by John Creasey
Was that surprising?
He reached the entrance to the village.
Beyond the high archway, he could see the red-painted fences, the carved figures on the posts, the little houses and, everywhere, the rising steam. He strolled along. He knew that he could hire a guide, but preferred to be on his own for a while.
The water flowing beneath a bridge was cold, yet steam rose from the edges. Two or three Maori children passed him, running, happy. A woman plodded by, carrying a pile of washing. The grotesque faces of the carved heads seemed to glare at him. All were painted a brilliant red, startling in the sun.
Some way ahead, a party was going round with a woman guide. Banister followed them. Soon he was walking over waste land – hard under-foot, but on either side were pools of boiling water, everywhere steam rose from cracks in the earth.
He saw a child run from the group which was being conducted, and a woman grab its arm.
“You must be very careful,” the Maori guide said in a clear voice. “Nothing could save the baby if he were to fall in there.”
Banister felt his nerves grow tense.
He could turn back and walk away; or he could go in the wake of the crowd, not with it; crowds were dangerous.
The ground was uneven. To the right and left the stream forced its way through the cracks. Here and there mud pools and pools of water bubbled and boiled. The group had moved away, picking its ways carefully over little holes in the ground, twisting and turning so as to step where there was no fear of the ground giving way.
He saw them standing and watching, waiting – then a spout of boiling water shot forty or fifty feet into the air.
A woman said in his ear: “Remarkable, isn’t it?”
It was Rita.
Banister didn’t start or turn round, but schooled himself to show no reaction; that was part of the training. He was looking at the geyser. Spray from it was blown back towards him, and felt like warm rain upon his face.
“Yes,” he said.
“It’s a dangerous spot.”
“Deadly.”
“I’m surprised that you risked coming here.”
“A man has to see a little life.” Banister turned to face her, taking out cigarettes. “After all, I may never come to New Zealand again. It would be a pity not to see what I can, ‘wouldn’t it?”
Yes, it was Rita.
She was quite natural, and she had never looked more lovely. She had a soft, restful beauty. Her dark hair was glossy, and her clear brown eyes smiled so easily. She had beautiful lips. He knew all about them; all about her. She could drive him to distraction. He knew what it was to crush those lips with his; to feel her soft, seductive beauty; to have, to hold—
“Neil,” she said. “I love you.”
He didn’t speak.
“And you’re still in love with me.”
He still didn’t speak.
“You should leave Palfrey and come with me,” Rita said. “He isn’t the only one on the side of the angels.”
Instead of taking a cigarette, she took his hand.
She did that quite deliberately. It did not so much frighten as stupefy him. The thing which surprised him afterwards was that her hand seemed icy cold. Then he felt a moment of panic. If she had the power . . .
Nothing happened.
There was a spot of burning where she had touched him, but it was not really painful. He didn’t move his hand. She took a cigarette, and he flicked his lighter and watched her draw the smoke in. She looked at him through the first film of smoke that she allowed to drift from her lips. It seemed to cover her eyes, too, give them a great but misty beauty.
“So you are really proof against it,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And it isn’t because of anything you’ve found?”
“Isn’t it?”
“If it were, everyone working on the case would be protected,” she said reasonably. “No one else is.”
Banister made no comment.
“You’re only the second person ever found,” she said. “Only two – in five years. Do you know of any others?”
Unexpectedly, it was easy to smile at that trick question.
“You’d like to know,” Banister said.
“It doesn’t really matter.” After a pause, she went on: “Are you going to stay and look round, or go back?”
He was sure by then that he wanted to be with her; she still had the familiar physical attraction, the once precious appeal. He didn’t want her to go.
“I’ll see what there is to see,” he answered.
“Let me act as guide.”
“Don’t put your foot through a hole in the earth,” he said, “or on the spots where we might fall in, will you? I’m told that if you once fall into a boiling pool, you don’t come out again.”
“In some, you disappear,” she said calmly. “The bones come back – later.”
They continued to walk slowly. The sight-seeing party had moved away from the geyser; they were drawing closer to it.
They went down some steps. Water whirled about them, now and again so deep that they had to step high over it. Boiling water still spouted from the geyser.
They crossed a rickety wooden bridge over a calm stream – with steam rising from little pools on the banks.
“You can catch trout in that,” she said, “and cook them in the pools without moving.”
“There are a lot of things you can do with trout.”
“Yes, aren’t there?”
They moved away from the stream, and were hidden from the group ahead and from Palfrey’s men behind by the tall bushes. The lane was narrow. Here and there they saw little pools of boiling mud – the smell of sulphur was very strong, here.
“You could become a great man,” Rita Morrell said, unexpectedly.
“Really?”
“I mean it.”
“I doubt it.”
“What makes you think that Palfrey’s worth working for or that he’s doing the right thing?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen him murder anyone yet.”
