High Water (1959) (18 page)

He turned his head miserably, as Lang stepped softly up the steps. Something in the man’s eyes made him frown.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Quick,’ Lang snapped. ‘There’s someone coming!’

For a moment Vivian stared at him, not understanding, and then, his breath quickening, he crossed to his side.

‘Where?’

Lang nodded to the curving wall, which bulged out astern of the boat like the side of a castle. ‘That boy, see him?’

Vivian scanned the moving figures, and suddenly stiffened, as his glance alighted on the small boy who was wandering along in their direction, stopping every so often to study the names of the various moored craft. Vivian’s stare became riveted on the envelope which gleamed white in the urchin’s grubby hand. Scarcely daring to breathe, he waited until the boy was level with the boat, then, unable to contain himself any longer, he stepped out on to the deck, his knuckles white, as he clenched his fists at his sides, in a sweat of suspense.

The boy, his dark hair curled in an unruly mop, stopped opposite the ladder, his dark eyes wrinkled, as his lips spelled out the name on the yacht’s side. Seeing Vivian watching him, he showed his teeth in a cheeky grin.

‘
Seafox
, mister?’

‘That’s right.’ His heart pounded excitedly.

‘Gotta letter from a bloke up the road!’ He grinned again, scratching his greasy shirt contentedly. ‘Tole me ter give it yer.’ Then, as an afterthought: ‘Reckon it’s worf a couple er bob, eh?’

As Vivian scrambled up the ladder, the boy darted forward to catch the gleaming coin which Lang had thrown from the wheelhouse door.

‘Cor! Thanks, mister!’ The youth’s eyes were round with pleasure.

Vivian took the envelope from the grubby fist, and as the boy sauntered away, whistling, he leaned across the safety wall, feeling the stonework warm through his shirt, and tore open the flap.

The letter had been typed, and as he read the brief
contents,
he found his nervousness draining away, as if his soul was satisfied at the prospect of action.

BRING PARCEL TO JUNCTION OF ROYAL PARADE AND WEST-CLIFF PROMENADE
.
COME ALONE AND BE THERE AT 10 A.M. IF YOU UNDERSTAND TAKE IN THE SIGNAL
.
DON
’
T FORGET
,
NO TRICKS
.

The cool bastards, he thought, they’re sure of themselves all right. He squinted at the opposite side of the harbour. They’re watching me right now.

He returned to the deck, and deliberately jerked the towel from the rail.

He showed the message to Lang, who had stayed out of sight in the wheelhouse. He nodded slowly, and studied his watch.

‘Two hours to go!’ It sounded like a judge passing sentence. ‘I’ll keep below until you’ve gone, Philip. We don’t want the swines to know all our forces!’

Vivian lifted the heavy package from the locker, and thrust it under his shirt, holding its sharp bulk against his ribs with his elbow.

‘As we used to say, Felix,’ he smiled meaningly, ‘engage the enemy more closely!’

VIVIAN PAUSED AT
the top of the winding flight of stone steps cut into the old cliff-side, and known locally as ‘Jacob’s Ladder’, and as he waited for his laboured breathing to return to normal, he allowed his gaze to wander over the wide panorama of the harbour and its approaches, which were spread below him like a map. From his lofty position, the yachts and wharves, the buildings and minute, moving figures, seemed distant and obscure, and quite unattached from him, and his agony of mind.

A chill wind swept the leaves and pieces of paper along the deserted pavement in a sudden, angry movement, and while he watched the long cliff-top road, with its white-fronted boarding houses, he felt a vague sensation of hostility, as if even the holiday-makers and morning idlers had been driven away by some hidden threat.

He looked at his watch for the hundredth time. Still nearly half an hour to go, but there was no point in hanging about in the harbour, when there seemed even the remotest possibility of getting to Karen earlier.

He pulled his cap down over his eyes, to shield them from the thin powder of sand, which, even at the top of the road, swirled grittily in the wind’s sharp gusts. With the small bag containing the girl’s clothes under his arm, and the jagged parcel bumping heavily against his ribs, he started to stride slowly to the far end of the sloping roadway, where he knew
the
cross-roads to be, the place so carefully selected for the rendezvous, no doubt because of the numerous avenues of approach and escape. Even the thought that Lang was probably parked watchfully in a suitable side street, did not completely alleviate his feeling of loneliness and uncertainty. Only his quiet, controlled anger, and his eagerness for action, seemed real, and his eyes hardened at the prospect of getting his hands around Mason’s throat.

