered the way she had shaken last night after the incident in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. She is really absolutely extraordinary, he thought to himself. I wonder what this chap Richard Mariner is like? He must be quite something to have a wife like this one. And he found to his surprise that he felt a little jealous of his client.

  The door opened again and the sergeant was back. This time he was carrying a pile of paper. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he said quietly, sitting down, ‘I have a few questions I must ask you.’

  ‘Is this necessary, Sergeant?’ demanded Andrew, tempted far beyond his normal boundaries by his empathy with Robin.

  The sergeant looked across at the solicitor with an absolutely expressionless face as his hands arranged the papers neatly and then reached up to his pocket for a pen. ‘It is the procedure,’ he said quietly. ‘You know that Mr Balfour.’

  He unscrewed the top of the fountain pen and then turned slightly towards Robin. ‘May I have your full name, please, Captain Mariner?’

  They were partway through the third form when the door opened and a round, Buddha-plump man in full blue uniform with commander’s insignia and a side arm stepped into the room. Andrew looked up and hoped that his face betrayed nothing. But there was no concealing the mutual recognition. This was Commander Victor Lee and he was a very important officer indeed. ‘That will be all, Sergeant Ho,’ said the commander and the sergeant came to attention at once, turned and left the room without even putting the top back on his pen.

  The commander replaced the sergeant and looked at the uncompleted forms. He seemed to be arranging his thoughts, or the words in which he was going to couch them. But Robin had run out of patience. ‘When can I see my husband?’ she asked.

  Lee’s long eyes flicked from one Western face to another.

  ‘Whenever you like, of course,’ he said.

  ‘Now!’ She leaned forward, almost incandescent. ‘I want to see him at once.’

  ‘Naturally. I think we can arrange an interview in almost no time at all. Of course you will want your solicitor there and, at the first meeting, we will also want observers both from the Royal Hong Kong Police and the coastguard authorities and the hospital, if that is acceptable.’

  ‘Now wait a moment, please,’ said Andrew. ‘That is most unusual. What is going on here, Commander?’

  ‘One step at a time, Mr Balfour. Has Captain Mariner any objections?’

  ‘What if I have?’

  ‘Then this interview is at an end and I look forward to dealing with your fully completed forms when they reach my desk in due course. Next Wednesday, let us say, or Thursday.’

  Andrew actually gasped. This was blackmail! The commander must be desperate about something if he was willing to run the risk of holding this conversation in front of a solicitor.

  But Lee had underestimated his opponent. ‘You have accused my husband of murder,’ she said.

  ‘I have. I did so thirty-six hours ago.’

  ‘There is a strictly limited time before you are required to allow him to see a solicitor. You will certainly have to allow him to see a solicitor long before the middle of the week.’

  ‘Captain Mariner has not asked to see a solicitor.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nor has he asked to see you, Mrs Mariner. He has shown no desire to see you at all, and has signified in due form that he does not require legal representation.’

  ‘No!’ She was half out of her chair. But once again, that enormous self-control held her back.

  Andrew thought he saw a logical explanation. ‘If he’s insensible,’ he said, ‘if he’s in a coma …’

  The commander looked at him with a slight narrowing of his eye. ‘Captain Mariner is wide awake,’ he said shortly. ‘How else could he have signified anything? But we are wasting time. I will allow you both to see him this afternoon, under the conditions I described. Or you can put your request through normal channels. It is up to you.’

  *

  Given that the Commander Lee was obviously up to something, and playing a very risky game indeed, Andrew was surprised that he let them ride up to the hospital together. Until, made a little paranoid by his deep distrust of the officer, he suddenly wondered if he had had the Aston Martin bugged. But no; surely even the police would have found it impossible to get through the vehicle’s defences, plant a bug and then get out again without a trace in the time. Wouldn’t they? Andrew decided to keep it in the back of his mind at least. The Aston Martin rolled out into the solid traffic crawling like cool tar up Connaught Road towards the distant tunnel entrance.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘Isn’t that why I’m paying you? To tell me what to think?’ There was enough of a smile in her voice to rob the words of offence.

  ‘All right. In that case you think Commander Lee is up to something.’

  ‘What sort of thing is he likely to be up to?’

  ‘With Lee, so I’m told, you never can tell.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when you need to know. Right now we need to concentrate on this interview.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Look, Robin, I’ve got to start with this. Why are you so desperate to see him?’

  ‘Because I love him. What would you do if someone you loved was accused of mass murder?’

  ‘Academic question with me, I’m afraid. But OK. If you love him so much, how come you know so little about what he was up to? Was he cheating on you?’

  The possibility was so remote she didn’t even get offended. ‘No. And anyway, he did get in contact. It’s just that the messages got lost.’

