Passage by Night (v5) (9 page)

'You know, this is really quite excellent. The best year since the war. Bayo puts some on ice for me each day.'

'I shouldn't have thought you were capable of telling the difference,' Manning said.

For a moment, something flickered in the fat man's eyes and there was a curious quality of stillness about his whole body, and then he started to laugh, head thrown back, the flesh dancing across his great frame. When he finally gained control, there were tears in his eyes.

'My dear Senor Manning,' he said, wiping them away with his silk handkerchief. 'You know, I really think I'm going to enjoy you.'

11
The Man in the Vaults

As the jeep pulled out of the ravine, Manning got his first full view of the fortress. It was perched spectacularly on the edge of a small plateau which jutted from the side of the mountain like a shelf. Beyond it, there were only the cliffs dropping a hundred feet into the sea.

He was in the rear seat, an armed soldier on either side of him, and Rojas sat up front with the driver. The walls of the ancient fortress were pierced for cannon and the gates stood open. They slowed for the sentry to raise a long wooden swing bar and Rojas turned and smiled.

'Spectacular, is it not, Senor Manning?' Manning looked up at the great archway and the grim towers beyond. 'All it needs are a couple of heads on spikes over the gate.'

'An old English custom, I believe. To encourage the others. Any particular head you'd like to see up there?'

'Kurt Viner's would do for a start.'

Rojas chuckled harshly. 'That's what I like about you. Straight to the point. No beating about the bush.'

'It didn't take much working out,' Manning said as the jeep moved forward. 'It couldn't be anyone else.'

'A logical deduction. Such a pleasure to deal with a man of intelligence.'

The jeep turned in a half-circle and braked sharply before an arched door. They all got out and Rojas said to the driver, 'When Lieutenant Motilina arrives with the old man and the girl, tell him to take them straight to my office. I'll be along later.'

He went up the steps through the arched doorway and Manning followed, the two guards just behind him. A broad flight of stone steps lifted into the gloom. On the left was the door of what must obviously be the guardroom and Rojas opened it and went inside.

Two soldiers sat at the table playing cards while a young sergeant lay on one of the narrow cots reading a magazine. One of the players cursed and threw down his cards. The other laughed, his hands reaching out for the stake money in the centre of the table, and then he saw Rojas.

They jumped to their feet, one of them knocking over a chair in his haste and the sergeant came forward, buttoning his tunic hurriedly.

He clicked his heels together and saluted. 'Your pleasure, colonel?'

'Get your keys and take us down below,' Rojas said. 'I want to look at the man in the vaults.'

The young sergeant took a bunch of keys from a board and led the way outside. He flicked on an electric light switch, exposing an iron-barred gate previously shrouded in the shadows and opened it.

A broad flight of shallow stone steps dropped down into darkness and the sergeant switched on another light and led the way. Manning was at once conscious of the extreme cold, and shivered. Water trickled down the walls and dripped constantly from the vaulted stone ceiling, making the flags slippery and treacherous.

Rojas was surprisingly surefooted and when they reached the bottom, he paused to light another cigar. 'The oldest part of the fortress. 1523. How do you like it?'

'Why don't you cut the polite conversation and get to the point?' Manning said.

'I intend to.' Rojas moved after the sergeant. 'Tell me, what was the excuse you gave Captain Melos for wanting to come to San Juan? To take a few photographs, wasn't it?'

'You know damn well why I came.'

Rojas chuckled, the sound re-echoing eerily between the stone walls. 'But of course I do. How stupid of me.'

The sergeant halted outside an iron-bound door and unlocked it quickly. He took a flashlight from his pocket, handed it to Rojas and stood to one side.

'After you, my friend,' Rojas said.

Manning moved cautiously into the darkness. It was bitterly cold and water splashed over his shoes. As Rojas flicked on the flashlight, a large rat scampered across to a corner and disappeared into a hole.

