The Atlas Murders (30 page)

He went to his day room and
laid the little case on his desk, lifting up some clothes he looked at the
chief officer.

“Thank you for doing this
with me. This is all that’s left now.”

The captain’s voice was
quaking with emotion and tears were welling up in his eyes.

 The chief officer walked out
and closed the door on a broken hearted man

 After breakfast, the chief
steward called Henry.

 “You can do out Pippa’s
room. The captain has removed her last few belongings.”

 He went to her cabin after
smoko and stood with the vacuum cleaner in his hand and his other cleaning
cloths. The empty space that held such joy seemed to close in on him; it
brought back painful memories of all the other girls who had been brutally
murdered. He closed the door and started a search in case he might have missed
something. He went through all the drawers. He looked in the well in the port
hole and ran his finger through half inch of stale water. He then looked at the
bunk and as he lifted it and searched underneath, stuck by the side of the bunk
board was a fish hook which he removed and placed it in his pocket.

After he had cleaned the
cabin, he closed the door behind him as if it was a cover of a book and he was trying
to leave the memory inside. He went into the junior radio man’s room which was
only a short distance down the passageway. Sweeney was on duty so he decided to
do a search again. He closed the door behind him and didn’t expect to be
disturbed as he knew Sweeney would be on watch for the next hour. He wanted to
find the Sigmund Freud book and see if he’d made any more references in it. He
could hear soft music coming from the captain’s dayroom as he leafed through
the book. He noticed on the page describing the effect on the Id of a large penis,
Sweeney had written S.S.R.O. in large letters. He looked to the next page and
saw a crude sketch of a naked woman with a dark oversized pubic area and below
this was the letters, M.J.P. He wrote these down on his hand and replaced the
book. Henry searched the top drawer and took out Sweeney’s writing pad. He
found a half written letter to Moyna Jahavi Padnesh. There was no date on the
letter which was written in print, presumably for easy reading. It was like
something a child would write - it seemed harmless and tinged with sadness. He
tried to think who the name belonged to. He was sure he heard it from either
Danny or Fokir. He left and when he got to his cabin he wrote down the name on
a piece of papers together with the letters which he copied from his hand.

 Day followed day in
monotonous succession, the radio stations were gone as they often did so far
from land, and transistors along the alleyways were silent. The evenings were
glorious and sitting out on deck having a smoke and a chat was the highlight of
Henry’s day.

Gary Conrad mostly stayed in
the cabin, and even with Henry doing his bodyguard duties, he seemed reluctant to
face the accusers on deck.

The second cook was always
glad of a bit of company. He was a young married lad from Hull in Yorkshire.  He’d
often chat with Henry on deck but he preferred not mention the killings. If Henry
tried to introduce some aspect of the present situation on board he would usually
be met with a silence. The groups of inquisitors were still evident standing around
tongue wagging and spying. The boatswain and his three companions were most
prominent members of the rumor mill. When Tukola came on deck he was always
alone. The boatswain and his gang never spoke to him and it seemed he avoided
them. Henry thought this strange for a deck hand who worked with them every day;
even his roommate was never seen with him - he looked to be a real loner.

The second cook threw his
half smoked cigarette over the side.

 “I’m going in for a mug of
tea and a sandwich. I’ll be around if you want to play darts, Henry.”

 “I’ll be along later. I’ll
have a walk around deck for a bit first.”

As Henry strolled along the
after deck he tried to put some loose ends together, and then it struck him.
Moyna Jahavi Padnesh was the young girl murdered on the dock in Bombay. The one
he’d seen with the junior radio operator. Bloody hell, if he killed her, why
was he writing a letter to her. It didn’t make sense - nothing about this
killer makes sense, he mused. The initials below the sketch of a naked woman,
yes! M.J.P. the girls initials, and of course S.S.R.O. his own initials: Sean
Sweeney Radio Operator. He definitely has a problem but how far is this problem
taking him, Henry speculated. What did the ordinary seaman see and who did he
see? It could wrap up the whole investigation if he knew that. He pounded his
brain with theory after theory, but none of them seemed to make sense. Again,
he wondered why Gary was so afraid of what the young seaman saw. He went back
to his cabin, the door was locked, so he knocked and Gary pulled open the door,
a book in his hand.

“What are you reading?”

 He turned up the cover.

 It was The World of Suzie
Wong.

“Just got it off the second
steward and it’s not bad so far.”

“Are you coming for a mug and
a sandwich?”

 He cornered the page and
threw the book onto his bunk.

 “1will I need my weapon.”

 “Aye, leave it, I have mine.
I’ll be the bodyguard for tonight.”

 They met the second cook and
went to play darts there was twelve or so men playing cards and a relaxed
atmosphere seemed to prevail. Tukola and the boatswain and his gang weren’t
around. Then the ordinary seaman came in with a mug of tea and a sandwich. He
looked around before he seated himself alongside a young A.B. All the card
players stopped momentarily to look at the frightened young kid; his eye was
swollen and he had a cut on his lip. The A.B. pulled open his shirt and showed
the bruising along his ribs, exclaiming, “who the fuck did that to you?”

 The young kid pulled his
shirt closed and turned his head away from the prying eyes.

“I tripped down in the hold
and fell onto the hatch boards,” was his unconvincing reply.

 Christ, Henry thought, this
is getting serious. He knew it would avail nothing to report it to the deck
officers, and they couldn’t watch him twenty four hours a day. He’s real scared
to mention a name or even where he saw this happening.

 The radio stations had begun
to fade when they were about seven days out. The lack of music only added to
the tension around the crew’s quarters. The weather was getting warmer and the
blue Pacific was beautiful as it sparkled under a cloudless sky.