  ‘All right.’ Andrew didn’t sound all that convinced. ‘Then why didn’t he report in to Heritage House in more detail?’

  ‘No idea. He’ll have had his reasons, though I am surprised. He’s always been so careful.’

  ‘Could he be protecting you, then?’

  ‘What from?’

  ‘From whatever he’s got involved in.’

  ‘But he’s not involved in anything!’

  ‘He is, Robin. He’s involved in mass murder at the very least. He may not have done it but he is involved in it.’

  ‘Yes. That’s true. But you don’t understand.’

  ‘Don’t understand what?’

  ‘You don’t understand Richard. He’s not the sort of person things just happen to. He makes things happen.’

  ‘All right. Let’s say that he was at least partly in control of things to begin with. He can’t have been in control of things at the end, can he?’

  ‘No. No, you’re right, he can’t.’

  ‘So how will he have reacted to that?’

  ‘In what way?’
<
br />   ‘Look, Robin, we have to consider this. Could it be that he hasn’t contacted you or asked for legal representation because … I don’t know … because he’s had some kind of breakdown?’ He rushed on in case his words were too painful for her. ‘You know, he could be going through some kind of rejection or something, refusing to face reality, I don’t know …’

  ‘I suppose it might be possible. But that’s not the man I know. I can’t imagine anything hitting him that hard.’

  ‘Not even forty deaths.’

  ‘Not even that.’

  ‘All right …’

  ‘He was involved in the Gulf War, you know.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I haven’t had time to check.’

  ‘And in the civil war in Mau.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘He knows about death. He does. It wouldn’t have broken him.’

  ‘Then what do you think is going on? What do you think he is up to?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  It was at this point that they turned down onto the tunnel approaches. The traffic congestion eased at once and their speed picked up considerably. Andrew checked all around him as best as he could but he could see no cars which looked anything like a police car. He was fairly certain that, unless there was a car in the tunnel near enough to tape their conversation, they could not be overheard, even had the sinister Commander Lee managed to place a bug aboard somehow.

  As the tunnel entrance closed over them, therefore, he took his foot off the accelerator slightly and began to speak more rapidly. ‘Look. They can only be doing things this way because they want to shock you into saying something unguarded or because they want you to shock Richard into saying something unguarded. Were you being absolutely honest with me when you said he was always absolutely honest with you?’

  ‘Yes, I was.’

  ‘You’re certain he couldn’t have got himself caught up in anything clandestine?’

  ‘Nothing of his doing.’

  ‘Ah. So he might consider doing something less than legal on someone else’s behalf?’

  ‘Not illegal, no. But he is an absolute friend. Once he makes friends with someone then it’s one hundred per cent. I suppose he might have got caught out doing someone a favour.’

  ‘But nothing illegal?’

  ‘No. Nothing.’

  ‘All right.’ He drew breath. ‘Right!’ he said again, thinking at feverish pace. ‘Look. If they aren’t hoping to shock Richard into making any revelations, then maybe they’re hoping to shock you. Had you thought of that?’

  ‘No, I hadn’t,’ she admitted.

  The opening of the tunnel was showing in the distance. Andrew was thinking at fever pitch. ‘Who do you know in Hong Kong?’ he asked. ‘Hong Kong or China? Who do you know?’

  ‘Well, no one, really …’

  ‘You don’t sound too certain.’

  ‘Well, it’s odd.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I only really know two people in this neck of the woods. And both of their names came up today.’

  ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘Well, Charles Lee. He is a senior executive with Heritage Mariner. He’s in Beijing at the moment. He’s from Hong Kong.’

  ‘Charles Lee. I see. And the other one?’

  ‘It was that sergeant. Sergeant Ho.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We have a senior steward, retired a couple of years ago from our tankers at Heritage Mariner. He was from Hong Kong. His name was Ho.’

  ‘First name?’

  ‘I don’t think we ever knew it. We just knew him by his nickname.’

  ‘Oh yes. That’s not unusual. What was the nickname?’

  ‘Twelvetoes.’

  The Aston Martin actually swerved off line. Then it swung back again, heading for the growing circle of white light. ‘You know Twelvetoes Ho?’

  ‘Yes, I do. He’s an old friend.’

  ‘My God! You do realise … Well, you just stay on your guard, that’s all.’

  ‘What? Andrew? What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing! It’s not germane now. I’ll explain later. Just stay on your guard, that’s all. Twelvetoes Ho! My God. Really! I mean it. Stay on your guard.’

  Even as he said this, the Aston Martin came out into the daylight at the point where they had plunged southwards little more than twelve hours earlier. Robin sat up, preter-naturally aware of the change in conversation he had risked while they were in the tunnel. ‘Is there anything else I should be careful of?’ she asked.

  ‘Please,’ he said, ‘please try not to say anything unless I sanction it. You never know.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘You never know.’