There was a slight groan from the other side of the room and the beam swung across the wall and came to rest upon a man on a narrow bed. His clothing was soiled and torn and he lay in his own filth, so weak that he could barely move his head.

'The man you were looking for, Senor Manning,' Rojas said simply. 'Juan Garcia.'

Manning looked down at Garcia and felt suddenly sick. Only the eyes moved and the skin was shrivelled and white like that of a corpse. There was dried blood on his face and his mouth was terribly swollen.

'Juan, can you hear me?' Rojas said in Spanish. 'Senor Manning would like to ask you a few questions.'

The mouth opened like a gaping wound, red-raw, already festering, and a moan of animal pain emerged.

Rojas turned to Manning and sighed, 'I'm sorry, Senor Manning. He would appear to have lost his tongue.'

And then he started to laugh, his body shaking, and the sound rebounded between the narrow walls and echoed along the corridor into the darkness. Even the guards look scared and fingered their submachine guns uneasily as Manning stumbled outside. Rojas nodded to the sergeant who locked the cell and they retraced their steps.

When they returned to the guardroom, Lieutenant Motilina was standing by the window drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. Rojas dropped into a chair on the other side of the table from the door and took off his hat.

'The coffee smells good.' Motilina snapped his fingers and one of the soldiers hurriedly poured coffee into another cup and brought it across.

'The old man and the girl, they are upstairs?'

'In the waiting room outside your office.'

'I'll deal with them shortly,' Rojas said.

'First, I would like a few words with Senor Manning.'

'Any other orders, Colonel?'

Rojas nodded. 'The man in the vaults, Juan Garcia. He has served his purpose. Take him outside and shoot him. Leave two men here with me.'

There was no trace of emotion on Motilina's face. He clicked his heels smartly, saluted and gave the necessary orders. As the door closed, Rojas pointed to the chair in front of him and Manning sat down.

Rojas produced another of his long black cheroots and lit it carefully.

Manning said, 'Before we go any further, let's get one thing straight. The old man and the girl had no idea what I really came here for. I sold them a bill of goods about being a photographer looking for a story for an American magazine and they fell for it.'

'They are still guilty of a serious crime against the state.' Rojas dropped his match into the lieutenant's cup with a faint hiss. 'However, they are not important. You are. There are one or two questions I should like you to answer.'

'You're wasting your time.'

'I don't think so. I am already extremely well informed about you and your associates. But there are things you could tell me. This CIA man, Morrison, who briefed you for your mission. He must have given you useful contacts. People on the island you could go to in case of need?'

'Try Kurt Viner,' Manning said. 'He might be able to help you. I can't.'

'For technical reasons which should be sufficiently obvious, his message was rather brief. I'm relying on you to fill in the gaps.'

Manning shrugged. 'As I said before, you're wasting your time.'

He was suddenly conscious of the black eyes staring at him unwinkingly. They were cold and hard and full of purpose. Rojas raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, the two soldiers at the door rushed forward and pinioned Manning's arms behind the chair.

'I think it is perhaps time you realized I mean business,' Rojas said.

He inhaled deeply on his cigar, leaned forward and touched the glowing end to Manning's right cheek. Manning squirmed, trying to turn his face sideways, but the soldiers leaned their weight against the chair, pushing him hard against the table.

He breathed deeply and tried to hang on. Rojas had stopped smiling. His eyes were fixed and staring, his face wet with sweat and the great fleshy mouth trembled slightly.

And then the agony was too much to bear and Manning cried out and pushed with all his strength against the table. One of the soldiers slipped to one knee, losing his grip, and the chair went over backwards. Manning got to his feet, swung a wild punch at the man on the floor and lunged for the door. As he touched the handle, the other soldier moved fast and swung the butt of his machine gun into the small of his back.

Manning crouched on the floor against the wall, waves of pain flooding through his body, and struggled for breath. Faintly through the roaring he was aware that Rojas was laughing.

'Stubborn people, the English,' he said in Spanish, 'but he will learn. Bring him upstairs.'