“He asked you to sacrifice yourself for him, didn’t he?” she said. “If he wants to do this, why doesn’t he do it himself, instead of hiding behind you – and behind others, like Monk-Gilbert?”
“He can’t be all over the world at the same time.”
She laughed. The sun shone on her eyes and on her beauty, and there seemed nothing but purity in her; and goodness.
“He’s fooled you,” she said.
“Perhaps I’m easily fooled.”
“Most people are. I think you—”
She broke off, and shrugged.
“Go on.”
“I think you could do very well,” she said. “Monk-Gilbert was impossible, we couldn’t persuade him that he was wrong, but you might listen to reason.”
“I’m always prepared to listen to reason.”
She stopped and looked up at him, half-smiling. They were in sight of Palfrey’s men behind them, now; and the sightseeing group had gone towards the pah, the native village of bygone days; the voice of the guide travelled faintly back to them.
“I’d almost forgotten how good-looking you are,” she said. “I wonder if you will really listen to reason.”
She walked straight on, obviously determined to leave him alone. He didn’t hurry after her. Palfrey’s men followed her.
Banister walked towards the pah and watched her as she walked towards the main road, where a car waited for her. He stood in the shadow of a huge, magnificently painted totem pole as she climbed into the car, waved and drove off.
Chapter 8
Palfrey telephoned almost as soon as Banister reached his hotel. Banister repeated Rita’s
words verbatim, or so nearly that it made no difference. It was not easy, but it had to be done.
“So she asked you to change sides,” Palfrey said musingly.
“That’s right.”
“But went off without explaining any more.”
“Yes.”
“You know,” said Palfrey, in the casual way he had of making the most outrageous things seem normal, “we’ll have to be extremely careful. It looks like a complete change of method. Until now, you were on the receiving end of murder. Now they’re probably impressed by your immunity.”
Banister knew all about that, but had not seen its possible significance so vividly before.
“They may try to bribe you,” Palfrey went on.
“If you think—” Banister’s voice sharpened in a flash.
“Steady, Neil, I only said that they might try!” It was easy to picture Palfrey’s smile. “They won’t expect to succeed. They may think that you’ll pretend to fall for it, so as to fool them. In fact, they’ll be trying to fool us. Just play your hand cautiously for a few days.”
“You’re watching Rita all the time, aren’t you?”
“We know just where she is and where she goes, but she hasn’t been in touch with anyone else yet – not anyone we’ve any reason to suspect,” Palfrey said. “She’s moved to Brent’s, one of the biggest hotels. She doesn’t appear to have made any friends, and she’s only seen the Scotts twice since she moved.”
“She must know that she’s being closely watched,” Banister growled. “I can’t understand it.”
“What part of it?”
“Why she’s in New Zealand. How can she get away? A small airplane wouldn’t help her, it’s nearly fifteen hundred miles to Australia. I’d say that this is the most difficult place in the world to disappear from.”
Palfrey said slowly: “I agree. Fully.”
“Yet she can’t want to be caught.”
“That’s the question,” Palfrey said. “Does she? Is she hoping to pull off some kind of elaborate confidence trick?”
Banister didn’t speak.
“See how it goes,” Palfrey advised at last. “Don’t take it for granted that there’s nothing to worry about, either. This might just be a ruse to make you careless and easier to kill. Not that I think she’ll kill you—”
“Palfrey,” said Banister slowly, “I don’t know how much you know or how far you’ve guessed. But she experimented with fatalis today. She touched my hand. She was prepared for failure, but she might have succeeded. If she’d killed me, she would have been on the run. Others escaped from Canada, England, other places, but she couldn’t have escaped from New Zealand – could she? She was prepared to take a risk which meant almost certain capture. Why?”
The chuckle sounded in Palfrey’s voice again.
“She might have decided that you would be worth dying for!”
Banister flared up.
‘’Flippancy’s all right in its place, but—”
“Flippancy might keep you sane before this is over,” Palfrey said lightly. “You didn’t arrange to meet Rita again, did you?”
“No.”
“Just sit back and wait for her to get in touch with you,” Palfrey advised.
Sitting back and waiting wasn’t easy. Yet the tension eased. With Palfrey’s warning fresh in his mind, Banister wasn’t careless; simply wasn’t living so much on his nerves for a few days.
Then, on the fourth day, Rita telephoned.
“I want to talk to you,” she said. “That’s if you trust yourself to me!”
There was a laugh in her voice.
“Where?”
“At the lake,” she said. “Perhaps we could take a boat out. Supposing I call for you at your hotel, you’re nearer the lake than I am.”
“All right,” Banister said.
“And it will give you time to telephone Palfrey!”
