Passage by Night (v5) (18 page)

He started to turn, was aware of a sudden vibration in the water and was spun round by a blow in his right shoulder. As his right hand reached for the harpoon, pulling it out, the pain surged through him and he caught his breath sharply, swallowing the agony.

Maria poised a few feet away, the gun in one hand, the harpoon dangling on its line. He knew then that she had recognized him and kicked sharply with his flippers and moved towards her.

She released the gun, turned and swam rapidly away from him. It was then he realized that he still gripped his knife firmly in his left hand. He dropped it and went after her.

Time, the world, everything that had happened had ceased to exist for him. He was hardly even aware of the pain that blossomed in his body or of the blood that drifted around him in a brown cloud.

She was twenty or thirty yards ahead when she went over the edge of the reef. He followed her without hesitation, descending vertically down the face of the great cliff, his eyes never leaving the slim figure in the white suit with the long black hair floating behind.

Once, he glanced at his pressure gauge and saw they were already one hundred and fifty feet deep. It was at this point that the delirium took possession of him, aggravated by his weakened state and the tremendous physical punishment his body had taken during the past few days.

All colours had faded as they descended into a great blue vault. He was too deep, he knew that and yet some terrible compulsion drew him on. It was as if she were determined to take him with her and he was powerless to resist.

He checked his pressure gauge again at two hundred feet and stretched out a hand as if to call to her, but he was wasting his time. The darkness moved in on him as the slim white figure disappeared down into the indigo dusk.

21
All Passion Spent

It was quiet when he awoke and he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying in a narrow hospital bed and the walls of the small room and its furniture were painted white.

He tried to sit up and was immediately conscious of the dull ache in his left shoulder. The walls seemed to undulate and something whispered through the silence of eternity. He took a deep breath and tried to push himself up even farther. The door opened and a nurse entered.

She was a stout motherly person with a pleasant face and large capable hands. She moved forward quickly and eased him back on the pillow.

'You mustn't do that. You mustn't even move.'

A stranger answered her, someone who had no connection with himself at all. 'Where am I?'

'You're in hospital in Nassau. You've been here for three days. Just rest quietly. I'll get the doctor.'

She went out of the room and he lay there trying to put the pieces together in the right order, but it was impossible. His whole body ached and there was a strange persistent buzzing in his ears that refused to go away.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and someone approached the bed. He opened his eyes and saw a brown, kindly face topped by iron-grey hair.

'My name's Flynn. I've been looking after you. How do you feel?'

'Bloody awful.'

He produced an ophthalmoscope and examined Manning's eyes carefully. After a while he grunted and put it back in his pocket. 'I don't think there's likely to be any permanent damage.'

'What's been the trouble?'

'Nitrogen poisoning. The bends. When they brought you in here three days ago I wouldn't have given much for your chances. You'd lost a hell of a lot of blood. On top of that, you'd gone down too deep.'

And then things clicked into place and for a moment, Manning was back there reaching out vainly towards the slim figure as it moved deeper into the dusky water.

'Can't you remember?'

'Only vaguely. At the time, it seemed to be happening to someone else.'

Flynn nodded. 'Nitrogen narcosis, the so-called drunkenness of the deep. The effect varies with the individual. In your weakened state, you didn't stand much chance of fighting it off. Good thing you had your friend Smith along.'

'Smith?' Manning said blankly.

'The man who brought you up. We had to put him in the pressure tank as well when they got you here, but not for as long. It took ten hours' hard work to clear your system.'

Orlov.
It was the only possible explanation. Probably Morrison had decided it would be politic for the Russian to keep quiet about his real identity for the time being.

'When do I get out of here?'

'Good heavens man, not for a fortnight at the very least.' Flynn chuckled. 'Don't look so put out. I'll give your friend Morrison a ring as soon as I've finished my rounds. He's been haunting the place for the past few days.

