The German Numbers Woman (50 page)

‘As safe as any of us. Safer, maybe, if that's possible.' He was far in front of Waistcoat's drift, as maybe he was meant to be. ‘He's been useful, and still can be. A bob or two at paying-off time, and he's in it as deep as the rest of us.'

‘I expect he will be. But I'm worried, and I don't like to be worried. When I'm worried I feel nagged at, so I want to do something about what's worrying me. Even when I was a kid I didn't like to be worried. I worried a lot when I was a kid. Would the old man come in and try to break my arm again? Would there be anything on the table when I got back home and hadn't been able to half-inch a thing? Had anybody seen me when I snatched the wallet? Every minute of the day and night I worried, so I said that when I grew up I wouldn't let anything worry me.'

‘What is it, then, Chief?' Scud said, in from the rain and drek.

Waistcoat pushed by on his way back to the cabin. ‘Mind your own fucking business.'

‘Bad tempered,' Scud said, ‘but who can blame him?'

‘He's worried about Howard.'

‘He would be, wouldn't he? If it wasn't Howard it'd be one of us. He does worry when he's got nothing on his plate. That's when you've got to be careful, because it means “watch out”. He always picks on somebody, and it seems it's poor bloody Howard this time. It's too dangerous to get onto any of us. If he did he might wake up one morning and find he'd got no ear to put an earring in when he goes on the town with his boyfriend. Or he might trip himself up when he goes on deck, and fall into the drink, and nobody'll give him a helping hand back on board because he's been misbehaving. They'd kick his face in and push him back under, like he'd do with any of us if we gave him half a chance.' He rolled a perfect cigarette, in spite of the rocking. ‘What's he got against Howard, anyway?'

Richard took the boat over another glassy escarpment. ‘He thinks he might blab when he gets ashore.'

‘He's off his trolley.'

‘He doesn't trust him.'

‘Howard mystifies him, that's why. Howard's the sort he likes to hate. You've got to be careful.'

‘What would you do?' Richard asked.

‘Watch the blind chap every minute you've got.'

‘I can't. Will you keep an eye on him as well?'

Scud thought about it. ‘Put it like this. If I saw he was about to come to harm I'd do what I could. But it don't look like he'll be needing either of us, not with that Judy around. She's stuck on him, seems to think he's got something. It's just as well.'

‘That should take care of it, then.'

‘I expect so. But you never know with Waistcoat,' Scud said. ‘I'll have a word with the others. Mr Cleaver's only interested in number one, but I expect Jack will understand.'

‘The thing was, I promised Howard's wife I'd get him back safe. If he goes overboard we'll all be for the high jump. I can only suppose the chief knows as much.'

‘You never can tell. He'd just say he fell, and get us to say the same. We'd have to fall into line to save our necks. But he'd only do such a thing to Howard if he really went off his head, and I don't think he'd do that because there'd be too much to lose. Just tell Howard to give him a wide berth, though it's not easy on a pea green boat like this.'

Richard felt relieved at having put the notion around. Everyone's future depended on the safety of a blind man who – and in many ways it was strange – bound them together as a crew. But if Waistcoat was worried then so was he. Unlike the others Waistcoat never worried without good reason. He's got something on Howard that I don't know about, Richard thought, or he has proof of what some would only suspect. He thinks Howard's jeopardised the trip.

Richard had been uneasy since Howard first proposed coming with them – more like a stipulation. The idea that he was a mole from Interpol, however, was laughable, yet one he couldn't stop popping into his head. Howard had known from the start who they were and what they were going to do, so it was inconceivable that he would do anything to short circuit the trip, especially as a paid up member of the crew unless – a revelation to ice the blood – he had guessed about his fling with Laura.

Perhaps from some stupid notion of marital openness she had told him. There was so much about her he would never fathom that it was easy to imagine her spilling out details of their meetings, with that glassy stare of unreality lighting her up after they had made love. Such a confession would give a little more life to the deadness that was in her, and so Howard, having no other way to get his own back, either on his wife for unnecessarily tormenting him, or on someone who was supposed to be his friend, decided to let it come down, and had found a way to inform on the pick-up before they set out, had arranged a neat little ambush at wherever they landed up-Channel.