Back in the cabin, Gary threw
his book up onto Henry’s bunk.

“Here you are. I’ve just
finished it. It’s not a bad yarn, a bit of wanking material.”

 Henry stood up.

“Come on out on deck for a
bit of evening air and don’t forget your weapon.”

 Gary made a show of placing
his knife into his belt. Henry pulled his shirt out to cover the handle of his.
The sun was setting as they stood at the ship’s rail, Henry took out the Lucky
Strikes and they both lit up.

The deck hands were working
late; the apprentices were coming up out of the number four hold, then the
crewmen began lifting the hatch boards on. The boatswain told Oswyn Welland to
go to the bridge and ask the mate if they should batten down. He shouted back down
to the boatswain on the boat deck that there was no need not batten down; the
forecast was good.

  Sometime later, Oswyn was
alone in his cabin and the news of the ordinary seaman having seen something in
Bombay began to bother him. He pulled up his mattress and took a letter he had
received in Japan out of a cloth bag that he kept his gun in. He should have destroyed
the letter straight away as he was instructed. However, he went to the lavatory
put the bolt on the door for security and reread it again – several times. The
letter had no name but he knew it had come from the English overseer on his
father’s tea plantation.

The police here are
investigating the girl’s death in the alleyway outside The Blue Orchid Bar. Something
found in her hand; a piece of cloth torn from her killer with a name on it has
led them to your father’s tea plantation -  the cloth found was part of a
uniform supplied here. Now they have uncovered the fact that you were in Bombay
the night of this girl’s killing and also know the hotel you stayed in. There
was also a girl killed on the dock the same night and one of your crew is
suspected of this girl’s murder. You will probably hear more of this from your
own people, but I thought I should write and inform you of your position. I do
not know the full circumstances of this young girl’s killing outside The Blue
Orchid, and who was involved from here, but two of our people went with you in
our car from here and didn’t return until the next day. I hope this information
will help put you in the picture and have you forewarned.

He knew the letter by heart
now so he tore it up and flushed it down the lavatory.

Could the ordinary seaman have
seen the killer on the dock? If not it was the inevitable and could he be
incriminated. He pulled out a cigarette and sat smoking contemplating the
situation as he now saw it. He wasn’t afraid when his father told him about the
undercover detective on board, but he wouldn’t listen. No, his father wanted
Henry discredited and either taken off the case or thrown in jail. Oswyn objected
and told him there was no sense to what he intended doing, but again he
wouldn’t listen. His father left for a business meeting in New Delhi a few days
previous to him leaving the plantation. He told him they knew the girl Henry
was having a liaison with and they intended to cause her harm and have him
blamed for it. When they booked into their hotel in Bombay he asked the man who
was his supposed bodyguard what time they were going to do their dastardly
deed. He asked Oswyn not to come with them, but he insisted on accompanying
them. They were suspicious of being tailed, so they left the plantation via the
quiet back entrance. When they got to Bombay they knew the car would be
suspicious and draw attention in an area like that, so they left the chauffeur
in the car and walked a few blocks to a street opposite The Blue Orchid. They
could see the alleyway alongside the bar, it was dark and foreboding, but they
knew this was where Nilima lived, and she would come out a side door of the bar
at some point. So they stood back in the shadows and waited.

Oswyn had asked his father’s
lackey what he intended to do to harm the girl. He said just enough to get your
detective friend in trouble with the police. He had also asked him to call it
off and said he wouldn’t tell his father. The man said that it would get back
to his boss and then he’d be out of a job with a wife and four children to
support.

The girl had appeared with
Henry outside the door and they were just visible in the dark alley. Henry had kissed
her goodbye and went back inside. The Indian man was fleet footed and sprinted
across the roadway and down the alleyway. Oswyn had seen him grab the girl from
behind and she struggled and clawed at him before falling to the ground. He’d
also seen him wipe the blade of the knife on her clothes before replacing it in
his belt. Oswyn passed him and knelt down to see the life flow from the
beautiful body. He’d held her head and seen the blood dribble over her pale
lips and she laid still. He’d felt sick, he could have cried.

The lackey grabbed hold of
him and pulled him away, saying they must leave before the police arrived. Then
her body was shoved into a space between two shacks and he placed her bag
underneath her.

Ever since Oswyn had tried to
erase this whole episode from his mind but it still remains to haunt him.

What was now concerning Oswyn
was did the ordinary seaman see him bending over Nilima’s body, and if not, was
the person the seaman alluded to, the man who murdered the girl at the dock? If
it was the latter, the seaman would be damned in the eyes of the murderer who
would surely like to silence him.

Oswyn thought long and hard
and decided there was little he could do to protect the ordinary seaman. And
even if the seaman came clean to the detective and the captain, not knowing who
the murderer was, they wouldn’t be able to protect him either. Oswyn concluded
that there was only one thing to do and that was to keep a close eye on the
ordinary seaman - although he knew it was going to be an uphill battle and he
felt a foreboding that seemed to hang around him like mist. Hopefully they
could get to Havana without mishap and something might sort itself there.

 There was a welcome return
to pop music as they neared Hawaii and the lively music along the alleyways
helped to lift some of the doom and gloom which had permeated through the
crew’s quarters. There was news on the hour every hour - typical American radio.
Castro was reported to be moving nearer the major city of Cienfuegos and
Batista’s army was retreating.

 “Bloody hell, Gary, I wonder,
are we heading straight into a revolution and will Havana be under siege when
we get there!” exclaimed
Henry.

 “I don’t care as long as
there’s shore leave and a few dusky beauties to screw. That is if we get any
shore leave.”