The White Witch of the South Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Not everything. They will no doubt tell their friends that there are Russian troops on Yuloga and that they were held prisoner by them, but they did not see the I.C.B.M.s and they have no idea that the Russians have set up rockets there which could be blasted off at any moment. That is the really important thing. And, of course, the same applies to the two Melanesians. However, there remains James. After all, he is my friend and was my trusted companion throughout this unhappy experience. You can hardly blame me for having told him everything that I discovered during my midnight explorations.’

  ‘Can you persuade him to keep his mouth shut?’

  Gregory shrugged. ‘It is not a question of whether I can or can’t. When he is brought to trial, our having stolen the launch and what happened to us afterwards is bound to emerge. He will be under oath to tell the truth. You cannot expect me to ask him to perjure himself. I hope that I have made plain the situation.’

  ‘Mon Dieu, you have!’ Ribaud snarled. ‘You damn’ clever devil! Now we know where we are. You have come here to blackmail me. If the Ratu is sent for trial, security is to be blown wide open. We’ll have those damn’ Yanks creating hell, and it may lead to an international incident.’

  ‘Now, now, mon vieux,’ Gregory laughed, ‘do not be so irate about it. I am only doing my best to protect my friend, and you would do the same in similar circumstances. The Brazilian deserved all he got and was lucky to get off so lightly. To imprison the Ratu for several years can do France no earthly good. To bring him to trial could result in God knows what trouble; as a small incident in which you would probably lose your job for having failed to see the wisdom of blanketing the whole business.’

  ‘What, then, do you suggest?’

  ‘That you should send for your Chief of Police, tell him that this is a matter of high policy, have him arrange that James and I should escape, then have us flown to his island of Tujoa.’

  Suddenly Ribaud’s attitude changed and he smiled. ‘You old villain. You have got the better of me. But your reasoning is sound. On the greater issue it is the best course to pursue. Very well, it shall be done.’

  Gregory smiled back. ‘Thanks. And I am sure you will admit one thing. I have made no attempt to bribe you.’

  ‘No. And I am glad you did not, for I would have greatly resented it.’

  ‘I thought as much. But now that we have settled matters I should like to ask you a favour.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘When we dined together you told me that you were due to retire next year. And I gather that you are not very well off. I, on the other hand, am very rich. I would like to have the address of your bank in Paris, so that I may pay into it a sum equal to that which I shall have to pay Serieu for his launch. It would at least buy you a magnificent automobile. This, you understand, is just a friendly gesture from one ancien de la guerre to another.’

  Ribaud beamed. ‘Mon vieux, mon vieux, this is true generosity. If you wish it, you and the Ratu shall have an aircraft apiece in which to be flown out.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Gregory waved a hand in cheerful protest, ‘but one will be enough. What I do need, though, is a good lawyer to negotiate a settlement with Monsieur Serieu for the loss of his launch, and to arrange compensation for the waiter. I have ample funds in the United States, but I shall need my cheque book on that account.’

  ‘The police will have taken charge of all the items that you and the young Ratu left in your hotels, so at the proper time the cheque book can be given to you. For the other things you will have to wait, since we must proceed with great caution in this matter. Even Governors General cannot obstruct the course of justice with impunity and your escape will be by no means easy to arrange.’

  ‘That I appreciate, and if it will make things easier for you the Ratu and I must put up with spending a week or two in prison.’

  ‘No, a day or two should suffice. Tomorrow you will be brought before a magistrate. You will, of course, reserve your defence. I will instruct my lawyer, Maître Dufour, to appear for you. Afterwards you will ask him to visit you in your cell and brief him about Serieu and the waiter. Then somehow we must get you out as soon as possible; otherwise there would be a risk of your being brought to trial, and that must be avoided at all costs.’

  ‘Do you think that our escape will cause a great stir?’