A car drove slowly past, and he narrowly scanned the occupants, only to be met by the blank stares of two day-trippers, aimlessly searching for some form of distraction. He swore savagely under his breath, and unconsciously quickened his pace.

He halted by the road junction, and leaned casually against a lamp standard, letting his eyes rove around the awkward criss-cross of tarmac and white lines, of ‘Keep Left’ signs and pedestrian crossings. No doubt a very busy place at the height of the season, he mused, but at that moment it all seemed wasted. An occasional bus or lorry on its way to Dover, and a sprinkling of cars, but apart from a tradesman or two he appeared to be the only pedestrian in view.

A shiny, black saloon slid quietly into the main road, and halted opposite him, its engine ticking over confidently. He forced himself to look away, and tried to appear casual and indifferent.

He cursed desperately as the car’s engine died, and darted a rapid glance across the road, taking in the three uniformed inmates and the bold ‘Police’ sign on the radiator. Faintly he could hear the steady, monotonous murmur of the car’s radio, then he turned his eyes away when he realized that the sergeant in the rear seat was watching him. He steeled himself, feeling strangely guilty, without knowing the real reason, and expecting, any second, one of them to walk across to him.

Vivian’s anxiety turned to a sudden, hot fury. Blast them! Why the hell don’t they go away! If the others see them there, they’ll drive straight on. They’ll think I’ve called in the police.

Several more cars passed, but the police showed no signs of moving. Vivian felt his palms sweating with impatience, and he took a firmer grip on his parcels to steady himself. Already his back ached from leaning against the post, but he was afraid to move, lest he excite the curiosity of the three lawmen.

His keen ear picked out a high-pitched whine, which grew louder and more penetrating every second, and as he turned his head he saw a brightly painted motor-cycle flashing along the road, its rider helmeted and goggled and his teeth bared in a happy grin. His young pillion rider, her hair streaming in the wind, was hugging him excitedly around the waist and shouting encouragement in his ear. Must be doing about sixty, thought Vivian, as the machine roared round the corner and on to the coast road.

The effect of the snarling apparition had a startling result as far as the police car was concerned. The sergeant jabbed the driver in the back with his finger, and with a grind of gears the black car leapt from its place by the kerb and vanished in pursuit. Vivian said a silent prayer of thanks to the unknown motor-cyclist, as in the far distance he heard the tinny clamour of the police gong.

Almost immediately, another car turned the corner, and Vivian’s heart throbbed painfully as he caught sight of Morrie’s stony face behind the windscreen. It swung in a wide arc and ran smoothly along the kerb in front of him. The rear door swung open and he saw Cooper’s beady eyes glinting at him across the wide seat.

Vivian leapt into the rear and slammed the door, keeping his body turned in the little man’s direction. He was only
dimly
aware that the car had accelerated, and that Morrie had not even given him a glance. His feeling was one of relief, like that of a man who has sweated at the thought of a dangerous operation and then, once on the operating table, he knows that there is no longer any room for worry and fearful supposition, it is too late to turn back.

‘Well, Skipper, it’s been a busy coupla days!’ Cooper’s thin lips parted across his uneven teeth in a smugly confident smile.

‘See here——’ began Vivian, but the other man waved his hand in an angry gesture.

‘No,
you
see here! You’re through giving the orders now, we’re running this show our way, so don’t you forget it!’ His small eyes darted quickly in Morrie’s direction, as if to reassure himself. ‘It’s no goddam good you gettin’ any ideas, cause if you try one single, goddam thing, your little sweetie has had it! Okay?’

Vivian nodded slowly, the knot in his stomach tightening, as he fought down his first impulse to smash the grinning face to pulp.

As if reading his thoughts, Cooper shook his head in mock despair. ‘I’m not surprised you left the bloody Navy, it just beats me how we won the war, with guys like you messing about!’

‘All right, Cooper, you’ve made your point,’ said Vivian quietly. ‘Now shut up, will you! And just remember this, if you’ve laid just one finger on the girl, I’ll kill you!’

‘Sez you!’ sneered Cooper. ‘D’you hear what he says, bonehead? He’s tryin’ to get tough.’ He cackled gleefully and pulled out his cigarettes.

