Desmond Bagley - The Freedom Trap

‘Anyone wasn’t there,’ I said. ‘You were.’

She looked about her. ‘We’d better move. We could be picked up if we stay here.’

I shook my head. ‘We’re pretty safe. This harbour has so many inlets and creeks that Wheeler and his boys would have to search ten miles of coastline. But you’re right — we’d better move on. It’s a long walk back to the hotel and I want to get there before it’s light. Do you feel fit?’

Alison got to her feet. ‘I’m ready.’

It would take us, I estimated, a good hour to walk back to the hotel. We walked silently; I don’t know what Alison was thinking but I was busy wondering what the hell to do next. At last I said, ‘Well, I’ve fallen down on this one — my instructions were to bring Slade back or to kill him. I’ve done neither.’

‘I can’t see that you could have done differently,’ said Alison.

‘Yes, I could — I could have killed Slade on that yacht but I tried to bring him out.’

‘It isn’t easy to kill a sleeping man,’ she said, and shivered. ‘It isn’t easy to kill anyone.’

I gave her a sideways glance and wondered about her. All that training must have produced something. ‘How many men have you killed?’

‘One,’ she said, and her voice caught. ‘To... night.’ She started to shake violently.

I put my arm around her. ‘Take it easy. It’s a bad reaction, but it wears off in time. I know.’ I damned Mackintosh for what he had done to his daughter. Yet at least he had made her into a professional and she would respond to the right stimulus just like one of Pavlov’s dogs. To take her mind off what she had just done I said, ‘We must leave the hotel.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But what then?’

‘I’m damned if I know,’ I admitted. ‘It all depends on how much damage we’ve done to Wheeler’s yacht. If she moves we’re finished.’

‘And if she doesn’t?’

‘We have another chance.’

‘You can’t go on board again — that won’t work twice.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I must think of something else.’ We fell into a dispirited silence as we trudged along. We were both wet and it was cold in the early hours of the morning. We were also tired, and none of this helped us to think straight.

The sun was rising as we came into Floriana and there were a few people stirring in the streets. During our long walk our clothes had pretty well dried out and we didn’t attract undue attention. Presently we passed workmen with ladders who were stringing up rows of gay bunting across the street. ‘Those boys have started early,’ I said. ‘What’s the celebration?’

‘There’s a festa today,’ said Alison. ‘They’re always having them here.’

I remembered the disgruntled man who had complained about noise in the harbour. ‘They’ll be having fireworks tonight, then.’

‘Inevitably. The two go together in Malta.’

Something prickled at the back of my mind — the first stirrings of an idea. I left it alone to grow in its own good time. ‘How much money have we got?’

‘About three thousand pounds — including the five hundred I gave you.’

At least we were well equipped with the sinews of war. The idea burgeoned a little more, but I’d have to study the plans of Artina’s sister ship a little more closely before I could bring it into the open.

A sleepy porter gave us our keys at the hotel and we went up to our rooms. At my door, I said, ‘Come in here for a minute.’ When we were inside I poured a big lump of scotch into a tooth-glass and gave it to Alison. ‘Put that inside you and you’ll feel better. Get yourself a hot shower and a change of clothing, but make it fast. We’re evacuating — I want us to be out of here within a half-hour.’

She gave a wan smile. ‘Where are we going?’

‘We’re going to ground — just where I don’t know. But Wheeler will have his men checking the hotels; he might have started already. Just bring essentials — the money, passport and aircraft documents.’

When she had gone I followed my own advice. I knocked back a fast scotch and took a three-minute hot shower which chased away some of the aches and put some warmth in my bones again. My stomach was black with bruises. I dressed quickly and began to assemble the things I needed, not that there was much.

Then I sat down and began to study the ship plan. Fortunately it was scaled and I was able to measure distances fairly accurately. Not only was the idea burgeoning but blossoms were appearing. It all depended on whether Wheeler was immobilized in Marsamxett Harbour for another night.

Alison came back carrying one of those big bags which magically hold about six times more than they appear to. We left the hotel by a rear entrance and five minutes later we were at Kingsgate boarding a bus for Senglea.

Alison seemed brighter and said, ‘Where are we going — and why?’

I paid the fare. ‘I’ll tell you when we get there.’ The bus was crowded and I didn’t want to talk about how I was going to kill Slade and Wheeler in public. The driver of the bus laboured under the misapprehension that his name was Jack Brabham, or perhaps he thought that the little shrine to the Virgin, so gaily decked in flowers, was a reasonable substitute for brakes. We got to Senglea in a remarkably short time.

Senglea is a peninsula jutting out into the Grand Harbour between Dockyard Creek and French Creek. Since the rundown of the Royal Navy and the demilitarization of the Naval Dockyard in Malta it seemed to be a reasonable place to find what I wanted — a boatshed, preferably with its own slipway.

It was still too early to do anything about that but the cafés were already open so we had breakfast, and very welcome it was. Over the bacon and eggs I said, ‘Were you seen last night — seen to be recognized again?’

Alison shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Wheeler appeared to be uncertain about whether I had assistance,’ I said. ‘Of course, he knows now — but he doesn’t know who. I think you’re elected to do the shopping; it might not be safe for me on the streets.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked concisely.

‘I want a boatshed. I only want it for twelve hours but we can’t say so — we’ll probably have to take it on three months’ lease. I’m a boat designer and I’m working on a new type of... er... hydrofoil. I don’t want anyone — my rivals, for instance — looking over my shoulder while I’m doing it, so I want discretion and security. That’s the story.’

‘Then what?’

‘Then you push off and buy us a boat. Something about twenty feet overall and hellish fast, with big engines.’

‘Outboard or inboard?’

‘Doesn’t matter. Outboards will be cheaper, but they must be powerful. You bring the boat round to the shed.’ I looked through the window of the café. ‘Over there is a scrap metal yard; I should be able to get most of what I want over there, including the hire of a welding outfit.’

Alison’s brow wrinkled. ‘So you have a fast boat and a welding outfit.’ She waited patiently.

‘Then you hire a truck. Can you drive a truck?’ She gave me a look of silent contempt, and I grinned. She had probably passed her driving test with flying colours — in a Chieftain tank. I said, ‘You take the truck and you buy enough fireworks to fill the boat.’

Now I had got her attention. ‘Fireworks!’

‘Big ones — especially the ones that go bang and throw out a shower of pretty lights. None of your paltry penny bangers; I want the big professional stuff. If they’re so keen on fireworks here there should be quite a stock somewhere in this island. Think you can do that?’

‘I can do it,’ she said. ‘Now tell me why the hell I should.’