Passage by Night (v5) (13 page)

'Go into the wheelhouse, you'll be warmer in there,' he said. 'I'm going to help Orlov.'

The wind had dropped almost completely and the sky was clearing fast, but a strong swell was still running. He crouched beside the Russian and took over the pump, keeping up the rhythm.

Orlov flexed his cramped hands and shook his head. 'You're wasting your time. It's coming in at three times the rate. She won't last much longer.'

At the same moment, the engines stopped. There was a sudden hiss as if gas were escaping and a great cloud of steam rose through the vents in the engineroom hatch.

The
Cretan Lover
wallowed sluggishly, hardly lifting as the swell undulated across the surface of the sea and Papa Melos and Anna came out of the wheelhouse. The old man looked tired and defeated and she was holding his arm as if to support him.

'I'm sorry,' Manning said. 'More sorry than you'll ever know.'

'You did your best, boy. You're a fine sailor.'

They unshipped the dinghy and slid it over the side. Anna and her father sat in the stern, Manning and Orlov took an oar each.

By now, the sea was at deck-level and as they started to row away, it slopped across the planks in a green curtain. After a while, they rested on their oars and sat there waiting.

The stern of the old boat dipped beneath the waves, the bows lifting out of the water. For a moment, it poised there at an angle and then slid smoothly under.

There was nothing left to say and Manning started to row, fixing his gaze on a point somewhere beyond the old man and the girl, trying to avoid looking at either of them.

Gradually, the sky turned blue and the sun came out and low on the horizon to the north-west, they could see land. Two hours later they were picked up by old man Saunders out of Spanish Cay after tuna with a black deckhand.

15
At the Caravel

As he walked along the jetty towards the
Grace Abounding
Manning could see Seth standing in the stern coiling a rope. He hung it on a hook outside the wheelhouse, waved to a passing launch and went below.

Manning was hot and tired. Too hot to wait for the others. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were coming and jumped down to the deck. For a moment, he paused, looking about him with a conscious pleasure before going down into the coolness of the air-conditioned cabin. Seth was in the galley and Manning could smell coffee.

'Better get another four cups out,' he said. 'You've got company.'

He slumped down on the padded bench seat and Seth moved out of the galley and frowned at him. 'Man, you look like hell.'

'I'm not surprised,' Manning said. 'That's exactly where I've been. These days they call it Cuba.'

Seth's eyes widened. 'So you made it into San Juan? Did you find Garcia?'

'What was left of him. As it turned out, they were waiting for me to arrive.'

Seth looked bewildered. 'But that ain't possible, Harry. Only the three of us knew you were going. I know I ain't no Cuban spy and Morrison can't be. That only leaves Mr Viner.'

'Exactly!'

Before Seth could reply, a step sounded on the companionway and Orlov entered, followed by Anna and her father.

'Some friends I picked up along the way,' Manning said. 'I think they'd appreciate a little of that coffee.'

Seth hurried into the galley and Anna and her father subsided onto the other bench seat. They both looked completely exhausted.

Manning gave Orlov a cigarette and pushed the pack across the table to Anna. 'How do you feel?'

There were dark smudges under her eyes and her face was very white, but she managed a smile. 'Nothing a few hours' sleep won't cure.'

'There's a shower and two cabins aft. Seth will show you where. Maria left a few dresses and things in one of them. You're welcome to help yourself.'

Her father had sunk into a state of complete apathy and huddled in the corner, head bowed. She spoke to him in a low voice and then turned anxiously to Manning. 'I think he should lie down. Could we take him along to the cabin now?'

Manning started to rise, but Orlov beat him to it. 'I'll give you a hand,' he said, helping the old man to his feet, and they took him out through the galley.

Manning sat there, his head in his hands, great waves of tiredness sweeping through him. When the coffee came it was so hot that it scalded his mouth, but for the moment, it gave him new life and the ability to think straight for a little longer.

When Orlov and Anna returned, Seth brought them fresh coffee and Manning said, 'Seen Morrison lately?'

Seth nodded. 'We were out Cat Island way yesterday. He asked me to run him over to Nassau this afternoon. He's still at the Caravel. Same room.'

'Is Joe Howard in town?'

Seth shook his head. 'He left for Crab Cay early this morning with both his constables. They found some guy with a knife in his back over there last night.'

