Night Of Error

by Desmond Bagley

  'Geordie tells me you're the best swimmer, so you'll go first. But you must be quiet about it or the balloon will go up. Your job will be to find the quietest spot on board to get the rest of us up.'

  'Not to worry,' he said easily. 'It'll be like the old times.'

  As I turned away he said, 'Er – Mike…'

  'Yes, Bill?'

  'It's good to work with a Trevelyan again.'

  I was touched. 'Thanks, Bill. You don't know how I appreciate that.'

  At last we were ready. Six of us were going – Geordie, Ian, Taffy, Jim, Bill Hunter and myself. Danny Williams was left in command of the ship and the rest of Geordie's non-commando crew, and I said to him, 'Danny, if anything goes wrong, get the hell out of here as fast as you can, once Mr Campbell and the girls and Nick are back on board, even if it means leaving us behind. Mr Campbell mustn't be involved in this, you understand?'

  'I gotcha,' he said. 'But you'll be all right.'

  Geordie was fussing. 'Jim, got all your bits and pieces?' 'I'm okay,' said Jim. 'Stop binding, skipper.' I stepped over to Geordie. 'What are these bits and pieces?' 'Nothing much,' he said airily. 'A few tools. Belaying pins and stuff like that. What time is it?'

  I looked at the luminous hands of my watch. 'Eleven-twenty-eight.' It had been a rush to get ready but the last few minutes crawled.

  'Let's go,' he said. 'It'll be a doddle.' We dropped into the larger of our two dinghies, Ian and Taffy took the oars and pulled quietly, and the boat moved out. We rounded the stern of Esmerelda and Ian steered us across the harbour.

  I was thinking of all the things that could go wrong and what Campbell would say when we got back, and damning myself for an idiot. I leaned over to Geordie and whispered, 'If Taffy's got that damned knife of his, tell him to leave it in the bottom of the boat. We don't want even the possibility of him using it.'

  'It's all right,' he said in a low voice. 'He left it aboard – I told him to.'

  It wasn't long before Ian and Taffy stopped pulling and the boat glided to a stop, rocking gently. Bill was dressed in dark clothing and all I saw of him was the flash of his teeth in the moonlight as he slipped over the side.

  'Are you sure the torch is waterproof?' Geordie murmured.

  'It's okay,' Bill replied. 'I'll give you a flash as soon as I'm ready.' He moved away without a single splash and we sat quietly waiting for his signal. It seemed a long time coming and as I sat there I wondered what I was doing in this Pacific harbour, contemplating an act of piracy. It seemed a long way from my office at the Institute. I said to Geordie, 'He's a long time, isn't he?' 'Stop worrying,' said Geordie. 'We're professionals.' I let out my breath and tried to relax on the hard thwart, never taking my eyes off Ramirez's ship. Suddenly there was a flicker of light, so faint and so quickly doused that I wondered if I'd really seen it or whether my eyes were playing tricks.

  'That's it,' said Geordie softly. 'Pull together. Gently now.'

  We moved on under the measured slow strokes of the oars until the side of the ship loomed above us. Something hit my face and I started violently. Geordie said in my ear, 'Be still, for God's sake.'

  I felt him moving about and he said, always in that low murmur that was so much more effective than a whisper, 'Bill's been a good boy. He's dropped us a line. Make fast there.'

  Jim, in the bows, made fast and Geordie said, 'I'll go first.' He swarmed up somehow like a monkey and disappeared over the bulwarks. Ian followed and then I came up, finding that they were using a rope ladder that hung just above our dinghy. My eyes had got used to the darkness and with the help of the waning moon and the dim glow of the riding lights I found I could see fairly well. There was no one about on deck, but a low murmur of voices came from aft.

  Someone moved to join us and Bill's voice said, soft and unexpectedly close, 'I've copped one of 'em.'

  'What have you done with him?' Geordie asked.

  'Nothing much.' There was joy in Bill's voice. 'He won't wake up for a longish time.'

  The others had arrived on deck and Geordie said, 'Split into pairs- I'll take Mike. We'll do the old backward-forward trick.'

  'What's that?' I asked, trying to pitch my voice low as he had done.

  'Quiet! Someone's coming. Jim and Taffy – you take him.'

