Десмонд Бэгли - The Spoilers

Several small figures jumped from the stern just before it went under in a boil of swirling water, and Metcalfe’s teeth bared in a humourless smile. The Orestes ploughed on towards the bits of wreckage floating on the surface, and he saw a white face under long blonde hair and an arm waving desperately.

Slowly, and with intense care, he turned the wheel so that the stern of the Orestes slid sideways towards Jeanette Delorme and she was drawn into the maelstrom of the churning screw. With equal precision he straightened the Orestes on her course and did not look back at what might appear in the wake.

Metcalfe leaned on the rail and looked into the gaping muzzle of the second quick-firing gun he had seen that day. It was trained on the Orestes from the Lebanese patrol boat which ticked over quietly a hundred yards to port in exactly the same position the Stella del Mare had held. Everything was the same except that the engines of the Orestes were stopped, the companion was lowered and a small motor boat containing two ratings and a junior officer of the Lebanese Navy lay close at hand.

‘Give me a hand, Tom,’ called Warren.

Metcalfe turned and went over to where Warren was bandaging Parker’s shoulder. He bent down and held the dressing so that Warren could tie it off. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Not bad,’ said Parker. ‘It could have been worse — mustn’t grumble.’

Metcalfe squatted and said to Warren, ‘That civilian who came aboard didn’t look like a Navy man to me.’

‘I didn’t even know the Lebanon had a navy,’ said Warren.

‘It doesn’t; just a few coastal defence vessels.’ Metcalfe nodded to the patrol boat. ‘I’ve given those boys the slip many a time.’ He frowned. ‘What do you suppose Hellier’s nattering about all this time? Those two must have been talking for an hour.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Warren shortly. He was thinking about Mike Abbot and Ben Bryan — two dead of the original team of five. Forty per cent casualties was a high price to pay, and that did not count the wounded — another forty per cent.

Tozier lay close by, his leg in splints, while Follet talked to him. ‘Goddam it!’ said Follet. ‘I’ll explain it again.’ He jingled the coins in his hands.

‘Oh, I believe you,’ said Tozier. ‘I have to, don’t I? After all, you took the money from me. It’s a neat trick.’ He looked across the deck at the canvas-shrouded body which lay at the head of the companion way. ‘It’s a pity the idea didn’t work later.’

‘I know what you mean, but it was the best thing to do,’ said Follet stubbornly. ‘As I said — you can’t win ‘em all.’ He looked up. ‘Here comes Hellier now.’

Hellier walked across the deck towards them. Metcalfe stood up and asked, ‘Is that a Navy man?’ He nodded to Hassan who waited by the rail.

‘No,’ said Hellier. ‘He’s a policeman.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘Everything.’ said Hellier. ‘The whole story.’

Metcalfe blew out his cheeks. ‘That puts us right in the middle,’ he said. ‘We’ll be lucky if we’re not in the nick for another twenty years. Have you ever been in a Middle East jail, Sir Robert?’

Hellier smiled. ‘I was a bit vague about your gun-running activities. He wasn’t interested in that, anyway. He wants to talk to us.’

He turned to Hassan, who walked over to them, his hands in his pockets. He surveyed them with tight lips and said abruptly, ‘My name is Jamil Hassan; I am a police officer. You gentlemen appear to have been conducting a private war, part of which was on Lebanese territory. As a police officer I find that most irregular.’

Some of the sternness softened from his face. ‘However, as a police officer I find myself helpless since the high seas outside Lebanese territorial waters do not come within my jurisdiction — so what am I to do?’

Metcalfe grinned. ‘You tell us, chum.’

Hassan ignored the interjection. ‘Of course, as well as being a police officer I am also a private citizen of the Lebanon. In that capacity let me offer you my thanks for what you have done. But I would advise you, in future, to leave such pursuits in the hands of the proper and competent authorities.’ His lips quirked in a smile. ‘Which in this case were not very competent. But that still leaves unanswered the question — what am I to do with you?’

‘We have wounded men,’ said Warren. ‘They need attention — a hospital. You could take them back to Beirut in that boat of yours.’

‘Not mine,’ corrected Hassan. ‘You, I take it, are Dr Warren?’ At Warren’s answering nod, he continued, ‘Any of you going back to Beirut in that boat would inevitably end in jail. Our small Navy does not have your English tradition of turning a blind eye. No, you will stay here and I will go back to Beirut. I will send someone to pick you up and you will be landed quietly and discreetly. You understand that I am arranging this purely in my capacity of a private citizen and not that of a police officer.’

Metcalfe let out his breath in a long sigh. Hassan looked at him sardonically, and said, ‘Our Arab nations work together very closely and extradition is easily arranged. There have been reports of a gang of international thugs roaming the Middle East, killing indiscriminately, using military weapons and—’ he fixed Metcalfe firmly with a gimlet eye — ‘indulging in other activities against the state, particularly in Iraq. Owing to these circumstances you will leave the Lebanon at the earliest opportunity. Air tickets will be delivered to your hotel and you will use them. I hope you understand.’

Tozier said, ‘What about the crew of this ship? They’re still battened down in the hold.’

‘You will release the crew just before you leave this ship.’ Hassan smiled thinly. ‘They will have some awkward questions to answer if the ship ever puts into port. In the circumstances I don’t think we will see the ship again.’

‘Thank you,’ said Hellier. ‘We appreciate your understanding of our position.’

Hassan nodded curtly and turned away. He was half way to the companionway when he paused and turned. ‘How much heroin was there?’

‘One thousand kilos exactly,’ said Parker. ‘A metric ton.’

Hassan nodded. ‘Thank you, gentlemen.’ Unexpectedly, he smiled. ‘I thought I knew all about smuggling — but torpedoes!’ He shook his head and his face turned grave as he saw the shrouded body of Abbot. ‘I suggest you bury the body of this brave man at sea,’ he said, and went over the side to his waiting boat.

Tozier said, ‘Well, Nick; it’s over. It was nip and tuck towards the last, but we made it.’

Warren leaned against the hatch coaming. He suddenly felt very tired. ‘Yes, we made it. Some of us made it, anyway.’

But Ben Bryan would never be Lord of the Manor, although Warren intended to see that Hellier came through with his promise of a community centre for the treatment of addicts; and Mike Abbot would never again be found waiting on his doorstep for the latest dirt on the drug scene.

He looked up at Hellier — the man who had wanted blood — and hoped he was satisfied. Had the deaths been worth it? There would be an unknown number of people, most of them in the United States, who would live longer and presumably happier lives, quite unaware that their extra years had been purchased by death — and next year, or the year after, another Eastman or another Delorme would arise, and the whole damned, filthy business would start again.

Warren closed his eyes against the sun. But let somebody else stop it, he thought; the pace is too hot for a simple doctor.