Manning finished his coffee and stood up. 'I think I'll go and see Morrison.'

He opened the map drawer in the table, rummaged beneath some charts and took out a Luger automatic and a Smith & Wesson .38 revolver with a sawn-off barrel. He hefted them both in his hands for a moment, decided on the Luger and replaced the Smith & Wesson in the drawer.

'You are expecting trouble?' Orlov said.

Manning pushed the Luger down into his waistband beneath his shirt. 'You never can tell.'

'Then I think I shall come with you.'

Anna had been sitting watching them, her coffee still untasted. She stood up. 'What about us, Harry?'

'You stay here. I've still got a room at the Caravel. That'll do Orlov and me for the time being. After I've seen Morrison I'll be back for my things. You can leave as soon as you like after that. If you think you could do with him, Seth can crew for you as far as Harmon Springs.'

There was a slight frown on her face. 'I don't understand.'

'I'm giving you the boat,' he said. 'The way I see it, it's the least I owe you.' She swayed, clutching at the edge of the table, and he gave Orlov a little push towards the companionway. 'Let's get moving.'

The Russian went first and Manning followed. As they climbed to the jetty, Anna stumbled out on deck.

'No, Harry! No!'

He said calmly, 'No arguments, Anna. That's the way it's going to be.'

She started to cry helplessly, leaning against the wheelhouse, her face to the wall and he turned and found Orlov looking at him gravely. 'I think you are a very great fool, my friend.'

That's the way it goes,' Manning said. 'Sometimes you win - sometimes you lose.'

Everything that was in him, every fibre of his being urged him to go back, to tell her that this was what he truly wanted, but he was involved enough already. He had done Anna Melos and her father a great wrong. Now he had made up for it. Let it end there.

The terrace of the Caravel was crowded with tourists dining in the open under the shade of the sea-almond trees and a steel band played and sang a calypso on the lawn below.

As Manning moved across to the reception desk, the clerk saw him coming and grinned, 'Good to see you, Mr Manning.'

Manning helped himself to a cigarette from the box on the desk. 'Mr Viner said he'd hold Senorita Salas's old room for me.'

That's right, sir.' The clerk took a key down from the board. 'You going up now?'

Manning nodded. 'Is Mr Viner around?'

'I believe he's in his office. I'd be glad to phone through and check for you.'

Manning shook his head. 'I'll see him later. Right now I need a shower more than anything else.'

He went upstairs quickly, Orlov at his heels, and moved along the carpeted corridor to Maria's room. The shades were drawn and the bed had been freshly made. It was cool and dark and he stood there listening for something, aware of a feeling of unreality so strong that it took a conscious effort to pull himself out of it.

'Bath and a shower through there,' he told Orlov. 'Clean clothes in the wardrobe. Just help yourself.'

'You're going to see Morrison?'

'No sense in wasting time.'

Morrison's room was on the next floor. He went upstairs quickly and paused outside the door. He knocked softly, opened it and went it.

'Put it on the table, son. I'll be right in,' Morrison called from the terrace.

Manning waited, a slight smile on his face. When the American appeared he was wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. He carried a book in one hand, sunglasses in the other. When he saw Manning, a look of complete astonishment appeared on his face.

'Well I'll be damned. I thought it was room service.'

'There was another knock on the door and Manning moved quickly into the bathroom. He heard the door open, the murmur of voices, and it closed again. When he emerged, Morrison was putting a tray containing a half bottle of whiskey and a jug of ice water on the table.

'There should be a tooth glass in there somewhere.'

Manning found the glass, rinsed it and went back into the bedroom. Morrison was standing at the window looking out to sea. He turned and nodded towards the tray.

'Help yourself.'

Manning half-filled his glass with whiskey, topped it with ice water and took it down in two easy swallows. He shook his head, slumped into a chair and reached for the bottle again.

'You look as if you've been through the mill,' Morrison said. 'Did you manage to get a boat in Harmon Springs?'

'I got a boat all right. I even got into San Juan.' Manning swallowed some more of his whiskey. 'A waste of time. The man I should really have been looking for was back here on Spanish Cay.'

Morrison frowned. 'What are you trying to say?'

'That Kurt Viner's in this business right up to his neck.'

