by Jack Treby
‘That is nonsense. I was perfectly entitled...’
‘Your business was failing, so you decided to grab all the cash and head off for a new life in Sao Paulo. Made up some cock and bull story about a conference there to cover your tracks. Even brought a gift for one of the directors you were supposedly planning to meet. But you never intended to come back. And you would have left Herr Kaufmann high and dry.’
‘That is a monstrous accusation! It is not true at all.’
‘Oh, it’s true all right,’ McGilton insisted. ‘That was why you were in such a hurry to get there. You wanted to be away from the rest of us before anybody found out what you’d done. You may not be a murderer, Herr Lindt, but you are a thief and liar. All that talk of the superiority of the European male. You’re just a common criminal. You have no integrity at all.’
That was too much for Lindt. ‘And you?’ he sneered, eyeing up the Irishman. ‘Who are you to criticize me?’
‘Oh, nothing. Just another thick Paddy. Not genetically pure like you. No bloodline to speak of. But at least I’m honest, Herr Lindt. At least I know how to treat people with honour and respect.’
Lindt scoffed. ‘You claim to be an honourable man? You are a hypocrite, Mr McGilton. You have no honour.’ He gestured scornfully to Miss Tanner. ‘An unmarried Irishman, travelling across the Atlantic with his Jewish whore!’
I barely saw the blur of McGilton’s arm as it flashed out, but I heard the satisfying crunch as his fist collided with Mr Lindt’s oily face. The man staggered backwards, clutching his nose. He crashed into a table, lost his footing and went sprawling across the floor. I laughed out loud. Blood was spurting from his battered nostrils as he gathered himself together on the carpet. ‘You hit me!’ he exclaimed in astonishment. ‘You hit me!’
Captain Albrecht appeared at the lounge door just as Lindt was clambering back to his feet.
‘Captain! Arrest this man! He has assaulted me!’
Albrecht did not move. ‘I saw nothing, Herr Lindt.’
The businessman shone his eyes across the room. His gaze fixed on Miss Hurst, who was standing quite close to me, by the centre window. ‘Fräulein, you saw what he did to me?’
She shook her head. ‘I was looking out of the window, I’m afraid.’
‘Josef? You saw?’
The tubby German had turned back from the glass. He pursed his lips and looked away sadly. ‘I saw nothing, Karl.’
I couldn’t resist chipping in my own twopenn'orth. ‘You fell over that table, didn’t you?’ I chuckled. ‘You should watch where you’re going, Mr Lindt.’
The man glared across the room. He had no friends here and now he knew it. His hand was still on his nose, which was beginning to dribble blood onto the carpet.
The captain broke the brief silence. A steward had stepped forward to right the furniture. ‘Stefan, you will assist Herr Lindt. Get him cleaned up. I do not want him bleeding in front of the cameras. The police will be waiting to talk to you, Herr Lindt, when we arrive at Lakehurst.’ He stared coldly at the German. ‘And when the ship has been repaired, you will not be accompanying us to Rio.’
Stefan came forward to assist Mr Lindt.
‘You cannot do this to me!’ the man declared. ‘I have paid...’
‘You have got off lightly,’ Captain Albrecht snapped, his voice the harshest I had ever heard it. ‘You will accept your punishment and get off my ship!’
And with that, Karl Lindt was bundled away.
There was a moment of palpable relief. Some people can suck the joy from a room; Mr Lindt had sucked the joy from the entire trip.
‘Men like that give Germans a bad name,’ Albrecht muttered. ‘I apologise for the disturbance. Ladies and gentlemen, Damen und Herren, as you can see, we will shortly be arriving at Lakehurst. There is quite a crowd waiting for us, I am told, but the police have asked that you do not speak to any journalists before they have had a chance to talk to you. I am afraid news of events on board has already reached the American media.’ He glanced down at his wristwatch. ‘We will be landing at approximately twelve forty-five. A coach will take you straight to your hotel, where the police will want to speak to all of you. This is just a formality and nothing to worry about.’ He shot us all a warm smile. I marvelled at the confidence of the man, considering the strain he must be under. ‘You may take a change of clothes with you, but your luggage will have to remain on board. Once it has been inspected we will send it on to you at the hotel. I thank you all for your patience and understanding. It has been a difficult trip but I hope perhaps you will consider flying with us again. Our transatlantic journeys are not usually this eventful.’