Fantasy was running him off. If Laura had talked, Howard would have shown by now that he knew. No man could keep that kind of blow to himself. But if suspicion of treachery goes through my mind, Richard's thoughts went, why should it not lodge in Waistcoat's as well, at least sufficiently to make him wonder. Neither he nor anyone on the boat needed a real reason for distrust – if it was felt strongly enough. When intuition pointed to a rat, motives followed, and among so few people, quartered in a space of wood that became smaller the longer they were on it, and in so large an ocean, a darker cloud was generated than any swirling across the sky.

‘I'll take over.' Cleaver, wrapped in a hood and oilskins, came in from his turn about the deck. Pipe smoke spread smells of burning kipper over the bridge. ‘You look all in.'

‘Nothing one of Ted's fry-ups won't cure.'

‘Ah,' he exclaimed, ‘it's good to be on a happy ship, even though the chief is off his head again. He's going like a demon at the bottle, pacing up and down the state room. I saw him through the window.'

‘Maybe he'll wear a hole in the carpet, if he walks for long enough, and slide down into the briny.'

‘Perfect,' Cleaver said. ‘But it'd take all of us down as well. I wouldn't like to share hell with the likes of him.'

‘I was going to have a chat with him, but maybe I'll leave it till he calms down.'

‘Take longer than that, I should think,' he puffed. ‘Give him a day or two. Wait till he's all fair and square in that little pink paradise he's got fixed up in Harley Street.'

Darkness brought isolation, talk minimal, but Howard was never without human noise, either voice or morse. On upper shortwave he heard navigation warnings from Karachi, good to know life went on beyond their world, and he the only one who had firm evidence of it. Warship and anti-aircraft practice was announced, coordinates given where firing with live ammunition was to happen, all craft told to stay clear of the danger zone.

Judy read over his shoulder, and wished they were sailing near Karachi. ‘I'd be on the sun deck getting a tan, and looking forward to a nice hot curry when we landed.'

‘Have you been that way?'

‘No. One day I hope. Would you like to go?'

With you I would. ‘Maybe I will.'

‘You have a funny way of speaking, as if you see too much to use words. You jump your phrases a bit. I like it. I never know what you're going to say till you say it, not like everybody else.'

‘Do I fascinate you, then?'

‘Utterly, you old thing!'

He laughed. ‘I suppose I might, being so much older. You've seen more of the world than I have, yet you think I'm wiser in some way. Well, I don't see it like that.' He paused, then went on. ‘Did I tell you I was in Boston a few months ago? It's a nice place. I liked it. Went for a holiday. I'd rather be there than near Karachi, to tell the truth.'

He felt a shock run through. ‘Eh! I know Boston. I have relations there. I've stayed often.'

‘Maybe I was looking for you.'

‘There you go again, jumping ahead. I wasn't there, though, was I?'

‘You might have been.'

‘Oh, right. You make me think it would have been nice if I had.'

‘Walking with your girlfriend – and I would have been taken by your voice as you talked to her.' He enjoyed going close enough to be found out, felt excitement in them both. ‘We wouldn't have got to know each other, but I'd have felt a thrill as you passed by.'

‘I wanted to take my friend to Boston, but we never made it. I'm beginning to think I'm more in love with her than she is with me. It's flippin' amazing how often it's been like that in my life.'

‘Great natures make big mistakes – if mistakes they are.'

‘I wish I could talk to her. Have you got shortwave in all this gear?'

‘There's the transmitter. My fingers have been figuring it out. How close are we, do you think?'

‘She might be near Spain. Close to Corunna, perhaps.'

‘The day after tomorrow you could try. If she was listening you'd get her loud and clear, but the chief would have us thrown overboard if he caught us using a transmitter.'

She stretched back on the seat, and he wondered, not for the first time, if her kindness was only because she wanted to get at the transmitter. He would be glad enough to help, would at least have the privilege of being remembered by her. ‘You can try if you like. It's nothing special.'

