Алистер Маклин - Fear Is the Key

‘I suppose, Talbot, that you were entertaining some idea of turning us over to the authorities. Is that it?’ He waited for a reply, but when none came he went on: ‘If you were, I’d change my mind about it. For such a clever cop, Talbot, you’ve been very blind in one spot. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of two innocent people, would you now, Talbot?’

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked slowly.

‘I’m talking about the general.’ Vyland flicked a glance at Royale, a glance for the first time empty of fear, a look of triumph. ‘General Blair Ruthven. The general, his wife, and his younger daughter. Do you know what I’m talking about, Talbot?’

‘What’s the general’s wife got to do–?’

‘My God! And for a moment I thought you had us!’ The relief in Vyland’s face was almost tangible quality. ‘You fool, Talbot. You blind fool! The general – did it never occur to you to think how we got him to come in with us? Did it never occur to you to wonder why a man like that would let us use his yacht, his rig and anything else we wanted to? Didn’t it, Talbot? Didn’t it?’

‘Well, I thought–’

‘You thought!’ he sneered. ‘You poor fool, old Ruthven had to help us whether he wanted to or not. He helped us because he knew the lives of his wife and young daughter depended on us.’

‘His wife and young daughter? But – but they’ve had a legal separation, haven’t they – the general and his wife, I mean. I read all about it–’

‘Sure. Sure you read all about it.’ Vyland, his terror forgotten, was almost jovial now. ‘So did a hundred million others. The general made good and sure that the story got around. It would have been just too bad if the story hadn’t got around. They’re hostages, Talbot. We’ve got them in a place of safety where they’ll stay till we’re finished here. Or else.’

‘You – you kidnapped them?’

‘At last the penny drops,’ Vyland sneered. ‘Sure we kidnapped them.’

‘You and Royale?’

‘Me and Royale.’

‘You admit it? A federal and capital offence – kidnapping – you freely and openly admit it. Is that it?’

‘That’s it. Why shouldn’t we admit it?’ Vyland blustered. But he had become suddenly uneasy. ‘So you’d better forget about the cops and any ideas you have about delivering us to them. Besides, how do you think you’re going to get us up the caisson and off the rig without being chopped into little pieces? I reckon you’re mad, Talbot.’

‘The general’s wife and daughter,’ I mused, as if I hadn’t heard him. ‘It wasn’t a bad idea. You’d have let them go in the end, you couldn’t afford not to, it would have been the Lindbergh case ten times over had you tried anything. On the other hand you knew the general wouldn’t start anything afterwards: it would only be his word against yours, and up your sleeve you always carried the trump card – Royale. As long as Royale walked the face of America the general would never speak. This whole operation probably cost him a cool million – for the general a bagatelle compared to the value of wife and children. A sweet set-up.’

‘Correct. I hold the trumps, Talbot.’

‘Yes,’ I said absently. ‘And every day, just on noon, you sent a coded telegram – in the general’s company code – to your watchdogs who kept an eye on Mrs Ruthven and Jean. You see, Vyland, I even know the daughter’s name. And if the coded telegram didn’t arrive in twenty-four hours they had instructions to shift them to another place, a safer hide-out. Atlanta wasn’t too safe, I’m afraid.’

Vyland’s face was grey, his hands beginning to shake again. His voice came as a strained whisper. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I only caught on twenty-four hours ago.’ I replied. ‘We’d been blind – we’d been checking every outgoing cable from Marble Springs for weeks, but forgot all about the inland telegrams. When I did catch on, a message to Judge Mollison from me – through Kennedy, remember that fight we had, I slipped it to him then – started off what must have been the most concentrated and ruthless man hunt for years. The FBI would stop at nothing, not since Jablonsky got his, and obviously they stopped at nothing. Mrs Ruthven and Jean are safe and well – your friends, Vyland, are under lock and key and talking their heads off to beat the rap.’ This last bit was guesswork, but I thought my guess wouldn’t be so far out.

‘You’re making this up,’ Vyland said huskily. Fear was back in his face and he was clutching at straws. ‘You’ve been under guard all day and–’

‘If you were up in the radio shack and could see the state of that creature of yours who tried to stop me from putting through a radio call to the sheriff, you wouldn’t say that. It was Kennedy who gave Royale here his sore head. It was Kennedy who dragged him inside the room and kept on making those calculations on the papers on my desk while I went up to attend to things. You see, I didn’t dare move till they were free. But they are free.’

I looked at the grey and stricken and hunted face and looked away again. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The time had come to get back, I had found out all I wanted to know, got all the evidence I would ever want. I opened up a circuit box, unbuttoned and repositioned four wires, closed the box again and pulled the first of the four electro-magnetic releases for the lead shot ballast.

It worked. Two clouds of grey pellets showered mistily by the side observation windows and disappeared into the black mud on the seabed. It worked, but the lightening of the weight made no difference, the bathyscaphe didn’t budge.

I pulled the second switch, emptied the second pair of containers: still we remained immovable. We were sunk pretty deep into that mud, how deep I didn’t know, but this had never happened before on tests. I sat down to work out if there was any factor I had forgotten, and now that the strain was over the pain was back in my shoulder and mouth and I wasn’t thinking so well any more. I removed the button from between my teeth and absent-mindedly placed it in a pocket.

‘Was – was that cyanide?’ Vyland’s face was still grey.

‘Don’t be silly. Antler-horn, best quality.’ I rose, pulled the other two switches simultaneously. They worked – but again nothing happened. I looked at Vyland and Royale, and saw reflected in their faces the fear that was beginning to touch in my own mind. God, I thought, how ironic it would be if, after all I had said and done, we were to die down here. There was no point in putting off the moment of decision. I started up both motors, inclined the planes to the maximum upwards elevation, started up the tow-rope motor and at the same moment pressed the switch that jettisoned the two big electric batteries mounted on the outside of the scaphe. They fell simultaneously with a thud that jarred the bathyscaphe, sending up a dark spreading cloud of black viscous-looking mud: for two moments of eternity nothing happened, the bolt was shot, the last hope was gone, when, all in a second, the scaphe trembled, broke suction aft and started to rise. I heard Vyland sobbing with relief and terror.

I switched off the engines and we rose steadily, smoothly, on an even keel, now and again starting the tow-rope motor to take in some slack. We were about a hundred feet up when Royale spoke.

‘So it was all a plant, Talbot. You never had any intention of keeping us down there.’ His voice was an evil whisper, the one good side of his face back to its expressionless normal again.

‘That’s it,’ I agreed.

‘Why, Talbot?’

‘To find out exactly where the treasure was. But that was really secondary, I knew it wasn’t far away, a government survey ship could have found it in a day.’