by John Creasey
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
Mannering said: “They’ve tried to kill me since. They have killed O’Keefe. Kassim took the grave risk of getting on the wrong side of his Government – he’s stuck his neck right out. He wouldn’t have gone to such lengths unless he had a lot at stake. A million or so, for instance.”
“I suppose that’s logical,” Cross said.
“Pearl, Kassim, and whoever is working with them are bound to realise that the deception can’t go on forever. If they know that my wife flew to Aden they’ll realise that Pearl’s game will be up there.” He dabbed his neck with his handkerchief. “We’ve two more nights.”
“Nights?”
“I always expect trouble by night,” Mannering said. “Days and nights, if you’d rather have it that way.” He dabbed his upper lip. “I wish I could be sure who is absolutely reliable.”
“Meaning Thomas?”
“Yes,” Mannering said. “And Naomi Ransom.” He thought of the information in the cable. “We want Pearl watched wherever she goes. Her porthole must be under constant observation. If she gives or sends anything to anyone else we must be told, and must examine whatever it is.”
“We can rely on the crew,” Cross said. “I’ll have all the stewardesses warned and tell the cabin stewards. I’ll have a word with the nursing sister and the hostesses, too. I’ll make sure Miss Toji’s cabin is under observation minute by minute.”
“Second by second,” pleaded Mannering.
“All the time,” agreed Cross. “We’ll have her watched and followed so that we know everyone she speaks to, know every move she makes. Leave that to me.”
“Thanks,” said Mannering gratefully.
When he left the Captain, he was wringing wet, it was so hot and humid. He turned on to the promenade deck for a breath of the still air, and heard gusts of laughter; a foursome was busy playing deck quoits – Joslyn and the plump woman among them.
“Don’t forget your final tomorrow morning,” she called. She looked as if she was running in sweat, but was as lively as could be.
Mannering waved and smiled.
Further along by the crescent of deck space in front of the main lounge, Naomi was standing. Mannering joined her.
“There’s a following wind, and it cancels out the wind the ship’s making,” she said. She looked pale and her eyes looked glittery. “It’s unbearable, John. I’ve never been so hot.”
“They promised us coolness after Aden,” Mannering said.
“I don’t believe it will ever be cool again,” Naomi forced a smile. “If it gets any worse I’ll be really ill.”
“You ought to take it easy,” Mannering said. “Have a cold shower and—”
“Oh, don’t talk the same claptrap as the others,” Naomi said exasperatedly. “Ten minutes after a shower I’m wringing wet again.”
“I think I’d better leave you alone until after Aden,” Mannering said.
She made no comment as he went on. Was she really affected by the heat or was she being bad-tempered for some other reason to do with his problem?
Thomas, with his shirt clinging to him in great damp patches, said brightly: “Red Sea Rig tonight, John!”
“What’s that?”
“Open-necked shirt and cummerbund. Oh, and a pair of trousers!”
Mannering laughed.
A few people were dotted about the deck, hot and listless. The sea was like a sheet of oily glass. Two freighters passed, a long way off. Mannering was watching one which seemed to be listing, when he heard footsteps, and glanced round.
Pearl was approaching.
She looked the only cool person on board.
“Hallo, John,” she said. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Have I?”
“You know you have. I shouldn’t have told you that I was in love with you, should I?”
He smiled at her, very gently. “Shouldn’t you?”
“John,” she said, “Lorna need never know. We could have a wonderful few days after Aden. It will be cooler, and in Mombasa it should be wonderful. We could stay at the Oceanic Hotel for a few days.”
“Do you know the coastline?” Mannering asked.
“Only by reputation,” she said quickly.
“Pearl,” Mannering said.
“Yes?”
“If we’re both on the ship beyond Aden, we’ll have a wonderful time,” Mannering said. “Wait until Aden.”
“John—”
He didn’t respond again.
“John, do you think you’ll know all the answers at Aden?”
That was really what she wanted to know; and he wanted to make her feel that Aden was the end of the run for her.
“I hope to,” he said. “I really hope so.”
“I can’t wait until we’re beyond Aden,” Pearl said in a soft voice.
She turned and walked away, slim, figure so trim, and looking so tantalisingly cool.
Chapter Twenty
s.o.s.
It was unbelievable but the heat became worse; and the air was so heavy with moisture it seemed to cling as one walked.
The lights of a ship showed not far away, the only assurance that they were not alone in a boiling ocean.
In the ballroom the band was playing, incredibly, the Gay Gordons; even more incredibly, some people were dancing the ballroom equivalent of the Highland Fling. But lying prostrate in deck chairs were dozens of passengers, some waving fans or paper in an effort to feel a momentary coolness.
Mannering went into the smoking-room. The fancy dress parade was over, he and two women had delivered their verdicts. Here, unbelievably, were two long tables of cold meats and savouries, pastries and sausage rolls. Behind the longer laden table were four men in chef’s white cap and smock. Cross came bustling in from the main deck. He had a word with the four chefs, and then called to Mannering.
“Here are the men who’ve prepared your meals for you,” he said. “Mr… .” He introduced each one.
