Peter O'Donnell - Cobra Trap

She looked at him coldly, then turned away and moved across the wardroom to stand beside Bellman, a hand on his shoulder. He reached up to rest a hand on her own, eyes dark with hate as he stared at Modesty. "You hunted me," he said with bitter rage. "You hounded me across the world… and then you framed me! I was innocent!"

"Innocent?" Modesty shook her head. "You want us to bleed for you, Bellman? You handled threequarters of a ton of heroin every year. You ran a training school, teaching your pushers how to get the kids hooked." Willie saw Sandra stiffen, and it seemed to him that fury and shock were at odds within her as she looked uncertainly down at Bellman, then at Modesty again as she went on: "You've killed them by the thousand, Bellman… but slowly. You rotted their souls. But you wouldn't ever see that end of it. You were just the big supplier. You didn't see the kids crawling to your pushers for a fix, ready to lick boots, steal, kill, anything—"

" Stop the bitch!" cried Bellman in a quavering scream, and Crichton came out of his chair fast, hitting Modesty hard across the mouth with the back of his hand, eyes alight with pleasure. Her lip was cut, and she lifted her hands, pressing the back of a wrist against her mouth to stem the bleeding.

Willie looked at Crichton and said mildly, "What was the name again?" In contrast to the voice there was something so truly chilling in his eyes that Crichton stepped quickly back. Then he recovered and forced a laugh. "You won't come looking for me, Garvin. I'll soon be looking for you."

Van Rutte said, "And he won't be the only one. Here's your gear." He picked up a haversack beside his chair and emptied it on to the table: a colt.32, a bowie knife, a waterbottle, and handcuff keys on a string.

In a voice trembling with malice and selfpity Bellman said, "You hunted me! Now you'll learn what it feels like. You'll be put ashore on an island at ten. It's small, nobody lives there. You'll have your favourite weapons, Colt thirtytwo for you, Blaise, a knife for Garvin. A bottle of water. Keys for the handcuffs." Van Rutte put the items back in the haversack as they were named, and Bellman went on, "You'll have two hours, then they'll be coming to hunt you down… and kill you!" His voice cracked on the last words and he swayed in his chair, panting, looking about him with crazed eyes. Sandra held his shoulder to steady him, deeply troubled.

Modesty said quietly, "It wasn't the labour squad that ruined you, Bellman. It was having no guts. You just gave up, because you're a whinger and a quitter."

Bellman tried to speak, but no word emerged. Sandra looked at the two captives with savage anger, then at Charlie Brightstar. "Take them away," she said. "I don't want to hear any more lies."

Modesty Blaise and Willie Garvin stood on a flat stretch of rock that made a natural landing place, watching the small launch as it headed back towards the ship anchored offshore. On leaving her they had noted that she carried a Panamanian flag and was called Ambato. They were still handcuffed, and Willie was carrying the haversack. For a few seconds they studied their surroundings, noting the lie of the land, the distance to the ship, the set of the current, and estimating the time it would take to swim to the Ambato if at some stage they so decided.

Modesty gave a little nod, and together they turned and moved inland, up a short rocky slope then down into a hollow where they would be hidden from anyone watching with fieldglasses from the ship. Willie took keys from the haversack and unlocked Modesty's 'cuffs, eyebrows lifting with a touch of surprise. "I thought Bellman might be 'aving us on," he said. "Wrong keys."

"They could well have been." Modesty took them from him and freed his wrists. "Bellman's half crazy. Eaten away inside."

"Like a few thousand of 'is old customers, if they're still alive." Willie took out the Colt and passed it to Modesty. As she checked the cylinder to see that it was loaded he rested the bowie knife across one finger to assess the balance. "How d'you want to play it, Princess?" he asked.

"The long way, I think. Find a hole and disappear, maybe for a couple of days while they get swiveleyed and impatient. Alternatively, we might swim to the ship after dark and take it over, leaving the Three Musketeers on the island. We don't want to prove anything, do we?"

"Well… not exactly."

He spoke reluctantly, and when she saw him glance at her badly swollen mouth she knew his mind and said, "Well, let's find a hole first, then see how things go."

"Okay. We've got the best part of two hours." He put the handcuffs in the haversack, the keys in a pocket of his dinner jacket.

Modesty said, "We can pick up a little food to keep us going. Just easy stuff. Rock seaweed, shellfish, and maybe some nettles or dandelions."

Willie grimaced. "I might go on a fast. I was the least squeamish kid in the orphanage, but I wish I 'ad your stomach."

She smiled and picked up the hem of her skirt. "I had early training in diet. Hack this off short for me, Willie. It's a pity I wasn't wearing slacks."

He dropped to one knee and began to cut the skirt to above midthigh. There might be no immediate need for this if they were going to ground, but she was taking nothing for granted, and if action came sooner than expected she wanted no skirt to hamper her movements. When he had finished Willie put the cut fabric in his haversack on the principle that it might be useful. In circumstances like these, you could never tell.

At noon the ship's launch headed for the shore, an Asiatic seaman at the tiller. Brightstar sat with the carbine across his knees, silent and impassive. Crichton carried his hunting rifle and wore a widebrimmed hat with a strip of leopard skin round the crown. Van Rutte nursed his Uzi and had changed his baseball cap for a camouflaged steel helmet.

On the deck of the Ambato Bellman sat in his wheelchair with Sandra beside him. A pace or two away, watching them uneasily, was the ship's master. Captain Ricco Burrera was a worried man with an ingratiating manner. He was well aware that whatever was about to happen was entirely illegal, in fact that it almost certainly involved a double killing, and he was concerned that this might, if discovered, be held against him.

He cleared his throat noisily to make his presence known and said, "I hope there will be no troubles afterwards, senor."

Bellman did not put himself out to turn and look at the man as he said, "I own you, Burrera. You and your miserable ship. Go away and don't bother me."

"Of course, senor. Thank you." Burrera made a placating gesture and moved unhappily away.

Gazing towards the island, Bellman said, "Soon be over now, my darling. Do you think I'm a wicked man to take revenge like this?"

"No!" She took his hand and spoke fiercely. "You've been good to me since the day I came to you all those years ago, and they did this to you. They destroyed you. They're evil, and I hate them." She hesitated, then went on with fading vehemence. "I want them to know how it feels. I want them hunted and destroyed."

There was a silence, and Bellman reached out to pat her hand. After a moment she said, "It wasn't true, was it? I mean, what they said about you. About drugs."

He turned his head to look at her, smiling a little. "Can you even begin to believe it of me?"

She leaned over to rest her cheek against his. "Oh, I'm sorry, please forgive me. It was just… he seemed not the way I'd always imagined. Willie Garvin, I mean. Well, both of them."

He nodded and squeezed her hand. "Yes. They're very clever, you know."

She straightened up and sighed. "Of course. I was being stupid."