by John Creasey
“What’s this?”
“Coffee,” said Lorna blandly.
He sipped again, and a rapt expression crossed his face. He drank slowly, relishing every mouthful.
“Best coffee I’ve ever tasted,” he pronounced. “I’ll have some more. You were right, you see. You’re nearly always right.”
“I wish you meant it,” said Lorna feelingly. “Amu brought a bottle of brandy and a bottle of Scotch. We have to hide it, and mustn’t produce it if we have any Indian visitors. Will you have a straight drink, now?”
“I’ll have a bath first.” Mannering hurried to the bathroom. Lorna kept the door open, and he talked above the splashing of the shower. “Anything else turned up?”
“Phiroshah had a message—at least, his servants did. He’s been told that if he says anything to the police he won’t see Shani again. The amazing thing—” She stopped.
“Yes?”
“He takes it so—calmly. Stoically.”
“Seen him?”
“Weiner let me, for five minutes.”
“I must say I like the doctor,” said Mannering, towelling steadily. “Want to know what I’ve been up to?”
“Oh no,” said Lorna. “What makes you think I’d be interested?” She poured him out a whisky, adding a splash of soda as he came into the bedroom. He sipped and began to dress, talking casually. Lorna sat in a long chair, with a fan stirring her hair, watching, nodding occasionally.
“Of course I could have brought the paste things with me, but I thought it would be a nice touch to leave them behind, as if by accident.”
“Brilliant,” said Lorna icily. “If you’ve really gone mad.”
“The madness being?”
“If you’d taken them, you could have stopped a substitution. That’s obviously what they’re planning to do. I can’t see why—”
“Sorry,” murmured Mannering humbly. “Must have been a mental black-out. Had a queer notion that I’d rather let them carry on with the plan. After all, they’ll have to do it at Ganpore, won’t they? So they’re going to Ganpore with the fifty-one paste diamonds. The thing to do is catch ‘em in the switch. Really crazy?”
“Not if you catch them, I suppose,” Lorna conceded.
“Thing is,” said Mannering, fully dressed and sitting back in a cane long chair, “supposing they were known to have these replicas. The crime doesn’t begin until they start to pretend they’re the real ones. With the auction coming off at Ganpore, that’s the obvious place for the switch. No thief in his senses would have left the stones there on purpose – how could a poor thief know they were paste? He’d naturally think they were real and try to get off with them. Luckless chap drops them in the chase, wicked men get them back and thank their stars. What more convincing can you want?”
“I suppose you’re right.” Lorna wasn’t convinced.
“Come here, my sweet.” He stood up, and she moved in front of him. He slipped his hand into his pocket. “Head forward.” She obeyed. He put the necklace of real diamonds round her neck, fastened the catch, kissed the top of her head, and said: “Go and look in the mirror.”
She swung round. Diamonds scintillated with the beauty of fire and colour. She stared at them, touching them almost fearfully, then looked at Mannering’s reflection in the mirror, as he came behind her.
“Pretty,” he said casually.
“John, you fool!”
“Oh, my sweet! A poor thief I would have seemed if I’d left everything behind. Oh no. I tucked the real stuff safely away. Any thief knows that ordinary diamonds are worth a fortune, but might not be impressed by the blue ones, so he’d naturally make sure of the money.” He laughed. “Yes, they suit you.”
Lorna’s eyes stormed.
“Bristow would say—”
“The bold, bad Baron!” Mannering chuckled. “One day, we’ll tell him all about it. Of course, you don’t have to keep them. Throw them in my face. Or ask Phiroshah whether he can identify them, they’re probably stolen. Be as well to let him take care of them, anyhow. Still, they’re nice.”
Lorna took them off, held them in her hands for a moment, fascinated by their fire. She was smiling.
“Darling,” she said, “you ought to have stayed a jewel-thief. I can’t imagine what changed you, you do it all so well. We’ll send these anonymously to Kana, if you don’t mind.”
“What a way to clear our consciences! It’ll be done. Odd thing, by the way. Jagat – I suppose it was Jagat! – didn’t go rushing to the police, as you might have expected. I don’t think the men at Patel’s place did, either. They threw knives about like circus performers, but they didn’t use guns and they didn’t shout ‘Stop, thief’. I—what’s worrying you?”
“They threw knives!”
“Very blunt,” said Mannering, “and very indifferent throwers. They wouldn’t hold an audience for five minutes.” He took the diamonds from her and put them beneath some clothes in a drawer of the dressing-table, came back into the drawing room and asked: “Have a drink?”
“I need one badly.” She watched him pour out. “What are you going to do next?”
“Wait,” said Mannering firmly. “Weiner told me I had to rest, didn’t he ? Not that I think there’ll be a lot of time for resting or waiting. Unless Jagat is playing a remarkably odd game, we’ll hear from him soon.”
The telephone bell rang.
Mannering looked at the instrument thoughtfully, but went to it before Lorna could move. He lifted the receiver slowly, and she knew that thoughts were racing through his mind; she wished she knew what thoughts.
“John Mannering here,” he said. “Yes . . .”
“Oh, yes,” he repeated.
