We turned south-west outside the mole and ran along the curve of the coal wharf, following Zakri Bey’s launch until it turned in towards the shore again. We lost it then for a bit, and had some difficulty in picking it up among the Armada of small craft that lay at anchor off a straggling line of short jetties. But Amin spotted it nosing its way along to a rickety landing-stage beyond which there were some dark sheds and a rabbit-warren of dilapidated hutments.
We followed, shutting off our engine when we got to within thirty yards of the jetty. Peering forward I saw that O’Kieff, Zakri and Grünther had already landed and were just disappearing into the dark shadows cast by the wooden buildings, while Zakri’s men were still busy unloading the baggage. Pulling Amin down beside me, we crouched in the stern of the boat until the men with the baggage had followed the others up the jetty. Next moment we were alongside. ‘Wait here for ten minutes and if I don’t return, meet me at Hotel Cecil,’ I said to Amin, and I climbed out on to the pier.
As I padded softly up the wooden causeway I was praying that if there was a car waiting in the street beyond the hutments for O’Kieff and Zakri, I should have the good luck to pick up a taxi in which to follow them and learn where they took the all-important trunk.
The jetty and its immediate neighbourhood were utterly deserted. The clanging of tram bells and the hoot of motor-horns came faintly from the street a few hundred yards away, but there was not a moving thing in sight as I entered a narrow passage at the top of the causeway where a mass of spars, anchors and other waterfront débris were littered about between two sheds.
Without a hint of warning a tall figure suddenly stepped out from the shadows and a sharp voice said, ‘What the hell are you up to—following us?’
It was O’Kieff, and he was holding an automatic which pointed at my middle.
5
Hell on the Waterfront
Instead of having passed through the huddle of shacks to the street, as I had supposed, O’Kieff must have waited there at the top of the causeway to see the porters bring up his precious luggage and spotted me following them; all unsuspectingly I had walked right into his arms.
‘What the hell d’you mean by poking your nose into my affairs?’ he snapped, and his eyes glinted angrily behind his pince-nez.
‘Your affairs?’ I echoed in a tone that I hoped conveyed complete surprise. ‘I wasn’t following you. I don’t even know who you are.’
‘That’s a lie! You’ve just come off the “Hampshire”. I saw your boat leave the ship a couple of minutes after ours.’
‘Well, what about it?’ I bluffed. ‘Why should you consider yourself the only person who has a reason for wanting to get ashore at once?’
‘Who is he?’ came a falsetto voice, and Zakri Bey emerged from the shadows. Evidently he had sent Grünther on with the baggage and returned to join O’Kieff.
‘I don’t know,’ O’Kieff grunted, and signalling me with a jerk of his automatic to step out into the open space where the lights from the vessels in the basin would enable him to see me better, he added, ‘Come on, let’s have a look at you.’
I had no alternative but to obey and, as I did so, I wondered with acute anxiety what would happen when they recognised me. There was not a soul about except the boatmen, who were now hidden from us by the angle of the sheds; the street was several hundred yards away and a feeling of absolute panic welled up in me as I saw that O’Kieff had a silencer on the end of his gun. The ‘plop’ of the silenced automatic would not be heard in the street or even down at the bottom of the jetty.
When I failed to reappear Amin would not come up to investigate because I’d told him that if I did not return in ten minutes he was to meet me at the Hotel Cecil. Besides, they could easily drag my body into one of the tumble-down shacks and cover it with abandoned gear so that it might not be discovered for days and, even when it was, Zakri Bey had quite enough power with the Egyptian authorities to stymie any investigations which might lead towards O’Kieff or himself.
The night was warm but I felt myself breaking out into a cold sweat as I stood there while they peered at me in the uncertain light. It was the brief notoriety which I had gained on board in connection with Sir Walter’s death that temporarily saved me.
O’Kieff stared for a moment at my bearded features and exclaimed, ‘By Jove, you’re the young fellow who discovered Sir Walter Shane’s body after the murder.’
