by John Gardner
Solomon’s expression did not change. ‘Only in exceptional cases.’ For the first time Boysie noticed that Solomon spoke almost without moving his lips like a bad ventriloquist. Not a man to be trusted. ‘Are you sure this is wise?’ Solomon asked looking firmly at von Humperdinck.
The little doctor locked eyes with him. ‘I am a man of peace, Solomon. I’ve seen too much blood-letting for one lifetime. But I have ideals. That’s why I am here. When Mr. Oakes sees the project and hears the whole story he might well feel drawn to it. We can always do with another specialist.’ Von Humperdinck turned to Boysie. ‘The only problem,’ he said, ‘is what to do with you until we get to Wizard.’
‘Perhaps I can help.’ Constanza Challis moved voluptuously in her seat.
‘So?’ queried von Humperdinck.
‘Well,’ she traced a line down her cheek with the forefinger of her left hand. ‘We have committed an act of piracy. Right?’
‘Ach. Technically, yes I suppose so,’ admitted von Humperdinck grudgingly.
‘And I am now captain of this ship?’
‘That’s why we hired you,’ Solomon slipped in.
‘Ach, yes.’ Von Humperdinck turned to Boysie. ‘Constanza is a clever girl. She is Cuban but has her Master’s ticket. Great, no?’
‘Great, yes.’ Boysie felt the old longings stirring. The situation was farcical. One bloody great space rocket stolen at sea by a female Cuban ship’s captain, a German-American space scientist and an English heavy. It was too much. Boysie had reached the point where he really wanted out. Or, if not out, at least a retreat into the womb. Any womb. Constanza may have been a tough ship’s master but she was certainly a woman, and you didn’t have to stretch your imagination.
‘I’m trying to make a point.’ The seafaring Miss Challis looked hurt.
‘Go ahead. Nobody is stopping you,’ von Humperdinck gushed.
‘I figure that if we have carried out an act of piracy and I am the captain of this ship then I’m a pirate captain.’
‘Well? Big deal.’
‘In all the old movies we used to see in the States,’ continued Constanza, ‘pirate captains usually ended up with a captured female. You know Errol Flynn stuff.’ She struck a pose standing by the desk. ‘And what of me? Am I to be food for sharks?’ She sat and twirled imaginary moustaches. ‘Ha-ha, me lady, no, you are for finer sport. Take her, men, to me night cabin, and deck her with some of those rich garments we took from the Spanish frigate.’ On her feet the imprisoned lady again. ‘No, I will not tolerate this behaviour. In sooth I certainly will not be made a lackey for a sea-pillaging rat like you.’
‘Solomon,’ said von Humperdinck with creased brow, ‘what is Miss Challis doing?’
‘I’m telling you that I want to take the prisoner, Mr. Oakes here, into my personal custody.’
‘Ach, so. What a good idea, Constanza. Excellent,’ beamed von Humperdinck.
‘Nobody’s asked me what I think.’ Boysie felt the dialogue had not really been running in his favour. Even in a situation like this he liked to be the centre of attraction.
‘Oh, you wouldn’t turn down an offer like me would you, Mr. Oakes?’ Constanza had come alongside. Boysie cast a leering eye over her superstructure and swallowed. ‘’Course I wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘Only, I liked to be asked.’
‘Thank God for that,’ muttered Constanza. ‘It gets me out of a fix. Most of the officers are queer and they tell me it’s bad for discipline if I consort with the crew. This way everybody gets to be happy. Anyway, I fancied you the minute you came in.’
‘Glad to be of service.’ Boysie felt a quiver of anticipation.
‘Good,’ Constanza said loudly. ‘All right. Take him to my night cabin and deck him out in the fine clothes we took from the Spanish frigate …’
‘And put a couple of armed guards on the door,’ interpolated Solomon. ‘Come on, Oakes. This way out.’
‘Yes, and I will want to talk with you later also,’ said von Humperdinck. ‘I think we will all be very good friends, yes. Handle him carefully, Solomon. Carefully.’
‘Like eggs.’ Solomon spoke without humour.
