Passage by Night (1987)

by Jack Higgins

  'What about a crew?' Viner said.

  Hans was sitting up, holding his face and moaning slightly. Manning nudged him with his toe. 'Laughing boy here should be fit enough by then.'

  As he reached the door, Viner said, 'What about Morrison? He's still here?'

  'I know,' Manning said. 'I've just seen him. I told him Garcia was dead. That I was lucky to be back here in one piece.'

  'You didn't mention me?'

  'No, but I could; remember that.'

  He closed the door, pushed his way through the crowd and went back upstairs. Orlov was sitting on the edge of the bed in a bathrobe and Morrison stood at the window.

  They both turned expectantly and the Russian said, 'Well, what happened?'

  'Nothing much,' Manning said. 'I've agreed to sell you, that's all.'

  'You've agreed to what?' Morrison demanded.

  'I'm going to do a deal with Viner's friends. I'm meeting him on the jetty at eight. We're going to their headquarters in my boat.'

  'Did he say where?'

  Manning shook his head and pulled off his shirt. 'Two hours' run. That would take us down to the cays north of Exuma or the other side of Cat Island. No way of knowing.'

  'How do you know they won't cut your throat as soon as they get their hands on you?'

  'Orlov stays here, so does Seth. Viner provides me with a deckhand. You've nothing to worry about. I put on a pretty convincing display. I asked for a hundred grand and he didn't even blink.'

  Morrison was already moving towards the door.

  'I've got things to do if we're going to get this set-up in time.'

  Manning paused in the doorway to the bathroom. 'Get one thing straight, Morrison. This is going to work. If you try bringing in the Navy or extra police, they'll smell a rat and we'll lose out.'

  'I've still got to get things alerted in Nassau so we can move in on this place as soon as we know where it is.'

  'See that's all you do,' Manning told him and he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  16

  Greek Fire

  It was the slight breeze lifting in from the sea that brought him awake so gradually that he lay there in the cane chair on the balcony, only half-conscious, not quite sure of where he was.

  He was naked except for a towel about his waist and he shivered slightly and swung his legs to the floor. The heat of the day was over and the sun was dropping towards the horizon.

  He paused just inside the French windows, listening to the Russian's steady breathing, and then walked silently across the carpeted floor to the wardrobe, took out fresh clothes and started to dress. As he fastened his belt, the phone buzzed sharply.

  'Manning here,' he said in a low voice.

  'Reception, Mr Manning. There's a young lady to see you. A Miss Melos.'

  'Tell her I'll be right down.'

  Orlov still slept steadily and Manning pulled on a linen jacket and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Anna was sitting on a divan near the door, leafing through a magazine. She was wearing a sleeveless linen dress that fitted her perfectly and her long black hair hung in a pigtail over one shoulder.

  'Hello, Anna,' he said.

  She stood up and smiled shyly, obviously at a loss for words. 'Hello, Harry.'

  The band started to play in the dining room and he grinned. 'Eaten yet?'

  She shook her head. 'I don't believe I have. I slept for a few hours. When I awoke, the only thing I was sure of was that I had to see you.'

  'The food here's marvellous. Anything you've got to say can wait till you've sampled it.'

  Although it was early, several couples were already dining and the head waiter moved across with a smile. 'Booth or ringside, Mr Manning?'

  'We'll take a booth, I think,' Manning said and they followed him between the tables.

  When they were seated, he waved the menu away. 'I don't need to see that. We'll have green turtle soup, salt pork with herbs, followed by baked bananas in brandy. Two iced vodkas to start with.'

  Anna smiled and shook her head. 'You know what you want in everything, don't you?'

  'Good Nassavian cooking, that's all. How's your father?'

  'Much better. He wanted to come himself, but I wouldn't let him.'

  'If it's about the boat, you're wasting your time. I'll have the papers drawn up, first chance I get.'

