The Mask of Sumi

by John Creasey

  “How generous?”

  “I’ll settle for two hundred and fifty pounds.”

  Mannering laughed.

  “Generous is one word. Why do you think I went into O’Keefe’s cabin?”

  “Don’t be really silly,” protested Naomi. “He always carries several thousand pounds’ worth of cash with him. He buys a lot of goods for hard cash.”

  “Ah,” said Mannering. “And what am I to pay you good money for?”

  Naomi said lightly: “When the theft is discovered, I won’t say a word.”

  Mannering smiled gently.

  “No deal,” he said.

  “It could be very unpleasant for you.”

  “Yes, couldn’t it?”

  Naomi said: “I can’t make up my mind whether you really don’t care, or whether you think you’re calling a bluff which isn’t a bluff.”

  “You’ll find out,” Mannering said. “Tell me something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Are you hard up?”

  She gave a brittle laugh.

  “Yes, I am. Desperately hard up.”

  “Yet you travel First Class on board.”

  “I’m not likely to meet anyone with money if I travel Tourist,” Naomi pointed out. “Such as you, for instance.”

  “Would you like to earn two hundred and fifty pounds?”

  “Mr. Mannering, sir! If you’re suggesting that I be yours for the rest of the voyage—”

  “Naomi, dear,” said Mannering, “let’s get one thing quite clear. I have a wife at home, and I like a clear conscience. This is a proposal of work.”

  She looked puzzled.

  “On the ship?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t imagine what.”

  “There are five men and two women on board who might have something I want,” said Mannering. “O’Keefe’s one, Corrison, Mehta, Katman, and Nares.”

  “Nares,” she echoed.

  “Don’t you like him?”

  “He’s a whisky-sodden snake.”

  “How much do you know about him?”

  “Quite a lot,” she said.

  “Will you find out everything you can about him and the other four men?”

  “About their love life, do you mean?”

  “About their real reasons for coming on the East Africa Star. And—” he paused.

  “Yes?”

  “Whether they’ve a special hate for me.”

  “Oh,” said Naomi, leaning back and looking at him through her lashes. “You’re playing detective, are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it’s worth two hundred and fifty pounds?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me more,” said Naomi. “Have some great art treasures been stolen, or anything like that?”

  “I’ve told you all I’m going to,” Mannering said. “Will you take the job?”

  After a long pause, Naomi Ransom said: “Yes, John. What about the two women?”

  Mannering laughed. “Leave them to me.”

  “I’ll bet one is the little Malayan or whatever she is,” Naomi said. “She’s the loveliest girl I’ve ever seen. Don’t—” she broke off with a quick smile. “But you’re not on the prowl, are you, in view of that wife of yours?”

  “I’m not on that kind of prowl.”

  “When shall I report my findings?”

  “We can always have a drink together, the romantics will leave us alone if we make it obvious we want to be.”

  Naomi laughed.

  “I always thought I would like you,” she said.

  Chapter Eleven

  NIGHT

  Mannering lay awake.

  They were nearing Port Said and Suez, and he was no further on in the investigation; he still had no idea who had the mask and there were moments, like this, when he wondered whether it was on board.

  There was no wind, and the cabin was hot and airless. There was the usual drone of the engine and buzz of the ventilator louvres, and a few people walked along from Tourist. It must be one o’clock.

  A girl said with a deep sigh: “Oh, I love you so much.”

  A man said: “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  Mannering heard them with only half his attention.

  He had been through every suspect’s cabin, and found nothing to help in his search. Naomi had relayed a great deal of information, and so had Pearl. The information tallied in all but minor details. According to Naomi, none of the men showed any animosity towards him, and only Katman claimed to know anything about him beyond what the newspapers said.

  The two women he had talked to and whose cabins he had searched seemed to be travelling innocently in every way.

  He had been through Naomi’s cabin, and found nothing to help.

  What should—what could—he do next?

  He heard a soft sound at the door; it was probably a rustle of wind, for he felt a slight breeze. Silence fell. He heard another rustle of sound, this time at the window. He was facing it, with his eyes closed. He opened them a fraction, but saw nothing. The ship was moving very slowly, and he guessed they were slowing down for the pilot to take them along the breakwater into Port Said and the entrance to the Canal.

  He closed his eyes again – and heard the rustle.

  Opening his eyes he saw a dark face, eyes glistening, close to the bed. He saw a glint, as of a knife. He flung himself sideways towards the floor. There was a flurry of movement, a sharp snapping sound, a metallic crack. He felt a warm, oily arm and body. He grabbed, but his fingers slid off the arm. He felt the little creature back away and heard him gasp as if for breath.

  “Stop there!” Mannering shouted, hoping to frighten. Padding footsteps sounded on the cabin floor and a dark shape suddenly appeared at the window as the attacker hoisted himself up.

  “Stop him!” Mannering bellowed.