‘See you soon,’ crooned Constanza, and with that, Boysie felt Solomon’s outsize hand grip hard on his biceps and propel him from the cabin.
*
Goldberg, Frankenstein and Meyer looked gloomily at Mostyn who was happily holding forth with some authority. The engines had spluttered to a standstill after only a few miles. Now the cutter drifted, in not unpleasant weather, a prey to the currents and winds.
‘You see,’ Mostyn was saying, ‘I have often had reason to mistrust our friend, Oakes. So, when he came into my firm as a co-director, I naturally needed to take some precautions. Happily Mr. Oakes’ shoe maker was bribable.’
‘His shoe maker?’ said the non-comprehending Goldberg.
‘His shoe maker.’ Mostyn smiled his wise, all-knowing smile. ‘Every pair of shoes worn by Mr. Oakes is bugged. The ‘Footpad’ homing transmitter (Personal) Mark Six. Know it?’
‘Sure.’ Frankenstein leaned back and hooked his right thumb under his armpit. ‘That’s the one they issued to some of the Treasury boys isn’t it?’
‘That’s it. Particularly useful because one can pick up its signals from altitude.’
‘So all we got to do when we’ve got out of this mess is send up a few thousand search aircraft.’ Meyer was turning sarcastic.
‘Hardly,’ replied Mostyn, still omnipotent. ‘I believe certain calculations can be made by the Warbash Admiral’s navigation officer. The area of search will be narrowed down.’
‘We’ve got to get ourselves rescued first.’ Frankenstein looked at Mostyn as though it was all his fault.
‘And what do you think I ought to do about that, chummy,’ drawled Mostyn. ‘Hang me knickers from the yard arm or something?’
*
Night at sea. The gentle sensual throb of engines and the arrow-head of foam cutting away from the ship’s bows. Water, deep as a trance, rocking them far above the cradle of the deep. Only the horizon visible. Black sea running to the edge of the world and giving way to the heavy pearl of a night sky. Two shades separated by a slim line which ran full circle in the distance.
Constanza came to her night cabin around seven-thirty, excused herself immediately and made for the bathroom. Just after eight she emerged and Boysie’s heart quickened. She had changed from jersey and pants into a sleek, hugging black number which made her look exclusively feminine.
‘Evenin’, Cap’n.’ Boysie tugged at his forelock. His clothes had been brought up to the Captain’s night cabin on Constanza’s orders, and Boysie who rarely looked the proverbial gift horse in the larynx, had taken pains with his appearance: midnight blue slacks and the white silk roll-necked shirt with wide sleeves, his chin carefully barbered, and practically every Aramis preparation put to good use.
After dressing, Boysie had stretched himself out on the wide, comfortable bunk, allowed his eyes to wander round the austere cabin. A framed photograph of a large lady grinning, her beefy arms encircling a pair of fat children provided the only relief. Mrs. Bone and the little Bones, thought Boysie.
After an hour or so a couple of the Marines came in and dumped three suitcases. Boysie began to muse over the situation. Never one for running after trouble, he had the wit to see that, however pleasantly his captors treated him, he was dealing with people obviously intent on causing some major globe-shaking shock.
As he saw it, his duty lay in doing the maximum amount of damage with the minimum amount of personal risk. Constanza Challis may well be the most off-beat sea captain he was ever likely to meet, but she certainly offered him an advantage in that he ought to find out something from her during the softer moments of what promised to be a sultry relationship.
Two blond, and unreservedly camp, young stewards served dinner to Boysie and Miss Challis, a reasonable meal of pea soup, which the stewards referred to as potage Longchamps, followed by lamb garnished with rosema
ry, the whole rounded off with crêpes citron.
Over dinner they sketched in their personal backgrounds. Boysie giving Constanza a colourful fictitious story of public school and Cambridge followed by a fantastic life in space research. He even hinted at courageous acts performed during World War Two, leaving her with the distinct impression in reality he was an English milord who only worked because he enjoyed it.
Constanza gave a more guarded picture of her life in Havana, both before and after Castro. Her father, she said, had been one of the wealthiest ship owners in Cuba. Strict with his four children, he made each one prepare for the hard realities of life by learning a trade. As a child Constanza had spent all her spare time around the ships. ‘I had the ocean in my blood and I was what you call a tom cat,’ she said.