  She shook her head. 'We can't take her, Harry. In the first place, she's five times the boat the Cretan Lover ever was and I've been talking to Seth. He told me a lot of things. The Grace Abounding is all you've got left in the world.'

  'Which puts me in the same position as your father, except for one important difference. He's an old man, I've still got a few years left.'

  She shook her head. 'I know my father. He has pride. He won't take the boat. He likes you too much.'

  'You blasted Greeks are all the same,' he said. 'From Odysseus down. That boat's going to Harmon Springs whether he likes it or not. After tonight, it'll be his and that's an end to it.'

  'After tonight?' she said with a slight frown. 'What do you mean?'

  'I'm going on a little trip with Viner. Couple of hours there, couple of hours back. Nothing much.'

  She leaned across, her face quite pale. 'You're running your head into a noose again.'

  He grinned wryly. 'What have I got to lose?'

  At that moment, the soup arrived and he deliberately altered the whole trend of the conversation. She had a healthy appetite and he found himself watching her covertly at every opportunity.

  He ordered coffee, excused himself and went upstairs to Morrison's room. The door was locked. He knocked softly, but got no reply. When he went downstairs again, he paused beside the reception desk to light a cigarette, and glanced at the board. Morrison's key was on its hook and he returned to the dining room.

  The band had started to play again and as he approached the table, he held out his hand and smiled. 'How about it?'

  She stood up and they moved on to the small dance floor. She slipped an arm around his neck and danced with her head on his shoulder, her firm young body so closely pressed against him that he could feel the line from breast to thigh.

  When the music stopped, they stayed together for a brief moment and then she pulled gently away. 'It's hot in here.'

  'Cooler outside,' he said.

  A path through the gardens at the rear took them out of town through casuarinas and a grove of palm trees planted by some early settler years before. They came out on the edge of a cliff that dropped to a white strip of beach.

  The sea was black with depth, purple and gray near the shore and the sun was a ball of orange fire already drowning. The beauty of it was too much for a man and Manning felt sad and drained of all emotion. She turned and looked at him in a strange, remote way and he took one of her hands. They went down the broad path to the beach together.

  Manning paused to light a cigarette. When he looked up, she turned slowly and stared at him, never more lovely, the strange light playing across her face. She whispered his name once and stumbled towards him and they came together naturally and easily at the water's edge. Her hands pulled his head down as her mouth sought his and he lifted her in his arms and carried her up the beach. When he laid her down in the hollow between two rocks, her face was wet with tears.

  As they went through the palm trees and down through the gardens into town, they walked hand in hand. Her dress was stained with salt water and badly crumpled. She paused to examine herself in the light from a window.

  'I'll have to change as soon as we get back. I don't want to shock my father in his old age.'

  She smiled delightfully and Manning was filled with a sudden rush of tenderness. 'Any regrets?'

  She shook her head gravely. 'What about you?'

  He smiled and reached out to touch her face. 'What do you think?'

  They took a shortcut through the gardens at the back of one of the hotels. He could hear the splash of wa
ter from a fountain hidden amongst the bushes and the air was heavy with the scent of night, filling him with an aching longing for something that was always out there beyond the darkness, never close enough to touch.

  He paused to light a cigarette and she turned, her face revealed for a few seconds only as the match flared. She gazed at him steadily, her eyes reflecting the light so that it was impossible to see beneath the surface. When he spoke, he realized that out of some strange instinct she had sensed his mood.

  She placed a hand on his arm, holding him for a moment. 'What happened back there - it didn't mean a thing. As far as I'm concerned, you're as free as you ever were.'

  'I know, Anna. I know.'

  He had the feeling she expected more, but there was nothing he could think of. At least nothing that would have reassured her. They continued their way in silence.

  The Caravel was a blaze of lights, the sound of voices and carefree laughter echoing through the night, mingling with the gay, pulsating rhythm of the goombay.

  They paused at the bottom of the steps leading up to the entrance. 'I'll only be a couple of minutes,' he said. 'I want a word with Morrison.'