‘That’s right,’ I agreed.
‘You were in his party, weren’t you? And your name’s Julian Day. By Jove, I’ve got it.’ He suddenly thrust his free hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a jack-knife which he held out for my inspection.
It was my own and had the initials ‘J.D.’ engraved on its side. Until that moment I hadn’t even missed it, but in my dash to escape being caught by the steward in his cabin that morning I must have left it on the floor.
‘Your cabin was only one away from mine,’ he went on grimly. ‘It must have been you who broke open my trunk while I was at breakfast.’
‘Honestly, you’re mistaken,’ I lied. ‘That’s my knife, but I lent it to the steward and he must have left it in your room.’
‘A likely yarn! God knows what, but something’s given you the idea that I had a hand in Sir Walter’s death, so you decided to do a little amateur detecting. That’s the only possible explanation of the knife episode and your following me ashore like this.’
‘Nonsense,’ I protested. ‘I’ve got urgent business in Alexandria. A friend I must see before he sails on another boat to-night. If I’d remained on board I might have been held up for a couple of hours and missed him. That’s all there is to it.’
‘You’re going to miss him anyway,’ said O’Kieff ominously.
‘Why?’ I asked with all the truculence I could muster.
‘Because I don’t intend to give you the chance to interfere any further in my affairs.’
The sinister ring in O’Kieff’s voice would have been quite enough to scare anyone who did not know him, but knowing him as I did, his words conveyed to me quite clearly that he meant to do me in. Next moment my fears were confirmed by his saying rapidly to Zakri in Arabic:
‘I can’t think what he’s found out—but he knows something; and even if the young fool isn’t really dangerous it’s better not to take any chances. We’ll settle this business with a bullet and pitch his body into one of these sheds.’
The casual way in which he spoke of killing me was utterly horrifying yet it was entirely in keeping with his character. The sweat was streaming down my face and I only just succeeded in checking an impulse to yell for Amin. Just in time I realised that I was not supposed to know what an unscrupulous man I was up against nor to understand Arabic. My only chance lay in keeping up my pretence that I was quite innocent of having followed him ashore deliberately. To shout for help would have been of little use, in any case, as his gun was still pointed at me and never wavered.
‘Look here,’ I said, ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about and I don’t know the first thing about your affairs—or want to. I got special permission to come ashore because my business was urgent and it just happens that our boatman landed us at the same jetty. I can’t imagine what you’re making such a fuss about.’
Zakri Bey spoke then, also using Arabic: ‘I wouldn’t shoot him here. One of the watchmen might find the body and his boatman knows that he landed immediately after us. There’d be nothing to connect us with his killing but the enquiry might focus attention on us and we don’t want that.’
My reprieve was dictated by expediency, not mercy, yet I blessed Zakri for it and fortunately, owing to the dim light, he could not see by the relief in my face that I had understood him.
‘What do you suggest, then?’ O’Kieff asked.
‘That we hand him over to the police.’
‘But that would give him a chance to tell them anything he knows.’
‘He can’t know anything. Otherwise h
e would have told it to the Captain and tried to prevent your leaving the ship. At the worst he only has suspicions and with those he cannot harm you now we have the tablet safely on shore.’
‘He’ll talk, all the same. And, whatever charge you trump up against him, they’ll let him out in a few days. If he is on to something he’ll follow us half round Egypt. I’d sooner kill him now than give him a chance to spy on us further.’
‘He will not talk.’ Zakri gave a falsetto chuckle. ‘We will take him to the Immigration Depot and have him confined there for the night with orders that he is not to be allowed to speak to anyone. To-morrow I will arrange that his landing permit is cancelled. It is quite simple for me to see that he is refused permission to make a stay in Egypt. He will be put on the next boat returning to England and that will be the end of the matter.’