‘Tom boy,’ corrected Boysie. Constanza simply shrugged.
When Castro took over, her father’s ships, together with most of his fortune, became part of the state’s assets. But for Constanza it made little difference. She took her Master’s Ticket and, for a year, was the only woman captain in Castro’s fleet. Eventually, fed up with taking orders, she had run for America, a country which she found so completely decadent she decided to live simply for kicks, helping out those most allied with Castro’s ideals for preference.
Eventually the two stewards left them alone with the coffee. Constanza crossed to the door and locked it firmly.
‘You’re really only an adventuress then?’ said Boysie, spilling coffee into their cups.
‘You might say that. I don’t like taking orders. That’s my real trouble.’
‘But you’ll take orders for money?’
‘Doesn’t everyone have a price?’ The way she said it was as though she had resigned herself to a way of life that she did not really countenance.
‘What price is the job you’re on now?’
‘They pay me well.’
‘No. I’m sorry.’ Boysie struggled to explain. ‘“What price” is an English expression. I mean how do you like the job?’
She laughed, showing her fine teeth and the pink tip of her tongue. ‘This is a good one. It has everything. Money. Excitement. Danger.’
‘There’s danger all right.’ Boysie looked serious. ‘You know you’re probably going to get caught?’
‘I don’t think that’s where the danger lies.’
‘No? What if Captain Bone and the crew get picked up sooner than you expect? They’re going to have an awful lot of people looking for you.’
‘Looking for the Warbash Admiral maybe. But the Warbash Admiral has disappeared.’
‘Disappeared?’
‘We have a new name on the side. Now we are sailing in the Prince of Denmark.’
‘You’ll have to change more than the name.’
‘We have done that also.’
‘You think of everything.’ Boysie near to admitting defeat.
‘Not me. Those who employ me. Solomon organized most of it. It’s wonderful what a few sheets of canvas will do. Even from the air she will look like a merchant ship. Certainly not a tanker.’
‘A few sheets of canvas?’
‘Stretched over light frames. We’ve given her a whole new superstructure amidships and changed the line of the bridge. It’s quite wonderful I promise you.’ Constanza paused, looking at him with predatory hunger, the tiny tip of her tongue darting quickly between her lips. ‘Enough talking, my prisoner,’ she said, smiling. ‘Come.’ Constanza stood, stretching out her hand towards Boysie.
‘Now wait a minute, baby …’ began Boysie.
‘I am the captain of your ship, Boysie. Come. I don’t like to be kept waiting.’ The smile had gone. Her hand caught Boysie by the wrist and pulled him, not unwillingly, to the bunk.
*
‘Now look, Constanza …’ Was all he managed to say before both of her long-fingered hands came up to his shoulders and pushed him back on to the bunk. She fell on him, her lips closing on his like leeches. It was as though the male and female roles were reversed. Boysie even found himself struggling for a second until he relaxed and responded to the gentle probing of her tongue.
The kiss went on for ever, diving down through nine thousand fathoms of lust, Constanza writhing, pushing her body against his so that, in spite of their clothing, they revealed everything to each other. Then her hand slid to his knee and began its slow upward search. His zip came down easily and the hand continued its journey to end wrapped hard around him as her other hand took his and guided it to her breast.
She shifted, beginning to undress him slowly, occasionally slipping her lips from his mouth to bite gently on his ear or whisper soft moans.
His own right hand moved from her breast, feeling its way easily to her knee and upwards as her legs opened wide, his hand finding the damp nylon of her pants between her thighs, warm and velvet to the touch.
Boysie lay naked and ready for her. She slid from him with a whispered, ‘Wait, Boysie. Not long,’ and deftly unzipped the back of her dress, slipping her arms from the sleeves, allowing the dress to fall around her feet. She stepped away unclasping her bra, cupping her breasts with her hands before she let the thin fabric and lace fall away to reveal perfect orbs, the skin tight, nipples erect.
Constanza came towards Boysie, hands touching the top of her pants, sliding them down and stepping out in one long flowing movement which brought her to the bunk.
