‘Since you feel that way about it,’ replied C.B. thoughtfully, ‘I can think of two alternatives. Malouet should be here round about midnight and –’
‘Will he?’
‘Yes. At the end of our talk on the telephone the old boy agreed to get out his car and start at once. But it is the best part of a two-and-a-half-hours’ drive from Nice. He will go straight to Henri’s café and I am to meet him there. The police will take his word for anything that may happen while he is with us; so when he does turn up he could accompany you on board for a show-down. In his presence they would not dare to touch you.’
John nodded. ‘I must say you have done everything you possibly could in the circumstances, C.B., and I’m jolly grateful to you. But the devil of it is that the yacht may have sailed by midnight.’
‘I know. The period during which Jules can reasonably count on immunity is getting short now; so my bet is that she will sail within the next half-hour.’
‘Then what is your alternative to waiting for Malouet, and probably missing the boat?’
C.B. put a finger alongside his big nose, winked and whispered, ‘To go with her.’
Chapter 9
Illegal Entry
John regarded C.B. with a puzzled frown. ‘I don’t get the idea. How could we manage to do that?’
C.B. shook his head. ‘This would not be a case of “we”, I’m afraid; and I’d better make my own position clear. I am a Civil Servant and have very definite responsibilities; so I have to think twice before I risk blotting my copy-book. If I had been put on this job officially I might consider it worth while to take that risk. If Jules were just off to Russia with our latest H-bomb secrets in his pocket, I certainly would. But if I got myself arrested and was unable to convince my Chief that it had happened while I was engaged on some matter of real importance to British interests, there would be the hell of a stink. Still worse, it might seriously prejudice the outcome of other work on which I am engaged.’
‘I quite understand that. It seems, though, that you have changed your mind about me, and are about to suggest that I should do something illegal.’
‘I am. Mind, I wouldn’t, but for the fact that you’ve just said that you refuse to sit here and let things take their course. What I am about to propose may land you in for the very things I have been trying to keep you out of—namely, a beating-up and finding yourself in the cells tomorrow. I don’t like it a bit, but –’
‘Since there seems to be no legal means of intervening on the yacht, I mean to take that risk anyhow.’
‘It will be a certainty, instead of a risk, if you simply go on board and demand that Christina should be restored to you. My idea is that you should attempt to slip on board unobserved.’
‘What then?’
‘Lie doggo. If the yacht has not sailed by midnight we will come aboard with Malouet. Then you can come out of hiding and stake your claim to Christina. If the yacht sails earlier, you will sail with her as a stowaway.’
‘I don’t see how that would improve my chance of getting Christina out of their clutches.’
‘It won’t if they find you; and I’ve already warned you that by going on board at all, without the police, you are asking for a packet of trouble. But if you can remain hidden for eight or ten hours there is quite a good chance that you may succeed in pulling the chestnuts out of the fire.’
‘How?’ asked Molly, now considerably concerned for John’s safety.
C.B. leaned across the table and his voice sank still lower. ‘They have got to get her to England by the 6th; so they can’t be taking her far. Toulon or Marseilles, perhaps. But at present we have no idea of their destination. If she sails in the yacht as things are, we lose track of her; but we won’t if John is in the yacht too and has succeeded in keeping himself under cover. At the first opportunity tomorrow morning he could get ashore and let us know where the yacht has docked. By that time Christina will have, as one might say, come out from under the influence. Now, she would probably tell us all to mind our own damn business, but by then she will be ready to scream “murder”. As soon as John informs us where the yacht has got to, we’ll come down with Malouet like wolves on the fold, and young Jules will be darn lucky if he doesn’t find himself in quod for kidnapping. See the idea?’
Molly nodded rather ruefully. ‘As a plan, it is as good as anything we can hope for; but I’ll never forgive you if they do John a serious injury.’
‘At least it gives a sporting chance for him to keep out of trouble.’ C.B. shrugged. ‘I put this up only to prevent his butting his head right into it.’