  He snatched a heavy book from the dressing-table as he straightened up, and hurled it. He heard the assailant cry out, but the book dropped to the floor and head and shoulders appeared against the window.

  Outside, someone came running.

  Mannering saw the dark shape disappear through the window, heard a shout followed by a scream.

  “George!”

  Mannering saw the little creature who had attacked him stand on the ship’s rail for a moment and then dive in. There was hardly a splash.

  “Look at that!” cried a man.

  “What a dive!”

  “George!”

  Others came hurrying. By the time Mannering reached the deck a dozen passengers and two English and two Indian members of the crew had gathered, many were chattering, several were pointing. Just visible in the light of the ship was a dark dot of a man or a boy’s head.

  A youthful officer in white was saying: “Which cabin did he come from?”

  “Mine,” said Mannering briskly. “I’m going after him. Rescue me, won’t you?”

  “Mr. Mannering! You can’t—”

  Wearing only a pair of briefs, Mannering climbed to the rail. A man grabbed him. Someone called: “Don’t let him!” He poised for a moment which seemed very long, before diving in. The water was as calm as a swimming pool. He struck the surface, cleft the water, and went under. After another long moment, he surfaced. He could see nothing of the other swimmer, but not far away he could just make out the shape of a boat against the glow in the sky above Port Said. Another ship, lights ablaze, was anchored nearby.

  Mannering swam towards the small boat. A searchlight shot out from the East Africa Star, a vivid beam which began to sweep the sea. It shone on Mannering and the reflection from the water dazzled him. It passed, and caught the edge of the small boat, lost it
, then switched back. A motor-boat with a man in the bows showed up in vivid relief.

  Mannering struck out towards it.

  The beam travelled along the stretch of water between him and the boat, and stopped. He could just make out a shape which might be a head in the water.

  Then he saw a stab of flame coming from the boat. He realised in a flash that the man in the bows was shooting. At him? Fear went through him. He saw two more flashes. The searchlight beam shifted, and for a split second he saw a pair of arms rise out of the water, then they disappeared beneath the surface.

  A roaring sound followed. He could make out the wake of the motor-boat which was heading out to sea, not towards the harbour. He felt chilled by what had happened, and turned round, treading water for a moment, then swimming towards the ship. The searchlight shone on him. He thought he heard a shout. A moment later there was a splash in the water near him; a lifebelt. He hardly needed one but swam towards it. When he was near enough to the ship the men on board began to haul him in. Soon, he was able to climb up a rope ladder let down to him.

  He could see the crowd and hear the buzz of excitement. A lot of passengers had been restless in the heat, and came rushing out. Now there would be questions, questions, questions.

  Some time later, wearing only shorts and a shirt, he stood with Captain Cross in Cross’s cabin. He did not need telling that Cross was in a savage temper which he somehow kept under control.

  “Well, Mr. Mannering?”

  “There was no other hope of catching the man,” Mannering said simply.

  “If you had raised the alarm I could have radioed Port Said and had the motor-boat held.”

  “I doubt it,” Mannering said.

  Cross seemed to have grown in stature.

  “I am telling you what would have happened, Mr. Mannering.”

  “This thing was laid on so well that I doubt if the boat would have gone straight to Port Said,” Mannering said, reasonably.

  “It would have been apprehended with the man in it. Now there is every reason to believe that the man who attacked you is dead. But for you he would probably be alive.”

  “Captain Cross,” said Mannering, softly, “you know as well as I do that I did the only thing which offered a reasonable chance of catching my attacker.” He leaned forward towards a desk, on which was a broken knife – the blade had snapped close to the handle. The knife thrust, meant for him, had hit with such force against the wall that the blade had snapped. “The fact that his accomplice shot him isn’t on my conscience and needn’t be on yours.”

  Cross said coldly: “I think we will leave each other’s consciences out of this. I have given you all the co-operation I possibly can. You have grossly abused it.”

  “By diving into the sea tonight?” Mannering began to feel angry in turn.

  “This has simply brought the situation to a head. Nine of my passengers have complained about their cabins being searched.”

  “Nine?” echoed Mannering.

  “Nine. It must stop, forthwith.”

  “It must indeed,” said Mannering. “Yes. Nine, you say.”

  “You heard me.”

  “I certainly did,” agreed Mannering, “but—oh, never mind.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  Mannering hesitated, and then said slowly: “I don’t think any passenger would know I’d been in his cabin, even if I had.”

  “You may not be as expert as you appear to think.”

  Mannering drew his breath in sharply, bit on a sharp retort, and said: “If I’ve caused you any difficulties or embarrassment, sir, I’m really sorry.”

  Cross was staring, half-frowning. Then, as if mollified, he said: “I accept that, Mr. Mannering. But it must stop.”

  Mannering said: “Can I look at the list of complainants?”

  Without a word, Cross got up, took a folder from his desk and handed it to Mannering. He ran his eyes down the list of passengers. O’Keefe was on the list; so was Katman; the rest were only vaguely familiar names.