We laughed gently at the wry comment.
‘We’ll tell them what an absolutely super job you’ve done!’ Miss Tanner declared. ‘We would never have got here at all if it wasn’t for you and your men.’
Albrecht inclined his head. ‘You are very kind, Fräulein.’
‘It’s the simple truth, captain.’
‘Thank you. Well, if you will forgive me, I must see to our arrival. I will see you all later at the hotel.’
Albrecht put on his cap and strode out of the lounge room.
‘Poor fellow,’ I said. ‘I wonder if he’ll ever fly again.’ It did not seem likely. Not with four deaths on his watch.
‘It’s so unfair,’ Annabel Hurst agreed. I had forgotten she was standing next to me. Even now, I was finding it difficult to believe she was really a man. Every time I looked at the woman, I had to stop myself from springing backwards in surprise. But the evidence was irrefutable.
‘The world’s not a fair place, Miss Hurst. Take it from me.’ In a fair world, Walter Kendall would be heading home to his wife and Jacob Finch would be reporting his triumph to his superiors in London. ‘Oh, I’ve got something for you,’ I said. I reached into my inside pocket and produced a small black passport, which I handed across. ‘The captain said to give it back to you. Not a bad forgery,’ I admitted quietly. ‘It should get you through customs. I’ve spoken to my people. They’re not going to pursue the matter.’
Miss Hurst clasped the passport gratefully to her chest. Not that she had much of a chest. But then she wouldn’t, of course.
‘Too much else on their plate,’ I explained. ‘But if anyone else questions it, I’m afraid you’re on your own.’
‘I understand.’ She unclipped her handbag and slotted the passport inside.
Lucy Tanner had seen me handing the booklet across and she flashed a smile in my direction as she headed off to her cabin for one last change of clothes.
‘What did you tell Miss Tanner?’ I asked. ‘About the passport?’
Miss Hurst sighed gently. ‘The truth, more or less.’
‘Good lord. Not...?’
‘No, not about that.’ She smiled shyly. ‘Just that I’m running away. From my parents more than anything. I told her I didn’t want them to trace me in America, so I invented a whole new identity.’
‘And she believed you?’
‘It wasn’t really a lie. That is what I’m doing.’ She glanced nervously out of the window. ‘A new country. A new life. To tell you the truth, Mr Bland, I am absolutely terrified.’ Her lower lip was beginning to tremble.
‘It’s never easy starting a new life,’ I agreed, anxious to forestall any water works. ‘But I’m sure you’ll cope, my dear.’
‘Will you be going back to England?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m here for the duration. New job and all that. A couple of weeks in New York and then off to Central America.’ I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. ‘Never easy starting afresh. No matter how many times you do it.’
‘At least you have contacts here. People you know. I wish I knew what the future held. I don’t know anybody in America.’
‘I’m sure Miss Tanner will make a few introductions for you. And believe me, if you can fool her you can fool anyone. Lord, five days sharing a room. I don’t think I could have managed
that.’
‘You’re very kind. I wish you all the best for the future.’ She held out her hand.
‘No, no, no,’ I said, refusing to shake it. ‘Start as you mean to go on, Miss Hurst.’ I clasped the hand instead and pulled it up to my face, kissing the back of it gently, as befitted a female acquaintance.
Annabel Hurst giggled shyly.
Maurice adjusted the scarf around my neck and I pulled the hat down tight on the top of my head. ‘How do I look?’ I asked.
The valet stepped back and examined me critically. ‘We have covered most of your face,’ he said.
‘The glasses should finish it off.’ Maurice had a pair of spectacles in his breast pocket, which I could borrow to cover the journey from the airship to the car. I was damned if I was going to let a pack of slavering journalists photograph me and blow my cover. The passenger manifest was a matter of public record, so my name was compromised already, but I wasn’t going to let them have my face as well. That was the one thing I couldn’t replace. ‘I’m going to need a new alias once all this is over. I won’t be able to carry on as Reginald Bland. Not once my name’s been in all the papers.’