“Yes,” he said. “Right away.” He put down the receiver and beamed across at her. “Jagat’s on his way; we should hear something worth knowing soon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE SON OF THE MAHARAJAH
Amu opened the door.
Jagat Kalda of Ganpore came in, and Mannering saw him in a good light for the first time. He was neither tall nor short, had a figure no one could complain about – not lean, certainly not fat. His grey suit fitted him perfectly. His eyes were a little bloodshot and there were puffy marks at the corners of his lips. His dark hair was wavy but brushed sleekly back from his forehead; he was almost too handsome.
“Mrs. Mannering.” He bowed. “Mr. Mannering. I am sorry that I am so late.”
“Hardly your fault,” murmured Mannering.
Jagat shrugged.
“It was wholly my fault. Had I stayed and waited to see you, instead of being impatient and spending the afternoon attempting to amuse myself and Shani this would not have happened. Mr. Mannering—I am frightened for her.”
“You’re not the only one,” said Mannering.
“I heard the man who captured us and I can imagine, perhaps more than you. I have tried to reassure her father, to tell him that we were well treated. That is not true.” He moved about the drawing-room as he talked restlessly; he looked very young. “It is a miracle that I escaped. A man broke into the house – Imannati Patel’s house – and freed me. Unhappily, Shani had been taken away before that. I dared to hope that she was also free, but—” He broke off, shrugging, despondent. “I do not know where she is. Her father is in great distress. I am—frightened; and Shani is in grave danger. We need your help, Mr. Mannering.”
“Police?” asked Mannering mildly.
“But there has been the message that if any report is made to the police then she will be in worse danger. This is not a matter we can discuss with the police. Had it been, I should have gone to them immediately I was freed.”
Mannering said: “I see.”
“You disagree? You think that the police should be informed?”
“I think we ought to try every way to find Shani.”
“But not to make her situation worse.” Jagat was obviously holding himself on a tight leash. “There is nothing I will not do to find her.”
“Do you know why she was kidnapped?”
“But of course.” Jagat stood in front of Mannering – a little too close. “She was with me and she is the daughter of Aly Phiroshah. Each was a sufficient reason.”
Mannering moved away, sat on the arm of a chair, looked at the youngster s calmly, wondered what storms were really raging in his mind.
“Was it?” Mannering took out cigarettes. “I don’t understand why.”
“You know the story.”
“I know about the attempts to steal the one blue diamond, and the murder of Phiroshah’s two sons,” said Mannering. “Have you the other diamonds with you?”
“With me?” Jagat looked as if he wondered whether he were talking to a fool. “They are at Ganpore with my father. They are to be sold – if we can keep them long enough.” There was bitterness in his voice. “I am beginning to wonder. There is no doubt why I was kidnapped; it is surely obvious. I was told that my father would be informed, and that he would ransom me – with the blue diamonds. Phiroshah was also to be told that he could ransom his daughter. That is enough, surely. The problem is to find out who is behind it. Is it the Bundi? I came with a message for you from my father. We need your help.”
“Ah, yes,” Mannering said.
“It is a message I am reluctant to deliver. That my father—” Jagat paused, raised his hands, looked as if he could hardly bring himself to speak. When he did, the words came swiftly. “My father asks me to tell you that he has reason to doubt the honesty of old Aly Phiroshah. I have reasoned with him, argued with him, but he has those doubts. I was to warn you. I was to ask you to come with me to Ganpore, but not to tell the old man when you were leaving. It is my father’s opinion that Phiroshah will endeavour to stop you.”
“Oh,” said Mannering blankly.
He saw Lorna move and hoped that she wouldn’t speak.
“I don’t get it,” he said at last. “Why doubt the man who brought me? Why should he go to the trouble of bringing me if he is going to prevent me from going to Ganpore?”
“I think it is folly,” Jagat said, “but—that is the message. You can understand now why I had to give it to you in person and could not pass it on to anyone else. Until I arrived here, I would not believe it. I am dutiful, I must be, and I came as a special envoy, but—I was sceptical. Angry. But now—”
“Yes?” asked Mannering almost lazily.
“Can’t you see? An attempt was made to prevent me from giving you the message. Phiroshah could have done that. Yes, Phiroshah knew where I was going. It would be clever to have Shani kidnapped too. Would a man kidnap his own daughter? Yes, if he knew that she was not in danger.”
Mannering stubbed out his cigarette.
“Yet you’re frightened for Shani.”
“I fear what will happen to her if she should discover that her father is a rogue, a murderer. Oh, I hardly know what I am saying. Mannering, will you come to Ganpore?”
Mannering didn’t answer.
“Will you come?”
Mannering took out a fresh cigarette.
“Are the other dealers there?”
“Yes. They are guests of my father. He has told them that he will have the blue diamonds for them to examine tomorrow. If we fly, we can be there in time. If necessary he will delay for another day—two days. He is anxious for you to be there. He knows of your reputation.”
“Who told him?”
Jagat hesitated.
“Who told him?”
“Phiroshah,” Jagat said.
“Explain his faith in me, if he thinks Phiroshah a rogue.”
