by Basil Copper
She leaned against me and looked up into my face. Her eyes were smiling.
“You sure that’s all you had in mind?” she said.
“It’s too public this side,” I said.
“Let’s go, then,” she replied.
We walked back up through the glades, silver bright in the moon; each leaf and frond and branch looked like an old steel engraving in that light. She walked close to me and I put one hand on her shoulder. We didn’t talk. She was so close I could get the perfume of her hair. It smelt better than the trees and flowers around us. At last we came out of the last clump of trees and the sea lay blank before us, pricked with tiny points of light where the moonlight brushed the surface.
“I know where the money is,” I told Diane as we sat down where a shelf of rock ran out before dying as a spit in the sand. It made a sort of hollow cup in the shore and it still held all the heat of the day. The sand was fine and silver-pink with the conch shells and the warmth came up off the sand like the gentle heat of a baker’s oven when the fire has died. She folded her hands across her body and lay on the sand.
“I guessed you did,” she said gravely. “So?”
“So this,” I said. “Mandrake’s going to be pretty sore in the morning. Both at you and me. Me mostly but you also, especially for tonight’s caper.”
She turned her face away from me and looked out across the water. I couldn’t see the expression of her eyes. She ran one hand aimlessly through the fine sand, letting it sift through her slender fingers.
“I’ve got the real position where the money’s stashed,” I said. “So have the police so it doesn’t make any odds now whether Mandrake knows or not. They’ll be waiting for him in any case—they may even be here by morning. This was the alternative rendezvous.”
“You never intended to play ball at any time, did you?” she said.
“What do you think?” I asked. She laughed.
“That I’m a pretty good judge of character. Once a cop and all that. Not that I blame you. Mandrake’s not a very attractive person. But I thought the five thousand might tempt you.”
“Disappointed?” I said.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. I leaned over and kissed her. She lay quietly and rode with it. The sand seemed to be swaying to the motion of the sea. I put my hand out and grabbed the rock in the end, just to stop us from floating out with the tide. She broke for air then and passed her hand over her face in a lazy movement. We lay for a moment drinking in the night. She seemed to be thinking over what I had just said.
But in the end all she said was, “You kiss pretty good for a cop.”
“It’s one of the tests we have to pass before we get our badge,” I said. She chuckled again.
“Look, Diane,” I said. “I’ll give you the map reference if you think you can memorise it. It’s my ace in the pack for the morning. But just in case Mandrake doesn’t believe me—and I can’t see that happening after today—it will make all the difference if things get rough. Besides, Otto may shoot first and interrogate me afterwards.”
She trembled in my arms. She didn’t reply.
“You listening?” I said. She started.
“Sorry.”
“Now get this,” I said. I gave her the bearings, repeated them twice more. I needn’t have worried though. She got them first time off.
“Thanks, Mike,” she said. “I’ll see Mandrake first thing. He wants me to marry him. I’ll do what I can.”
“Stow that,” I said putting my hand over her mouth. “The cost of some things comes too high.”
She smiled. “And I thought you were cynical,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
“Not tonight,” I said. “Tonight I got all the aces.”
We kissed again. She leaned towards me on the warm sand and all the front of her body came along mine; we lay toe to toe. It felt pretty good.
“Let’s make a night of it,” she breathed.
“It’s a pity I didn’t bring my pocket chess set,” I said.
“Quit the kidding,” she said almost savagely. White teeth nipped at my ear. I started to get serious then. It wasn’t very hard. She had on some sort of open-necked shirt which exposed the muscles of her neck. I had trouble with the buttons of the shirt. In the end she gently moved my hands and unbuttoned it herself; she was kind of impatient at that. I thought she was pretty striking when I saw her in my hotel room but that was a dry run compared to this.
She had a pair of breasts that weren’t exactly hard to look at. They were the best kind; they don’t make them like that any more. They never did. I’m not very good at sizes but they just fitted my hands. Diane moaned then. By this time I was getting reckless with the tropical night and all; I just pulled all her clothes off and we got down to business.
She squealed as we rolled over the warm sand but she wasn’t frightened; I’ll say she wasn’t. I found her mouth and then we were locked together; the warmth of her body all along mine would have set fire to the sand if it had been inflammable. And I was already ablaze by that time; an asbestos saint would have been hard put to it and I wasn’t even a plaster one. Smothered with sand and passion we rolled down into a hollow. She bit my ear again.
“You can do anything you like,” she said.
“I’m always ready to oblige a lady,” I said. I obliged.
4
When we woke the moon was high, riding way up the sky and silvering the wave-tips. Diane stood up and undulated her fingertips across my face. Stark naked, she was a fine sight in the light of the moon; her white skin made pale strips which her bikini usually covered. For the rest she looked like a bronze goddess as she laughed down at me.
She ran down the beach and I pounded after her. The way we dashed into the spray made Dante and Beatrice look like a couple of old-age pensioners. I figured Clay would have had apoplexy if he could have seen us. Or perhaps he wouldn’t.