  I watched the two figures snake across the deck and vanish into the shadows. Then I heard what Geordie's quicker ear had caught much earlier – the measured pace of footsteps coming along the deck from aft. The man came in sight round the corner of the deck-house; he was carrying a mug in his hand, being careful not to spill it – probably coffee for someone up in the bows.

  Suddenly, to my surprise, a black shape arose quite openly in front of him and Taffy's voice said gently, 'Well now,: that's a nice thought – bringing me coffee.'

  The man stopped and backed up in amazement. He was about to speak when something flickered in front of his face and he raised his hands to claw at his neck. Taffy expertly caught the falling mug.

  The man seemed to be fighting nothing. He staggered two paces along the deck and then collapsed. I saw Jim crouch over him and then they both dragged him over to us, Taffy using only one hand.

  'Anyone want some hot coffee?' he said. 'Not a drop spilled.'

  'Stop playing the fool,' Geordie growled.

  'What happened?' I asked.

  'It'll keep. That's two – how many more do you reckon, Bill?'

  There were five on deck when I was here before. But I dunno about below.'

  Jim and Taffy were gagging and trussing up their victim. Geordie said, 'We'll finish that. You lot go aft and clear up the deck.'

  They drifted away like wreathes of smoke and I helped Geordie finish the job. The man was flaccid and quite unconscious and I whispered, 'What the hell did Jim do to him?'

  'A silk cloth with a weight in one corner. We learned that one from an Indian instructor, old thuggee trick. But at least Jim hasn't strangled this one – he'll recover okay.'

  There was a muffled thump from aft and he clicked his tongue. 'Someone's being careless. Come on, I want to see if Bill's done his job properly.'

  He rose and walked unconcernedly forward, not troubling to hide. He stopped at the forehatch and tested it with his hand. 'Bill's a good workman. No one can come from below this way.'

  He then searched about until he found what he was looking for – the prone and unconscious body of the after watch. He rolled the limp body over and began to tie the hands. 'Not that I don't trust Bill's judgement,' he said. 'But it's nice to be safe and tidy. You take his feet – use his shoelaces.'

  It was all a little bit dreamlike. Geordie was expertly tying the crewman's hands and conversing matter-of-factly as any good craftsman might as he worked on his bench. 'Sorry to keep you out of the fun, Mike. But you're dead inexperienced. You've only got to do the wrong thing once on a lark like this and the cat's out of the bag.'

  I looked at Geordie's bulk in the semi-darkness and realized something I'd never thought of consciously before. He had been trained as a professional killer, and my father had had a hand in his training. He had been taught perhaps a couple of dozen ways of putting a man out of action, temporarily or permanently, and he had the professional's amused contempt for the dilettante. I thought for the first time that something of Mark's ruthless streak, albeit turned in a strange and distasteful manner, had been inherited from my father.

  I said, 'That's all right, Geordie. You're doing fine. I'm content to look and learn.'

  From the stern came the lowest, breathiest of whistles and Geordie cocked his head. 'They're finished. Let's go and see what the bag's like.'

  We went forward, walking as though the ship belonged to us. As we went, Geordie said softly, 'Never dodge about when there's no need. Nothing looks more suspicious. I mean, suppose someone's watching the deck right now – we could be any pair of the crew.'

  He slowed as he came to the deckhouse where a stream of light splashed on the deck from the door. He peered cautiousl
y round the edge of the door, then snorted. 'I might have known,' he said resignedly. 'It's Taffy the gutser. What do you think you're doing, Taff?'

  He stepped into the deckhouse and I followed to find that it led straight into the galley. Taffy was sawing at a loaf of bread. 'Making myself a sandwich, skipper,' he said.

  'You bloody cormorant. How many did you get?'

  'Three.'

  'Kane? Hadley?'

  'Not a sign. If they're aboard, they're below. But they'll be safe – we battened down the hatches.'

  'Well, we'll unbatten them and clean up below,' said Geordie. 'It only needs one of 'em to decide he'd like a nice breath of sea air and find he can't get on deck. When you've finished your supper, Mr Morgan, we'd all be grateful if you got back on the job. And before you leave the galley clean up – and then find the flour bin and tip the salt into it.'

  'Yes, sergeant,' said Taffy.