After he'd gone, Manning lay staring up at the ceiling thinking about Maria Salas. She had chosen the manner of her going, turning from life quite deliberately because her own dark purpose had failed. In the quiet, he seemed to hear her voice, high-pitched and full of bravura, echoing a final
flamenco
as she vanished into the mist. But for the moment, he was conscious of nothing. Only of an emptiness, a coldness that moved inside him and couldn't be explained.

The door opened and Papa Melos came in. He was wearing pajamas and a blue dressing gown and his right arm was in a sling. He sat on the edge of the bed and grinned with pleasure.

'I couldn't wait, boy. When the doctor told me you'd finally come round, I waited my chance and skipped out when the nurse wasn't looking. Anna said she'd let Seth know when she gets back to the boat. He'll probably be up later.'

'Anna?' Manning said. 'She's been here this morning?'

The old man looked immediately uncomfortable. 'She's been here every day, Harry. She was visiting me when the doctor came in and told us you'd come round.' He seemed to search for the right words. 'Look, it ain't none of my business, but maybe you two had a row or something. Anna's got a lot of pride. She wouldn't go where she thought she wasn't wanted.'

There was a short, awkward silence and Manning deliberately changed the subject. 'How's your arm?'

'Fine, Harry, just fine.' The old man grinned. 'In fact everything is. They're going to give me a new boat. The best money can buy. Mr Morrison said the Secretary of State insisted.'

Manning reached out and clasped his hand. 'I'm glad about that, Papa. Truly glad.'

The door swung open and the large, middle-aged nurse swept in. Papa Melos gave her one guilty look and got to his feet.

'I should think so,' she said.

He grinned at Manning. 'Reminds me of my mother. If she'd lived. God rest her, they'd have been around the same age.'

He ducked under her arm into the corridor and she followed him, closing the door behind her.

She came back later and brought Manning something to eat. As she arranged the tray across his knees, he noticed some flowers in a vase at the window and asked who had brought them.

She smiled. 'They were left by Miss Melos. She's brought fresh ones each day.'

After she'd taken the tray away, he lay staring out at the morning sunshine, thinking about Anna. His senses seemed sharper, more acute than he had ever known them. He could smell the perfume of the flowers and was filled with an aching longing for her.

The door clicked quietly open and he turned eagerly. Sergei Orlov was standing there. He wore a well-cut, darkbrown suit in tropical worsted, and sunglasses.

'Mr Smith, I presume?' Manning said.

The Russian grinned, took off his glasses and sat on the edge of the bed. 'Morrison will be up in a few minutes. He's talking to the doctor. How do you feel?'

'As if I shouldn't be here,' Manning said. 'They tell me you went down after me. Just for the record, what happened?'

'I finished off my man and followed you. I didn't like the way you were bleeding.'

'All the way down?'

The Russian nodded. 'I've been that deep before and it hasn't affected me particularly. In this case, we had to come up too quickly. That's what caused the trouble.'

'And Maria?'

'She took her own way out. She was still going down when I reached you.'

Manning pushed the thought away from him and asked for a cigarette. The Russian gave him one and they sat there smoking in silence.

'What happens now?' Manning said after a while.

'To me?' Orlov smiled. 'A most interesting situation. Officially, I'm quite dead. This opens up a fascinating range of possibilities.'

'Such as staying on this side of the fence?'

The Russian grinned. 'Why beat about the bush? To tell you the truth, I'm flying to Washington with Morrison in the morning. We've really only been hanging on to see if you'd pull through. He seems to think they might find something for me to do.'

'I'm sure they will,' Manning said dryly.

The door opened and Morrison entered. He sat on the other side of the bed and smiled. 'What in hell were you trying to do? Frighten us?'

They shook hands and Manning said, 'Papa Melos was here a little while ago. He told me about the boat. I'd like to thank you.'

'He deserved it.'

'I hear you're having company on the trip back.'