  In the strange distorted light thrown out by the Chinese lanterns that swung from the branches of the sea-almond trees, it was impossible to analyse her expression and yet he knew that, in some strange way, she had stepped firmly away from him.

  'I'll go on ahead,' she said. 'We won't have much time to get ready.'

  He tried to think of something to say, but nothing would come to mind. What did she want with him, this dark, lovely girl? What had happened had been in another time, another place. Better to leave it like that.

  'I'll see you down there then,' he said and she turned and merged with the darkness.

  He paused at the reception desk for some cigarettes and noticed that Morrison's key still hung on the board. He went upstairs, a slight frown on his face, wondering what the hell the American was playing at.

  He was still frowning when he went into his room and turned on the light. There was no sign of Orlov. The coverlets on the bed and been pulled neatly into place and the French windows stood open to the night.

  He went back downstairs and paused at the reception desk again. 'The gentleman who was sharing my room? Have you seen him this evening?'

  'He went out about a half hour ago, sir.'

  Manning frowned, a tiny flicker of alarm moving inside him. 'Was he on his own?'

  The clerk shook his head. 'Oh, no, sir. He was with Mr Morrison, the American gentleman staying in 105.'

  Manning turned away, relief surging through him and went into the bar. He lit a cigarette and ordered a barcardi. As the barman brought it, Viner pushed through the crowd.

  'On the house, George, and the same for me.' He turned with a smile, supremely elegant in his white dinner jacket. 'Ready to go, Harry?'

  'Whenever you are.'

  'I've one or two things to settle up here. I'll see you on the jetty in about an hour as arranged.' He raised his glass and a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 'Let's hope you get what you're expecting at the other end.'

  'Don't worry about me,' Manning said. 'I'll make out.'

  He finished his drink, turned and pushed his way through the crowd. As he went down the steps into the cool night there was a slight frown on his face because for some obscure reason, Viner had appeared to be laughing at him and he couldn't think why.

  There were lights in one or two boats, but the jetty was deserted. As he drew near to the Grace Abounding he could hear the radio. It was one of the many record shows that could be picked up from the States and of all things, they were playing 'Valse Triste.'

  He moved across the deck and paused in the shadows by the companionway, filled with that strange aching sadness again. As the record ended, he sighed and took a step forward. Someone planted a foot in his back that sent him stumbling down the steps. The door at the bottom swung open and he staggered into the cabin and fell on his knees.

  He started to get up and a voice said, 'Careful, Manning.'

  Hans stood behind the door, a submachine gun in his hands. Anna, her father, and Seth sat on one side of the saloon, Orlov and Morrison on the other. A large, grim-faced islander in red-and-white-striped jersey lounged in the entrance to the galley. He was armed with a machine-pistol.

  Manning stood up, arms raised and Hans ran an expert hand over him and found the Luger. He shoved it into his waistband, stepped back and Manning turned.

  Kurt Viner was standing in the entrance to the companionway.

  'And now perhaps we can get started?' he said.

  17

  The Green Light

  As the Grace Abounding moved out of harbour and turned into the gulf, Manning glanced back over his shoulder and watched the lights of Spanish Cay fade into the darkness. For the moment, there was nothing to be done. The big black leaned in the corner of the wheelhouse, the barrel of his submachine gun resting across his forearm, and a third man squatted in the stern holding a rifle.

  After a while, the door opened and Viner came in. 'You can wait outside, Charlie. I don't think Mr Manning will do anything foolish.'

  'I wouldn't be too sure about that,' Manning said as he moved out.

  'Oh, but I am. Hans has orders to open fire at the first sign of trouble on deck. I'm sure you realize the damage even a single burst from his submachine gun would inflict in the confined space of the cabin.'

  'So you win for the moment,' Manning said. 'Where do we go from here?'

  Viner leaned over the chart table. 'Jackson Cay, about ten miles off the southern tip of Cat Island. Do you know it?'

  'I've been near it a time or two, that's all. I heard it was owned by some American millionaire.'