  We went to the wheelhouse and found the others. Ian was unscrewing the central holding bolt of the wheel-bearing with an adjustable spanner. He looked up at Geordie and said solemnly, 'Might as well cause a bit of inconvenience while we're here.' He withdrew the bolt and casually tossed it overboard, then spun the wheel. 'They'll have a wee bit of trouble in their steering, I'm thinking.'

  'Very nice, but a little premature,' said Geordie. 'Let's get the job finished first. Mike and I will take the forehatch and clean out the fo'c's'le. Ian and Bill, take this hatch here. Jim, you'll find Taffy stuffing his guts in the galley – you take amidships. Got your stuff?'

  'I've got it, skipper.'

  'Right. We'll all go down simultaneously. I'll give the signal – and try not to make too much noise. Come on, Mike.'

  When we got to the forehatch Geordie paused. 'We'll give them a minute to get ready.' He shook his head sadly. That bloody Welshman.'

  I looked aft along the deck. It was very quiet and there was nothing to be seen, and I thought how easy it had all been – so far. These ex-commandoes seemed to take it all as a joke, as I suppose it was to men who had tackled alert Germans. But I wasn't deceived; it was their very competence that made it seem easy.

  Geordie startled me by uttering that same hollow whistle I'd heard before. 'Come on,' he said softly. 'Me first.'

  He lifted up the hatch gently and went down the companionway. The forecastle was dimly lit by a single lamp and appeared full of shadowy shapes. When I got to the bottom of the steps I found Geordie fastening the door which led to the midships accommodation by means of a small wooden wedge which he took from his pocket. The door fastened, he turned to look round the forecastle. Tiers of bunks, three high, lined the triangular space formed by the bows of the ship. They pack the bastards in like sardines, I thought. There was a snoring noise and Geordie looked round quickly, put his fingers to his lips for my benefit and crept forward very gently, and then waved me forward. He was looking at a middle berth upon which was sleeping a villainously unshaven seaman. He put his lips close to my ear and said, 'Check the other bunks.'

  I tiptoed round the forecastle, looking into every bunk, but found no one else. I got back to Geordie and shook my head.

  He said loudly, 'All right, let's wake up the sleeping beauty.'

  The man snored again, drawing back his upper lip.

  Geordie shook him by the shoulder. 'Come on, chum. Prepare to meet thy doom.' The man opened his eyes and looked up uncomprehendingly and then Geordie hit him on the chin with a fist like a hammer.

  He rubbed his knuckles and said, a little apologetically, 'I never like to hit a sleeping man. It seems a bit unfair somehow.'

  I looked at the seaman. He was out cold.

  Geordie looked round the forecastle again. 'Nine a side. They pack eighteen in here. The Board of Trade would never allow this back home. Right, let's see what else there is. The next one might be the lucky draw, Mike.'

  He took the wedge out of the door and opened it carefully. We checked all the compartments we came across, even the toilets. 'Nothing like catching a man with his pants down,' Geordie chuckled.

  We found nothing.

  The ship rocked a little more heavily and we both stiffened but there was no hue and cry and we carried on slowly until suddenly there was a shadow at the end of the passage and Taffy came into sight. He was eating an apple.

  Geordie sniffed. 'Look at that. You'd think he'd get fatter, wouldn't you? He was just the same in the army – holding the war up while he rammed himself full.' There were two cabins remaining between ourselves and Taffy and we each investigated one, with negative results.

  'What did you get?' demanded Geordie.

  Taffy crunched on his apple. 'Ian put one laddie to sleep -he wasn't Kane and not big enough by all accounts to be Hadley.'

  'Damn! The bastards aren't here, then. We got another-that's seven.'

  'One in the bows and we got two more, skipper,' Taffy said. 'That's seven on board.'

  Geordie began to calculate. 'There's no less than fifteen getting boozed up ashore – that makes twenty-two. And there's eight at the hotel – that's thirty.'

  'The ship's over-crewed,' said Taffy with the air of one making a profound statement.

  'So is a battleship,' snapped Geordie. 'And that's what this is. They wouldn't need all this crowd just to handle the ship. Where's Jim?'

  'In the engine room.'

  'Good. You nip up on deck and keep watch. I don't think any of the officers will be coming back now, but the crew will, and Ramirez might come back for a check-up.'

  We went aft and found Ian breaking open a desk in one of the bigger cabins. I was about to protest when I realized that it hardly mattered what we did now, short of murder. 'Ramirez lives here,' he told us.

