"This is a real killer," he said. I made a note to check on what we were using in our hotels, and also to tighten up on fire precautions.
And it was at this point that Jack Kayles popped into sight.
Storm signals flew over the breakfast table next morning but I was too preoccupied to notice them until Debbie said, "I suppose you're going back to the office again today."
I poured myself a cup of tea.
"I had thought of it."
"I never see you any more."
I added sugar.
"You do in bed."
She flared up.
"I'm a wife not a harlot. When I married a man I expected all of him, not just his penis."
It was then I became aware that this was not a mere storm in a tea-cup.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Things have been really tough lately."
I reflected.
"I suppose I don't really have to go in today, or even tomorrow. In fact, I can take the rest of the week off. Why don't we take one of Joe Cartwright's sailboats from the marina and cruise to one of the Family Islands? That would take us to the weekend and we could fly back."
She lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Could we?" Then she frowned.
"But we're going nowhere near any of your damned hotels," she warned.
"This isn't a disguised business trip."
"Cross my heart and hope to die." I was drinking my tea as the telephone rang.
It was Jessie.
"I think you'd better come in early this morning; we've got trouble. "
"What kind of trouble?"
"Something to do with baggage at the airport. I don't really know what it is, but the lobby sounds like a hive of bees. Mr. Fletcher's at the dentist and the under-manager isn't coping very well."
That was all I needed.
"I'll be in." I hung up and said to Debbie, "Sorry, darling, but duty calls."
"You mean you're going in spite of what you just promised? Damn you!"
I left the house with recriminations clanging in my ears, and arrived at the Royal Palm to find that a minor bit of hell had broken loose.
I sat in Jack Fletcher's office listening to him moan.
"Two hundred and eight of them, and without a damned toothbrush between them, not to mention other necessities. All they have is their hand baggage and what they stand up in."
I winced.
"What happened? Did they arrive here and their baggage end up in Barcelona?"
He looked at me with mournful eyes.
"Worse! You know that new baggage-handling carousel at the airport?" I nodded. It was an innovation for which we had been pressing for a long time. With increased flights of wide-bodied jets the airport had developed a baggage-handling bottleneck which the carousel was intended to alleviate.
Fletcher said, "It couldn' t have done a better job if it had been designed for the purpose."
"A better job of what?"
"Opening the baggage without benefit of keys. The baggage was put on the conveyor, and somewhere in that underground tunnel something ripped open every suitcase. What spewed out on to the carousel were smashed suitcases and mixed-up contents."
"Didn't they try to turn it off when they saw what was happening?"
"They tried and couldn't. Apparently it wouldn't stop. And the telephone link between the carousel and the loading point outside hasn't been installed yet. By the time they'd fiddled around and sent someone outside to stop the loading it was too late. They'd pushed in the lot the whole planeload of baggage."
I nodded towards the lobby.
"Who is this crowd?"
"LTP Industries convention from Chicago. They're already raising hell. If you want a slice of gloom just go out into the lobby you can cut it with a knife. One good thing; the Airport Authority carries the can for this not us. "
The Airport Authority might carry ultimate responsibility but the airport people did not have on their hands over 200 unhappy and discontented Americans and when Ameri- cans are discontented they let it be known, loud and clear. Their unhappiness would spread through the hotel like a plague.
Jack said, "That Boeing was full, every seat filled. We're not the only people with grief; Holiday Inn, Atlantik Beach, Xanadu we've all got troubles."
That did not make me feel any better.
"What's the Airport Authority doing about it?"
"Still trying to make up their minds."
"Oh, for God's sake!" I said.
"You go out there and give them a pacifier $50 each for immediate necessities. I'll ring the airport to tell them I'll be sending them the bill. And make it a public relations service on the part of the hotel. Let them know clearly that we don't have to do it, but we're full of the milk of human kindness. We have to make some profit out of this mess."