  ‘It would if de Carvalho were still here. He would be certain to raise a stink, but fortunately he will not learn for weeks, if ever, that you returned here and were arrested. Luckily, I can trust our Chef de Police and my Commandant de I'Air to co-operate with me when I have explained that this must be done to avoid an international incident. But subordinates will be needed, and I can only pray that they will choose their men wisely. Should one of them betray us, we shall all be in the soup.’

  ‘I appreciate the risk you are running for us,’ Gregory said gravely, ‘but there is one way in which I can show my gratitude. Should we be betrayed and the escape fail, there will then be no avoiding the Ratu’s being brought to trial. On his behalf I give you my word that if there is a trial neither of us will mention that we know there to be I.C.B.M.s under Russian control on Yuloga.’

  Ribaud nodded. ‘That is generous of you. And now, much as I should like to offer you a glass of wine, I must refrain. It would not do for your escort waiting in the corridor to get the idea that we have been fraternising.’

  ‘I agree. Now that we have settled everything, it remains only for you to give me the address of your bank in Paris, then I am ready to be taken back to prison.’

  The General gave it then, as Gregory repeated it three times, stood up. The two old friends shook hands. Ribaud sat down again and struck a bell on his desk. When the escort entered the room he gruffly dismissed the prisoner and half an hour later Gregory was back in his cell.

  On the Wednesday morning he and James were brought before a magistrate. They had not seen one another since they had been charged, and the young Ratu looked greatly depressed; but Gregory found a chance to whisper to him:

  ‘These proceedings will be only a formality. Plead not guilty and say nothing else whatever. You must refuse to talk, too, should a Juge d’Instruction visit you later in your cell to prepare a case for the Prosecution. Leave everything to me and don’t worry too much. I think I have found a way to get you off.’

  James gave him a grateful glance and followed his instructions. At the court they were met by Maître Dufour. The avocat was a tall, grey-haired man wearing old-fashioned pince-nez. In a private room Gregory gave him particulars of the situation; then offered him a handsome fee to take their case, and he smilingly agreed. The proceedings in court took only a few minutes; after which the prisoners were taken back to Police Headquarters. That afternoon Gregory was led from his cell to a sparsely-furnished room in which Maître Dufour was waiting to interview him. With him, the lawyer brought Gregory’s cheque book.

  Having dealt with the claims of Serieu and the waiter, Gregory said that James would ask for the case to be treated as a crime passionel. Dufour then said he would like to have James’ own account of the affair, but Gregory fobbed him off by saying that it would be preferable to leave that for a few days until the Ratu was in better shape, as, at the moment, the thought of his impending fate had caused his mind to become temporarily disturbed.

  Later that afternoon a Juge d’Instruction questioned both of them. Gregory again gave the true story, but James, as instructed, refused to talk. Back in his cell, Gregory could now only wait and hope that Ribaud would succeed in arranging their escape without compromising himself, and that they would get away safely.

  At ten o’clock that night an Inspector whom Gregory had not previously seen came to his cell and said abruptly, ‘Now that you have been committed to trial, in accordance with usual practice, we are transferring you from this headquarters to the prison. Come along now.’

  In an outer office Gregory found James, already handcuffed to one gendarme. He was handcuffed to another, the
n the Inspector led the way out to a large car. The gendarmes and their prisoners got into the back, the Inspector took his seat beside the driver, and the car moved off.

  They had covered about a mile and were passing through a slum quarter when a lorry emerged without warning from a side turning. Their driver sounded his klaxon, then gave a shout. Next moment the police car hit the lorry amidships and, with a grinding crash, came to a halt. This, Gregory instantly realised, was it.

  Even before the gendarme to whom he was handcuffed had said in a swift whisper, ‘Out you get and pull me after you,’ he had his free hand on the handle of the door. Turning his head, he shouted to James, ‘Get out. Pick up your man and carry him if necessary. Then follow me.’

  Pandemonium followed. The lorry driver, the Inspector and his men were all shouting. Gregory was no sooner in the road with his gendarme staggering after him than the man said, ‘Quick; down that alley opposite.’