  'So it was a year or two back. Cigarette?'

  There seemed no point in refusing and Manning leaned forward for the proffered light. The northwest trades blowing across the gulf carried some of the warmth of day through the open window. There was no moon and yet the sky seemed to be alive, aglow with the incandescence of millions of stars.

  Viner breathed deeply, inhaling the freshness, and followed with his eyes a school of flying fish as they curved out of the sea in a shower of phosphorescent water.

  'You know, Harry, on a night like this it's good to be alive.' He sounded as if he genuinely meant it.

  Manning shook his head. 'There are times when I'm almost convinced you're human.'

  'My dear fellow, there's nothing personal in any of this. I hope you realize that. You were foolish enough to get mixed up in something that wasn't really any of your business and you've lost rather badly, that's all.'

  'Aren't you forgetting Maria and Jimmy Walker?'

  Viner sighed and shrugged helplessly. 'A regrettable necessity and certainly not of my choosing.'

  'I'll bet it wasn't. How did you get on to me so quickly?'

  Viner's teeth gleamed in the darkness. 'I've had Morrison's room wired for sound from the moment he arrived. I sat in my office and listened to every word you said to him. If you're hoping for help from Nassau you can forget it. I'm afraid he never even got out of the hotel after leaving you.'

  'And Orlov?'

  'Quite simple. A phone call from the reception clerk to say that you wanted him to meet you at the boat as soon as possible.'

  He was right. It had been simple. Too damned simple and Manning swallowed the black anger that erupted inside him and forced himself to consult the chart.

  'You seem to have it all neatly worked out.'

  'I think so. Is there anything I've overlooked?'

  'What happens at the other end?'

  Viner smiled. 'I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the answer to that one.' He opened the door and said to Charlie, 'Tell Paco I want him.'

  The native waved to the man in the stern who came forward at once. 'What's the idea?' Manning said.

  'It's a clear run to Jackson Cay now. Paco can take the wheel for a while. You can go back to
your friends. I'll call you when I need you. Go with him, Charlie.'

  Manning walked along the deck and went below. Seth and Anna were making coffee and Hans sat against the wall beside the entrance to the gallery, his finger crooked in the trigger guard of his submachine gun.

  Manning ignored him and crouched beside Papa Melos. 'How's it going, Papa?'

  The old man looked better than he had since San Juan. 'I'll make out, boy. Don't worry about me.'

  Manning clapped Seth on the shoulder and moved across to Orlov and Morrison. 'Anyone got a cigarette?'

  Morrison produced a pack and held it out. 'Rather battered, but still smokable.'

  He was very pale and Manning noticed a livid bruise on the side of his neck. 'Looks like you got careless.'

  The American nodded. 'For once.'

  Manning turned to Orlov. 'What about you? Viner said anything?'

  'The usual things. If I'm a good boy and do as I'm told, they'll make things easy for me.'

  'A fair offer under the circumstances.'

  'I know it is.' Orlov sighed heavily. 'The trouble is it's always been a policy of mine never to go back to anything.'

  Seth brought the coffee in from the galley and Anna followed with a plate of sandwiches. As she leaned across to put them in the centre of the table, Hans ran his hand up her leg. She turned and struck him blindly and he grabbed her wrist and twisted it, forcing her to one knee.

  Before Manning could move, Orlov was on his feet. 'Take your hand off her, you pig!'

  He moved forward and Hans pushed the girl away and raised the submachine gun. 'Another step and I fill your belly.'

  'Go ahead!' Orlov laughed harshly and extended his arms. 'Viner will like that. I'll be so useful when I'm dead.'

  The German's forehead was beaded with sweat and his tongue flickered over dry lips. 'Sit down and shut up.'

  'Better do as he says, mister,' Charlie called from the companionway. 'I could always lay the barrel of this thing across the side of your head.'

  Orlov ignored him, extending his hand to Anna and sat her at the table. He smiled down. 'No repetition, I promise you.'