Windfall ms-2

by Desmond Bagley

  One of the nations was preparing for its part in the clash.

  Brice looked at Patterson stonily. 'So Gunnarsson went out to Crescent Island. Why?'

  'I couldn't ask him; he wasn't within shouting distance,' said Patterson acidly. 'But I think he's chasing after some Indian – a Sikh. He was making enquiries about the driver of a Kenatco taxi in the hotel car park and then hired the hotel boat to take him to the island. The boatman wouldn't wait for him because someone wanted to go fishing. He promised Gunnarsson he'd pick him up in a couple of hours.' He looked at his watch. 'That was nearly an hour ago. I left Joe Baiya on watch and came back here to report. You said not to use the telephone in this business.'

  'So I did.' Brice tapped a ballpoint pen on the desk and stared unseeingly at Dirk Hendriks. 'A Sikh in a Kenatco taxi. That's something new.'

  'And interesting,' said Hendriks.

  'It gets more interesting,' said Patterson. 'I had another look at the taxi – a Mercedes just like Kenatco uses, but I don't think it's theirs. It had three antennas and a signal strength meter on the dashboard. A professional trailing job.'

  Brice sat straighter in his chair. 'Gunnarsson told us about that. I didn't know whether or not to believe him.' He stood up and paced the room. 'If it isn't one damn thing it's another. We get rid of Stafford and now we've got this man, Gunnarsson pushing in. I'd like to know why.'

  'Are we sure Stafford has gone?' asked Patterson.

  Hendriks nodded. 'Our man in Nairobi reported in person fifteen minutes ago. Stafford left on the morning flight. He checked out of the Norfolk early and changed his Kenyan money at the airport bank like a good boy. Our man saw the record – he has good contacts at the airport. Both Stafford and his man, Curtis, are on the passenger list.'

  'But did anyone see them leave?' persisted Patterson.

  'Forget Stafford," snapped Brice. 'Our immediate concern is Gunnarsson and, more important, with whoever is following him. I don't like it.' He stood up. 'Since they're both conveniently to hand on Crescent Island I propose that we find out what they're doing there. Come on."

  The three of them left the office and, on the way through the entrance hall, Brice collected the black who presided behind the reception desk.

  Hunt said, 'That's the damnedest story I've ever heard.'

  Hardin chuckled. 'Isn't it, though? Not long ago Max asked me if I thought that running down Biggie and Hank would lead to what's happening here in Kenya. Really weird. If Gunnarsson hadn't tried to pull a switch then the Ol Njorowa crowd might have got away with it. Brice and Hendriks are damned unlucky.' He rubbed his chin. 'There's one person I'm really sorry for.'

  'Who's that?'

  'Mrs Hendriks back in London. I liked her – a real nice lady.'

  'Perhaps she's in it up to her neck just as much as her husband.'

  Hardin drained his beer can and then crushed it flat. 'Max says not, and he's known her for a long time. He knew her before she married Hendriks. Apparently he got her out of a jam once before; some trouble her brother was in. That's why she went to him when I appeared with my story and Hendriks was away in South Africa. If she was in cahoots with Dirk she'd have kept her mouth shut. No, I think this is going to hurt her bad when the news gets out.'

  Hunt looked at his watch. 'I'd better be getting back.'

  'Okay.' Hardin picked up a beer can and tossed it to Hunt. 'Give that to Curtis on your way. It must be as hot as Hades up there. Tell him I'll relieve him for the afternoon watch. And check with Max before you go. He might want you to do something at Ol Njorowa.'

  'Right.' Hunt looked up at the ridge. Tunny, chap, Curtis. Never says much, does he?'

  Hardin grinned. 'The Sergeant is the only guy I know who only talks when he has something to say. Everybody else goes yacketty-yack all the time. But when he does say something, for Christ's sake, take notice.'

  Hunt reported to Stafford that he was leaving. Stafford said, 'Alan, is there a way into Ol Njorowa other than the front gate?'

  'Not that I know of,' said Hunt. 'You go through the gate or through the fence – or over it.'

  'Or under it,' suggested Nair.

  Stafford shook his head. 'Brice knew what he was doing when he put up that fence. He's not stupid. My bet is that it's like an Australian rabbit fence and extends four feet underground. Is the animal migration laboratory normally kept locked?' i

  'I don't know,' said Hunt. 'I've never had occasion to try the door.'