  Gregory dived into it, dragging the gendarme, who put up only a token resistance, after him. James was hard on their heels, the gendarme to whom he was handcuffed slung over his shoulder. The Inspector had jumped from the car and drawn his pistol. Had the escape been unplanned, he might well have hesitated before firing at the fugitives, for fear of hitting one of his men. To the few onlookers who were about, he appeared to chance that, but actually sent three bullets swishing over their heads.

  The end of the alley was crossed by another. Turn right, then left,’ gasped the man Gregory was dragging along. It was dark there and as they pulled up, the gendarme said with a laugh, ‘You boys in the Deuxième Bureau certainly lead exciting lives.’

  ‘So that’s who old Ribaud has said we are,’ Gregory thought gleefully. ‘Damned clever of him.’ By then his companion had got from his pocket the key of the handcuffs. As he unlocked himself from Gregory, he said, ‘You and your big friend are supposed to have knocked us out. Run on for a hundred yards and you’ll find a car—a blue Citroën. It will take you where you are to go.’

  Having said that, he knocked his forehead against a nearby wall, so that the skin was torn and began to bleed a little, then lowered himself to the ground. James, meanwhile, had set down his gendarme and had his handcuffs unlocked. After a hasty word of thanks to the men who had helped them escape, they ran side by side down the alley. At its end they found the Citroën. A man in plain clothes was sitting at the wheel. As they came pounding up, he threw open the rear door. They scrambled in and Gregory slammed the door behind him. Without a word the driver let in the clutch. Still maintaining silence, he twisted his way through several short, mean streets, then, by way of a long, straggling suburb, to the low land behind the town.

  By then the moon had risen and by its light there could be seen a row of low hangars and a building surmounted by a squat tower. It was the Magenta airport. The driver did not take them to the office but pulled up a hundred yards short of it. Putting his finger to his lips to enjoin continued silence, he got out and led them across the grass to the end of the line of hangars, signed to them to go round to the front, whispered ‘Bonne chance’, then turned and hurried back to his car.

  Walking cautiously round the corner, they saw that a small aircraft was standing in front of one of the hangars. Beside it there were two men quietly talking. On seeing Gregory and James they stopped and waved a greeting. One was dressed in pilot’s kit, the other was an Army officer.

  ‘Messieurs,’ said the officer, whom Gregory now saw to be a Major, ‘you will appreciate that the fewer people who see you leave, the better. Be pleased to go aboard before I summon the ground staff.’

  The plane was a four-seater reconnaissance aircraft. As James and Gregory settled themselves in the rear seats, the latter asked, ‘What about our baggage. Is it here?’

  The Major shook his head. ‘No. Were you expecting it to be? If so, I am sorry; but I was told nothing of this. And we cannot delay. You must leave without it.’

  Gregory was annoyed, as to land in Tujoa without his passport, his clothes and other belongings, was going to cause him considerable inconvenience. But he felt that in all other respects, Ribaud had planned their get-away so efficiently that he could not be greatly blamed for this one oversight.

  The Major blew a whistle, then got in beside the pilot. Vaguely-seen figures of ground crew moved round the aircraft, the propellers began to turn, she glided down the runway, halted while the engines revved up, then took off.

  The tension in case some hitch occurred to prevent their escape had been so considerable that neither of the passengers felt like sleep, and for Gregory the flight proved a fascinating one. Since the war, nearly all his air travel had been in jets, flying at a height of many thousand feet, whereas the small prop plane was travelling at an altitude of only about two thousand.

  As the nearly full moon gradually mounted higher in the sky, he could see the scene below quite clearly. Rarely for long were they out of sight of one of the innumerable islands that in the South Pacific seem almost as numerous as the stars overhead. The majority were no more than atolls set in a blue-black sea that, here and there, broke in white foam on these coral strands. But when they passed over some of the larger islands in the Loyalty Group, mountains, rivers and little clusters of white buildings could be made out.

