Chapter Thirty-two – Dark Stars in the Ascendant
Lucretia arrived in Malaga on the morning of Wednesday December the 2nd and Cristoval on the evening of Friday the 4th. Malaga is a small town and as they both put up at the Hotel Colon there was every chance of their running into each other on the Saturday or Sunday.
He would have been surprised to see her there but, as her work with the F.A.I. often covered a quite different sphere from his with the U.G.T., she would have had no difficulty whatever in providing a plausible excuse for her presence in the sunny southern city. He, on the other hand, had no reason to conceal his activities from her and, elated as he was at the prospect of the wonderful haul he was about to make, would undoubtedly have told of the trap he was planning, which would have enabled her to avert the threatened catastrophe.
As it was, an evil Fate decreed that they should not meet. She had already been out in a speed-boat with two of General Franco’s secret agents on the Thursday to verify the fact that the golden bombs were lying ready buoyed for collection in the bay, and during the succeeding days she was rarely in the hotel except to sleep owing to the careful arrangements she had to make with numerous other secret Nationalist supporters.
Cristoval had brought with him from Valencia twenty picked shock-fighters from the old civilian army of the U.G.T., all men whom he had known for months, and as his lieutenant, the black-bearded Gustavo Sandoval, a friend of many years. On the Saturday morning Simon, Cristoval and Sandoval also went out to the bay and laughed a great deal when they found that Richard had made such admirable preparations for hauling the gold out of the sand and sea. Returning to Malaga, they went to the office of Colonel Eusebio Picón, the Military Governor of the city; and held a conference with him as to how best to arrange their ambush.
Colonel Picón was a large solid man, an officer of the old regular army who had remained loyal to the Government at the outbreak of hostilities. He was not a very brilliant person but a conscientious soldier, and the knowledge he had acquired during many years as a regular had secured him this post in which he controlled many more active, but less knowledgeable, Militia leaders.
On the wall of Colonel Picón’s office there hung a large map showing the whole of the Malaga pocket and, on it, they examined the bay with a view to arranging their ambush.
After a short discussion the Commander of the Government’s Naval Forces in Malaga was called in, and the scheme for trapping the Nationalists at their secret work on the Sunday night was completed. Cristoval and Simon spent the afternoon with the Naval man who introduced them to a Lieutenant Rodriguez commanding the destroyer Libertad. They dined on board, and before leaving Simon invited the lieutenant to lunch with him the following day. Directly they got back to their hotel he and Cristoval went straight to bed as they knew that they would probably get no sleep at all on the Sunday night.
Next morning Simon felt far from well. He thought he had caught a nasty chill and would not have got up at all if he had not had Rodriguez lunching with him. Cristoval went off to lunch with Colonel Picón while Simon entertained Lieutenant Rodriguez. He felt certain that Richard and Marie-Lou would be lying off the bay in the Golden Gull that evening ready to take the gold on board, and his one concern was that the yacht should not be interfered with in any circumstances. Rodriguez had already received instructions from his superiors to that effect, so he was able to set Simon’s mind at rest and their meeting was entirely satisfactory.
Lucretia had spent most of her morning out in the harbour in a tug that already had a number of her Nationalist friends on board. On returning to lunch alone at the Hotel Colon she saw Simon with his new Naval acquaintance. She wondered vaguely what he was doing in Malaga but, seeing he was busy, only gave him a smiling nod as she passed to her table.
Had she spoken to him he would not have mentioned the work that had brought him there, but he would certainly have told her that Cristoval was staying in the hotel and likely to be back after the siesta, which would have ensured her meeting her lover that afternoon; but the dark stars were still in the ascendant. Simon finished his lunch before she did and was feeling very ill. Convinced now that he had been poisoned by some fish he had eaten the day before, the moment he had got rid of Rodriguez he went straight up to his room and sent for a doctor, who confirmed his own idea and despatched him to bed until further orders.
