by John Creasey
“Packets like you had in your drawer this morning.”
“Hashish?”
“Yes – or anything to suggest that anyone on board might be carrying hashish. Did you know that drug-running was now an occupation way ahead of gun-running?”
“I read it somewhere but didn’t believe it,” Mannering said.
“You should have believed it; it’s true. One of the chief drug-runners in the Middle East is Colonel Akbar Kassim. He knows I’m trying to prove it. If he could silence me by killing me or getting me involved in your problems it would help him a great deal.” Naomi glanced at her watch. “John, it’s turned half past one. We’ll be missed.”
“People will probably think the worst of us,” said Mannering drily. “Are you working in an official capacity?”
“I’m working like you – as a consultant. Provided I do what I’m paid for, I can do what I like with my private life.”
“Such as?”
“A little blackmail,” said Naomi lightly.
“That I can believe. Who do you work for?”
“I can’t tell you,” Naomi said. “You’ll have to take my word for it, but I’ll be able to satisfy you later. Meanwhile I’ve looked for the Mask of Sumi and the jewels at the same time as I’ve looked for drugs, John. Two birds with one stone. Do you still think that they’re on the ship?”
Chapter Sixteen
REPLIES FROM LONDON
“So you know about the jewels,” Mannering said softly. “How?”
“I read the newspapers and put two and two together. It wasn’t difficult.”
“No, I suppose not,” Mannering agreed. “Why not tell me that you knew?”
“And spoil your fun?”
“Fun!” exclaimed Mannering. “Was it fun when the knife was nearly buried in your back?”
“No,” agreed Naomi more soberly. “It isn’t really my idea of fun, either.”
“Did you talk to Kassim today?”
“No.”
“Not even by telephone?”
“No. John, I’m sure we should get out of here. Mick might come up at any time.”
“All right, let’s go down to lunch.” Mannering opened the door, glanced up and down the passage, saw no one and stepped out with Naomi on his heels. She closed the door. “Naomi.”
“Yes?”
“Did you find anything in Thomas’s cabin?”
“No.”
“Why did you suspect him?”
Naomi laughed.
“When you know as much about Mick Thomas as I do you suspect him of everything from gun-running to smuggling, piracy to highway robbery. I’m exaggerating,” she added in that half flippant, half mocking way of hers. “But Mick is one on his own. Any tricky job, even if it isn’t strictly honest, and he’s ready for it. He’s one of the last of the great adventurers. A kind of Drake to Kassim’s Long John Silver.”
“Do you know if Kassim deals in jewels?” asked Mannering.
“He is supposed to be very knowledgeable about them,” answered Naomi. “He’s reputed to have rifled some of the ancient Egyptian tombs and sold the jewels found there at fabulous prices.”
“Oh, is he,” said Mannering. After a moment he asked: “Why search Thomas’s cabin today?”
“I knew he’d been to Kassim’s house and he might have brought something on board with him.”
“Did you see him at Kassim’s house?”
“I’ve got a lot of informants in Port Said,” said Naomi.
The door of the dining-room was opened for them by the head waiter.
“I’m so sorry we’re late,” Mannering said. “Do you think we could have a table together?”
“Yes, Mr. Mannering, of course. Mr. Carter and his family have finished, I can have that table laid for you.” The table was in a corner. A dozen people waved, grinned, winked, or leered as Mannering led Naomi to it.
“Thanks,” Mannering said. “Just right.”
“Have you found anything on the ship at all?” Mannering asked when the waiter had taken their order.
“Yes,” Naomi said.
“Where?”
“In your cabin.”
“I know about that lot.”
Naomi leaned across and smiled at him; she was undoubtedly quite lovely and as certainly she was clever and shrewd. “What I don’t know is whether the hashish was really planted on you or whether you had it with you knowingly. After all, you went to see Kassim, you spent a long time with him and he drove you back in his Cadillac. You can’t deny that that’s V.I.P. treatment, can you?”
After a pause, Mannering said: “And are you going to use that against me, as well as my visit to O’Keefe?”
“If necessary,” said Naomi brightly. “After all, I found you in O’Keefe’s cabin and you bribed me to say nothing. You must have a guilty conscience. How much is it worth for me to say nothing about the drugs, either?”
Her eyes were sparkling with good humour but there was something else, too; a hint of seriousness, an intentness which made him doubt whether she was joking.
The waiter brought two trout, nicely cooked in butter.
“I don’t think I’ll play or pay, this time,” Mannering said.
“I think you’ll have to,” said Naomi. “If you don’t I shall tell Captain Cross exactly what I know. He would radio his head office for instructions and they would have to refer to Scotland Yard. There is a lot of activity in the anti-drugs field these days, and a clearing house for information. The Yard would have to take some action. Would you like that? The great John Mannering under suspicion of trafficking.”
Naomi broke off, looking towards the door. A man came in, and as the waiters stood aside Mannering recognised O’Keefe. He stood there for a few seconds, glaring. His fists were clenched, he was red-faced as if with rage.