Manning had grazed his head against the wall in falling and blood trickled into his eye. He brushed it away with one hand and the soldiers jerked him roughly to his feet and followed Rojas through the door.

They mounted the stone steps and turned along a flagged corridor. Outside a door at the far end, a sentry was standing and he opened it quickly.

Anna and her father were sitting on a wooden bench against the wall. Rojas walked past them, opened another door, went in and closed it behind him. One of the soldiers gave Manning a push forward and they stationed themselves by the door.

Manning's brain was still not functioning properly. He staggered against the wall, almost losing his balance and leaned against the whitewashed stonework.

'Are you all right, Harry?' Anna asked anxiously.

'Only just. They're a pretty rough crowd.'

The blood from the graze on his forehead trickled down the whitewashed wall, a vivid splash of colour, and he slumped to the bench and managed a tired grin.

Papa Melos looked angry. 'They'd better remember we're British citizens, that's all. They can't hold us here indefinitely. We've done nothing wrong.'

'That kind of talk went out with the last of the gunboats,' Manning said. 'The British Government doesn't mean a thing to this bunch.'

'We'll see about that.'

Anna folded her handkerchief into a pad and dabbed at the blood on Manning's forehead. He smiled. 'Worried?'

'Not as much as I should be.'

He took one of her hands and said awkwardly, 'I'm sorry, Anna. I got you into this mess and right now, I can't see any way out.'

'Not your fault, son,' Papa Melos cut in. 'We knew what we were doing.'

Before Manning could reply, the door to the colonel's office opened and a small, seedy-looking clerk in a rumpled gabardine suit appeared.

He jerked his head. 'Inside, all of you.' They got to their feet and moved past him, and the guards followed.

The room was panelled in sapele wood and simply furnished with a plain desk and a carpet that covered the floor wall-to-wall. Rojas was standing by the window and he turned, his face serious, and sat behind his desk. He leafed through some papers then looked up at Manning.

'I asked you a question a short time ago. At that time you seemed unwilling to cooperate.'

'I still am,' Manning said flatly.

Rojas picked up a pen, wrote something on a pad in front of him and put the pen down again.

He turned to Papa Melos. 'I have considered your offence most carefully and am prepared to believe you were the unwitting tool of this man. Under the circumstances, I have decided to be lenient. You and your daughter will be released, the boat will be confiscated.'

A shudder seemed to pass through the old man's body and his head moved slightly from side-to-side as if he found difficulty in understanding what Rojas had said. Anna moved forward quickly.

'But this is monstrous. We have done nothing! Nothing!'

Rojas arched his eyebrows in surprise. 'Is it nothing to bring an American spy into our country? The agent of an unfriendly nation?'

She flinched, the shock of it like a physical blow. Slowly she turned and looked at Manning. 'Harry?'

There was nothing he could say and Rojas laughed harshly. 'So you believed his story, my dear. How very unfortunate.'

She rushed forward, grabbing Manning by the shirt and cried desperately, 'It isn't true, Harry. It can't be. The boat's all we've got. All we've got left in the world. Tell him it isn't true!'

'I'm sorry, Anna,' he said.

She slapped him across the face with all her strength and then again with the other hand. He didn't defend himself and Rojas barked an order. The two soldiers moved in quickly and pulled her away. One of them pushed her out through the door, the other shoved Papa Melos after her. The old man moved like an automaton, his feet dragging across the floor, and Rojas laughed.

'Surprising how little it takes to break a man.'

'For God's sake, give them the boat and let them go,' Manning said.

'To salve your conscience?' Rojas shook his head.

'A man must be prepared to pay for his mistakes.'

'But what will they do? How will they get home?'

'That's their problem.' Rojas smiled gently. 'The girl's attractive enough. She should be able to think of something.' The telephone on his desk rang and he picked it up and nodded to the two soldiers who had returned. 'Take him outside. I'll deal with him later.'