Sheba. Part 39

'And the second?'

'That was to Captain Gonzalez, the Customs Chief. Mr Skiros told him to come round at once and to bring all the money he could lay his hands on.'

'Did he come?'

'He arrived twenty minutes later. He was very angry, Sahib, but Mr Skiros threatened him.'

'About what?' Kane said.

The clerk shook his head. 'I am not sure, Sahib. It sounded as if they had been business partners.'

Kane stood there for a moment, a slight frown on his face, and then he nodded to Jamal, who had been standing impa.s.sively at his side, crossed the hall quickly, and went out into the street.

As they walked along the waterfront, many things became clear to him. The fact that Skiros had denied all knowledge of Cunningham's arrival in Dahrein was understandable, but that Gonzalez had missed him was not so easily explained. The Customs Chief was lazy and s.h.i.+rked his duties, but every beggar in town was his spy, and little happened that he didn't get to hear about.

And what about all those times Kane had brought currency into Dahrein for Skiros? Gonzalez hadn't searched the boat once, obviously because he'd been fixed by Skiros and they hadn't bothered to take Kane into their confidence.

They had arrived at the Customs Chiefs house. Kane pulled hard on the bell chain and waited. After a while, there was a movement on the other side of the door and Gonzalez peered out through the grill.

'Who is it?' he asked.

'I'd like a word with you,' Kane told him. 'It's rather urgent.'

Grumbling, Gonzalez unchained the door. It opened slightly and Jamal kicked it back against the wall.

When Kane moved in through the gateway, Gonzalez was sprawled on the ground. 'What is the meaning of this?' he demanded angrily.

Kane hauled him to his feet and pulled him close. 'Where's Skiros?'

Something very like fear appeared in the Spaniard's eyes, but he tried to bl.u.s.ter. 'How should I know?'

Kane held him with one hand and turned to Jamal. He spoke clearly and distinctly in Arabic. 'This dog knows where Miss Ferret is being held prisoner. Make him talk.'

The Somali's great hands reached out and fastened around the Spaniard's shoulders. A second later, he was bent over one mighty knee, back arched. He screamed once and Kane moved forward and nodded to Jamal.

As the Somali relaxed the pressure, Gonzalez stretched out a hand appealingly to Kane. 'Tell this black devil to leave me alone.'

'Not until you've told me what I want to know,' Kane said harshly.

'Skiros and the girl are on board Selim's dhow, the Farah,' Gonzalez said. 'They sail with the dawn tide.'

Kane nodded to Jamal and the Somali dropped the Customs Chief to the ground where he lay, groaning with pain.

Kane hurried along the waterfront and turned on to the jetty. Several dhows were tied alongside, but there was no sign of the Farah. For a moment, he was filled with fear, and then Jamal touched him on the shoulder and pointed.

The Farah was anch.o.r.ed in the middle of the harbour. No other boats were moored in the vicinity, and moonlight carpeted the water with silver.

It would be impossible to approach in a boat without being seen, and they crouched low and worked their way towards the end of the jetty. Kane paused as he heard a slight sound.

He peered over the edge of the jetty and saw an Arab sitting in a dinghy, hidden in the shadows between two dhows. 'Is that you, Sahib?' the Arab called softly.

Kane realized that he had been mistaken for Muller. He started to climb down the iron ladder backwards and replied in a m.u.f.fled tone, 'Yes, reach out your hand to steady me.'

He half-turned and kicked the man in the stomach as he stood up. The man subsided into the bottom of the boat with a groan, and Kane dropped down beside him.

He quickly peeled off his s.h.i.+rt. He was busy with the laces of his desert boots when Jamal joined him. The Somali squatted beside him in the darkness and Kane quickly explained the plan. When he had finished, there was a worried frown on Jamal's face, but he nodded reluctantly.

Kane stood up clad only in his khaki pants. He took the knife from the belt of the Arab sailor who lay in the bottom of the boat, pushed it into his waistband, and lowered himself into the water. He started to swim out into the harbour, using a powerful, but quiet, breast-stroke.

He felt naked and alone as he came from the shadows between the moored dhows and moved into the silver path of the moon. Luckily, a slight breeze was blowing in from the sea, lifting the surface of the water into tiny waves which helped to hide him.

As he approached the Farah, he could see the look-out standing in the bows, rifle slung from his shoulder. Kane swam quietly under the bowsprit and rested, hands firmly wrapped round the anchor rope.

After a moment, he started to climb, hand over hand. The look-out was standing on the other side of the deck looking towards the jetty. Kane climbed over the rail and moved on silent feet.

He hit the man hard across the back of the neck with the edge of his hand, and the Arab slid to the deck without a sound. Kane picked up his rifle and checked the action, then moved down the short flight of wooden steps that led to the waist of the s.h.i.+p. He paused in the shadows.

The crew lived in a portion of the hold and he peered inside the hatch. Voices were raised in laughter and there was a smell of cooking. He laid down the rifle and pulled the heavy storm cover of the hatch into place, securing it with metal brackets.

He started to get to his feet, hand reaching for the rifle, and from behind him there came a slight creak. The cold muzzle of a revolver touched him gently in the back of the neck, and Skiros said, 'Very good, my friend. It almost came off.'

Kane turned slowly and the German smiled. 'So old Mahmoud didn't keep his promise to hold you?'

'Not when he found you'd taken Marie," Kane said. 'You touched his Arab pride on the raw there.'

'A matter of indifference to me. I've been waiting for Muller. Presumably he won't be coming?'

'I'm afraid not," Kane said.

Skiros smiled again. 'In a way you have done me a favour. He might have proved troublesome. You've only antic.i.p.ated my own intention.'

'That I can believe,' Kane said drily.

Skiros pointed to the hatch. 'Now you can open it again. There seems to be no further reason to delay our departure.'

Kane removed the metal brackets as slowly as possible. He pulled back the hatch, and Skiros called, 'All hands on deck!'

The Arab seamen poured up from below and stood in a group, talking excitedly, eyeing Kane in an unfriendly manner. Skiros called forward one who was obviously the mate and ordered him to make sail, then he pushed Kane along the deck towards the stern.

He opened the door of the captain's cabin underneath the p.o.o.p-deck and pushed him inside. Kane remembered his last visit, the night the attempt had been made on his life by one of Selim's men. The cabin looked just the same. There were rugs and cus.h.i.+ons scattered on the floor round a low bra.s.s coffee table, and underneath the great stern windows, a sleeping couch was freshly prepared.

Skiros stood on the other side of the table and sighed. 'If only you and I could have seen eye-to-eye with each other.'

'Hardly likely,' Kane said. 'You're finished. No great coup, the Suez ca.n.a.l still open. What will the Fiihrer say?'

'He has other things on his mind. The Panzers rolled yesterday, my friend. Poland is already facing the worst defeat in Europe since the First World War.'

'I thought that was the one Germany lost,' Kane said.