The Mask of Sumi

by John Creasey

  Cross said: “The window.”

  “We can see the marks,” said Lister. “And the door hasn’t been opened. We had a man in the passage all the time.”

  “Not on the deck outside?”

  Cross said: “We had no reason to think O’Keefe would open his window. He said he would bolt it and turn the holding screw. If we could find out who persuaded him to open—” He broke off and added with refreshing candour: “Damn fool thing to say.”

  Lister was looking hard at Mannering.

  “Have you any ideas?”

  “Where was Thomas?” asked Mannering.

  “He can be accounted for every minute since six o’clock when we know O’Keefe was alive. He’d been drinking in the smoke-room, and didn’t change for dinner. Stewards and passengers are positive.”

  “Mrs. Ransom?”

  “She was with Thomas all the time.”

  Mannering said: “What are the chances of finding out who was seen near the window on the Tourist promenade deck?”

  “We’ve got a list of thirty people,” Lister said. “Mostly Tourist.”

  Mannering said harshly: “I wish we had those photographs here instead of at Aden.” He lit a cigarette as he went on: “Did the prisoner say anything?”

  “He was paid to do this by a white man – that’s all he says.”

  “Likely story,” said Cross, gruffly. “It’s what he was told to say if he was caught.”

  “This possibly imaginary white man is supposed to have given him those photographs,” Lister put in. “He was an ingenious devil, keeping free as long as he did.”

  “Was he sheltering in a cabin?”

  “There’s nothing to suggest he was, and he’s told us all the places he hid,” answered Cross. “Mannering, you’re more used to this kind of thing than we are. Have you any ideas about it at all?”

  “The certain thing is that O’Keefe wouldn’t open his window or door except to someone he trusted. The assailant’s voice wouldn’t fool him, but an English – or even a familiar – voice would. I don’t think it was from the window.”

  “I tell you we’ve seen the marks,” insisted Lister.

  “I mean I don’t think someone lured him to the window and killed him there,” Mannering said. “He was lying on the bed. The killer got in while he was resting and reached him without causing any alarm.” He was staring at the window in the Captain’s cabin, concentrating as he talked. “No one could leave the door unlocked – after any visitor had gone out, O’Keefe would have locked it. But if someone he trusted came in his attention would have been distracted. His visitor could have unbolted the window and loosened the holding screws.”

  “Good Lord!” exclaimed Lister.

  “Very ingenious,” Cross said. “Probably how it happened, too. Then O’Keefe would lie down, feeling quite secure, and the stowaway would be able to lower the window and climb in. They move like shadows, these Arab boys.”

  “Then we’re looking for someone whom O’Keefe admitted to his cabin,” Lister said.

  “Seems like it,” agreed Cross.

  “Will you have a go?” asked Mannering.

  “I certainly will.” Lister hurried off, and when he had gone Cross said briskly: “Thanks, Mannering. And I’m very glad you escaped. Awful voyage, though. Have you any hope at all of seeing the end of the trouble by the time we reach Aden?”

  “Yes,” Mannering said. “I think I know who we’re after, now.”

  “Thomas, I suppose,” Cross said gruffly. “I can restrict him to his cabin if you think that would help.”

  “I don’t think it would at this stage,” Mannering said. “We’re more likely to find those jewels if the master-mind is free.” He sounded flippant but there was a bleak look in his eyes. “When will you have the police on board?”

  “At Aden if necessary, but strictly speaking this comes under the United Kingdom authority. If we can catch him and prove the case against him, we can probably have him taken off by the Aden police and flown back to England. Mustn’t forget this man Harding who’s supposed to be in Tourist,” Cross added.

  “If we could get those photographs earlier—” Mannering began.

  “Well, we can’t,” said Cross.

  “Are you so sure?”

  Cross frowned. “Now what’s on your mind?”

  “They should be waiting for us at Aden now,” Mannering pointed out. “But our man is bound to be aware of that and will make his plans accordingly. If we checked by radio-telephone and found the photographs there we could have them put on a ship heading towards us from Aden.”

  Cross said softly, “And have them transferred at sea, eh? No, don’t interrupt, let me think.” There was a long pause. “Yes,” he said at last. “It could be done. We could send a boat across to the other ship to collect them. Both ships would lose half-an-hour but that wouldn’t matter much. We’ll telephone the agents first thing in the morning.”

  Mannering went down to his cabin, pondered, and then thrust a pin into the sleeve of his jacket. He placed it very carefully, then went up to the promenade deck. Strains of music from the dance band came along the deck. A group of young people came hurrying and laughing. An elderly couple sat reading, a few individuals sat around reading or dozing. It was ten o’clock, Mannering went to the bar, and Thomas turned from it.

  “What’ll you have, John?” he asked promptly.

  “Whisky and soda, please,” said Mannering.

  “You need something to celebrate. Damned close show you had.”

  “They’ve been closer,” Mannering said drily. “Thanks. Cheers.” As he was sipping his drink, others of Thomas’s Committee came along.

  “Come on, you two – you ought to be dancing.”