Vivian tingled, as briefly in the driving mirror above Morrie’s cropped head he caught a glimpse of Lang’s silver-grey Bentley following them down the road. A wave
of
excitement swept over him, as he turned his attention back to Cooper’s remarks.

‘What’s in the bag then, Skipper? You aiming to go camping, or sumpn?’ He prodded the canvas bag with a nicotine-stained finger.

‘Clothes,’ said Vivian coolly.

‘Aw gee, yes, for the little girl. Some dish, eh?’ He grinned knowingly. ‘Wouldn’t mind a weekend with her!’

‘When the time comes, Cooper, don’t say that I didn’t warn you!’

Cooper studied the end of his cigarette from beneath the brim of his hat, his expression shaded, but somehow giving the impression of an intense, nervous force. He looked up suddenly, his eyes bright, and Vivian felt as if a door had been opened into the little man’s soul. They were the wild, excited eyes of a madman. Christ, he’s really enjoying this, he thought, the more he can make me suffer, the better he’ll like it. He forced his mind to be calm, and met the other man’s stare coolly.

‘You don’t understand, do you?’ He peered right into Vivian’s impassive face. ‘You’re beat! Finished!
Kaput!
’ He chuckled wildly, and twisted the cigarette viciously. ‘You can’t understand that people like you are nothing to the boss, nothing at all.’ He waited, but as Vivian remained silent, he leaned across the seat, tapping his arm with his finger. ‘You had your chance to play it straight, to fall in with us. What’d you do, eh? You just about fouled up the whole works.’ He shook his head rapidly. ‘The boss didn’t like you chucking all that stuff into the drink, you know. That wasn’t very clever, you know. But, then, you’ve been rather a pigeon right from the start, haven’t you?’

Although half listening to the little man’s yapping voice, Vivian sensed the car’s increase of speed, as Morrie handled it as if it were a toy.

Pegwell Bay gleamed grey and uninviting on his left, the horizon misted by a rain squall, which within minutes was sweeping along the shining road, and hissing across the windscreen. One of Morrie’s huge hands detached itself from the wheel and set the wipers squeaking across the glass and distorting the roadside houses as they flashed past.

‘Well, ain’t you got a thing to say?’

Vivian noticed that the pseudo-American accent tended to be replaced by a Cockney twang when Cooper became excited. Excited maybe, but dangerous too, there was no mistaking the sneer of triumph on those almost opaque eyes.

‘Let’s see now. You could start by explaining what’s going to happen when we reach our destination, or hasn’t the boss given you permission to discuss it?’

Cooper ran his tongue over his thin lips. ‘Don’t get wise, Mister Vivian! You’ll just make it harder for yourself.’ He smiled cruelly.

Vivian looked away allowing a quick glance at the mirror to ensure that Lang was still following. A signal of alarm rang in his tensed nerves. They had left the main road now and he judged that they were heading more inland to the west. To Canterbury, perhaps. The houses had already thinned out and the neat pavement had been replaced by a green ribbon of grass banking, bordered with bushes and an occasional wide gate leading into a field, or farmland, As the car twisted and turned along the almost deserted road, Lang’s car fell further and further behind. Vivian gritted his teeth, forcing his eyes away from the mirror. Lang was having to pull back to avoid becoming obvious to either Morrie or Cooper, and as they swung into an even narrower road, which ran straight and empty through a rain-swept avenue of quivering poplar trees, the Bentley had all but disappeared. It only needed a sudden
twist
of the wheel by Morrie and they would be swallowed up in this dripping, green wilderness.

His heart sank when he realized that it was quite obvious they were making no effort to conceal their destination or route from him. They were quite confident that this was to be a one-way trip, apparently.

The muddy surface sang under the tyres, and occasionally, the nearside wheels would send a sheet of sluggish water leaping over the wings, making Morrie’s eyes flicker and tighten his grip on the wheel. Suddenly Cooper leaned forward, tapping Morrie’s shoulder.

‘Get ready.’ It was an order.

Very carefully, Cooper turned and scrutinized the road behind, smiling to himself, then, with an amused glance at Vivian, he said over his shoulder, ‘Okay, bonehead, when you like.’

There was a sudden moan as Morrie changed gear, and with easy grace the big car slewed off the road, straight, or so it seemed, for a wall of bushes.