‘I am sure the consulate will arrange a new identity for you.’
‘Oh, I’m not going to rely on them. I’ll choose my own name this time, thank you very much. None of this “RJ Bland” nonsense. If I’m going to be a Passport Control Officer, I shall pick my own damned identity.’ I considered for a moment. ‘Something beginning with “B” I think. Perhaps I could even restore my title.’ I was fed up with people addressing me as “mister”.
The other passengers were making their way down the steps from A Deck towards the exit ramp. Maurice and I were standing further back along the lower corridor, between the stairs and the smoking room, whilst my valet made the final adjustments to my disguise. Stefan, the head steward, was standing at the base of the stairs with young Heinrich, waiting to see us all off. Karl Lindt had descended the lower steps first and Frederick Gray was following behind. I could already hear the clicking of cameras and the shouted questions of the journalists as the first of the passengers emerged from the base of the Richthofen. It was rather touching, having the staff see us off like this. Behind us, at the far end of the corridor, the head chef in his mushroom hat was standing next to Max the barman. Max was beaming happily, his enormous hooter in better shape now than Mr Lindt’s battered conk. Not all the stewards were here to see us off, however. The corridor was too narrow and some of the others were carting our hand luggage down a second gangway. I wondered how Miss Tanner would cope with only the one change of clothes.
Josef Kaufmann waved a hand at us as he reached the lower deck and turned right.
The sight of those steps still made me shudder. A day and a half had passed since my unfortunate near exit from the ship but the prospect of tripping down that stairwell again was more than enough to bring me out in a cold sweat. And this time I would have to do it in a state of virtual blindness. Reading glasses were probably not ideal in the circumstances.
Adelina Koenig had arrived at the base of the upper stairs and was babbling a farewell in German to one of the stewards. Her manner was almost friendly. As I watched, her hand shot out and grabbed young Heinrich on the backside. It was a momentary gesture – a quick pinch of flesh that might easily have gone unnoticed – but it was the young man’s reaction that really drew the eye. ‘Good lord!’ I breathed. ‘Did you see that, Morris?’
The valet nodded. ‘Yes, Monsieur.’
Mrs Koenig had pinched Heinrich on the bottom and the young man had not even flinched. He had seemed to expect it. He smiled at her and winked as she passed him by. And there was no mistaking the look in his eye.
‘You don’t think...?’
Maurice had had the same idea as me. ‘It is a possibility, Monsieur.’
I had thought it was Captain Rüdiger who had visited Mrs Koenig’s bedroom on Monday night, but perhaps I had been mistaken. ‘Good grief!’ I whispered. ‘Could it really have been young Heinrich?’ There was certainly no mistaking that twinkle in his eye. ‘Who would have thought it?’ I chuckled quietly. But I couldn’t fault Mrs Koenig for her taste. Heinrich was a handsome young fellow. It was a hell of a risk for him to take, though. A steward could lose his job, fraternising with the passengers like that.
The cameras were clacking furiously as Mrs Koenig stepped out in front of the slobbering hordes. She would be the one pictured in all the American newspapers tomorrow. Women were always the most popular subjects for photographs.
A sudden thought struck me. ‘Those rolls of film,’ I whispered, ‘belonging to Mrs Koenig. You don’t think they might have been photos of young Heinrich?’ I brought a hand up to my mouth and stifled a laugh. Had Mrs Koenig got him to strip off in her cabin or at the hotel in Seville? And then photographed him? It would not surprise me in the slightest. At that moment, the steward caught my eye. He knew I was talking about him and he shot me a sly grin. He was a cocky devil, that one. ‘No wonder she was so upset when those films went missing. She didn’t even get a chance to develop them.’ And I had thrown them out to sea. ‘What a woman,’ I laughed, shaking my head. Sir George had been right about that, if nothing else. The Americans didn’t know what they were letting themselves in for.