“I do not attempt to explain it. I can only tell you what my father says. I repeat, he is anxious that you should leave here without telling Phiroshah or anyone else. It can be arranged. I came by air – I fly my own aircraft. I am a fully qualified pilot. Or we could charter a plane from one of the companies. The important thing is that you leave for Ganpore quickly. The transport can be arranged with an hour’s notice.”
“No,” said Mannering. “Not tonight. In the morning.”
Jagat said: “If nothing will change your mind, then I must accept that. But you will say nothing to Phiroshah or to anyone?”
“No,” said Mannering deliberately.
“When shall I meet you?”
“At the airport,” Mannering said, “at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“You will be alone?”
“Yes.”
Lorna stirred again, but didn’t speak.
“I will telephone my father,” Jagat said.
Mannering saw him to the outer door of the suite, with Amu standing and watching. Mannering lit a cigarette as he heard the lift doors close, and was smiling faintly when he returned to the drawing-room. Lorna, sitting in an easy chair, looked at him through her lashes.
“Very funny,” she said. “What are you up to now?”
“Impressed by him?”
“He’s a hopeless liar.”
“Hopeless?” asked Mannering.
“Some of his story was palpably untrue. The only possible reason for slandering Phiroshah like that is to get you to Ganpore without Phiroshah knowing. Goodness knows why. For a man who pretends to be fond of Shani—”
Mannering laughed.
“Shani is lucky in some of her friends, anyhow! But spend a little more time on Jagat, my sweet. He’s a Hindu of the highest caste. The humblest of them are adept at concealing their feelings; so is he. Yet he preferred to make them obvious. He doubts his father at least as much as he doubts Phiroshah, and told me so. I wonder why.”
“I only know that I didn’t like the young man.”
“And hope Shani comes to her senses!”
Lorna stood up quickly. “John, Shani is missing.”
“Oh yes,” said Mannering. “But we’ll find her, and we won’t find that her father was party in the plot to kidnap her. Do you think you’d look well in a sari?”
Lorna stared.
“Of course you’re not quite the figure for it, they’re best without foundation garments,” said Mannering, “but I think you’d get by. Just to slip out of the hotel, without being recognised. I’ll turn into my Sikh again, so we’ll both get out. Tonight. Or are you too tired?”
“What on earth are you thinking up now?” said Lorna.
“We’ll go to Ganpore before anyone expects us,” said Mannering. “Why not surprise everyone, including Jagat? You can borrow a sari. You’ll have to draw your hair tightly back from your forehead and try to get it straight. Notice how none of the Indian women have curly hair, but all the men seem to have it? Well, most of the men.”
“I don’t have to borrow a sari. I bought a beautiful one while I was out with Shani, and some sandals. I’d have shown them to you, but you’ve been too busy. I suppose you are serious.”
“Very,” said Mannering.
“Aren’t you going to tell anyone?”
“No one at Phiroshah’s house. It’s almost a pity I changed.” Mannering looked at the telephone longingly. “I don’t think that I could trust that; I’ll slip out for half an hour.” He chuckled at her expression. “Sorry, my sweet. Call it an impulse. I won’t be long.”
“Where are you going?”
“For once in my life I’m going to be sensible. I’m going to talk to Kana the Policeman.”
“This is unexpected, my friend, but no less a pleasure.” Kana greeted Mannering in a small room in his house at the foot of Malabar Hill. Dressed in a dhoti and turban he was hardly recognisable as the little man in European clothes
who had welcomed them at the police headquarters. “How can I help you?”
Mannering was sitting on the only chair in the room, where tapestries hung on the walls.
“First, I need a small aircraft that can take me and two passengers to Ganpore.”
Kana raised his hands. “That is simply a matter of a telephone call. Yes?”
“Then I need a bearer, who will be the third passenger. My wife and I are going.”
“A policeman?”
“Preferably not. It may be unofficial. At least, a man who can be discreet – almost as discreet as you.”
Kana showed his fine teeth.
“Yes, that can be done without great difficulty. And what else?”
“I might find it necessary to be in possession of stolen jewels,” Mannering said. “Temporary possession. I might even be accused of stealing them. In fact, I shall turn them over to you – if I find them in my pockets. You’ll look after them, won’t you?”
“I am sure that could be arranged,” said Kana. He took an envelope out of the folds of his dhoti. “Here is a licence to carry firearms good for all India. I hope you won’t have to use it, but it is as well to be safe, isn’t it? Good luck, my friend.”
They left the hotel, wearing their Indian clothes, but Mannering without heavy facial disguise. They met Kana’s man, changed in a small house he took them to, then took a taxi to the airport. No one could report that they had left the hotel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GANPORE
Below them the land was parched and arid. Above, the sun burned. They had flown through a night of stars. There had been no rain; and here it seemed as if rain never came. Only twice during the day had they seen a river. In the middle of each there had been a trickle of water; the rest was dry, cracked river-bed, with a little pale green growth near it.
They had passed over great cities, the colour and the squalor of which was hidden from the air. They had watched the mule trains and the ox-waggons plodding their way from city to city, village to village.