He caught sight of Mannering and Naomi and came striding across. Before he reached the table he demanded in a carrying voice: “You swine, you gave me away,” he said hoarsely. “They took four thousand pounds from me thanks to your bloody meddling. I’ll break your neck if you don’t give me it back.”
The dozen or so passengers still in the dining-room stared at the trio. The head waiter took two steps forward, but stopped. The waiters went about their jobs, glancing at O’Keefe as they did so. O’Keefe was now standing by Mannering’s side, one clenched fist drawn back as if he was about to attack.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mannering said curtly. “Sit down and stop shouting.”
“Cash or your I.O.U. has got to be in my cabin in ten minutes or I’ll report to Captain Cross. Understand? Ten minutes!”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mannering said. He did not like the glitter in O’Keefe’s eyes, and pushed back his chair for greater freedom of movement. “I haven’t touched your money.”
“Why, you treacherous swine!” O’Keefe roared.
He swung his right fist in a powerful blow at Mannering’s chin. Mannering pushed his chair back and jumped up. O’Keefe followed with another blow which Mannering couldn’t avoid; it caught him on the mouth, painfully. He felt all his pent-up anger and the frustrations of the day erupt. He sent his chair flying behind him, rode another haymaker from O’Keefe and then hit his assailant savagely, one-two to the stomach followed by a jab to the jaw. O’Keefe went back into the arms of the head waiter who came rushing up. Two European stewards moved up in support.
Naomi took Mannering’s arm.
“Don’t lose your head, John.”
He said savagely: “Did you tell O’Keefe I’d seen his money?”
“Of course I didn’t!”
“How do I know you’re not a born liar as well as a born blackmailer?”
�
��John, don’t make it worse.”
O’Keefe, very dazed, was dabbing at his lips, where blood trickled slowly, over his chin. More people were looking curiously, accusingly at Mannering. Mannering squeezed Naomi’s arm, the spasm of rage past.
“All right,” he said sotto voce. Then he raised his voice. “O’Keefe, what makes you think I knew about your money?”
O’Keefe muttered: “I know you did.”
“Is there a thief on board?” a woman asked nervously.
“You can’t make accusations like that without a full explanation,” Mannering said.
“Mr. Mannering, this is a matter for the Captain,” the head waiter put in.
“It’s a matter for the whole ship – the story will be everywhere in half-an-hour. How much money is involved, O’Keefe?”
“You know.”
“How much? Come on, let’s have it.”
“A lot too much to lose,” O’Keefe muttered. He still seemed dazed. “You were in my cabin half-an-hour ago.”
Relief began to trickle into Mannering’s mind.
“I wasn’t. I was with Mrs. Ransom.”
“She’s up to her neck in this with you,” O’Keefe said in a stronger voice; there was a hard note of defiance in it, and a glitter in his eyes, as if he was feeling well enough to be aggressive again. “I had over a thousand pounds in English money in my cabin, and it’s gone too.”
“Did you indeed,” said Mannering. “Why did you keep a thousand pounds in your cabin? Why not hand it to the Purser for safe keeping?”
“That’s my business,” O’Keefe caught his breath. “Mannering, I’m warning you. I know you went down to my cabin. That’s why you were late for lunch. That bitch was keeping watch in the passage.” O’Keefe glared at Naomi.
“Now, sir, I must ask—” began the head waiter.
“To hell with you! You’re all in Mannering’s pocket.”
The swing doors opened and Captain Cross strode in. Mannering noticed a metamorphosis in him as there had been once in Thomas. He took on a greater stature. The smile on his weather-bronzed face was gone, his voice was clipped and assertive – as Mannering had heard it before, although few other passengers had.
“What’s going on here, Griggs?” he asked the head waiter.
“There has been an altercation, sir,” began Griggs, hesitantly. Gradually he warmed to his task and told the whole story. At least forty passengers were in the dining-saloon, most of them standing near, but Cross seemed oblivious of them.
When Griggs finished, Cross said: “I see. Mr. Mannering, have you any objection to having your cabin searched for this 1,000 pounds?”
“None at all.”
“Mrs. Ransom, how about you?”
“I don’t relish the idea, but if it must be searched it must.”
“Captain Cross,” Mannering said.
“Yes?”
“Isn’t it somewhat arbitrary to search these cabins simply on the unsupported word of one passenger?”
“I must do what I think best in the interests of all passengers and the ship,” Cross said. “We cannot stand on the niceties of the law. Don’t you want this cleared up as quickly as possible?”
“Yes.”
Cross raised his voice. “In view of the large number of passengers who have witnessed this dispute and heard the accusations, I shall make a public announcement later in the day.” He turned to Naomi and went on curtly: “This way, please.”
Mannering followed, his heart thumping.
This might be another attempt to frame him and put him out of commission; O’Keefe’s missing money might indeed be hidden in his cabin.
“We’ll go to your cabin first,” Cross said to him. Neither by word nor deed did the Captain hint that he was well-disposed. He talked with absolute impartiality; he would behave that way, too.