Normally he would have felt himself under an obligation to accompany Cristoval on the expedition planned for that night, but he knew there would be fighting and Simon hated fighting, so the fact that he was genuinely ill gave him an admirable excuse to back out of it. He was quite content to wait until the great prize was brought into Malaga harbour before viewing it again, and wrote a chit for Cristoval saying that he was hors de combat.
On receiving it Cristoval came up to express his sympathy and understanding, but by that time Simon was sweating profusely and a little muzzy in the head so he forget to mention that he had seen Lucretia-José who was now in her own room, all her preparations completed, resting behind drawn blinds for the night’s work which lay before her.
There was another way in which catastrophe could have been averted, but the stars in their courses carrying death in their combination were against the major participants in the clash which was approaching.
On leaving the bay on Tuesday night Richard had ordered the yacht to Algiers where she arrived late on the Wednesday. For two days she lay there while her charming owners and their guest disported themselves with much merriment and pleasure, revelling in the civilized amenities of the peaceful North-African city.
She sailed again on the Saturday and by Sunday afternoon was lying off Malaga harbour. Captain Saunders went ashore and returned with a telegram, to pick up which was the sole reason for her call at the port. It had been lying there for three days and read:
Marie Burgoyne S Y Golden Gull Malaga Good Luck for Sunday Sixth Best Love Greyeyes.
It told Richard, as he had hoped, that his plan had been accepted and was being acted upon; moreover, it contained a delightful surprise but he said nothing of that to either Marie-Lou or Rex as he wished to keep it for them. Thus he also played into the hands of Fate by leaving Rex to assume that the plan would be carried out exactly as it had stood originally.
During their stay in Algiers twenty further large cork floats had been prepared and painted over with phosphorus; it being Richard’s idea to go into the bay just before sundown and attach these to the hawsers so that they floated on the surface. The light given out by the phosphorus after dark would not be strong enough to be visible from the coast road or the monastery but quite sufficient for Lucretia and her friends to locate the floats at whatever hour they arrived on their salvaging expedition.
At a little after five the yacht anchored off the bay and her launch was ordered out. Richard told Rex what he was about to do and asked if he would like to come with him.
“Sure,” replied Rex, much tickled by the thought of how furious Richard would be when he found that the bombs were no longer there. “A little exercise fixing those floats’ll give me a nice appetite for dinner.”
Half an hour later he was not quite so pleased with himself. The bombs were still there and Richard was busy fixing the first float with the aid of a seaman, while the mechanic tinkered with the launch’s engine and, at her helm, the puzzled Rex kept her steady.
At first he thought that his private letter to Simon must have gone astray or that something had prevented its delivery. Since its despatch he had given his word to Richard that he would take no action to prevent the Condesa collecting her fortune, so it was useless for him to consider ways in which he might yet put a spoke in her wheel. Instead, he began to resign himself to the fact that the last laugh was against him after all. He let the others work while he sat at the controls of the launch smoking and taking in the scene.
In the evening light the hard contours of the brownish foothills of the Sierra Mijas were softened but even then th
e barren landscape brought home to him the endless and pitiful struggles of the peasants who tried to wring a living out of this parched and hungry soil. The sea was calm and the only sound that broke the evening stillness was the lazy sucking of the water under the counters of the boat as she rocked on the long, gentle swell.
The job was half done when another thought struck Rex. He had put his letter in the post box of the village police station. The police would certainly have forwarded a packet marked ‘Urgent’ and addressed care of an important U.G.T. leader. Unless it had been destroyed by an accident of war it must have reached Simon in eleven days. What if Simon had deliberately left the bombs there with the idea of trapping the Condesa and her friends when they came to get them?