I didn’t get time to examine the subject for Diane caught me behind the calf with her foot and I went down with a splutter into the water. It was as soft and smooth as warm milk. We horsed around in the shallows for a bit. She swam beautifully, like an athlete; she had me outclassed easily, but tonight she wasn’t trying to get away. I had no difficulty in catching her.
Her body was as smooth as marble under the water but wonderfully alive. We rolled up the foamy shallows into the wet sand laughing and pinching like a couple of twelve-year olds. Her wet hair fell across my eyes as we kissed. I held her warm flanks in my two hands and held her tight against me. We kissed as the tide drove us roughly in over the sand. I cupped her buttocks and held her close. We were kissing deeply and it felt like we were dropping through the water into oblivion. What a way to drown I thought.
She whispered in my ear. Her voice was full of wonder.
“I’ve never done it under water, Mike,” she said.
“There’s a first time for everything,” I said, like I did it every day before breakfast. It looked like being a long night before the dawn came up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Piranha
1
A PALE shaft of light fell across my closed eyelids. A red glow was suffusing the shadowy surface of the sea when I opened them. Diane stirred at my side.
“Dawn,” I said. She nodded. A light wind came from off the water and rustled the palms. Down on the sand here it was still warm and the rocks protected us from the breeze. I sat up and stretched.
“Time to go,” I said. She got up then and held out her arms. I held her against me.
“Thanks for everything,” I said. “Not to worry.” She put her face against mine. “I’ll do what I can,” she whispered. “I’ll do what I can.”
I pushed her gently away and she gave me a faint smile. Then we set out to walking round the island. The light was growing stronger and the water looked phosphorescent as the slight swell came in from the ocean. The dawn tints on the reddish colour of the sand made the light look very beautiful. White clo
uds painted orange by the rising sun hung on the horizon.
We soon came in sight of the yacht. It rode on the surface of the water looking like a painted ship on a painted backcloth; I swung my eyes the whole hundred and seventy-five degrees of the horizon but there wasn’t a sign of Clay’s police cutter. Nothing but the white triangle of a fishing boat, almost hull down, far out to sea. Diane sighed. It wasn’t worth a comment.
We went up from the water aways and sat down on some rocks. Presently I heard the sound of an outboard and a dinghy put out from The Gay Lady. The sun was pretty well up now and I could recognise the big form of Otto in the stern. Diane gave me a long, last look and then went down the beach to meet the boat. I followed on behind.
The dinghy grounded in the shallows and one of the seamen jumped ashore and hauled her in. Otto got out and came through the surf to meet us. In the stern the steersman had dropped the tiller and sat with a shotgun across his knees.
“You’re a lousy shot,” I told Otto. He creased up his face but whether with humour or disgust I couldn’t make out. He spat on to the sand.
“You were lucky, pal,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
He didn’t have the Luger out but it wasn’t worth trying anything with the three of them there. We wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Otto jerked his head at Diane Morris. “Mr. Mandrake wants to see you aboard — right now.”
She looked round the island in one brief glance, flashed me a quick smile and went down to the boat. I went to follow but Otto put a big hand against my chest.
“You stay here, pal,” he said. “Mr. Mandrake’s got something special laid on for you.”
“How’d he make out with the treasure?” I said.
Otto shook his head. “Bad, pal, bad,” he said softly. “He’s pretty mad at you.”
“I never was much good at remembering things,” I said.
Otto chuckled way down in his throat. He motioned me up the beach. I went back and sat on a rock. He sat about two yards away from me. I looked down to the shore. The boat was half-way across now. Diane Morris looked very small in the stern. She stared in front of her without looking back.
Otto got out a pack of cigarettes. He took the Luger out of his pocket, took off the safety catch and laid it down near his hand. The scrape of the match made a thin, irritating sound in the dawn quiet. He feathered out the smoke with satisfaction.
“Do you mind?” I said. He looked across at me.
“Why not?”
He threw the cigarettes and the box of matches across to me. They fell in the sand by my feet. I picked them up very slowly and lit a cigarette. I threw back the box and the package. Otto let them lie where they fell. I drew in a lungful of smoke and looked up to the tops of the palms. The smoke tasted good.
We sat there for perhaps thirty minutes; Otto didn’t say anything but his eyes never left my face. Myself, I didn’t feel like talking. Then I heard the sound of the motor again. The dinghy was coming back. I could see Diane Morris in the stern and a bigger-built bulk which could only be Mandrake. Midships the boat was taken up by a large, square shape which glinted in the sun.
Mandrake got out of the boat and came up the beach towards us. Diane Morris followed, carrying a large metal case. The two seamen started unloading the dinghy; they had some trouble with their burden. It was a large, plate glass fish tank like the ones I had seen in The Gay Lady saloon, only bigger. Otto picked up his Luger and motioned to me to stand.
Mandrake eyed me coldly. He was wearing a white drill suit which made his pink hands look even more incongruous than usual. Only his eyes looked alive in his pink-scrubbed features; they were burning with hatred just now but his face remained coldly immobile.
“Looks like you got your bearings mixed up,” I said mildly.
Mandrake hit me across the face three times rapidly; I rocked with the blows and instinctively bunched my fists but Otto had the Luger swiftly at my navel. I tasted blood inside my mouth.