  He looked up.

  “None of these have complained because of me. I haven’t been in their cabins.”

  “Are you asking me to believe that?” Cross asked, coldly again.

  “Captain Cross,” said Mannering, “I haven’t lied to you yet and I don’t intend to.” He picked up a pencil and ticked off the unfamiliar names. “I’ve no interest at all in any of these people.”

  “You mean—someone else has been in the cabins?”

  “Presumably.”

  “Good God! I took it for granted that it was you.”

  “Has any of them missed anything?”

  “So far nothing has been stolen, but drawers have been opened and wardrobes and suitcases searched.” Cross stood up. “I don’t like this one bit. I assumed there was nothing to worry about except excessive enthusiasm on your part. I was going to tell you to stop it, because it’s beginning to be talked about among the passengers.” He looked stunned. “Do you think someone else could be looking for that damned mask?”

  “It’s possible,” Mannering said, although that was the last thing he had expected and certainly the last he wanted. “How much talk has there been?”

  “Enough.”

  “It hasn’t reached me,” Mannering said. “What time do you expect to tie up?” He saw from the wall clock that it was just after four.

  “About six o’clock: the pilot’s coming aboard at five. We’ll be here until eleven or twelve, when the noon convoy to the East will start through the Canal.” Cross was silent for a moment. Then he gave a quick laugh and said: “You’ve had quite a night. Like a drink?”

  “Very much.”

  “I can manage a whisky and soda,” Cross said. “If you hadn’t woken up, that boy would have killed you.”

  “Boy?” echoed Mannering.

  “Your description sounds as if it was a boy. They can swim like fishes and dive from great heights. Absolutely fearless.” Cross had his back to Mannering, pouring out the drinks. “You were a bloody fool to dive off the ship, but a lot of George Medals have been handed out for the same kind of thing.” He turned as he spoke. “Cheers.”

  Mannering drank.

  “Cheers.”

  “What made you think it was worth it?”

  “If I’d caught him he would have talked.”

  “About who had put him up to it, eh? Yes, possibly. But he would have named the boatman and the boatman would have named someone else, and by the time you’d started talking to the police the ship would have sailed.”

  Mannering said: “It was worth trying.”

  “Answer me a question, Mannering, will you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s in this for you?”

  Mannering said: “I don’t know that there’s anything. Possibly a profit if I negotiated a sale for all the Crown Jewels of Sumi, but that’s not certain.”

  “Then why risk your life?”

  “Mine is threatened, Pearl Toji’s is threatened,” Mannering pointed out simply.

  Cross deliberated.

  “I see,” he said at last. “I suppose the truth is I don’t really understand you but I admire your courage if not your good sense. Do something for me, will you?”

  “If I can.”

  “Find out who is searching these cabins.”

  “If I get any indication at all, I’ll tell you,” Mannering promised. “What have you done so far?”

  “Reported that a motor-boat brought a thief near and the ship was boarded,” answered Cross. “The Egyptian police will assume that it was a particularly daring attempt at burglary.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes,” said Cross. “We don’t know for certain that the swimmer was shot
and killed. They’re tough, these Egyptian teenagers, and your chap may have been older than you think. If I’d reported the attempted knifing it would hold the ship up a long time. Days, possibly. These Egyptians co-operate very well these days but they would want to get their teeth into this one.”

  Cross hesitated, and then demanded: “Do you want the attack reported, Mannering? If you insist, it will be done.”

  Chapter Twelve

  PORT SAID

  Mannering said with a faint smile: “I’d rather it wasn’t reported.”

  “I thought you’d say that,” said Cross. “I hope it’s the best thing to do. Going ashore?”

  “Yes,” Mannering said. “Yes, I think so. Two passengers get off here according to the passenger list.”

  “Four get on,” Cross told him. “Do you want us to try to check what is taken off the ship? We can’t do here what we did at Gib, you know. The police will want the whole story before they’ll co-operate.”

  “If the man with the mask wanted to get it ashore at Port Said he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to get me,” Mannering reasoned. “He must have written from Gibraltar, or sent a coded cablegram, or one of his agents might have—”

  “Come aboard when we slowed down,” Cross said. “It can be done all right and it’s quite easy after dark. The disquieting thing, surely, is that your man could call on someone in Port Said and lay this on. Are you sure that only this Mask of Sumi is involved, Mannering?”

  “As far as I know,” Mannering said cautiously.

  Cross’s expression seemed to say: “You may not know very much.” Aloud, he said: “No one would go to these lengths for jewels worth twenty-five thousand pounds, surely.”

  “It’s a thought,” Mannering said. “Is there any word from Tourist?”

  “Except for three young couples, two girls and four young men all going out for short-term appointments in the Civil Services or the schools, we know them all,” Cross said. “They’re all fairly regular travellers, and all live in East Africa. Most Tourist passengers are simply anxious to get to their destination as quickly as possible, without frills. We seldom have any odd men out down there.”