Morrison moved across to the wardrobe, took out a suit and a fresh shirt and threw them on the bed. 'Tell me about it while I dress. Everything, mind you. Don't leave a damned thing out. This could be more important than you know.'

Manning helped himself to another drink and started to talk. It didn't take long and when he had finished, Morrison was standing in front of the mirror fastening his tie.

He reached for his coat. 'And this guy Orlov, you've got him downstairs now?'

Manning nodded. 'Never mind him. What about Viner? What do you think?'

Morrison shook his head. 'Hard to say. For what it's worth, I don't see him as anything more than a front man. The rest of them, the really important ones, are out there somewhere, just waiting.'

'But waiting for what?' Manning said. 'And how can you be sure they're still around?'

'They sabotaged another tracker station the day you left. Better than a million dollars' worth of damage and not a trace of them.'

'Then the solution's obvious. Call out the Marines, the Navy, anything it takes. You're bound to find them in the end.'

Morrison shook his head. 'You said it yourself. Seven hundred islands, two thousand cays and rocks. It could take weeks and we can't stand a stink at this time. The top brass aren't due till next week, but our Secretary of State and your own Foreign Secretary start their preliminary talks at the Lyford Cay Club tomorrow. That's about fifteen miles from Nassau. For the next few days, these islands are going to be the focus of world attention.'

'And you think our friends might try to pull another stunt at the worst possible moment.'

'Something like that.'

Manning was beginning to feel slightly tight. He carefully poured another measure of whiskey into his glass, drank it down and grinned. There's only one sure way of finding out.'

'And what's that?'

'I'll ask Viner.'

'You sure you know what you're doing?'

Manning nodded. 'I'll introduce you to Orlov on the way, but don't try to pump him. The only time he'll ever open his mouth is if he feels like it.'

There was no sign of Orlov when they went downstairs, but they could hear him splashing about in the bathroom. When Manning opened the door, clouds of steam billowed out. Orlov was immersed to the chin in hot water, a blissful expression on his face.

'You look happy,' Manning said.

Orlov grinned. 'It doesn't take much. Do they have chambermaids here?'

'Not in the afternoons. Wrong climate. You'll have to make do with Morrison. Maybe you'll find more in common than either of you realize.'

He left them there and went downstairs. He was feeling strangely light-headed and realized with something of a shock that he hadn't eaten for more than thirty-six hours. No wonder the whiskey had gone straight to his head.

People who had dined well were filled with a false sense of security so the casino was always busy in the early afternoon. Manning pushed his way through the crowd towards the green baize door and was aware of the little manager moving to cut him off.

He just made it and grinned falsely. 'Looking for someone, Mr Manning?'

'You know damn well I am.'

'I'm afraid Mr Viner's busy right now. He's given orders not to be disturbed by anyone.'

'Well, isn't that just too bad.' Manning pushed him roughly to one side, opened the door and went in.

Viner stood behind the bar pouring drinks into two glasses. The man who was sitting on one of the high stools was about six-feet tall and his fawn gabardine jacket was stretched tightly across broad shoulders. He had a craggy, dangerous face with a scar under one eye and the blond hair was cropped.

Manning kicked the door shut behind him and there was a short, pregnant silence. 'Why, Harry?' Viner said in a strained voice. 'This
is
a surprise.'

'I bet it is, you bastard,' Manning said and moved forward.

An expression of real alarm appeared on Viner's face. 'I don't know what you're talking about, but perhaps you'd better come back when you're reasonably sober.'

Manning kicked a small coffee table to the other side of the room. 'This is just the way I like it.'

Throw him out, Hans,' Viner said.

'A pleasure, Herr Colonel,' Hans replied and got to his feet.

Manning felt quite calm. It was as if he was somehow on the outside looking in on all this. He wondered about Hans. SS or Gestapo, one or the other, which led to interesting possibilities in Viner's past.

The German seemed very sure of himself. When he was about three feet away, he swung a tremendous punch that carried everything he had. To Manning, it was like a reed swaying in the wind. He moved in close, kicked him viciously on the shin and lifted his right knee into the unprotected face as Hans doubled over.

He lay on his back moaning, blood spurting from his smashed mouth and nose. 'Get up, Hans! Get up!' Viner ordered.