‘That’s true enough, Mother,’ John declared. ‘Don’t you dare blame C.B. if anything goes wrong. But it is nearly half-past ten; so if I’m to get on that yacht without being spotted we had better be moving.’
C.B. paid the bill and they went out into the darkness. The yacht lay only two hundred yards or so further seaward along the quay. Keeping in the shadow of the buildings, they walked along until they were opposite to her.
Some of her main cabins were lit, but as their portholes lay just under the level of the wharf edge the light from them came only as a diffused glow amidships. Except for a pool of brightness below her mast light and another on her bridge, her upper structure was plunged in deep shadow. A gangway, the slope of which was scarcely noticeable, led up from the quay to her main deck, just astern of her bridge. She might have been completely deserted, had it not been for an occasional movement in her bridge-house, which showed that someone was keeping watch up there.
After they had studied her for some moments, C.B. said to John, ‘I thought you might have to borrow a small boat, approach her from the seaward side, and shin up on deck as best you could; but I don’t think that is necessary. Her deck is so near level with the wharf, and she is made fast so close against it that you should be able to jump to the rail near her stern and scramble over. All that is needed to give you a good chance of getting aboard unseen is for us to occupy the watchman’s attention while you approach as quietly as possible.’
‘Johnny,’ Molly whispered anxiously, ‘you are not used to this sort of thing. Do be careful, won’t you?’
He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, Mother; of course I will.’
Ignoring the interruption, C.B. went on, ‘Let’s all go back to the car now. Molly and I will get in it, and we will give you a bit of a lead before we start. Walk right on the edge of the quayside, so that you will have only to swerve and jump at the critical moment. Don’t walk too fast, because I want to pass you in the car about fifty yards before you come level with her stern; but for God’s sake don’t give the impression of stealth, in case anyone notices you. The noise of the car engine will drown any noise you make, and when I pull up opposite the bridge of the yacht our lights will be pointing away from you; so you will have the extra benefit of the contrasting darkness behind us. Whatever you do, don’t jump before we have pulled up and you have heard me hail the chap in the bridge-house; otherwise he may be looking in your direction. I shall pretend that we are trying to find another yacht that was supposed to have docked this evening, and will hold his attention for about three minutes. That should be ample for you to do your stuff.’
Still keeping in the shadow of the buildings, they walked back to the fish restaurant. While they did so C.B. made Johnny repeat their programme, to make certain there should be no slip-up. He had only just finished when they reached the car.
Knowing that C.B. disliked driving, and never did so if he could get anyone else to do it for him, Molly gave John’s hand a quick squeeze, then slipped into the driver’s seat.
C.B. said to him in a low voice, ‘Should anything go wrong, and you have to make a bolt for it, go round a few back streets then come to Henri’s café. Your mother and I will be waiting there until Malouet turns up. Off you go, now. Good luck!’
With a nod and smile, barely glimpsed in the semi-darkness, John turned away, while C.B. got in beside Molly. He did not
at all like the idea of letting the boy tackle such a dangerous business on his own, but had seen no way to prevent it. In the past he had on many occasions risked worse things than were likely to happen to John, but he was not his own master, and knew it to be unfair to his department to embroil himself in matters that had no definite connection with his job. He could only console himself with the thought that, as from the first John had shown a determination to stick his neck out, he had at least now been manoeuvred into doing it in a way that might, perhaps, prove well worth while.
Molly, meanwhile, was torn by conflicting emotions—her confidence in C.B., which gave her assurance that any plan of his would combine the maximum amount of caution possible with a fair prospect of success, and her distress that her beloved Johnny must inevitably run considerable risks in carrying it out. For a few moments she watched him walking away, until he had disappeared beyond the beams thrown by the car lamps; then she started the engine and slipped in the clutch.