'You mean Smith here?' Morrison grinned. 'He finally came to his senses.' He hesitated for a moment and carried on. 'In a way, I'm here in sort of official capacity to thank you.'

'No need,' Manning said. 'I went into this thing in the first place for personal reasons. You know that.'

'Naturally, the whole business stays a secret. I must say the authorities here have handled things superbly in that way. Under the circumstances, my government expresses a very real regret that you can't be thanked publicly for what you've done. However, there
are
other ways. I've been asked to tell you that we intend to compensate you fully for the loss of your salvage business in Havana.'

Manning could think of nothing to say and Morrison nodded to Orlov and stood up. 'You look pretty tired, Harry. Try to get some more sleep. We'll see you again before we leave.'

After they had gone, he lay staring out of the window. So now he could start afresh. Now he could have not only the boat, but enough money to go into the salvage business again. The thought cheered him immensely and he threw back the bedclothes and swung his feet to the floor. When he walked across to the wardrobe, he felt as if he were floating.

His best tan gabardine suit was on a hanger and there was clean linen and a pair of shoes, obviously brought in by Anna or Seth against the day he would be leaving.

The pajama jacket he was wearing was light blue and he left it on in place of a shirt. It took him quite some time to get into the suit because of his injured shoulder and he simply buttoned the jacket in the middle, allowing the empty sleeve to dangle freely.

The corridor was deserted and he went down the stairs at the far end. On the ground floor, there seemed to be a great many people moving about, some in uniform, but many of them patients. He moved into a pleasant tiled foyer. Facing him was a wide glass door.

A uniformed porter was standing in the porch and he looked at Manning curiously. 'Can I get you a cab, sir?'

Manning was about to say yes when he remembered that he had no money. He shook his head. 'First day up. I could do with the exercise.'

He realized he had made a bad mistake before he had gone fifty yards, but he kept on moving through the side streets toward the harbour, staying in the shade as much as possible.

Sweat ran down his face in rivulets, soaking through the pajama jacket and his shoulder was beginning to hurt when he finally turned a corner onto the waterfront.

It was packed with jostling humanity and he moved into the crowd, trying to protect his injured shoulder as much as possible. Someone swung a basket against it and he stifled a cry and forced his way through to the stone wall at the edge of the wharf.

He could see the
Grace Abounding
about a hundred yards away round the curve of the harbour. Anna was standing in the stern dangling a bucket on a line into the water. As he watched, she started to swab the deck.

A hand tugged at his sleeve and he looked down into the face of Twenty-two, the little black boy in the American football jersey who'd shown them where Garcia lived an eternity ago.

'Heh, mister, remember me?'

'I'm never likely to forget you.' Manning pointed across to the
Grace Abounding.
'Go and tell the lady who's swabbing the deck of that boat that I'm sorry. This is as far as I could get under my own steam.'

The boy looked completely mystified. 'Is that all, mister?'

'Tell you what I'll do,' Manning said. 'After you've told her, wait for me on the boat. I'll bet you ten shillings it'll be worth it.'

The boy darted into the crowd and was immediately lost to view and Manning sat on the wall. The heat was tremendous and he closed his eyes, fighting against the darkness that tried to move in on him. When he opened them again, Anna was standing a few feet away.

Her expression was a strange mixture of incredulity, dismay and anger. She rushed forward, took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped the sweat from his face.

'You fool!' she stormed. 'You stupid damned fool! What do you want to do? Kill yourself?'

He shook his head. 'I'm trying to convince a stubborn Greek that I love her, that's all.'

She sagged against him for a moment, holding onto his jacket, and he gently stroked her hair with his free hand.

'Is there a chance for us, Anna? Do you honestly think there's a chance?'

She looked up at him, her face vibrant and alive. 'I know one thing, Harry Manning. If we don't try, we'll regret it for the rest of our lives.'

She slipped an arm about his waist and together they moved through the crowds towards the
Grace Abounding.