Mannering duly shook hands and complimented them all.
“The crowd will soon be in,” Cross said. “Got to keep the gaiety up, no matter what the weather is.” He looked as if he would like to dig Mannering in the ribs. They moved away. “I’ve had all the reports on Pearl Toji or whatever her name is,” he told Mannering in a whisper.
“Well?”
“Nothing suspicious of any kind. And the more I think of it, the more I feel that the chance of her doing anything this side of Aden is extremely remote.”
He broke off as a young officer came up.
“Sorry to worry you, sir.” The youth handed Cross a slip of paper with some handwriting on it. Cross glanced down, frowned, and then said: “I’ll be along.” The youngster moved off, and Cross said to Mannering: “Everything is happening on this voyage. There’s a man with appendicitis on a yacht, thirty miles away from us. We’re the only ship near with a doctor.”
“What does that mean?” Mannering asked.
“We’ll have to pick the chap up, and bring him aboard,” said Cross. “That ought to make everyone forget the heat for an hour anyhow.”
The East Africa Star’s loud-speaker blared.
“Attention all passengers, please. The ship hove to near us is the South African steam yacht, Dabreek. A member of her crew is desperately ill with appendicitis. We are going to bring him aboard. The Dabreek will send the man over and we shall hand him aboard on the starboard side.”
Every passenger on deck crowded the rails to watch. Mannering was among them, close to the rail.
The sea was like glass, and the lights of the yacht and the mast lights of the boat bringing the sick sailor were keeping very still although the boat was drawing nearer.
A w
oman cried: “There he is! They won’t drop him, will they?”
“Better not,” a man said. “The Red Sea’s alive with sharks.”
“Oh, Ben!”
Searchlights focused on a man trussed up in a kind of strait-jacket – a Neil Robertson stretcher which kept him quite rigid. He was strapped at the shoulders, arms, thighs, knees, and ankles. One man in khaki shirt and shorts and wearing sandals was bending over him. The boat was small but its clean lines made it very fast. One man wearing a red fez stood at the helm. In the quiet, the boat’s motor was clearly audible, stuttering without a pause.
Out of the ship’s side door on C Deck Dr. Roughead appeared. He called down to the kneeling man, who looked up and shouted: “He’s got a million units of penicillin in him. He should be all right until he gets to Aden.”
Roughead called something which Mannering did not catch. He was watching the three-man crew closely, puzzled without quite knowing why. The ship’s side was crowded up here on First Class and on the Tourist deck.
Then Mannering saw a man he had seen before, but he could not place him.
The man was below, leaning over the rail. Mannering had seen him in just such a position. Here, of course; all day long people were looking over the side, whenever he glanced over he would see a head or shoulders or bare, brown arms.
The man was taking something out of his pockets. They were large discs – the red discs which were used for shuffleboard. He dropped one down towards the little motor-boat, quite casually.
On that instant, Mannering recognised him. His name was Smith and he was the mild-mannered grey-haired proprietor of the Compton Hotel – where Toji had died.
Mannering saw the shuffleboard disc drop on to a heap of rope. Everyone else was too fascinated by the drama itself to notice this. A rope was being lowered from the East Africa Star’s side, and the man in the stretcher was being shifted so that his head was directly underneath the rope. No one talked. The only noise was the lapping of the water, the staccato beat of the motor-boat’s engine as the helmsman kept her level with the East Africa Star.
There was a hook at the end of the dangling rope, a ring at the top of the stretcher. The man in khaki and a ship’s officer in white were trying to put the hook through the loop.
A second shuffleboard disc fell.
Mannering moved and turned towards the main hall. He could see that the rescue operation was being carried out from B deck. He knew just about the right spot, but there wasn’t much time.
He saw Thomas standing and talking to a passenger.
Mannering said: “Have you seen Pearl?”
“She was dancing before this sensation. Is this urgent?”
“Yes,” said Mannering. “Very urgent.”
Thomas drew away from the man he was talking to.
“What’s on? Pearl in danger?”
“I think she could be planning to board that motor-boat.”
Thomas’s expression said: “You’re crazy!”
“Alert your chaps, will you?” Mannering said. He moved very quickly, and almost bumped into Naomi. She stopped, dabbing at her lips with a damp looking handkerchief.
“What’s the matter?”
“Have you seen Pearl?”
“Yes – five minutes ago,” Naomi said. “For the first time I nearly liked her. She said it was so hot dancing, she was going for a swim.”
Mannering said: “My God! Did she have her swimsuit?”
“Yes.”
Mannering didn’t wait for her to finish but ran along the corridors towards the stern. He reached the deck from the deserted ballroom. Two or three young couples were in the shadows, some were by the rails, but they were too far away to get a good view.
Mannering went more calmly down the steps leading to the Tourist class swimming pool. It seemed deserted. He reached the deck, and approached the side where the man was being taken aboard. He saw a solitary figure standing in the black shadow of a winch, and crept towards it.
Pearl was there.
She was in her swimsuit, leaning over the rails. Her bare legs seemed to glow. He had no doubt that it was Pearl, little doubt what she meant to do.