Perhaps my escape from an untimely death was too recent for me to appreciate it fully, since my heart sank like lead on hearing Zakri’s ingenious plan for dealing with me. I had no doubt at all that he had sufficient influence to carry it out and that no appeal I might make to the British Consul would ever be allowed to reach its destination.
‘That’s a very sound idea.’ O’Kieff nodded and barked at me: ‘Come on you! Right-about turn!’
‘What’s the idea?’ I asked innocently, but as I spoke a little pulse was hammering furiously in my forehead and a sudden surge of anger nearly choked me. Here, face to face with me, was the man who had ruined my career, caused poor Carruthers’ suicide and, I was certain now, had knifed old Sir Walter too. This was my second bout with him and it was apparently destined to end as ignominously for me as the first had done. I was to be shipped out of the country as an undesirable alien before I’d even had a chance to get going. I had virtually had the game in my own hands that morning. If I’d gone to the Captain then, we’d have caught O’Kieff with the goods on him. but I’d bungled the whole job and the thought stung me to a frenzy.
‘The idea is to give you a free ride to the police station,’ said O’Kieff quietly.
He was standing within a couple of feet of me and moved his gun a fraction as he signed to me to walk on ahead of him. It was an insane risk to take, but the thought of being bested by him a second time without even a struggle made me see red.
I think he must have sensed something of my feelings, for his whole body stiffened as I leapt. But I had sprung sideways before his silenced automatic coughed and I grabbed its barrel in my right hand before he could fire again.
With both of us clutching the pistol we swung in a swift half-circle. As I regained my balance I jerked up my right foot and let him have it in the groin. He gave an agonised squeal as my foot caught him but the effort caused me to stumble and I fell, dragging him down on top of me.
I had the advantage of youth, but he was tall, sinewy and incredibly strong for his years. Both of us were still clinging to the pistol as we struggled there in a heap. In twisting my head from under his I caught a glimpse of Zakri Bey. He had turned towards the street and was shouting for his men.
‘Mustapha! Hassan! Taala! Igri! igri,’ he cried. At that moment O’Kieff’s teeth bit deep into my wrist.
I gasped with the pain and let go my hold on the gun. He brought it up and next second I saw his arm raised against the starry sky as he made to club me with it, but I jerked aside my head and, giving a terrific heave, flung him from me.
We rolled a yard apart and both came to rest sprawling in the filthy dust. I was on my knees a fraction before he was and, lashing out with all my strength, I caught him a smashing blow full in the face.
He went down flat under it and the shock must have caused his finger to contract spasmodically on the trigger of the automatic. It coughed again a second before he dropped it, but the bullet thudded harmlessly into the boarding of one of the sheds.
As I scrambled up from my knees I saw Zakri coming for me; at the same moment, I caught the sound of running feet. But Zakri was a plump, effeminate man, little used to exercise of any kind and hopeless in a scrap. I side-stepped and tripped him just as his two big Arabs came pelting round the corner.
I freely confess to enjoying a scrap once I am in it but I never believe in fighting for fighting’s sake, and either of those two great natives would have been more than a match for me. Almost before Zakri had measured his length in the dirt I turned and bolted for the jetty.
With blood-curdling yells the Arabs came pounding after me. As I heard the thud of their flying feet I realised that they would reach the boat right on my heels, before we had a chance to get her off. Then, in a flash, I remembered that, except for the fellows who haunt the waterfronts and make a precarious living diving for coins, few Arabs can swim at all. Shouting to Amin to untie the boat, when I was still thirty yards from it, I took a header over the side into the water.
God, how it stank! Every sort of beastliness must have collected there since Cleopatra passed that way with her lovers in her gilded barge. It was more like oil than water, and four feet down I hit the mud, which churned up in great, slimy patches all around me. But as I struck out away from the jetty, I knew my plan had succeeded.
Zakri’s two men were standing there goggling at me, as helpless as two newborn babes, just on the spot from which I had dived, and the chugging of the motor-boat engine told me that Amin was coming round to pick me up.