  Stafford grimaced. 'Of course not.' He reflected for a moment. 'I don't know if there'll be any rough stuff- nothing like a shoot-out at the OK Corral – normally intelligence outfits don't favour guns. But there may be a bit of trouble when Chip moves in, so my advice is to get Judy out of there. Send her to Nairobi for a week's shopping or something like that.'

  'I've already tried that and she's not buying it,' said Hunt.

  'Well, tell her to keep her head down.' They shook hands and Hunt departed and Stafford walked over to where Nair was interrogating Gunnarsson. 'Now,' he said. 'You were about to tell us what really happened to Hank Hendrix."

  'Go screw yourself,' said Gunnarsson.

  Curtis turned his head as Hunt approached and slid down from the top of the ridge. He accepted the can of beer gratefully. 'Thanks. Just what the doctor ordered.'

  'Hardin says he'll relieve you soon,' said Hunt.

  'He needn't bother.'

  Hunt regarded him curiously. 'Have you been with Max Stafford long?'

  Curtis swallowed beer, his Adam's apple working vigorously. He sighed in appreciation. 'A couple of years.'

  'Were you in the service together.'

  Curtis nodded. 'In a way. A long time ago.'

  Hunt decided that making conversation with Curtis was hard work. The Sergeant was polite and informative but brief as though words were rationed and not to be squandered. If brevity was the soul of wit Curtis was the wittiest man alive. But surprisingly Curtis came up with a question. 'Are hippos dangerous?"

  'That depends, said Hunt. 'I wouldn't go too near in a boat and I certainly wouldn't choose them as swimming companions.'

  'This one's ashore.' He pointed. 'Landed about an hour ago over there.'

  Hunt looked to where Curtis pointed and saw nothing. 'They don't usually venture ashore in daylight. And, yes, they're bloody dangerous. They can move a lot faster than you'd think, certainly faster than a man can run, and those tusks can kill. The thing to remember is never to get between a hippo and the water.'

  'I'll tell the Colonel,' said Curtis.

  Hunt nodded. 'I'm going back to Ol Njorowa.'

  Curtis eased himself to the top of the ridge and picked up the binoculars. Hunt was about to walk past him when Curtis held up his hand.'Wait!'

  Hunt stopped. 'What's the matter?'

  'Get down off the ridge – off the skyline.' Curtis was intently watching something below as Hunt dropped beside him. He said, 'A boat coming. Five men; three white, two black.' He paused. 'One is Dirk Hendriks. I don't know the others.' He passed the binoculars to Hunt.

  Hunt focused and the approaching boat suddenly jumped towards him. 'Brice and Patterson,' he said. 'And Joe Baiya -he's a sort of handyman around Ol Njorowa – with Luke Maiyani. He's usually behind the desk in the Admin Block.'

  Curtis's voice was even. 'You'd better tell the Colonel. I'll stay here.'

  Hunt plunged down the hill towards the camp site.

  Chapter 30

  Stafford's first reaction was to turn to Nair. 'Is this island big enough to play hide-and-seek?'

  'Hide from five men?' Nair shook his head decisively. 'And what about him?' He pointed to Gunnarsson who was stubbornly resisting Hardin's questioning.

  'Damn!' said Stafford. Gunnarsson was a real stumbling block; if he was left manacled Brice was sure to find him, but if he was freed he might run straight to Brice and blab all he knew, and he knew too much for comfort. Stafford damned the men in Nairobi who were talking instead of acting.

  He s
trode over to Gunnarsson and dropped to his knees. 'Do you want to live?' he asked abruptly.

  Gunnarsson's eyes widened. 'That's a hell of a question.'

  'Look, I'm not interested in your tricks with Corliss," said Stafford. 'That's small time stuff compared with what Brice is doing.'

  'Yeah', said Hardin. 'You were ripping off a lousy six million bucks. Brice was going for broke – maybe a hundred million.'

  'He's coming here now,' said Stafford, and heard Hardin make a muffled exclamation. 'And he's bringing his troops. A few lives are nothing compared to what he has at stake.'

  'He wouldn't risk murder," said Hardin. 'Shots could be heard from the mainland."

  Stafford thought of the man he had killed in Tanzania. 'Who said anything about shooting? There are other ways of killing and the evidence can be buried in the belly of a crocodile,' he said brutally, and Gunnarsson flinched. 'As you are now you wouldn't stand a chance so I'm going to release you, but just remember who is doing you the favour.'

  'Sure,' said Gunnarsson eagerly. 'Just let me run.'