He nodded and left, and I rang the airport. There followed a short but tempestuous conversation in which threats of legal action were issued. As I put down the telephone it rang under my hand. Jessie said, "Sam Ford wants to see you. By the way he's acting the matter is urgent."
"I'll be along." I went back to my office via the lobby, testing the atmosphere as I went. Fletcher had made an announcement and the tension had eased. A queue had already formed at the cashier's desk to receive their dole. I walked through Jessie's office, beckoning to Sam as I went, and sat behind my desk.
"I thought you were down by Ragged Island."
The Ragged Island project was something I had developed by listening to Deputy-Commissioner Perigord. What he had said about the Ragged Island Range and theJumento Cays had remained with me. My idea was to buy a couple of the cays and set up camps for those tourists who preferred to rough it for a few days on a genuine desert island. It was my intention to cater for all tastes and, being in the low tourist season, I had sent Sam Ford down in a boat to scout a few locations.
"I was," said Sam.
"But something came up. You remember that fellow you wanted to know about?"
"Who?"
"Kayles. Jack Kayles."
I jerked.
"What about him? Have you seen him?" It had been over a year and I had almost forgotten.
"No, but I've seen his boat."
"Where?"
"In theJumentos – lying off Man-o'-War Cay. Now called My Fair Lady and her hull is blue."
I said, "Sam, how in hell can you be sure it's the same boat?"
"Easy." Sam laughed.
"About a year and a half ago Kayles wanted a new masthead shackle for his forestay. Well, it's a British boat and I only had American fittings, so I had to make an adaptor. It's still there."
"You got that close to her?" "Bout a cable." That was 200 yards.
"And I put the glasses on her.
I don't think Kayles was on board or he'd have come out on deck. They usually do in those waters because there are not that many boats about and folks get curious. He must have been ashore but I didn't see him. " He looked at me seriously.
"I thought of boarding her but I remembered what you said about not wanting him scared off, so I just passed by without changing course and came back here."
"You did right. When was this?"
"Yesterday. Say, thirty hours ago. I came back real fast."
He had indeed; it was over 300 miles to the Jumentos. I pondered for a while. To get there quickly I could fly, but the only place to land was at Duncan Town and that was quite a long way from Man-o'-War Cay and I would have to hire a boat, always supposing there was one to be hired with a skipper willing to make a loo-mile round trip. For the first time I wished we had a seaplane or amphibian.
I said, "Are you willing to go back now?"
"I'm pretty tired, Tom. I've been pushing it. I haven't had what you'd call a proper sleep for forty-eight hours. I had 9' young Jim Glass with me but I didn't trust his navigation so all I got were catnaps."
"We'll go by air and see if he's still there, and you can sleep at Duncan Town. Okay?"
He nodd
ed.
"All right, Tom, but you'll get no words from me on the way. I'll be asleep."
I had completely forgotten about Debbie.
I took the first plane and the first pilot handy, and we flew south-east to theJumentos, the pilot being Bill Pinder. I sat in the co-pilot's seat next to Bill, and Sam sat in the back. I think he was asleep before take-off. I had binoculars handy and a camera with a telephoto lens. I wanted firm identification for Perigord although how firm it would he was problematical because Kayles's boat changed colour like a bloody chameleon.
Although I use aircraft quite a lot, flying being the quickest way for a busy man to get around the islands, I find that it bores me. As we droned over the blue and green sea, leaving the long chain of the Exumas to port, my eyes grew heavier and I must have fallen asleep because it took a heavy dig in the ribs from Bill to rouse me.
"Man-o'-War Cay in ten minutes," he said.
I turned and woke Sam.
"Which side of the cay was he?"
Sam peered from a window.
"This side."
"We don't want to do anything unusual," I told Bill.
"Come down to your lowest permitted altitude and fly straight just off the west coast of the cay. Don't jink about or circle -just carry on."