The timing was good, as when the car passed John, and he was momentarily thrown up in the glare of its headlights, he was still too far from the yacht to be noticed by anyone inside. He had just about halved the remaining distance when the car pulled up, and by the time he drew level with the yacht’s stern C.B. already had the watchman engaged in conversation.
John’s glance switched to the gulf that gaped between the quayside and the yacht’s rail. For a second his heart contracted. It was much wider than he had expected. Poised there on the edge, he stared down at the oily water gurgling sinisterly ten feet below him. If he bungled his jump and fell into that dark crevasse it could easily prove a death-trap. Wide as the gap appeared on the wharf level, it looked much narrower further down, and the horrid thought flickered through his mind that he might find himself jammed between the ship and the wharf with his head under water. Yet he knew that every second was now precious; so, striving to suppress his qualms, he launched himself into space.
Those nervous fears lent extra strength to his muscles; so his leap would have carried him double the distance. His outstretched hands overshot the mark, and instead it was his stomach that came into violent contact with the top of the rail. The wind was driven from his body; his arms and legs flailed wildly. For a moment he was in acute danger of slipping backwards into the gulf before he could get a foot or handhold. A desperate wriggle saved him. His head went down, his legs up, and he fell inboard on to the deck.
Alarmed at the noise he had made, he scrambled hastily for the nearest cover. It was a hooded wooden hatchway leading down to the deck below. Crouching behind it he wondered what he had better do next. The obvious course seemed to creep down and look for a good place in which to hide; but while leaping on to the rail he had glimpsed a thing which was inconspicuous from the level of the wharf. On either side of the long after-deck there were three large sloping skylights, and the four nearest were all aglow, suggesting that the saloons below them were occupied. If he went down this after-companionway it seemed highly likely that he would run straight into somebody.
Peering round the side of the hatch, he saw that all was still quiet forward. It was darker up by the bridge; so it seemed probable that there were fewer people below decks there. Feeling certain that if he could reach the waist of the ship unobserved he would find another companionway, he left his cover, but at a crawl, so that he could instantly flatten himself out beside one of the skylights if he heard anyone approaching.
Wriggling on again, John peered through the next skylight. Below him now was the dining saloon. Although the light there was still on, the table had been cleared and the room was empty. He was just about to move towards the skylight further forward, from which no light showed, when he heard, faint but unmistakable, a laugh that he felt certain was Christina’s. It had come from the skylight opposite, on the port side of the deck, which was open a little for ventilation.
Regardless of the fact that three minutes had already gone, so it was not to be expected that C.B. would be able to keep the watchman in conversation much longer, John could not resist the temptation to slither swiftly across the deck and peep through the skylight from which the laugh had come. It gave on to the saloon, which occupied as much space on the port side as did the dining saloon and galley together on the starboard side. By holding his head at an awkward angle, John could see both Jules and Christina.
She was sitting in a corner with her legs up on the banquette that ran along the ship’s side. Jules was ensconced opposite her in an armchair. Between them on a small table stood two squat, tulip-shaped glasses and a bottle of Grand Marnier. No one else was present, and they were talking and laughing together like old friends.
Looking at them had a curious effect on John. He knew that he should have been pleased to find Christina safe, well and apparently happy, but he was not. Even making allowances for her change of personality after dark, it annoyed him to see her enjoying Jules’s company. He now admitted to himself that, in spite of the additional danger in which it would have placed him, he would rather have come upon her in some difficult situation, from which there could have been no excuse for his not attempting her immediate rescue.
Even as it was, he began to play with the thought of endeavouring to get her away before the yacht sailed. The lights glowing through the four skylights had suggested that quite a number of people were down there in the compartments below the after-deck. But that had not proved the case. There were only the chef and steward in the galley and Jules and Christina in the saloon.