  Stafford signalled to Nair who shrugged and produced the key of the handcuffs. When Gunnarsson was free he stood up and massaged his wrist. 'This true?' he asked Hardin. He jerked his head at Stafford. 'This guy was talking about something else before.' ., 'It's true,' said Hardin. 'We've run against South African intelligence and those guys don't play patty-cake. You ought to know that. We've got in the way of one of their big operations.'

  'Then I'm fading,' Gunnarsson announced.

  'You'll do as you're bloody well told,' snapped Stafford. He was looking at Curtis up on the ridge. 'You said five men? That all?'

  'All I saw,' said Hunt. 'There could be another boat coming along behind.'

  'Curtis hasn't signalled anything about that,' commented Stafford. 'What do you think, Ben? The odds are better than even if Gunnarsson comes in. Six to five.'

  'You mean a straight fight for it?' Hardin made a wry face. 'We'd lose,' he said flatly. 'Look at us – middle-aged men except for Alan and Nair here, and I wouldn't think Alan has had the training for it. Dirk Hendriks is a husky young guy, and Brice looks as though he eats nails for breakfast. I don't know about the others,' He looked at Hunt.

  'Patterson's a toughie and I wouldn't like to tackle Luke Maiyani without a club in my hand,' said Hunt frankly.

  'Then if we can't use force we must use guile,' said Stafford.

  Gunnarsson said, 'And we can't waste time standing here yapping.'

  Nair said suddenly, 'Why is Brice coming here?' It was a rhetorical question because he answered it himself. 'I think Gunnarsson has been followed, probably by Patterson. It was Patterson who went looking for him in Nairobi. And Gunnarsson was following me. I think Brice expects to find only the two of us.'

  'Makes sense,' said Hardin. 'And that means…'

  'Yes,' said Stafford.

  Gunnarsson found himself the centre of a circle of eyes. 'Now wait a minute. If you guys expect me to stick my neck out after the way you've treated me you're crazy.'

  'Mr Gunnarsson,' said Nair politely. 'You and I are going across the island to meet Brice. On the way we'll think of something to tell him. I'm sure your imagination will be up to it.'

  'Keep them occupied while we get rid of this stuff,' said Stafford. He waved his hand at the evidence of the camp site. 'Say ten or fifteen minutes. Then draw them out of sight of the boats at the jetty. We'll be coming in on the flank. And send Curtis down here.'

  The engine note altered as the boat neared the jetty. Brice said, 'Two boats here. All right; one brought the Sikh but the boat which brought Gunnarsson went back, you said.' He turned to Patterson. 'So whose is the other?'

  Patterson looked at his watch. 'The boatman must have come back for Gunnarsson. Just about time.'

  Brice nodded briefly as the boat drifted in and touched the jetty. Baiya and Maiyani held it steady as he went ashore. He turned and said, 'Baiya, you stay here. The rest come with me.'

  Baiya lashed the painter around a cleat on Hunt's boat and the others went ashore. Hendriks looked around. 'Where do we start?'

  'We'll find them,' said Brice confidently. 'It's not a big island.'

  'No need to go far,' said Patterson. 'They've found us. Look!' He pointed up the hill to where two figures stood silhouetted on the ridge.

  'Good; that saves time,' said Brice. 'Let's go to meet them. I'd like to know what this is about – but let me do the talking.'

  They walked up the hill and met Nair and Gunnarsson on the level base of the foundations of the old building. To Brice's surprise he saw handcuffs on Gunnarsson's wrists.

  'What's going on here?' he demanded. 'Why is Mr Gunnarsson handcuffed?'

  Nair Singh looked at him sternly. 'Do you know this man?'

  'I had breakfast with him this morning.'

  'I am a police officer.' Nair took a small leather case from his pocket and flipped it open. 'Nair Singh. This is my warrant card. Mr Gunnarsson is under arrest."

  Brice turned to look at Hendriks who was plainly shocked. He turned back to Nair. 'May I know the charge?'

  'He has been arrested but not yet charged,' said Nair. 'You say you had breakfast with Mr Gunnarsson this morning. May I know your name, sir.'

  'Brice. Charles Brice.'

  Nair's face cleared. 'Of Ol Njorowa College?'

  'Yes. Now what's this all about?'

  'Ah, then I think you'll be pleased to know that we caught this man before he did too much damage. He's under arrest for fraud.'

  'It's a goddamn lie,' said Gunnarsson. 'Look, Mr Brice, do me a favour. Ring the American Embassy in Nairobi as soon as you can. This is a put-up job; I'm being framed for something I didn't do.'