He crept nearer.
Young Joslyn said: “Exciting show, John, isn’t it?”
Mannering saw Pearl swing round. Joslyn was standing unobserved in another shadowy spot. Pearl’s face showed up vividly.
“Pearl,” Mannering said. “My wife telephoned me from Aden. She’s seen a photograph of Nikko’s daughter. Don’t try to pretend that—”
Pearl swung round. Mannering jumped towards her but Joslyn moved at the same time and got in Mannering’s way. Pearl reached the rail and climbed over. Mannering freed himself but Pearl was poised on the rail.
“Pearl!” he cried.
“Stop her!” Joslyn shouted.
Pearl dived.
“My God,” gasped Joslyn. “She’s dived in. The sharks will get her. My God.” He was appalled.
Mannering was at the rail, peering down. He saw Pearl in the water fifty feet or so away from the motor-boat. It was pulling away now that the man on the stretcher was aboard. A powerful searchlight beam shone on the water and on Pearl as she swam. A cry rose up from hundreds of throats, a great gasp of sound.
Joslyn cried desperately: “Man overboard!”
The motor-boat, manoeuvring slowly, drew nearer Pearl. The man who had helped the sick man was standing with a boat hook stretching out. Pearl was within twenty yards of it. Mannering could see exactly what was going to happen. She would be hauled aboard and the fast boat would move away towards the parent craft. If once she disappeared she might never be caught.
He kicked off his shoes and ran as fast as he could towards the boat, climbed the rail, and dived in. As he went down he saw the motor-boat was nearer him than he had realised. For an awful moment he saw the danger of crashing into it.
He struck the water ten feet away from the motor-boat, between it and Pearl. He could not see her but could see the man with the boat hook stretching out. He made for the boat itself. It was low in the water, and should be easy to climb into. He grabbed the side, and began to haul himself up. There was a shrill cry. He saw the pilot pointing. The third man swung towards him, and Mannering saw him snatch at an oar.
Mannering tried desperately to get in. He could not see whether Pearl was aboard or not. The man close to him had the oar thrust forward. He struck the side of the boat close to Mannering’s hand, tried again, and knocked Mannering’s wrist. The pain was excruciating. Mannering snatched one hand away, knowing that he would have to drop back into the water. A word sprang to his mind, one he had heard several times tonight.
Sharks.
He felt something glide beneath him and shivered. The oar smashed again, missing him, but the next time …
He saw a man rise out of the water beside him. It was Thomas. Thomas thrust both hands on the gunwale and hoisted himself up, then began to jump up and down. The man with the oar staggered helplessly.
Then Mannering saw other men of Thomas’s Committee clambering aboard. He looked towards the stern. The man with the boat hook was pulling Pearl aboard, but at the same time was looking over his shoulder fearfully.
Thomas, now in the boat, leaned to Mannering.
“Want a hand?” he asked, and gripped Mannering’s hand. As Mannering slid up and over the side, Thomas went on: “We’ve got to board the ship they came from, John. Coming with us, or looking after Pearl?”
Mannering said: “I’ll look after Pearl.”
But he wasn’t really thinking of her; he was staring at the shuffleboard discs. There were six of them, lying close together, dropped by Mr. Smith of the Compton Hotel.
Chapter Twenty-One
HIDING PLACE
Mannering, high
and dry on the East Africa Star, watched Pearl being led away by Lister and the nursing sister. The rest of the passengers obviously thought she was going along to the sick bay. She walked proudly, head high, but did not look right or left.
It was an hour since the “rescue”.
Mannering watched as Thomas and some of his Committee men began to climb up the rope towards the side door. As each man disappeared to safety there was a ragged cheer. Mannering went along to B Deck, and met Thomas as he came up the gangway from the deck below.
The midnight heat had already dried Thomas’s clothes and hair.
“All okay,” he said cheerfully. “Three of my Committee’ve taken over the yacht – it’s Egyptian, not South African. Kassim owns it. They’ll get the yacht to Aden. The crew’s amenable, mostly Arabs with a couple of white officers. I gather they think they’ve been running drugs or arms. Do you know which?”
Mannering said: “Neither, this time – I don’t know what they do at others.”
As he spoke an officer came up, saluted smartly, and said: “Captain Cross’s compliments, gentlemen, and he would like to see you both in his cabin.”
“Now we’re in for the big stick,” Thomas said.
In fact, Cross was relaxed and mild-mannered. He had whisky and gin handy, but no steward to wait on them.
He poured out.
“I must say, gentlemen, that you both dice very readily with death in these shark-infested waters. I presume you knew the risks?”
“There wasn’t time for any risks,” disclaimed Thomas. “Was there, John? As soon as I saw Pearl Toji go in and John follow I realised what was on – it was a phoney illness, and that yacht was up to no good. Strictly speaking what I did when taking it over was an act of piracy. Eh, Skipper?”
Cross laughed.
“Don’t ask me to get you out of your mess,” he said. “But I’m damned glad you took the law into your own hands. I wouldn’t like to have decided what to do if you hadn’t. It’s no part of my job to get involved in that kind of caper.”