  After an hour or so he began to tire of sitting at an angle peering down, and his thoughts turned to speculation on the situation they would find in Tujoa. Lacost and his friends had had two clear months in which to work. It seemed as good as certain that their salvaging apparatus would have reached the island many weeks ago. But they had no licence, so it seemed probable that the French Resident on Tujoa would have prevented them from starting operations. Would Lacost have ignored the ban and endeavoured to salvage the treasure clandestinely on moonlit nights or, as de Carvalho apparently thought he would, got fed up and thrown in his hand?

  And de Carvalho? Having sailed from Noumea ten days previously, he could have been in Fiji for the past week. Was he idling his time away in Suva or had he decided that the time had come to go to Tujoa and find out how the land lay there?

  Thinking of Fiji brought Gregory’s thoughts to Manon. What would she be doing now? The story of James’ attack on de Carvalho would for certain have been reported in the New Caledonian papers, and their escape afterwards. As James was a Ratu and the hereditary High Chief of the Nakapoa Group, it was a news item that would have been printed in the Fiji Times, so Manon must have learned of it. But, as they had taken to sea in a small launch and she had heard nothing from him for over two months, the odds were that she would assume James and himself to have been drowned.

  Cynically, Gregory decided that by this time she would be consoling herself with another lover. The thought did not distress him, because he had never loved her. Love for him meant Erika, and only Erika. Other affaires were just fun, to be enjoyed as long as his virility remained. And Manon had been fun: a superb bedfellow, instinctively capable of providing as many amorous delights as if she had been a star pupil in a brothel and, to boot, a highly intelligent companion. In his mind’s eye he could see her now: no true beauty, owing to her receding chin, overlarge mouth and sallow skin; but the skin of her body was satin to the touch, her figure that of a dryad, her common sense refreshing and her laughter infectious. He decided that, as soon as the situation on Tujoa was cleared up, he would return to Fiji and seek her out. He felt fairly confident that if she had taken another lover he would find a way to induce her to give him up and again become his mistress. To spend further nights with her would be well worth taking quite a lot of trouble.

  The aircraft droned on. James was dozing and so was the Major. Gregory decided that he now would also take a nap. As he settled back, he became conscious that the plane had started to come down. Sitting up again, he looked out of the window. They were near quite a big island. The moonlight threw up its mountains and cast deep shadows in its valleys. But there was one broad, open space almost immediately below them. As Gregory st
ared out, he could hardly believe his eyes. There were buildings down there clustered round a dozen huge rockets.

  The truth flashed upon him. Ribaud had proved cleverer than himself. To make certain of keeping France’s dangerous secret he had double-crossed them and sent them back to Yuloga.

  12

  Land Safely or Die

  From having been half asleep, Gregory’s brain instantly began to turn over as fast as a dynamo. He could not altogether blame Ribaud for having done this to him. The General’s first duty lay not to an old friend, whatever trouble he might be in, but to France. Had Gregory been responsible for keeping a British secret of equal importance he felt he would have done the same. Short of having him and James shot, this was the only way in which Ribaud could make absolutely certain of ensuring their silence. That Gregory might have escaped from a fortress in New Caledonia he had accepted, but to escape from the Russians on Yuloga was a very different matter. As he had done so once, they would make certain that he was given no chance to do so a second time. And the first time had been difficult enough.

  There flashed through Gregory’s mind the many nights which they had spent laboriously working with the steel half-shoe-heel on the screws that held in place the gratings of their cells, the scores of hours spent cautiously exploring the island, the nerve-racking delay while the Melanesians repaired the sail of the big canoe, then the desperate risk they had taken of being shot to pieces before they cleared the reef and reached the open sea.

  By now those gratings would have been made permanent fixtures and there would be surprise visits by the guards to the prisoners’ cells, some time each night. Gone for good was any chance of carrying out midnight reconnaissances and, even if one could, there would be little point in them, for it was quite certain that the Russians would have scoured the island for any other abandoned canoes and would have destroyed them. All this made the possibilty of another escape about as remote as had been the chances of getting away from Devil’s Island in the Victorian era.