John felt that if he could surprise Jules he would have quite a good chance of overcoming him. But what then? Even if Jules were swiftly rendered incapable of giving a general alarm, the sounds of the struggle might bring the two servants from across the passage. And what of Christina? If she came willingly and at once they might gain the deck, race down it and across the gangway on to the wharf, before they could be stopped. But if she at first refused to budge—if he had to waste precious moments trying to persuade her to come with him—the steward and the chef would be upon them before they could even get up the companionway.
Reluctantly, John decided that he dare not chance it. He must stick to C.B.’s plan and stow away until the morning, when he would be certain of Christina’s cooperation. Stealthily he moved again towards the darker area of deck amidships.
Suddenly a horn sounded, the arcs thrown by headlights swept across the buildings on the far side of the wharf, and a car ran past moving in the direction of the town. John knew that it must be C.B. and his mother. They had done their job, and he was supposed by this time to be under cover; but he was not, and now the watchman was again free to keep a general look-out.
It was the first time that John had ever done anything of this kind. His worst handicap was that, owing to lack of experience, he did not realise the importance of making swift decisions. While he was still hesitating whether to risk going forward towards the bridge, another horn sounded, lights flashed again on the quay, and a camion drew up opposite the gangway. Out of it piled seven or eight men, who came aboard laughing and joking.
Crouching behind the nearest skylight, John watched them vanish down the companionway in the middle of the bridge-structure that he had hoped to use himself. He reckoned that the crew of such a yacht would number somewhere around a dozen. With one on the bridge and two in the galley, the newcomers nearly made up that complement.
As they had all disappeared, the long stretch of deck to the gangway was now clear again, but he no longer dared risk going below by the midship companionway, even if he could reach it unseen from the bridge. The arrival of the crew had left him no choice but to retreat down the after-hatchway in the hope of finding a good hiding-place somewhere in the stern of the vessel.
Cautiously, he made his way back to the hatch behind which he had first hidden. After listening for a moment, he tip-toed down the stairs beneath its hood. The first flight brought him opposite a long passage, in which he knew that the galley and dining saloon wer
e on the right and the saloon on the left; a second flight, immediately under the first, led down to a lower deck.
Feeling that the further he could get from the major activities on board the yacht the safer he would be, he crept down the second flight. Again he found himself faced by a long corridor, but in it there were double the number of doors. On each side there were six, and evidently they were those of the cabins for the passengers. Beyond them a bulkhead, with a door in it, presumably cut the after part of the ship off from the engine-room and crew’s quarters.
Advancing stealthily, John peered through the partly-open door of one of the cabins. It was empty, and showed no sign of occupation; so he wondered if he dare doss down there for the night, but decided against it as too risky. Moving on, he reached the bulkhead, cautiously opened the door in it and looked through.
As he did so the hum of engines struck his ears, and only then did he realise that they had been almost imperceptibly reverberating through the ship for several minutes past. Evidently she was very shortly about to put to sea.
For a moment he stood where he was, wondering whether to step through the door in the hope of finding a good hiding-place further forward, or to return aft and look for a cubby hole right in the stern. He was still trying to decide which course offered the better possibilities when all chance of making a choice was suddenly snatched from him.
Without any sound of warning, a cabin door some ten feet beyond the bulkhead was pulled open. Through it stepped a big, ginger-haired man. His uniform, and the single band of gold braid round its cuffs, showed that he was a junior officer. His glance instantly fell upon John. Surprise dawned in his blue eyes; then, striding towards him, he exclaimed: ‘Who are you? What do you want down here?’
Chapter 10
‘Once Aboard the Lugger…?’
The unexpected encounter had taken John as much by surprise as it had the ginger-haired officer. For a moment they stared at one another. John’s first impulse was to turn and run, but he knew that would be fatal. This was obviously a case for bluff—if he could only think of one. He wondered what line C.B. would have taken in these circumstances, but could not, for the life of him, imagine. The big man spoke again, more sharply: ‘What are you doing down here? Answer me!’
To the Devil, a Daughter Page 14