  Mannering went into the ballroom. A dozen couples were dancing a tango. Naomi was with Corrison, who danced extremely well. Pearl was dancing with young Joslyn, who looked thoroughly happy, but very hot. Pearl danced with a flowing grace and rhythm which attracted everyone’s attention. Mannering saw the plump woman sitting on her own and went over to her. She was fanning herself, and her face shone with sweat. The band played with a vigour and an abandon which seemed out of place, almost an affront to the dead. Everyone seemed determined to defy the clinging Red Sea heat.

  The music stopped, the band played the rally for a Paul Jones. When the two rings of people stopped, women inside, men outside, Mannering found Pearl opposite him.

  “Hallo, John. Where have you been?”

  “Detecting,” Mannering said lightly.

  “Must you, tonight?”

  This dance was a slow foxtrot.

  “Especially tonight.”

  She was light as a feather, and very close to him.

  “I feel I want to forget it.”

  “Still?”

  “More than ever.”

  “Still having pleasant dreams?”

  “They’re not really dreams,” Pearl protested.

  “I know,” Mannering agreed. He swung her round, and slid his hand along the small of her back. She was quite cool.

  She winced.

  “Did I tread on you?” asked Mannering. “Sorry.”

  “No, something pricked me.”

  “What?” asked Mannering, sharply.

  “I’m sure it did.”

  “Let’s go and see,” Mannering said, and led her off the floor. “What was it like?”

  “A sharp pain – oh, nothing, but—”

  “Like the one when you examined the clothes in Port Said.”

  Her eyes lit up.

  “Just like that.”

  They were on the promenade deck where a few chairs were dotted about but no one was lounging now. Under a lamp, Mannering said: “Let me see.”

/>   She turned round. In the small of her back was the tiny scratch made by his pin, and there was a globule of blood. He dabbed this off with the corner of his handkerchief.

  “It’s nothing to look at,” he said. “I’m trying to think who was dancing near us at the time.”

  “John,” Pearl said. “You’re not trying to frighten me, are you?”

  “I want to make sure you’re alive to all the dangers,” Mannering said. He squeezed her. “You’re too precious to be injured, you know.”

  She said in a startled voice: “Precious? To you?”

  “Very precious.”

  “But—your wife, Lorna?”

  “She’s a long way away,” Mannering said deliberately. “And I have a feeling you are precious to her, too.”

  Pearl was leaning against him. Out in the still sea the lights of a ship showed, like an island in the darkness; above them a tiny segment of the moon lay on its back. There was no breath of air.

  “This is wonderful,” Pearl said. “Wonderful.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “John.”

  “Yes?” he whispered.

  “I think I—” she began, but stopped.

  “Go on.”

  “No.”

  “Please go on.” His arm was round her shoulders now.

  “John, I shouldn’t have started to talk like this.”

  “I don’t yet know how you’re talking.”

  She leaned back against him and turned her head to look into his eyes. Her flawless skin seemed to glow. The way she stood made the line of her dress stand away from her bosom, and the deep and enticing curve of her breasts was like alabaster.

  “Please don’t make me talk.”

  “You must talk,” Mannering said. His hand stole a little higher, above her waist.

  She said: “John, I think I am in love with you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  HARD FACTS

  Mannering could still hear her voice, could still see her upturned face and feel the pressure of her body against his. Throughout the hot, sultry night, when no breath of air seemed to come through the open portholes, he had slept fitfully, and on each waking had found her image in his mind.

  “John, I think I am in love with you.”

  A little crowd, happy and hilarious with drink, had come along the deck then, the men whistling at Mannering and Pearl. The spell had been broken, and neither of them made any attempt to recapture it.

  A bell rang; the early call. He pressed for his morning tea, and the little Indian from Goa who never seemed to understand him brought it.

  “Good morning, sahib.”

  “Good morning.”

  An hour later, shaved and showered, Mannering went along to the surgeon’s quarters. Roughead’s door was unlocked, but the surgery was empty. The nursing sister, small and bright-eyed, came along.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Can I find Dr. Roughead?”

  “He’ll be along in two or three minutes,” the Sister said.

  Mannering waited in the air-conditioned room, one of the few cool spots on board. Why were the English so reluctant to admit the merits of air conditioning? He felt blessedly cool. He kept on seeing those vivid pictures of Pearl and Naomi – and of Lorna. There was a lot in common between Lorna and Naomi. But Pearl? He remembered how horrified Lorna had been when she had realised that Pearl had boarded the ship.

  The door opened.

  “Hallo, Mr. Mannering,” Roughead said breezily. “I thought you’d soon be along. I’ve examined Miss Toji’s blood specimen.”

  “Ah,” said Mannering.

  “Group O, perfectly normal.”

  “No sign of hashish or a similar drug?”

  “None at all.”

  “Thanks,” said Mannering. “Thanks.”

  “It’s a great relief,” Roughead said.

  “Ah, yes,” agreed Mannering. “Very great.”

  He went down to breakfast. Pearl as always was having hers in her cabin.

  Lister came over.