Banister was smiling when he lifted the receiver again, to call Palfrey. She had the ability to make him smile, and to raise his spirits in spite of everything that he knew about her. He was pondering over that when Palfrey answered. Palfrey appeared to have given up all pretence at secrecy, and was working in the open just as freely as Banister; and if the man Mike were right, Palfrey ought to be in London, directing operations.
“What did she want?” asked Palfrey.
“You heard her?”
“I’ve just been told that she telephoned, but haven’t had a report of what she said yet.”
After a pause, Banister said slowly: “When are you really going to trust me?”
“Trust isn’t in doubt,” Palfrey said, “but what would happen if you went out and didn’t come back? We’d be completely in the dark – we can’t work that way. I’m checked, whenever it’s possible.”
Banister didn’t answer.
“What did she say?”’ asked Palfrey.
Banister told him, almost word for word.
“I think you can take a boat out,” Palfrey said. “We’ll have you closely watched.”
Banister said: “Palfrey,” and made it a challenge.
“Hmm?”
“I ought to hate the sight of her, but I don’t.”
Palfrey said quite soberly: “Neil, every now and again we get an exceptional agent. You’re one of them. Not one in twenty new men would have thought it worthwhile to tell us that. Or had the courage. Thanks. A saint could fall in love with a Delilah, without being able to help himself.”
Banister didn’t speak.
“Have a nice time on the lake,” Palfrey said. Lapsing into inanity seemed to help him.
Soon they were gliding gently over the calm water. Banister dipped the sculls in occasionally, and then let them rest. Rita sat against gaily coloured cushions. Her eyes were narrowed, but that was probably against the bright light. She dangled her right hand in the water, the fingers causing a series of little waves and a tiny wake.
“Wouldn’t life be wonderful,” she said quite calmly, “if it were always as peaceful as this?”
“Wouldn’t it?”
“It could be,” she said. “There’s no reason why there should be wars and rumours of wars and murder and pestilence and famine, and—”
She broke off.
“Crazy world,” said Banister.
“I think,” Rita said, “that a way of making life – the world – really peaceful – has been found.”
“Wonderful!”
“I prefer you when you’re serious.”
“But it would be wonderful,” he protested. “Tell me about it.”
“Not yet,” she said. “Neil, fatalis was discovered by accident. No one knew what it could do. Then we began to experiment. We found that it would be the one weapon that would frighten everyone.”
Banister broke in roughly: “That’s right, you could make them feel frightened – you could terrify them. You could make them wonder whether the hand of their closest friend could be taken safely – or whether they could step into a car, brush against any man, woman or child, go to a theatre, be among people anywhere – and be safe. You could work on their minds with fear, and twist and torment them. Don’t tell me, I know. I saw what happened to Monk-Gilbert. I was with him while it happened. I don’t like your little ways.”
She said quietly: “That’s because you are filled with prejudices and conventions – you don’t see things as they really are. Neil, I’ve a proposition to make.”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m serious.”
“Go on.”
“Come away with me,” she said. “Let me show you exactly what we are doing. I think you’ll probably agree that it’s good, not bad. You could come back and try to convince Palfrey.”
“And if I tho
ught it was bad?”
“You could still come back.” She was eager. “You wouldn’t be able to lead Palfrey to us, we’d make sure of that. If you threatened any danger, you’d be killed. That would be a silly risk to take, wouldn’t it?”
Banister said bitingly: “It isn’t exactly a tempting invitation.”
“I thought you would have leapt at it,” Rita said, and now she laughed at him. “It’s what you want to do, isn’t it? It’s why you’re working for Palfrey, surely. At the moment he doesn’t know what is going on. This would be a big chance to find out. I don’t have to plead with you,” she added, and her manner grew suddenly offhand. “I had a lot of difficulty in persuading my—friends—to agree to let you come. You must please yourself.”
He didn’t answer.
“Palfrey will tell you to accept,” she said, an ugly sneer spoiling her voice. “The risk won’t be his – it will be yours. He’ll agree that it’s a chance which you might not get any other way.”
She was probably right.
“Why select me?” he asked, savagely. “Why not try someone else, someone who has more influence with Palfrey?”
“Oh, you fool,” Rita said, very softly. “You dear, beloved fool. I want you, not any man. I want to spent the future with you – all of it. I couldn’t before. I had to leave you, but I meant to come back. I love you so much, my darling. I had to watch my own friends try to kill you, but as soon as I could, I stopped them. I’ve permission to take you with me, to save your life. Come with me, and try to understand.”
He could not find words.
She looked away . . .
Banister watched her disappear into the entrance of her hotel – in fact there were several entrances, and hers was in the middle. She didn’t look round as she moved with that astonishing ease and grace. The doorway, the street, the air, seemed emptier, drabber, when she had gone.
Banister walked towards the end of the street and his own hotel.
She had spoken so simply. “I love you so much,” she had said, as if that explained everything.