We began to descend and presently Bill said, "That little one just ahead is Flamingo Cay; the bigger one beyond is Man-o'-War."
I passed the binoculars back to Sam.
"You know Kayles. Take a good look as we fly past and see if you can spot him. I'll use the camera."
"There's a boat," said Bill.
I cocked the camera and opened the side window, blinking as the air rushed in. The sloop was lying at anchor and I could see distinctly the catenary curve of the anchor cable under clear water.
"That's her," said Sam and I clicked the shutter. I recocked quickly and took another snapshot. Sam said, "And that's Kayles in the cockpit."
By then the sloop was disappearing behind us. I twisted my neck to see it but it was gone.
"Did he wave or anything?"
"No, just looked up."
"Okay," I said.
"On to Duncan Town."
Bill did a low pass with his landing gear down over the scattered houses of Duncan Town, and by the time we had landed on the air strip and taxied to the ramp a battered car was already bumping towards us.
We climbed out of the Navajo and Sam said, nodding towards the car, "I know that man."
"Then you can do the dickering," I said.
"We want a boat to go out to Man-o'-War the fastest you can find."
"That won't be too fast," he said.
"But I'll do my best."
We drove into Duncan Town and I stood by while Sam bargained for a boat. I had never been to Duncan Town and I looked around with interest. It was a neat and well- maintained place of the size Perigord had said less than 200 population, most of them fishermen to judge by the boats. There were signs of agriculture but no cash crops, so they probably grew just enough food for themselves. But there were evaporation pans for the manufacture of salt.
Sam called me, and then led me to a boat.
"That's it."
I winced at what I saw. It was an open boat about eighteen feet long and not very tidily kept. A tangled heap of nets was thrown over the engine casing and the thwarts were littered with fish-scales. It smelled of rotting fish, too, and would have broken Pete Albury's heart.
"Is this the best you can do?"
"Least it has an inboard engine," said Sam.
"I don't think it'll break down. I'll come with you, Tom. I know Kayles by sight, and I can get six hours sleep on the way."
"Six hours!"
"It's forty miles, and I don't reckon this tub will do more than seven knots at top speed." He looked up at the sun.
"It'll be about nightfall when we get there."
"All right," I said resignedly.
"Let's get a seven-knot move on."
Five minutes later we were on ^ur way with the owner and skipper, a black Bahamian called Bayliss, at the tiller. Sam made a smelly bed of fish nets and went to sleep, while I brooded. I was accustomed to zipping about the islands in a Navajo and this pace irked me. I judged the length of the boat and the bow wave and decided we were not even doing six knots. I was impatient to confront Kayles.
We came to Man-o'-War Cay just as the sun was setting and I woke Sam.
"We're coming to the cay from the other side. How wide is it?"
"Bout half a mile."
"What's the going like?"
"Not bad." He peered at me.
"What's all this about, Tom?"
"Personal business."
He shook his head.
"A year back when I asked why you were interested in Kayles you damn near bit my head off. And then you brought the police in Commissioner Perigord, no less. This is more than personal business. What are you getting me into?"
It was a fair enough question. If we were going to confront a man I believed to be a murderer then Sam had a right to know. I said, "How close were you to Pete Albury?"
"I knew him all my life. You know we both came from Abaco. I remember him and you together when I was a little nipper, not more than four years old. You'd be twelve or thirteen then, I reckon."
"Yes, he was my friend," I said quietly.
"What about you?"
"Sure, he was my friend. We used to go turtling together. Biggest we ever caught was a aoo-pounder. He taught me how to catch bush bugs with a crutch-stick."
That was Abaconian vernacular for catching land crabs with a forked stick. I said, "Kayles was on Lwayan Girl when she disappeared."
Sam went very still.
"You mean…"
"I don't know what I mean, but I will when I get to the other side of that damn cay. Right now I'm working out the best way to go about it."
"Wait a minute." Sam called out to Bayliss, "Slow down," then turned back to me, the whites of his eyes reddened by the light of the setting sun.