  “Good morning, Mr. Mannering.”

  “’Morning.”

  “I’ve a list of people who could have gone to see O’Keefe.”

  “And whom he would have let in?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Don’t hold out on me,” Mannering urged.

  “Major Thomas,” declared Lister. “Mrs. Ransom, Mr. John Mannering, and Miss Toji.”

  “Ah,” said Mannering.

  Lister looked at him curiously.

  “Did you call on O’Keefe?”

  “Only when I broke his door down.”

  “Not before?”

  “No, but I doubt if I could prove it.”

  “So do I,” said Lister. “The others couldn’t prove they didn’t go in to see O’Keefe, either. Doesn’t make the situation any easier, does it?”

  “No.”

  “There’s a call due for you from Aden in fifteen minutes,” Lister changed the subject abruptly. “Will you go up to the Marconi office for it?”

  “Of course,” said Mannering.

  The Radio Officer was waiting for him when he reached the office. The inevitable squeaks and squawks were coming out of the complicated and elaborate instruments. There was a telephone by the man’s side.

  “Won’t keep you a jiffy, Mr. Mannering.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Captain Cross would like you to go and see him after the call.”

  “I will.”

  “Hallo.” The Radio Officer’s voice changed. “Hallo, Aden—yes, he’s on the line.” He motioned to the telephone, and breathed: “The agents, sir. They know what you want.”

  “Thanks—hallo, there.”

  A man said clearly: “Mr. Mannering.”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand you would like to have your correspondence opened and described to you. Is that right, sir?”

  “Yes. I’m particularly interested in one large enough to contain photographs.”

  “And it is in order for them to be opened?”

  “Yes.”

  “One moment, sir.”

  The pause seemed to go on for a long time, and then a woman said very clearly: “Hallo, darling. Ready for a shock?”

  Mannering gasped: “Lorna!”

  He had not dreamt that she was at Aden; the possibility had not even crossed his mind. But it was so like her. Mannering was silent for what must have seemed a long time.

  “Are you there, darling?” Lorna sounded anxious.

  “Shocked into silence,” Mannering said at last. “It’s wonderful to hear you.”

  “You haven’t had the shock yet,” said Lorna.

  “From the photographs?”

  “Yes.”

  Mannering said in a low pitched voice: “The Pearl of the picture isn’t the Pearl we know, is she?”

  After another long pause, Lorna said in astonishment: “So you know.”

  “It’s been pointing that way for a long time.”

  “Does she know you suspect?”

  “I’ve tried to make sure she doesn’t.”

  “I’ve heard what has happened,” Lorna said. “Be very careful.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Mannering said. “What I really need is luck.”

  He did not go straight to the Captain’s cabin, but to the verandah deck behind the bridge. He stood looking out on a sea as blue as the Mediterranean and almost glassy smooth. A long way off a ship showed up against the horizon, sailing through the haze of motionless heat.

  He kept seeing Lorna’s face as if it were reflected in the water.

  He kept seeing Pearl’s.

&
nbsp; He heard footsteps, and Cross came towards him.

  “Good morning,” Cross said. “You’ve had your call, I’m told. Has it helped?”

  “It’s helped a lot,” Mannering said. “You won’t like it.”

  “I’m not personally or emotionally involved,” Cross pointed out.

  “The woman on board who represented herself as Pearl Toji, daughter of the dead Nikko Toji, is an impostor,” Mannering announced.

  “Good God!” Cross looked appalled, in spite of what he had said. After a long pause he went on: “Positive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Had you any idea?”

  “Yes,” Mannering said slowly. “I began to fear it in Port Said, because I didn’t see how she could have been spirited away from the sightseeing crowd. It was much more likely she would go willingly. She wasn’t injured at Kassim’s place. She talked about a scratched finger, but knock-out drugs can’t be administered so easily as that. And—she’s been so careful since we left Gibraltar. It could have been the result of hashish, but it wasn’t typical.”

  “Roughead says her blood is quite clear.” Cross remarked. He still sounded shaken.

  “Yes,” said Mannering. “And the dutiful daughter of a Thai family couldn’t behave as light-heartedly as that so soon after her father had died. Moreover, a girl from Thailand who has lived a fairly secluded life wouldn’t be so expert at all the Western dances. She came, she said, on the spur of the moment. Then why did she bring a wardrobe which made her the best-dressed woman on board?” Mannering moistened his lips. “When I knew she could have visited O’Keefe before he died I was virtually certain she was involved. I think O’Keefe was killed to make sure he couldn’t name her.”

  Cross said: “It’s a dreadful thought that such a lovely creature—” he broke off before adding wryly: “Didn’t think I was a romantic did you?”

  “It doesn’t surprise me as much as all that,” Mannering said drily.

  “What do you expect now?”

  “A final attempt to get the jewels off the ship before we reach Aden,” Mannering said. “I can’t believe that the thieves will allow them to stay on board after that – they must know they can’t go on indefinitely.”

  “I sometimes wonder whether they’ve ever been on board, or whether the empty mask was left here to fool us.”