Lister and the Number 2 Purser searched Mannering’s cabin as thoroughly as any police.
They found nothing.
Mannering sensed from Naomi’s physical tension that she was as much on edge as he had been, knowing that the money might have been put in her cabin without her knowledge.
No sign of it was found there, either.
O’Keefe looked thunderstruck when he was told.
“You understand, Mr. O’Keefe, that this amounts to a very serious slander and that Mrs. Ransom and Mr. Mannering will have recourse to law if they wish,” said Captain Cross. “I suggest that after dinner tonight, when the passengers will be gathered in the ballroom for tombola, you withdraw your accusations unreservedly.”
O’Keefe muttered: “Yes, all right. I’ll do that. But they must have given me away. Someone did. All that money—”
“If you work the market in currency you must take the consequences,” Cross said stonily. “To use my ship in such business is intolerable. While you remain on board you will do exactly what I or my officers request.”
O’Keefe didn’t speak. He looked as if he was utterly shocked by what had happened.
“John,” Naomi said.
“Yes, blackmailer?”
“O’Keefe thought the money would be in your cabin or mine.”
“I think you’re right.”
“So he must have expected someone to put it there.”
“Fair enough,” Mannering admitted.
“It was a deliberate plot to put both of us out of action.”
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Mannering said lightly, “we think alike about that.”
They were standing by the A Deck rail as the East Africa Star glided through the Canal. On this side there were only earthworks and occasional signs of widening activity; on the other there were market gardens, a rich dark green, some date palms, and beyond the never-ending desert. It was late afternoon, and so hot that a faint beading of perspiration damped Naomi’s upper lip and forehead. The air was stifling.
“He was absolutely sure the money would be found, so—” Naomi hesitated.
“He was absolutely sure that someone put it there.”
“After it had been hidden in one cabin or the other, someone else took it out.”
“We’ve friends aboard,” Mannering said.
“I think it must have been Thomas.”
“Why?”
“He’s got the nerve and the ingenuity. John!”
“Yes?”
“He was in the dining-saloon when O’Keefe began to shout, but I don’t remember seeing him when the Captain arrived. Do you?”
“No,” admitted Mannering. “But I wasn’t in a mood to notice much.”
“I didn’t think you were a man ever to lose his temper.”
Mannering said: “I don’t like hearing a woman called a bitch in public.”
Naomi’s hand touched his lightly.
“Not even if she is one?”
Mannering laughed, squeezed her hand, and let her go. A moment later, Thomas came breezing along the deck, looking a youthful forty although he must be nearer sixty.
“You heard the latest?” he demanded. He slid his arm round Naomi’s waist and gave her a squeeze.
“If it’s the latest dirty story from Port Said.”
“Nothing to do with a dirty story,” Thomas said. “One of the Egyptian salesmen stayed on board at Port Said. They’re hunting for him now. He’s been seen twice by members of the crew, now he’s disappeared again. Make you happy, ducky?” he asked Naomi, and squeezed her again.
The stowaway was curled up in the Indian crew’s quarters, covered by a heap of dirty linen. He had crept here after the spot had been searched. He wore a tattered shirt and a pair of patched trousers, was bare-footed, and small. His dark hair curled in tight ringlets, his eyes even in the poor light of the smelly corner seemed very bright.
He had a mental picture carried from photographs of the man on board whom he was to kill.
Chapter Seventeen
RADIO TELEGRAMS
Mannering left Thomas and Naomi on deck and went below. It was so hot that he seemed to be walking through an oven. His eyes felt prickly and hot after staring so long at the desert.
He had no reason to doubt the truth of what Thomas had said, and every reason for anxiety. He walked along to Pearl’s cabin. It seemed a long time since he had seen her awake and well. One of the Sports Committee stalwarts was sitting in a cabin opposite her door. Whatever Thomas’s reputation he seemed to be doing a thoroughly good job here.
Mannering acknowledged the man, who winked.
Mannering tapped lightly on Pearl’s door, wondering whether she was round yet, and what the effect of the drug would be. There was a flurry of movement and the door opened.
Pearl said: “John, I hoped it would be you.”
As she stood aside, she looked a little sleepy, and had the attractiveness of a child who had just woken. Yet she had been up long enough to change her dress; she now wore a coral pink sundress which left her shoulders and arms completely bare; no one could ever look more perfectly sun-tanned.
“And I hoped you would be awake,” Mannering said. “How are you?”
“I feel so absurd,” she said.
“Why?”
“To allow such a thing to happen.”
“How did it happen?” asked Mannering.
“I allowed myself to be distracted by a man selling some beautiful clothes,” Pearl told him. “That’s really all I can remember. I was examining the patterns when I felt a little scratch on my finger. Could that explain what followed?”
Mannering said: “It could, I suppose. The old Egyptians were as adept as the Borgias with poison rings and knock-out drops. The important thing is whether you feel all right now.”
“I feel very well,” she assured him. Her eyes were brighter now and she looked glowingly fit. “It is almost as if I was given some stimulant.”
