Hammond Innes - The Strange Land

‘Who told you?’ The sergeant didn’t answer, but his small, brown eyes stared at Kavan watchfully. ‘No, he didn’t sail with me,’ Kavan added quickly. ‘He — changed his mind.’

I felt sure that slight hesitation must have been as noticeable to the sergeant as it was to me. But all he said was, ‘Can you tell me, senor, why he changed his mind?’

‘He wouldn’t tell me,’ Kavan said. ‘He came on board the night before I was due to sail. I was leaving with the tide at 4 a.m. and when I woke him, he said he had changed his mind and wanted to be put ashore.’

The sergeant nodded and wrote it all down. ‘So you sailed alone, senor?’

Kavan nodded. His eyes were fixed on the sergeant and little beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

‘That was very dangerous, surely, senor — to sail alone? It is a big ship for one man.’

‘I have sailed a great deal — often single-handed.’

The sergeant turned to me ‘Twice last night you asked the senor here about another man. You thought there were two of them on the yacht.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s correct.’

‘Who was the second man? Was it Dr Kavan?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why were you so sure that Dr Kavan was on board the boat?’

‘He wrote to me to tell me he was sailing with Mr Wade.’

‘I see. Do you know of any reason why he should have changed his mind?’

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘No, but there are easier methods of reaching Tangier than by sailing in a yacht.’

‘Of course.’ He nodded towards the bed. ‘Can you confirm the identity of the senor here?’

‘No. I had never seen him before last night.’

‘Si, si, it is understood. So you think Dr Kavan changed his mind?’

I glanced down at Kavan. His eyes were watching me, very blue and with the same expression in them that they’d had when he’d implored me not to take him to a hospital. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think he must have changed his mind.’

I felt the grip of Kavan’s fingers on my arm relax. ‘Bueno!’ The sergeant closed his notebook. ‘You have the papers for this boat?’ he asked.

Kavan nodded.

‘I would like to have the papers. What is the port of registration?’

‘Southampton.’ Kavan’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

‘Also we would like to have your passport, senor. And if you have the record of the voyage …’ He stopped then, for Kavan had suddenly closed his eyes. He leaned over, clutching at me and retching violently. His hand reached out automatically for the pot, gripped it and the retching sound went on and on — dry, rasping and foodless, a horrible sound in the sullen stillness of the room. And then he dropped the pot and keeled over, his body suddenly limp.

I got hold of him and pushed him back into the bed. He was sweating and his face was ashen. I wiped his lips with my handkerchief. His eyes opened and he stared past me at the sergeant. ‘I’ll bring the papers later,’ he whispered, and then he closed his eyes again and seemed to pass into unconciousness.

I glanced at the sergeant. He was shaking his head and making little clicking sounds with his tongue. ‘He is bad, very bad. I am sorry, senor.’

Til get a doctor,’ I said.

‘Si, si. That is what he need — a doctor.’ He turned to the Customs officer and they began talking quickly, shrugging their shoulders and gesticulating. Several limes they glanced at the man’s body lying there on the bed, and their expressions were sympathetic. At length the sergeant turned to me. ‘Senor. Do you know if he has his passport?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. I think he had some papers with him, but I don’t know what they are. If you like I can bring them down to you?’

The sergeant nodded. ‘Bueno. If you will take them to the office of the douane down by the harbour, senor, they will be stamped. There is no necessity for him to come himself. Also, there is this paper to be completed.’ He handed me the usual immigration form. ‘As soon as he is sufficiently recovered, perhaps you will have him fill it in and bring it with you to the douane.’

‘Very well.’ As I opened the door for them, I asked the sergeant why the police were interested in Dr Kavan.

‘Oh, it is not we who are interested,’ he replied. ‘It is the British Consulate. It is they who ask us to watch for him.’

‘But why?’ I asked. ‘Were you going to arrest him or something?’

‘No. They just wish us to check his papers and report to them. I will inform them that he did not sail after all. Muy buenas, sefior.’

‘Muy buenas.’

I closed the door and turned to Kavan. His eyes were open now and he was listening to the tramp of their feet as they descended the stairs. He was still pale, but his eyes were alert. ‘Were you shamming?’ I said.

‘Ssh!’ He gestured for me to be quiet. ‘Go to the window and check that both of them leave the hotel.’

I walked to the window and pulled the curtains. A jeep was parked down in the street. As I peered out, the sergeant and the Customs officer came out of the hotel and got into it. There was the sound of a starter and then it drove off, turning down towards the plage. ‘They’ve gone,’ I said.

He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled himself up in the bed. ‘Now we’ll fix Wade’s passport. After that everything is straightforward. Will you telephone for a doctor, please?’

He was suddenly calm. He seemed to have no conception of the position he had put me in. I was angry and a little scared. Why couldn’t foreigners behave rationally? And now there was the problem of papers, passports, and official documents. I had committed myself without thinking about that. ‘You know the British Consulate are making inquiries about you?’ I said. And then, when he didn’t answer, I asked him why he’d had to pretend to be Wade. ‘What have you done that you have to hide your own identity?’

He looked at me then and said quietly, ‘I haven’t done anything.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ I said sharply. ‘When you saw the police, you panicked. You must have done something. If you want my help, you’d better tell me—’

‘I have done nothing,’ he repeated. ‘Absolutely nothing. Please, you must believe me. I have done nothing that you or any other British person can object to. I give you my word.’

‘Then why pretend to be Wade?’

He pushed his hands through his hair, which was soil dull and sticky with salt water. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not yet. Maybe when I know you better — when we are out of Tangier.’ He lifted his head and stared out of the window. ‘I came here to start a new life. I have to sail here because it’s the only way I can get out of England. I am a stateless person, you see. And then the owner is lost overboard, the yacht is wrecked and, when I’m brought ashore, I find the police waiting for me there on the beach and asking me if I am Dr Jan Kavan. And then the man Kostos mistakes me for Wade.’ He looked up at me quickly. ‘What would you do? What would you do if you were in my shoes? It’s a gift from the gods. I accept it.’ His shoulders sagged and his voice fell away to a whisper: ‘And then I find my wife waiting there to greet me also — and she turns away because I have said I am Wade.’

He stared down at his feet, his pale hands gripped convulsively round his knees. ‘Last night -1 thought and thought, trying to find a way out. And then, this morning, I wake up and find the police here, and I’m scared. When you’re scared, the mind works very fast. I suddenly knew this was the only way out. I must be Wade. I must continue to be Wade until I am safe inside French Morocco. If I admit I am Jan Kavan, then there will be an inquiry into Wade’s disappearance and—’