Rex had already taken into account the possibility of the two parties arriving on the scene simultaneously by accident and, for that reason, had gone to considerable trouble to assure himself that the Duke would not be involved in the business. That was all that mattered to Rex; the Condesa, whom as far as he knew he had never met, was no concern of his. He decided that if Simon had planned a trap, so much the better. They would have the last laugh. He would let Richard complete his work with the phosphorescent floats and, once they were back on the yacht, see to it that he did not leave it any more.
Richard had not dared to start his job too early for fear of attracting the attention of the troops in the monastery. The colour faded from the mountains until only a denser blackness showed their outline against the darkening sky. In the failing light the hawsers became increasingly difficult to find and they had to search for the last half-dozen with the aid of their torches. Two hours sped past and by the time the work was completed full night had come. There was no moon as yet but the stars twinkled overhead with the brightness of sparks against a sooty chimney, and the phosphorus on the nearest floats lit them dully so that they appeared like a row of big jelly-fish gently undulating in the wavelets.
“There,” said Richard, as he knotted the thick twine which attached the float to the last hawser in the line. “That’s that. All we have to do now is to sit tight until the salvage squad turns up.”
“What!” exclaimed Rex cheerfully, “And miss our dinner? Not for this child. We’re late as it is. We’re going back on board right now and we’ll watch the show from there. Time enough to give them the “big hallo!” when they bring their first load to the yacht.”
Richard laughed. “We’re not having dinner to-night, old chap, but supper when the party’s over, and it’ll be some celebration too, believe you me. You won’t lose anything by waiting.”
“Now, listen!” Rex said firmly. “I’ve a mighty good reason for wanting to get back in the yacht just as soon as maybe.”
“If you think the Nationalists who’re due here any time now may be sore about your having made off with the Flying Sow, you needn’t worry. Lucretia José will soon fix that.”
“You mean the Condesa woman, but I’m not interested in...”
“I bet you will be when you see her,” Richard interrupted with a grin. “She’s a marvel! Brave as a lioness and lovely as a sylph. You must have met her some time with Simon, already, but of course you wouldn’t know that because she’s the most brilliant Secret Agent the Nationalists have got. I can let you in to the big secret now. She’s no other than the famous Golden Spaniard. There! What d’you think of that?”
“Hell’s bells!” Rex exclaimed. “That certainly is one whopping big surprise. Of course I know her. Met her lots of times.”
This was a complication he could not possibly have foreseen and he was thinking quickly: She’ll be caught red-handed if Simon does turn up. They’ll shoot her too, for certain. That’s darned hard. What pluck she’s got to have played a double game all this time. I wish to goodness I could pull her out of it. To try means risking Richard being pinched, though. I daren’t do that. After all, it’s her own funeral if she’s caught. I hope to God she’s not, but my job is to take care of Richard. Aloud he said:
“Look here, Richard, old scout. My reason for wanting to beat it to the yacht instanter has nix to do with the Flying Sow. I’m darned sorry to disappoint you but I guess the time has come when I must put you wise to what really...”
What’s that?” Richard cut in. “Look! Over there.” He pointed through the darkness to the east where the headland was faintly discernable.
Rex gave a swift glance over his shoulder and saw two black shapes just off the headland. Without a word he switched on the launch’s motor and thrust over her little steering wheel. She suddenly shot forward, heading out to sea.
“What the hell are you up to?” protested Richard. “We must stay here until they join us.”
Rex only shook his head and the launch sped on.
“Are you crazy?” Richard cried, stumbling towards the controls in an endeavour to switch off the power.
“I certainly am not, my lad. This is where you and I get right out, back to the yacht.”
“But we can’t do that. Don’t you understand? It’s our part to guide them in.” As Richard spoke he glanced quickly again towards the eastern end of the bay. The outline of a tug was now perceptible and behind it that of a flat barge with a bulky structure amidships. He made another attempt to grab the wheel.
With one large hand Rex pushed him away. “As I was saying a moment back, when you butted in, the time has come for me to put you wise to the fact that you’ve lost out on this deal. You were smart, Richard. Mighty smart, but I guess I’ve gone one better.”