‘To me it would be.'

She wanted to know why. So did he, the blind leading the unblind, he thought drawing her close. ‘I'm satisfied if I can do something for you.'

‘I'm not sure I'm worth it.'

‘Who is? Yet everyone is. Best not to ask, unless you want me to say I'm in love with you. I hope it doesn't strike you as strange. Imagine I'm not blind.'

She couldn't keep away from him, that much he knew. When there was no work in the galley she would come to find out what he was doing, wanting to talk, and hear what he had to say. ‘I do,' she said. ‘I've got used to you, even in so short a time. I feel something for you; though I don't know what. I don't want to know. There's just something good about being with you.' She put her arms around him, lips kissing his. He smelled her hair, the fresh trace of perfume, felt her breasts against him, close bodies providing solace for them both.

THIRTY-ONE

Waistcoat shouted for him to come in. Sunshine made a rising and falling line across the state room, as Waistcoat farted what sounded like the first bar and a half of ‘The Sorcerer's Apprentice'. Richard couldn't think such peace would last. ‘Have a drink,' he was told.

A good start, though a bad one was usually a better omen. When Waistcoat was pushed into liberality it was time to watch out. ‘A short one. I like to keep my wits while running the ship.'

‘Don't we all.' He lounged on the sofa. ‘Best to start that way from the beginning.'

‘I can't fault that. Cheers!'

‘Too fucking right you can't. But you boobed over bringing that blind man on board. I've known for a few days now that he's sold us up the river. Or he's tried to.'

Richard thought he deserved to sit for the work he had put in, but wouldn't in such company, deciding to save it for when he could get his head down at home, his usual need after a trip. Waistcoat was talking from more than intuition, however. ‘What makes you think that?'

‘No think about it. You remember that pigeon he was so sweet on? The ship's pet. What a soft heart he's got, everybody said. Superstitious lot, sailors. Not superstitious enough, if you ask me. I was standing on the top deck for a bit of air, and the fucking bird flopped at my feet. Lost its way, I suppose, and came back, after blind man sent it off. It was half dead, so I wrung its neck. Then I noticed the capsule on its leg. Opened it, didn't I? Read the message. Some scribble I couldn't make out, or thought I couldn't. A blind man can't do copperplate, can he? I was about to throw it overboard after the pigeon, but I put it in my pocket. Yesterday I took it out and looked at it through a magnifying glass. There's one over on that table. Give it a butcher's, and tell me what you think. It's no get-well message, I can tell you.'

Hard to shake anything from the maze of hieroglyphic scratches. For a while he thought the only sense must have come out of Waistcoat's disordered brain. The small oblong of cigarette paper had been scored on by a sharpened dark leaded pencil, and the clear result, enlarging as his arm went up and down and held the glass steady on its highest magnification, jumped into focus with a position in latitude and longitude.

‘It's taking you long enough.'

‘I'm getting there.' And so he was, until everything was framed in the glass circle, and he could pick out the time and date of the position, isolate the name of the boat, and fix the ETA of their reaching the Lizard. If Howard hadn't looked at Cleaver's navigation summary for the trip, which was impossible, he had done some pretty nifty mental arithmetic. Maybe he had heard Cleaver talking to Waistcoat. ‘Could be he has a woman pigeon fancier, and wants to let her know when he'd be getting back.'

‘Don't fuck with me. If he's tried to do this he's done something else as a back-up. Or before we left. And if it hadn't been for that pigeon going round in circles we'd never have known.'

‘At least whoever it was meant for didn't get it, if it was meant for anybody. I don't suppose he thought for a second it would land anywhere.'

‘The way you're talking I could almost think you were in on it with him. I don't, though. I just think you've been duped. We all have. He wouldn't have tried sending a message if the ground hadn't been prepared in some way. The only thing is they don't know our ETA now, which could be anytime, though they might keep up a twenty-four-hour watch for a week. And those planes we saw on the way out must have got a lovely clear shot of the boat.'