Десмонд Бэгли - Bahama Crisis

I could not argue with that. ‘It was Robinson; I saw him. Where did he go?’

Billy pointed to an inlet on the port side. ‘He shot down that rabbit hole.’

The boat that had chased Robinson from the north shore was almost upon us. I stood up and waved with both hands, and as it approached it slowed. A Customs officer leaned from the wheelhouse, and I yelled, ‘Get back to the north shore, you damn fool. Keep the cork in the bloody bottle. If he gets past he can lose you.’

‘Who are you to give orders?’

‘If you want to argue do it with Commissioner Deane. Now, get the hell back and guard that bloody entrance.’

The officer withdrew and the launch began to turn in the water. There was a metallic click as Billy put a round into the breech of his pistol. ‘How to make friends and influence people.’ He snapped off the safety catch. ‘What do we do now?’

‘I don’t know.’ I wished I had a map. ‘Winkling him out of there won’t be easy, but if we don’t he can ditch the dory and make an escape overland. He could lose himself in the pine barrens to the east, and it would take a damned army to find him.’

Billy pointed down the Waterway. ‘A boat’s coming. Your friend the Commissioner, no doubt.’

I slipped the clutch on the idling engine and we began to move slowly. ‘We’re going in — but easy.’

I took the boat into the inlet, the engine putt-putting quietly, and we immediately came to a cross canal. ‘Which way?’ said Billy.

I tossed a mental coin. ‘To starboard,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t really matter.’ We turned to the right and went on for about a hundred yards and came to another junction. Straight on or turn to the left? This was impossible — worse than Hampton Court Maze — and there were forty-five miles of it.

From behind came the noise of a rapidly accelerating engine, and Billy shouted, ‘We went the wrong way! Go back!’

I spun the throttle and slammed over the tiller, and I was in time to see Robinson’s dory shooting across the canal and into the main artery of the Waterway. As it went Billy popped off a shot and then was thrown back as the boat picked up speed and the bow rose into the air.

We slalomed round the corner and nearly ran into a Customs boat in the Waterway, scooting under its stern and missing by the thickness of a playing card. I twisted the throttle to slow, and kicked over the tiller so as to avoid hitting the opposite bank, then I looked around. The damned dory had disappeared again so I hailed the launch. ‘Where did he go?’

Deane was on deck. ‘Mangan, get out of here, and take your friend. This is no place for heroics from civilians.’

I repeated, ‘Where did he go?’

The launch moved so as to be between me and an inlet. ‘He moved in here — but it’s no business of yours. Perigord is organizing reinforcements. Is he Robinson?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who’s your friend?’

‘If you want to know, why don’t you ask me?’ said Billy. ‘I’m Billy Cunningham and I want that bastard, Robinson.’

‘Mr Cunningham, I see you’re holding a gun. You’d better not have it on your person when we meet again. You’d better drop it over the side.’

‘In a pig’s eye,’ said Billy. He pointed to the hole in the rubber and fabric side of the boat. ‘Robinson came out shooting.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Deane. ‘We have excellent jails. Mangan, go away. I want to see you going back down the Waterway.’

‘Let’s go,’ I said quietly, and turned the boat away.

‘Your goddamn cops!’ said Billy disgustedly. ‘You’d think he’d want our help, even thank us for it.’

‘Be quiet!’ I said. ‘I’m thinking.’

Again I wished I had a map. I had used the Waterway many times when I had Lucayan Girl, but I had always stuck to the main channel and had not bothered to explore the maze. Now I wished I had. I had a map of Freeport-Lucaya in my office and I tried to visualize the layout of the Waterway.

We went on a mile down the Waterway and came to another inlet on the same side as the one blocked by the Customs launch. I said, ‘We’re going in here.’

‘Is there a through connection?’

‘No.’

‘Then what’s the use?’

I said, ‘Billy, every section of this water-riddled bit of real estate has but one connection with the main channel, like the one we’re in now. Deane knows that and he’s sitting there like a terrier outside a rabbit hole waiting for Robinson to come out. Robinson may not know that and if he doesn’t he’ll be looking for another way out. So what happens when he can’t find one?’

‘He’ll leave the boat and take to land.’

‘Yes. And he’s on the town side this time. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to steal a car, and he stands a sporting chance of getting away. I think Deane is counting on Robinson wasting enough time looking for an exit to allow Perigord to bring up his reinforcements, and I think he’s taking a hell of a chance.’

‘So?’

‘So we’re going in to chase him into Deane’s arms.’

‘How in hell are we going to do that if there’s no interconnection?’

‘Portage,’ I said. ‘Now I’m glad we came in this boat and not the other.’

I had timed the minutes we had taken to get from one inlet to the other, and had kept a constant speed. Now we were going back, parallelling the Waterway on a minor canal. I reckoned that when we got half-way that would be the place to go overland. Presently I said, ‘This should be it. We put ashore straight ahead.’

I cut the engine and we drifted until the boat nosed the bank. ‘Keep your voice down,’ I said. ‘Robinson could very well be just on the other side of here.’

We went ashore and hauled out the inflatable. ‘We’ll take a look across there before carrying the boat over. And keep your head down.’ We walked over limestone rubble and then over an unused paved road, built for the traffic that had never come. On the other side of the road I dropped into a crouch and then on to my belly as I neared the edge of the next canal.

I peered over the bank and everything was peaceful. A light breeze ruffled the surface of the water and there was no sign of Robinson’s dory. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and looked to the left. In the middle distance I was a half-constructed house, and a man was working on the roof. I returned my attention to the canal. ‘Okay. Let’s bring up the boat.’

Billy looked back. ‘A long haul,’ he said. ‘Nearly two hundred yards.’

‘We’ll unship the engine,’ I said. ‘And the inflatable has carrying straps.’

It was hot and heavy work but we finally made the portage and were sitting in the boat with the engine resecured on the transom. I was about to start up when Billy said, ‘Listen!’

Someone in the half-built house was using a hammer, but under the rhythmic knocking I heard the faraway growl of an outboard engine. It grew louder, and I said, ‘He’s coming this way. Let’s move it.’

I started the engine, hoping that Robinson would not hear it over the noise of his own, and we moved off. I kept the pace slow and, when we had gone about 200 yards and come to a junction, I killed the engine. Again we heard the sound of another outboard motor, this time distinctly louder. Billy was moving his head from side to side to locate the direction. ‘To the left,’ he said, and took out his gun.

I restarted the engine and pushed over the tiller, and we moved to the left and towards the house in the distance.There was a bend ahead and I moved to the inside curve, still travelling slowly because I wanted to keep quiet. Over the sound of our own engine I heard the noise of another.

‘There he is,’ said Billy, and I saw the dory coming towards us on the other side of the canal on the outside of the bend. I twisted the throttle and the boat bucked at the sudden application of power. Then we were on to him and Billy was shooting, but so was Robinson. Even as Billy fired, a bullet impacted inboard close to my hand and again there was the hiss of escaping air. Robinson was too damn good with his shooting; he had fired but two shots and had hit us both times, and although I had told Billy the inflatable was compartmented Robinson had punctured two air chambers out of the five.