“What the hell do you mean?” Richard asked with sudden anxiety.
“Just this. You made a monkey of me all right changing over those bombing leads in the Flying Sow, but I tumbled to it just as soon as you started in to drop the real goods along the shore here. I swam off that night and sent a chit to Simon, giving him the lowdown on what you’d done. Why he hasn’t collected the bombs yet is more than I can say, but I’ve just had a very nasty sort of hunch about it.”
“Good God! You don’t mean that you let Simon know my whole plan? Dammit! You couldn’t have. I never gave you any details until after we left Valencia.”
“I got the details all right,” Rex grinned in the darkness. “All’s fair in love and war. I know your habits, Richard, just as well as I know my own. I gave you plenty of time for any little private conversation that night we got out with the gold; but I listened-in to you and Marie-Lou plotting it all out later on. How the Condesa who originally owned the goods was to come down and collect, after having pinched one of the crane-barges Marie-Lou had seen in Malaga harbour that morning, and how we’d take the stuff on board—then run round to the Atlantic coast to pick up the Duke when all bar the shouting was over.”
“You bloody fool!” Richard grabbed Rex by the collar. “You think you’ve been damn clever and now I’ll tell you something. Your cleverness will probably cost the lot of us our lives.”
“What the...?” Rex began but Richard stormed on:
“If you’ve tipped Simon off, half the Malaga Militia is probably waiting for us on that shore.”
“Steady on... steady on!” Rex pulled himself from Richard’s grip and peered anxiously towards the two men in the bows who had turned to look at them now that their voices were raised above the humming of the engine. “Naturally you’re sore about losing the gold but try and take it like a sportsman. I’m darned sorry about the Condesa, now I know who she is, but I don’t give two hoots about these other Fascists who’re coming to pick the stuff up. What’s it matter if Simon’s people do bag a few of them?”
“You lunatic!” Richard had seen his mechanic and the seaman staring at them too and his voice sank, but it was still filled with passionate anger. “How could you have even thought of double-crossing me just to appease your stupid vanity without knowing the risks involved? If you’d only said you’d found me out I’d have given you best and let you get away with the gold rather than this should happen.”
“What in heck’s bit
ten you?” Rex was puzzled now. “With all the blood that’s been spilt in this game, do you mean to tell me that you’d have let a few lives interfere between you and the treasure? I don’t darn well believe it. You wanted that gold and whatever it cost, you meant to get it.”
“God’s death, man! It’s not the gold I’m worrying about but Lucretia and the Duke!”
“But—but...!” Rex stammered. “I thought we were to pick the Duke up from Lisbon or Coruna.”
“You thought! Just because you heard us speculating on what he might do. How the blazes could we know where he’d head for until we got his telegram agreeing to adopt my plan? I picked it up in Malaga this afternoon. He’d decided to see the job through with Lucretia. I was keeping it as a surprise for you and Marie-Lou that we’re to pick him up here to-night.”
“Like hell we are!” Rex gasped. “I’m sorry, Richard. God! I’m sorry but I didn’t know.”
As he spoke he turned to stare out over the dark waters. The launch was already two miles from the shore. A little behind him now on his left he could just make out the black hulks of the tender and the barge which had entered the eastern end of the bay. “I suppose,” he said, “he’ll be on one of those things?” and he quickly flung the wheel about.
“Stop!” Richard grabbed his arm. “Don’t turn her. Now there’s a chance of trouble I won’t have my men in it. We’ll put them aboard first—then run back.”
Rex reversed the wheel obediently. “Maybe things aren’t so bad. Perhaps Simon never got my letter. I was figuring that when he did he’d get ahead of you and have the gold up while we were sitting in Algiers. I was mighty surprised to find those bombs still there to-night. With any luck my own plan’s gone west and they’ll get through after all.”
Dennis Wheatley - Duke de Richleau 03 Page 48