Десмонд Бэгли - The Golden Keel

He laughed. ‘Yes, of course; that’s just his mark.’

I lifted the brick slowly. ‘How did you cotton on to us?’ I asked. ‘It must have been in Tangier, but what gave the game away?’ There was no answer.

I said, ‘What was it, Metcalfe?’ and raised the brick.

There was silence.

‘Metcalfe?’ I said uncertainly, and switched on my torch. He had gone and I heard a faint splashing from the sea and the squeak of a rowlock. I ought to have known better than to think I could outwit Metcalfe; he was too wise a bird for me.

As I went back to the shed I looked at my watch; it was ten o’clock — five hours to go before Torloni’s assault. Could we replace the mast and all the standing rigging in time? I very much doubted it. If we turned on the floodlights outside the shed, then Torloni’s watchers would know that something unusual was under way and he would move in immediately. If we worked in the dark it would be hell’s own job — I had never heard of a fifty-five foot mast being stepped in total darkness and I doubted if it could be done.

It looked very much as though we would have to stay and fight.

I went in and woke Coertze. He was drowsy but he woke up fast enough when I told him what was happening. I omitted to mention Walker’s part in the mess — I still needed Walker and I knew that if I told Coertze about it I would have a corpse and a murderer on my hands, and this was not time for internal dissension.

Coertze said suspiciously, ‘What the hell is Metcalfe’s game?’

‘I don’t know and I care less. The point is that he’s given us the tip-off and if we don’t use it we’re fools. He must have fallen out with Torloni.’

‘Reg,’ said Coertze and swung himself out of his berth. ‘Let’s get cracking.’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘What about the mast?’ I told him my estimate of the chance of replacing the mast in darkness.

He rubbed his chin and the bristles crackled in the silence. ‘I reckon we should take a chance and turn the lights on,’ he said at last. ‘That is, after we’ve made our preparations for Torloni. We know he’s going to attack and whether he does it sooner or later doesn’t matter as long as we’re ready for him.’

This was the man of action — the military commander — speaking. His reasoning was good so I left him to it. He roused Piero and they went into a huddle while Walker and I began to clear the shed and to load up Sanford. Francesca heard the noise and got up to see what was going on and was drawn into Coertze’s council of war.

Presently Piero slipped out of the shed and Coertze called me over. ‘You might as well know what’s going to happen,’ he said.

He had a map of Rapallo spread out, one of the giveaways issued by the Tourist Office, and as he spoke he pointed to the salient features on the map. It was a good plan that he described and like all good plans it was simple.

I think that if Coertze had not been taken prisoner at Tobruk he would have been commissioned as an officer sooner or later. He had a natural grasp of strategy and his plan was the classic military design of concentration to smash the enemy in detail before they could concentrate.

He said, ‘This is the holiday season and the hotels are full. Torloni couldn’t get all his men into the same hotel, so they’re spread around the town — four men here, six here, three here and the rest with Torloni himself.’ As he spoke his stubby forefinger pointed to places on the map.

‘We can call up twenty-five men and I’m keeping ten men here at the yard. There are four of Torloni’s men outside the yard right now, watching us, and we’re going to jump them in a few minutes — ten men should clean them up easily. That means that when we turn on the lights there’ll be no one to warn Torloni about it.’

‘That seems a good idea,’ I said.

‘That leaves us fifteen men we can use outside the yard as a mobile force. We have two men outside each hotel excepting this one, here, where we have nine. There are four of Torloni’s men staying here and when they come out they’ll get clobbered. That ought to be easy, too.’

‘You’ll have already cut his force by half,’ I said.

‘That’s right. Now, there’ll be Torloni and eight men moving in on the yard. He’ll expect to have sixteen, but he won’t get them. This may make him nervous, but I think not. He’ll think that there’ll only be four men and a girl here and he’ll reckon he can take us easily. But we’ll have fourteen men in the yard — counting us — and I’ll bring in another fifteen behind him as soon as he starts anything.’

He looked up. ‘How’s that, ay?’

‘It’s great,’ I said. ‘But you’ll have to tell the Italians to move in fast. We want to nail those bastards quick before they can start shooting. Metcalfe said they wouldn’t shoot, but they might if they see they’re on the losing end.’

‘They’ll be quick,’ he promised. ‘Piero’s on the blower now, giving instructions. The orders are to clean up the four watchers here at eleven o’clock.’ He looked at his watch. ‘That’s in five minutes. Let’s go and see the fun.’

Francesca said, ‘I don’t see how anything can go wrong.’

Neither could I — but it did!

We were leaving the shed when I noticed Walker tagging on behind. He had been keeping in the background, trying to remain inconspicuous. I let the others go and caught his arm. ‘You stay here,’ I said. ‘If you move out of this shed I swear I’ll kill you.’

His face went white. ‘Why?’

‘So you had your wallet stolen,’ I said. ‘You damn’ fool, why did you have to carry that cigarette case?’

He tried to bluff his way out of it. ‘Wh... what cigarette case?’

‘Don’t lie to me. You know what cigarette case. Now stay here and don’t move out. I don’t want you underfoot — I don’t want to have to keep an eye on you all the time in case you make any more damn’ silly mistakes.’ I took him by the shirt. ‘If you don’t stay in here I’ll tell Coertze just why Torloni is attacking tonight — and Coertze will dismember you limb from limb.’

His lower lip started to tremble. ‘Oh, don’t tell Coertze,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t tell him.’

I let him go. ‘O.K. But don’t move out of this shed.’

I followed the others up to Palmerini’s office. Coertze said, ‘It’s all set.’

I said to Piero, ‘You’d better get Palmerini down here; we’ll need his help in rigging the mast.’

‘I have telephoned him,’ said Piero. ‘He will be coming at eleven-fifteen — after we have finished our work here.’ He nodded towards the main gate.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Do you think we shall see anything of what is happening?’

‘A little. One of Torloni’s men is not troubling to hide himself; he is under the street lamp opposite the main gate.’

We went up to the gate, moving quietly so as not to alarm the watchers. The gate was of wood, old, unpainted and warped by the sun; there were plenty of cracks through which we could see. I knelt down and through one of the cracks saw a man on the other side of the road, illuminated by the street lamp. He was standing there, idly smoking a cigarette, with one hand in his trouser-pocket. I could hear the faint click as he jingled money or keys.

Coertze whispered, ‘Any time now.’

Nothing happened for a while. There was no sound to be heard except for the sudden harsh cry of an occasional seabird. Piero said in a low voice, ‘Two have been taken.’

‘How do you know?’

There was laughter in his voice. ‘The birds — they tell me.’

I suddenly realized what had been nagging at my mind. Seagulls sleep at night and they don’t cry.