  *

  Commander Lee was waiting for them in the reception of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, bouncing up and down impatiently on the balls of his feet. His whole demeanour bespoke impatience, but the more overbearingly fussy he became, the more slowly and carefully did Andrew react, and Robin was careful to follow her solicitor’s lead. His words in the car had not been as well-chosen as he would have liked, she suspected, but wisely she tried to clear her mind of the half-comments and innuendo which had arisen during their conversation in the tunnel, and the speculation these gave rise to. She focused instead on the very clear series of warnings he had given to her, like a drunk concentrating on walking a line. And the comparison with a drunk was not ill-founded, she knew, watching herself with as much detachment as she could summon. Even though the catatonic sleep of last night had done much to restore her, her body was still playing dangerous tricks on her because of shock and fatigue.

  The lift door opened and the three of them stepped in, Commander Lee tutting quietly to himself in such a pantomime of frustration that Robin began to wonder whether the plump police officer was indulging in some kind of double bluff and really wanted them to slow down further for some dark reason of his own.

  ‘We were lucky with that typhoon,’ observed Andrew, oozing calm and confidence.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, a little breathlessly. ‘I thought it would get stronger and stay longer.’

  Silence.

  ‘It’s certainly a beautiful day today,’ she continued a little desperately. ‘What do you think, Commander?’

  From the manner in which he looked at her, Commander Lee clearly thought she was going insane. Desperately, she tried to think of a stratagem which would begin to break down that chilly reserve. Some tiny, unexpected point of etiquette such as she had exercised on John Shaw. But, calculating consciously, especially under these circumstances, only made her mind go blank.

  Andrew tried. ‘It is unusual for an officer of your seniority and reputation to be involved in a case of this sort,’ the young solicitor essayed.

  Lee’s long eyes glinted. ‘You are making an insinuation?’ he snapped.

  Andrew had failed.

  The lift arrived and the doors hissed open. Robin was finding it hard to breathe now. Her cheeks were burning and her head throbbing. She was seeing slight bright flickers at the outer edge of her vision. She had not suffered a migraine since her late teens. God, she hoped she wasn’t starting to have one now.

  There were two armed guards on the door this time, perhaps Commander Lee warranted more back-up than Captain Huuk. They slammed to attention as soon as they saw him, and the effect was not lost on either Robin or Andrew. He pushed past them fussily and rapped smartly on the door. He waited for a count of three and then opened the door. Andrew took Robin by the left arm and they walked in side by side. Andrew’s grip was more for restraint than support, but in fact neither was needed. There was nobody in the room at all.

  It was a simple little interview room, more like the room they had just left in the police headquarters than a room one would expect to find in a hospital. There was a table with a set of chairs on each side of it, a door behind them which they had just come through and a door in front of them which remained closed. On the right was a window with a Venetian blind which was closed. And that
was all.

  ‘What is going on here?’ said Andrew, clearly sinking out of his depth.

  Robin felt as though she was drowning. With an increasing sense of unreality, she looked across at her solicitor and registered the concern and confusion on his open, almost boyish face. She looked across at Lee who stood like an amber Buddha, hard, cold and inscrutable. She suddenly realised that Richard must be dead. That was all that could make sense in the circumstances. They were breaking all the rules because the rules didn’t matter any more. They needed to take no care over their preparation for the case because there would be no case. Because there was no accused any more. She turned back to Andrew and her movement broke his grasp on her arm at last.

  ‘Richard’s dead,’ she said with absolute certainty. ‘That’s the only explanation. Richard’s dead.’

  As she said it, the door opposite opened and Richard came in. He was wearing a hospital gown which came down to his knees like an old-fashioned nightshirt. He had flip-flops on his feet which were far too small. He was wearing a white gauze bandage round his head and his hair stuck out over the top of it in black spikes threaded with grey. His long face was lined and pale. His lantern jaw was almost black with stubble. His eyes gleamed like sapphire flames. Behind him came Captain Daniel Huuk and a short man in a white doctor’s coat, like a couple of pilot fish following a great shark, but neither Andrew nor Robin really saw them. Richard filled the room, easily dominating it, even in this state.

  Robin stepped forward, literally entranced, and Andrew was too slow to catch her. She only stopped when she reached the table and even then the force of her impact against it made it judder noisily on the linoleum floor.

  Richard’s blue eyes fell on her then and he stopped moving too. Just for a moment they stood there, looking at each other in utter silence, while the others in the room, each with his own personal agenda, looked on.

  Then Richard said, slowly, ‘I know you. You are …’ and he stopped, frowning with concentration, his eyes fastened on her pale and desperate face. Then he smiled, with dazzling self-congratulation. ‘You are Robin. You’re my wife …’ The smile faltered. ‘Aren’t you?’