Десмонд Бэгли - The Golden Keel

‘And Parker?’

‘I couldn’t have killed Parker even if I’d wanted to,’ he said flatly.

‘Why not?’

Slowly he said, ‘We were with Umberto doing one of the usual ambushes. Umberto split the force in two — one group on one side of the valley, the other group on the other side. Parker and Walker were with the other group. The ambush was a flop, anyway, and the two parties went back to camp separately. It was only when I got back to camp that I heard that Parker had been killed.’

He rubbed his chin. ‘Did you say that Walker told you that Parker had been shot in the back of the head?’

‘Yes.’

He looked at his hands spread out on the table. ‘Walker could have done it, you know. It would be just like him.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘You told me once that Walker had got you into trouble a couple of times during the war. When exactly did that happen? Before you buried the gold or afterwards?’

He frowned in thought, casting his mind back to faraway days. He said, ‘I remember once when Walker pulled some men away from a ditch when he shouldn’t have. He was acting as a messenger for Umberto and said he’s misunderstood the instruction. I was leading a few chaps at the time and this left my flank wide open.’ His eyes darkened. ‘A couple of the boys copped it because of that and I nearly got a bayonet in my rump.’ His face twisted in thought. ‘It was after we buried the gold.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m certain. We only joined Umberto’s crowd after we’d buried the gold.’

I said softly, ‘Maybe he could shoot Parker in the back of the head. Maybe he could beat in the back of Donato’s head with a rock and fake a climbing accident. But maybe he was too scared of you to come at you front or rear — you’re a bit of an awesome bastard at times, you know. Maybe he tried to arrange that the Germans should knock you off.’

Coertze’s hands clenched on the table. I said, ‘He’s always been afraid of you — he still is.’

‘ Magtig, but he has reason to be,’ he burst out. ‘Donato got us out of the camp. Donato stayed with him on the hillside while the Germans were searching.’ He looked at me with pain in his eyes. ‘What kind of man is it who can do such a thing?’

‘A man like Walker,’ I said. ‘I think we ought to talk to him. I’m getting eager to know what he’s arranged for me and Francesca.’

Coertze’s lips tightened. ‘ Ja, I think we wake him up now out of that lekker slaap.’

He stood up just as Francesca came in loaded with bowls. She saw Coertze’s face and paused uncertainly. ‘What’s the matter?’

I took the bowls from her and put them in the fiddles. ‘We’re just going to have a talk with Walker,’ I said. ‘You’d better come along.’

But Walker was already awake and I could see from his expression that he knew what was coming. He swung himself from the berth and tried to get away from Coertze, who lunged at him.

‘Hold on,’ I said, and grabbed Coertze’s arm. ‘I said we’re going to talk to him.’

The muscles bunched in Coertze’s arm and then relaxed and I let go. I said to Walker, ‘Coertze thinks you’re a liar — what do you say?’

His eyes shifted and he gave Coertze a scared glance, then he looked away. ‘I didn’t say he killed anybody. I didn’t say that.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ I agreed. ‘But you damn’ well implied it.’

Coertze growled under his breath but said nothing, apparently content to let me handle it for the moment. I said, ‘What about Parker? You said that Coertze was near him when he was shot — Coertze said he wasn’t. What about it?’

‘I didn’t say that either,’ he said sulkily.

‘You are a damned liar,’ I said forcibly. ‘You said it to me. I’ve got a good memory even if you haven’t. I warned you in Tangier what would happen if you ever lied to me, so you’d better watch it. Now I want the truth — was Coertze near Parker when he was killed?’

He was silent for a long time. ‘Well, was he?’ I demanded.

He broke. ‘No, he wasn’t,’ he cried shrilly. ‘I made that up. He wasn’t there; he was on the other side of the valley.’

‘Then who killed Parker?’

‘It was the Germans,’ he cried frantically. ‘It was the Germans — I told you it was the Germans.’

I suppose it was too much to expect him to confess to murder. He would never say outright that he had killed Parker and Donato Rinaldi — but his face gave him away. I had no intention of sparing him anything, so I said to Coertze, ‘He was responsible for Torloni’s attack.’

Coertze grunted in surprise. ‘How?’

I told him about the cigarette case, then said to Walker, ‘Coertze saved your life last night, but I wish to God he’d let you drown. Now I’m going to leave him down here alone with you and he can do what he likes.’

Walker caught my arm. ‘Don’t leave me,’ he implored. ‘Don’t let him get at me.’ What he had always feared was now about to happen — there was no one between him and Coertze. He had blackened Coertze in my eyes so that he would have an ally to fight his battles, but now I was on Coertze’s side. He feared physical violence — his killing had been done from ambush — and Coertze was the apotheosis of violence.

‘Please,’ he whimpered, ‘don’t leave.’ He looked at Francesca with a passionate plea in his eyes. She turned aside without speaking and went up the companionway into the cockpit. I shook off his hand and followed her, closing the cabin hatch.

‘Coertze will kill him,’ she said in a low voice.

‘Hasn’t he the right?’ I demanded. ‘I don’t believe in private executions as a rule, but this is one time I’m willing to make an exception.’

‘I’m not thinking of Walker,’ she said. ‘It will be bad for Coertze. No one can kill a man like that and be the same after. It will be bad for his... his spirit.’

I said, ‘Coertze will do what he has to do.’

We lapsed into silence, just looking at the lumpy sea, and I began to think of the boat and what we had to do next.

The cabin hatch opened and Coertze came into the cockpit. There was a baffled expression on his face and he said in a hoarse voice, ‘I was going to kill the little bastard. I was going to hit him — I did hit him once. But you can’t hit anyone who won’t fight back. You can’t, can you?’

I grinned and Francesca laughed joyously. Coertze looked at us and his face broke into a slow smile. ‘But what are we going to do with him?’ he asked.

‘We’ll drop him at Tangier and let him shift for himself,’ I said. ‘We’ll give him the biggest scare any man’s ever had.’

We were sitting grinning at each other like a couple of happy fools when Francesca said sharply, ‘Look!’

I followed the line of her outstretched arm. ‘Oh, no!’ I groaned. Coertze looked and cursed.

Coming towards us through the tossing seas and wallowing atrociously was the Fairmile.

I looked at it bitterly. I had been certain that Metcalfe must have lost us in the storm — he had the luck of the devil. He hadn’t found us by radar either, because the storm had made a clean sweep of the Fairmile’s upperworks — his radar antenna was gone, as also was the radio mast and the short derrick. It could only have been by sheer luck that he had stumbled upon us.

I said to Coertze, ‘Get below and start the engine. Francesca, you go below, too, and stay there.’

I looked across at the Fairmile. It was about a mile away and closing at about eight knots — a little over five minutes to make what futile preparations we could. I had no illusions about Metcalfe. Torloni had been bad enough but all he knew was force — Metcalfe used his brains.