"IfKayles was on Lucayan Girl, if that's Kayles on that boat, then that means murder." Sam was as quick as any other Bahamian at adding up the facts of life and death at sea.
"I read about the inquest in the Freeport News. It seemed to me then there was something left out."
"Perigord put the lid on it; he didn't want to frighten Kayles away.
The picture of Kayles you saw was taken by my daughter, Sue, just before the Girl left for Miami. Perigord reckons Kayles is a cocaine smuggler. Anyway, that's not the point, Sam. I want to talk to Kayles.
"
"And you're thinking of walking across the island." He shook his head.
"That's not the way. That boat is anchored nearly a cable offshore. You'd have to swim. It wouldn't look right. What we do is to go around and get next to him in a neighbourly way like any other honest boat would." He pointed to the water keg in the bows.
"Ask him for some water."
"Are you coming?"
"Sure I'm coming," said Sam promptly.
"He'll recognize you," I said doubtfully.
Sam was ironic.
"What do you want me to do? Put on a white face? It doesn't matter if he knows me or not he's not afraid of me. But he might know your face and that would be different. You'd better keep your head down."
So we went around Man-o'-War Cay with the engine gently thumping and made a few final plans. Although Sam had seen Kayles from the air through binoculars, it had been but a quick flash and firm identification would only be made when he talked to the man on the sloop. If Sam recognized Kayles he was to ask for water; if it wasn't Kayles he was to ask for fish. From then on we would have to play it by ear.
When we drifted alongside the sloop there was very little light. I took off the engine casing and stood with my back to My Fair Lad) apparently tinkering with the engine. Bayliss took the way off and Sam bellowed, "Ahoy, the sloop!" He stood in the bows and held us off with a boat hook
<
br /> A voice said, "What do you want?" The accent was American.
I think Sam went more by the voice than by what he could see.
"We've run us a mite short of water. Can you spare us a few drops?"
A light stabbed from the cockpit and played on Sam.
"Don't I know you?" said Kayles. There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.
"You could," said Sam easily.
"I run a marina in New Providence. I know a lot of yachtsmen and they know me. Maybe you've been to my place at the Sea Gardens Hotel, west of Nassau. I'm Sam Ford." He held his hand to shade his eyes, trying to see beyond the bright light.
"I remember you. You want water?"
"I'd appreciate it. We're damn thirsty."
"I'll get you some," said Kayles.
"Got anything to put it in?"
Sam had taken the pie caution of emptying the water keg. He passed it up toKyles who went below.
"He'll know if we go aboard," Sam whispered.
"The sloop will rock. If we're going to take him it'll have to be when he comes up now. Get ready to jump him when I shout."
"You're sure it is Kayles?"
"Damn sure. Anyway, any ordinary yachtsman would have asked us aboard."
"All right, then."
The sound of a hand pump came from the sloop and after a few minutes it stopped.
"Ready, now!" said Sam in a low voice.
The sloop rocked as Kayles came up into the cockpit. Sam said cheerfully, "This is kind of you, sir." He had shortened his grip on the boat hook and when Kayles leaned over the side to hand down the keg, instead of taking it Sam gripped Kayles's wrist and pulled hard.
With the other hand he thrust the end of the boat hook into Kayles's stomach like a spear.
I heard the breath explode out of Kayles as I jumped for the sloop. Kayles stood no chance; he lay half in and half out of the cockpit fighting for breath and with Sam holding on to his wrist with grim tenacity. I got both knees in the small of his back, grinding his belly into the cockpit coaming.
"Come aboard, Sam," I said breathily.
Bayliss shouted, "What's going on there?"
"Stick to your own business," said Sam, and came aboard. He switched on the compass light which shed a dim glow into the cockpit.
"Can you hold him?"
Kayles's body writhed under mine.
"I think so."
Bahama Crisis Page 9