Annabel Hurst had arrived at the bottom of the steps. She smiled shyly at me as she headed for the gangplank.
Maurice leaned in. ‘It might also explain the matter of the notebook, Monsieur.’
I regarded him blankly. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘If the young man discovered Monsieur Kendall’s body on Tuesday morning.’
It took me a moment to understand what he was getting at. ‘Oh, you mean, he might have seen the pad there on top of the typewriter and torn out the pages.’
‘It is a possibility, Monsieur. He did not know that Monsieur Kendall had been murdered.’
‘No. He probably thought the fellow had died in his sleep. And what, he picked up the notebook, saw a few disparaging remarks about his lover and thought, where’s the harm in getting rid of those?’
‘Perhaps, Monsieur. It would explain their disappearance.’
‘But, if that was the case, surely he would have confessed to it when he realised Kendall had been murdered?’
‘Not necessarily, Monsieur. To do so, he would have had to admit dereliction of duty. He was meant to be on call in the stewards’ cabin throughout the night.’
‘In case anyone rang the bell. Yes, I see what you mean. A bit off that,’ I thought. ‘Deserting his post. Leaving the cabin empty. What if someone had been ill?’
‘Someone was, Monsieur.’
I blinked, not quite following.
‘Monsieur Kendall.’
I scowled. ‘You have a dark sense of humour, Morris.’
‘Yes, Monsieur.’
‘Now where are those reading glasses of yours?’
He pulled them out of his breast pocket and handed them across.
‘I suppose we’d better head out into the fray,’ I said, putting on the glasses. All at once, the world became a blur. ‘Good grief. I can’t see anything at all.’
A couple of passengers were moving about in front of me. ‘Gosh, I would never have recognised you,’ one of them exclaimed. It sounded like Miss Tanner, but I had to remove the glasses to be sure. Her black curls were barely visible beneath a large bonnet.
Thomas McGilton shook his head amiably, taking in my elaborate disguise. ‘You really don’t want to be photographed.’ He grinned. Behind them, the bald headed Spaniard was heading for the exit ramp.
‘I never did learn the name of your room mate,’ I observed, nodding towards the departing passenger.
‘Oh didn’t I tell you? That’s King Alfonso. He’s travelling incognito.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘King Alfonso,’ the Irishman repeated. ‘He got wind of the election results and wanted to get out of the country. So he hopped on the nearest Zepp
elin.’
I stared at the man in disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious?’
McGilton grinned mischievously. ‘No, I’m just messing with you, Mr Bland. His name’s Gomez. He’s not Spanish at all. He’s Argentinian. He’s on his way home.’
‘You’ll have to forgive my fiancé,’ Miss Tanner apologised. ‘He’s feeling a bit light headed. He’s always like that after he’s thumped somebody.’
‘I don’t do it that often,’ McGilton protested, good naturedly.
‘There’s no need to apologise,’ I said. ‘If anyone deserved a good hiding, it was our Mr Lindt.
Miss Tanner, surprisingly, disagreed. ‘There’s no excuse for violence. Men can be such children sometimes. Thomas thinks he was defending my honour, but I keep telling him, I can look after myself.’
‘She can at that,’ the man agreed. ‘Will we be seeing you at the hotel?’
‘No, I’m meeting up with my own people. Trying to make some sense of all this mess.’
‘Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,’ McGilton said, taking my hand firmly. ‘You too, Monsieur Sauveterre.’
‘Monsieur.’ Maurice bowed his head.
‘Good luck with the in-laws,’ I teased.
‘You must keep in touch,’ Miss Tanner insisted. She touched me gently on the arm and, before I knew what she was doing, she leaned in close and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Steady on there!’ McGilton declared. ‘I might get jealous.’
Miss Tanner laughed. ‘You might have cause to! Mr Bland is a very handsome man.’ Her hand fell away from my arm. ‘You really must find yourself a wife. Miss Hurst is developing rather a soft spot for you, you know.’ She grinned at me and turned away.
I watched as the couple moved towards the steps, making their way out into the grim melee. They were a vexing pair, I reflected with a smile, but well suited to each other.