  The desk gave us nothing of interest or use and we glanced through his clothing quickly. It was elegant and extensive for shipboard life. 'Have you found our birds?' Ian asked as we worked.

  'Neither of them,' I said. 'We've slipped up on this one. Campbell is going to be mad.'

  Ian was disconsolate. 'My mannie wasn't Hadley. He had a black beard,' he said.

  Geordie pricked up his ears. 'Are you sure it wasn't him, or Kane, in a disguise?'

  'Na, na,' said Ian. 'It was too long. Kane couldn't have grown it in the time, and Hadley was clean-shaven. And it was real – I pulled it.'

  I was looking down and saw Geordie peeling back the carpet, revealing a recessed ring-bolt. 'What's down there?' I asked.

  'We can soon find out.' He grasped the ring-bolt and pulled, opening a trap-door. He pulled a torch from his pocket and flashed it down the hole.

  'Christ!' he said, and pulled out a sub-machine gun.

  We looked at it in silence, and then Geordie said, 'I told you this was a flaming battleship.'

  'Let's see what else there is,' I said.

  Five minutes later we were surrounded by enough weapons to start a small war. There were four sub-machine guns, fifteen rifles of assorted pattern, half a dozen pistols and a dozen hand grenades.

  I summoned up a laugh. 'I wonder what Chamant would have thought of this little lot? He nearly had heart failure at the sight of our four pistols.' But I was feeling a little sick, looking at our haul and my hands, which had been fine up to that moment, were sweating slightly.

  Geordie said thoughtfully, 'You were a pretty good armourer in your time, Ian. How would you put this lot out of action?'

  'With the bolt-action rifles you just throw the bolts away. With the others, we smash the firing pins.'

  'Why not throw the lot overboard?' I asked.

  Geordie cocked his head at me. 'We'll do that too. But this mob will then do some skin-diving and I want it to be a wasted effort. Get cracking, Ian, as fast as you can. We've spent enough time here.'

  We were ready for leaving fifteen minutes later after carefully dropping the useless guns over the side, with a minimum of splashing. Ian was rolling the last of the bolts he'd taken from the rifles into torn strips of cloth and stuffing them into his pockets. We were about to
leave when Taffy suddenly held up a hand. 'Quiet,' he said softly.

  We were very still and though I listened hard I couldn't hear anything. Taffy said, 'There's a boat coming.'

  Then I heard the faint creak of rowlocks and the splash of oars. I looked anxiously towards Geordie.

  'We take them,' he decided. 'We can't have the game given away too soon.' He issued quick instructions and the men spread themselves into the deck shadows. There was a soft bump as the boat reached the boarding ladder, on the other side from our own exit, and a few moments later I saw the outline of a man against the night sky. There was only one man and as he came aboard I drew in my breath sharply.

  It was Kane.

  'He's my meat,' I murmured to Geordie, who gave me the thumbs up. I moved forward in a crouch. Kane walked forward along the deck and just as he passed me I straightened up and gave him a tap on the shoulder. He turned and I let him have it, as hard as I could to the jaw. Ian tapped him on the head with something as he started to collapse and all in one movement, as it seemed, rolled him into a piece of canvas. Geordie looked over the railings and saw that Kane had been alone in the dinghy. 'That'll get us off the hook with Campbell,' he said with satisfaction.

  'I'm not so sure of that,' I said, rubbing my sore knuckles. 'We can't take Kane to the police now. They wouldn't look at all kindly on our methods, and if they find out what we've done to this ship we're for it, right on our side or not.'

  'You've said better than you know, Mike,' Geordie concurred. 'We'll leave here right away- and we'll take Mr Kane with us.'

  We piled into our boat and pulled for Esmerelda, and as we passed under the stern of Ramirez's ship I looked up and saw her name painted there – Sirena. Halfway across the harbour I had a sudden thought. 'Geordie, what was Jim doing in the engine room?'

  'Nothing much,' he said. Jim grinned briefly in the half-light and I was about to speak to him direct when Geordie interrupted me. 'Heave, you bloody pirates – we haven't much time.' He seemed in a devil of a hurry.

  As we climbed the bulwarks of Esmerelda I suddenly remembered that Jim Taylor had made a name for himself as a demolitions expert during the war. I hadn't time to develop this thought because Campbell was on to me in a rage.