I soon found I was counting my chickens before they were hatched. O’Kieff and Zakri came running down the causeway, and O’Kieff had grabbed up his gun. The oily water suddenly flicked up within a foot of my head as he fired his first shot at me, and I was compelled to dive into that stagnant sewer-wash again.
For as long as I could I swam under water. My lungs were almost bursting when I came up. Another couple of bullets spat at me but they were further off this time and about ten yards ahead a small sailing boat lay at anchor. I ducked again and a few strokes enabled me to get round to her far side so that she lay between me and the jetty. Two minutes later Amin came alongside and hauled me out.
His friendly, if anxious face, was a considerable comfort as I sat in the stern, trying to wring as much as I could of that stinking water out of my sodden clothes, while we chugged out towards the mouth of the basin. My own cigarettes were ruined, but he gave me one of his fragrant Egyptians and supplied me with a light. After the first few puffs I felt a little better and began to get my bearings.
To Amin’s credit it should be said that he never asked a single question about these strange proceedings, of the latter portion of which he had been an eyewitness; contenting himself with the remark that there were many ‘bad mens’ on the Alexandria waterfront, and quite obviously he did not mean to imply that I was amongst them.
Directly I had had a chance to consider the situation I saw that I was now faced with two alternatives. I must either return to the ship or go ashore and try to pick up O’Kieff’s trail. If I went back to the ship it was certain that there would be a fine rumpus about my having left her without permission. I was, after all, the principal witness in the matter of murder and the police would naturally be furious at my having gone off before they had a chance to question me. I had intended in all good faith to report myself immediately I had traced O’Kieff to his lair, and to lay before them information which, I had hoped, would enable them to raid the place and arrest O’Kieff while he still had the tablet with him; but the recent fracas on the waterfront had killed that idea stone dead. Now O’Kieff knew he was suspected he would realise that the tablet was as dangerous to him as a nest of vipers and get rid of it without a moment’s delay and, apart from the tablet, there was not a single scrap of evidence I could bring against him.
I knew quite well that I ought to report to the police at once but I had already made a most exhaustive statement to the Captain of the ‘Hampshire’ which would be passed on to them, so I did not see that I should be interfering with the course of justice by refraining for an hour or two from giving my evidence all over again.
&nb
sp; Another thought caused me much more serious perturbation. Neither O’Kieff nor Zakri was the type of man to remain inactive. Having failed to get me they would be sure to take every possible step they could to discredit me with the police in case I aired my suspicions and reported our scrap. If I mentioned the tablet my unsupported story would then be taken as pure malice; and Zakri would ask the police to hold me until he could get an order for my deportation. If I returned to the ship, therefore, it now looked highly probable that I should not be allowed to land again at all. My vendetta would be brought to an abrupt and inglorious termination, and that was the one thing I was now determined should not happen.
I might get caught or find it expedient to try to make my peace with the police later but for the time being, while the scent of the trail was still hot, I meant to carry on.
Having reached that decision the first job was to get ashore and secure some dry clothes. I hoped that Harry would have seen my baggage through the Customs and taken it to the Cecil with his own; but I dared not go there as the hotel was the one place where the police would be certain to be waiting for me. In consequence, it seemed that the only thing to do was to confide in Amin.
He accepted my story with Oriental calm and a really touching belief in my good faith. I told him frankly that he might get into trouble through helping me, but owing to my peculiar position I had shunned all European society when I had been in Egypt during the previous winter and having spent the best part of three months with him as my sole companion up and down the Valley of the Nile we had developed a real friendship; to my delight I now found that my eight months’ absence had left our friendship quite unimpaired.
He said at once that it would not be wise for him to take me to his own lodging because many guides stayed there. They were in constant touch with the European community, would have heard of Sir Walter’s murder by now and would be certain to talk; but that if I would forgive the poor accommodation he would take me to his uncle, who was a tarboosh-maker and had a small house in the native quarter where he would be able to supply me with a change of clothes.
The Quest of Julian Day Page 6