She leaped lightly across Boysie, one hand going down between his thighs, gently goading. Then she mounted him, taking the initiative in strength and speed, riding him in a frenzy, covering his face with kisses and holding on to his shoulders, digging the nails deep into the flesh until the moment when both their bodies arched together and they heard the thunder of heartbeats loud in their eardrums.
‘You always as domineering as that?’ asked Boysie later as they lay together watching the smoke from their cigarettes drift upwards, curling in blue arcs, then disappearing.
‘When I’ve a mind to. You didn’t object.’
‘No. As long as I can get my own back.’
Constanza chuckled. ‘As much as I like you I doubt if you’ve got the strength.’
Boysie raised himself on one elbow, then relaxed again in an admission of defeat. ‘You’re surely going to give me at least one chance. How many nights will we have like this?’
‘Four, maybe five.’ There was a sudden flicker of realization that she had said too much. ‘All right, you caught me,’ she acknowledged.
‘Then you might as well tell me where we’re going.’
‘Would you believe Paraguay?’ She laughed.
‘No. Nor Brazil.’
‘Good. But I won’t tell you. The Sorcerer may, but I must not.’
‘Okay.’ Boysie paused. ‘You said something strange just now.’
‘Strange?’
‘You said this job had everything. Money. Excitement. Danger.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I said there was a danger in you being caught and you replied that you didn’t think that was where the danger was.’
‘Yes, I remember.’ She was lying on her back. He could still see the glistening damp patches on her skin across the top of her breasts where their bodies had rubbed together.
‘Where does the danger lie?’
‘Boysie,’ she sat up and looked at him, a hand half reaching out for his face. ‘I cannot tell you where we are going and I only know part of the whole project, but I want to warn you.’
‘Go on.’
‘I think you will find von Humperdinck a reasonable man, but do not trust Solomon, that one is bad.’
‘I could see that much.’
‘Yes, but I also believe the men he works for are ruthless. I have merely been hired to do a job. To sail this ship from point A to point B. After that I become useless. The more I see of Solomon, the more I think I may become completely redundant when we arrive.’
‘You mean Solomon may …?’
‘He might kill me.
Or have me killed. It depends on his orders, but it’s a distinct possibility.’
‘I’ll watch out for you.’ Boysie’s stomach gave a nervous hesitation roll as he said it. Constanza touched his hand.
‘Thank you, Boysie.’ She said, a hint of anxiety in her eyes. ‘Thank you, but watch out for yourself. I think these people would get rid of von Humperdinck if he wasn’t so important to them.’
That night Boysie dreamed that he was attempting to assemble the giant Saturn rocket under von Humperdinck’s instructions while Solomon prodded him with a gun. At last he got the thing together and miraculously it was standing up reaching into the clouds. The next moment he was high up climbing the face of the rocket and being chased by Solomon, he tried hard to cling to the smooth surface. Then the inevitable, the hands clutching empty air and the terror of falling.
He woke sweating in the dark cabin with only the thud of the engines and the steady breathing of Constanza to keep him company.
During the three days that followed, Boysie saw Constanza only in the evenings, and during one of those she was called to the bridge twice. Solomon imposed a strict routine. After breakfast Boysie was left to his own devices until noon when he was taken down to his old stamping ground, the boat deck observation platform, for an hour long exercise. Another hour was given to him during the later afternoon. By the second afternoon Boysie could not help noticing that it was getting appreciably colder and the nights were drawing in, or, as he had once heard a well-known wit observe, the days were making like dwarfs.
On the fourth morning, Constanza arrived in the cabin unexpectedly.
‘You won’t be going down to the boat deck this morning,’ she told him. ‘The Sorcerer wants to talk with you.’ Then, with a hasty glance at the armed Marine standing just outside the door, she whispered. ‘Be careful, Boysie. I’ll see you tonight.’
Ellerman von Humperdinck arrived just before noon, beaming and motioning the guard to stay well away from the door.
‘A humble place but mine own, doctor.’ Boysie made an expansive gesture with his hand.
‘Ach. Yes, but you must not call me doctor here, friend Oakes.’
‘Why not?’