  'The American authorities will be informed,' said Nair coldly.

  'Now hang on a minute,' said Hendriks. 'What sort of fraud?'

  Nair looked at him. 'Who are you, sir?'

  'Hendriks. Dirk Hendriks. I'm staying with Mr Brice at Ol Njorowa.'

  Nair looked oddly embarrassed. 'Oh! Then you will be an heir to the estate which has benefited Ol Njorowa?'

  'That's correct.'

  Brice said impatiently, 'Who is Mr Gunnarsson supposed to have defrauded?'

  Nair was playing for time. He said to Hendriks, 'Then it was your cousin who disappeared in Tanzania.'

  Hendriks and Brice exchanged glances. Hendriks said, 'Yes; and nothing seems to have been done about it. Was Gunnarsson mixed up in that business? Is that it?'

  'Not quite,' said Nair. 'How long had you known your cousin, Mr Hendriks?'

  The question seemed strange to Dirk. 'What's that got to do with anything? And what's it got to do with Gunnarsson?'

  'How long?' persisted Nair.

  'Not very long – a matter of weeks. He was an American, you know. I met him for the first time in London.'

  'Ah!' said Nair, as though suddenly a light had been shone into darkness. 'That would explain it.'

  'Explain what?' said Brice in sudden irritation.

  'Henry Hendrix came back across the border two days after he was kidnapped,' said Nair. 'And…'

  Brice and Hendriks broke in simultaneously and then stopped, each looking at the other in astonishment. Brice said sharply, 'Why was no one told of this? It's monstrous that Mr Hendriks here should have been kept in ignorance. He's been worried about his cousin.'

  'As I said, Henry Hendrix came back,' continued Nair calmly. 'But he was delirious; he had a bad case of sunstroke. In his delirium he talked of certain matters which required investigation and, when he recovered, he was questioned and made a full confession. I am sorry to tell you that the man known to you as Henry Hendrix is really called Corliss and he has implicated Gunnarsson in his imposture.'

  'It's a lie,' cried Gunnarsson. "He screwed me the same way as he screwed everyone else.'

  'That will be for the court to decide,' said Nair. He studied Brice and Hendriks, both of whom appeared to be shell-shocked, and smiled internally. 'The Am
erican Embassy has, of course, been kept acquainted with these developments and agreed that a certain amount of… er… reticence was in order while the matter was investigated. Mr Gunnarsson will have a number of questions to answer when we get back to Nairobi.' He looked at his watch. 'And now, if you gentlemen will excuse me…?'

  There was something wrong here which Brice could not fathom. He watched Nair and Gunnarsson pass by and felt obscurely that somewhere he was being tricked. He said, 'Wait a moment. Have you been following Gunnarsson in that Kenatco taxi?'

  Nair paused and looked back. 'In the line of duty.'

  'Then why did it happen in reverse? Why did Gunnarsson follow you here to Crescent Island?'

  'I tempted him,' said Nair blandly.

  'Yeah, he suckered me all right,' said Gunnarsson in corroboration.

  Suddenly Brice saw – or, rather, did not see – the missing piece, the missing man. If Gunnarsson had come to the. island and the boatman had gone away and had then returned to pick him up, then where the hell was he? Where was the boatman? And if there was no boatman then whose was the other boat? Brice jerked his head at Patterson and stepped forward. 'Look!' he said sharply, pointing at nothing in particular.

  Both Nair and Gunnarsson turned to look and Brice, hooked his foot around Gunnarsson's leg and pushed. Gunnarsson went flying down the slope and instinctively put out his hands to save himself. In that he succeeded but the handcuffs went flying away in a guttering arc to clink on a rock, and Brice knew he had been right.

  Stafford watched Curtis ghost through the trees to his left and then turned his head to watch Hardin on his right. He knew he did not have to worry about a couple of old pros who knew their business, but Hunt was different; he was a civilian amateur who did not know which end was up, which is why he was directly behind Stafford with strict instructions to walk in the Master's steps. 'I don't want a sound out of you,' Stafford had said. Hunt was doing his best but flinched when Stafford turned to glare at him when a twig snapped underfoot.

  Curtis held both hands over his head in the military gesture indicating an order to stop. If he had had a rifle he would have held it, but he had no rifle, which was a pity. He beckoned to Stafford who, after stopping Hunt dead in his tracks, made his way to Curtis in a walking crouch.