“I have finished with talking, Mr. Faraday,” said Mandrake savagely. “Already too much time, energy and money has been wasted over your stupid interference. You have been extraordinarily lucky but luck runs out even for the boldest. Last night you could have died with the minimum of pain and inconvenience. This morning I regret to say that I shall demand a large dividend for the trouble you have put me. Now your death will be slow and extremely painful.”
Diane Morris put down the metal case. She didn’t look at me.
“Sounds like some fun,” I said. “You know the real location of the money now, so why all the fireworks?”
He pointed one of his pink starfish at my face.
“We have only your word for that, Mr. Faraday and so far I have found you extremely unreliable.”
“My word against the girl’s safety,” I said.
“The time is past for bargains,” he said. “The girl will take her chances. You will die in any case.”
I shrugged. “There’s no need to involve her in this,” I said.
He turned and gazed out thoughtfully towards the pale-blue of the horizon.
“She is already involved,” he said absently. “But in any case we shall be far away when the time comes. Your solicitude is really touching.”
He stared towards the rim of the sea where the faintest white triangle of the fishing boat slowly faded from sight. When it had disappeared he turned back to me.
“You may remember a conversation we had some while ago concerning Chinese river pirates and their unpleasant habits. Unfortunately I have no facilities for that sort of elaborate set-up here. But we will make shift with the next best thing.”
He motioned to Otto. The big man gestured with the Luger.
“Take off that sweater, pal,” he said. “And your shoes. You won’t be needing them anymore.”
I obeyed. When I had stripped to the waist the two seamen came up with the big plate glass tank. It had a metal frame and must have been heavy judging by the sweat which was running down their faces.
“Put it down here behind these rocks,” said Mandrake. “Now, Mr. Faraday, I must ask you to put your hands behind your back.”
When I had done this one of the seamen came up behind me and roped my hands together. He made a pretty good job of it. Then he soaked the rope with sea water. When he had checked it again Mandrake came up behind me and tested it for himself.
“Now the feet,” he said softly. When the two seamen had finished with me I looked like a trussed chicken. Otto sat on the rock with the Luger and gave me a satisfied glance. Then they brought up several big rocks and tied these to the ropes round my feet. I couldn’t move. In fact I had difficulty in standing.
“You’ll have to do better than this,” I told Mandrake. “Houdini was my uncle.”
He gave me a dry look. “You have an admirable spirit, Mr. Faraday, which has been grossly misapplied until now. However, this experiment will give your stoicism an opportunity to manifest itself.”
As he spoke the two seamen came up behind and started to lift me; they couldn’t do it. Otto got up. He took my feet and the weight of the rocks. They were big ones and they made him grunt. The three men lifted me into the fish tank. I cut my injured shoulder on the top as I went over and blood ran down the glass.
“Careful, you fools,” said Mandrake sharply. “If you drop him the rocks will break the glass and we shall have to start all over.”
The seamen and Otto lowered me inch by inch. When they stood away I was securely anchored to the floor of the tank by the weights round my feet. With my hands behind my back I was wedged up in the angle of one of the corners; I might as well have been in solid concrete for all the freedom of movement it left me. The ugly seaman got a bucket out of the dinghy. He came back and slopped the water into the bottom of the tank. It felt warm on my feet.
Mandrake sighed heavily. “You get more stupid all the time,” he told the seaman. “The four of you make a chain and pass the bucket up the beach. It
will take all day the way you are doing it.”
Otto got up grumbling from his seat on the rock but changed his expression when Mandrake looked over at him. He went down the beach with surprising speed. As the buckets of water slopped into the tank and the water began to rise up to my ankles Mandrake stood looking reflectively down at me.
“We will stop when the water gets up to your navel,” he said. “By avoiding any vital parts you will last a lot longer. It will give you plenty of time to reflect on the mistakes you have made over the last two days. You may perhaps have wondered at the metal can the girl was carrying. It contains the fish that interested you so much on the yacht. The Serrasalmus—or to the layman, the piranha. As you saw I have only half a dozen so it should take quite a while for them to work through you. They are gorged with food at the moment, but when they get hungry…”
He waved a pink starfish in the air and stared at me again. “You look a husky specimen, Mr. Faraday,” he said. “A tempting morsel to such game little fellows. They should be able to live off you for weeks. But you’ll be all right for a bit — until they get hungry, that is. As I said before, my only regret is that I shan’t be here to see it. I’m told that a man can snap inch manila rope when they get stuck into him but the rocks will hold you safely. My only fear is that you will drown before the process is complete.”
No-one spoke for a moment. Diane Morris walked a few yards off and even Otto had lost his smile. For once I couldn’t think of a crack. I thought of the cat back in The Gay Lady’s saloon and I began to sweat. The water was up over my thighs now but still the last few buckets kept coming. The two seamen and Otto spread out farther Diane Morris came and stood near the edge of the tank. She still didn’t look at me.
At last Mandrake raised his hand and the ugly seaman who had the shotgun thankfully put the last pail of water into the tank. He walked off with the empty bucket back to the boat. I looked at Mr. Mandrake for a long, silent moment. Mr. Mandrake from Chicago.