Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [57]
"Fridaythorpe?" For a brief moment Youngblood's smile was wiped clean. "I'll tell you something, Drum," he said, his face all iron. "I'd send this tub to the bottom and go with her before they'd get me back there."
He increased power, the Pride of Man lifting out of the water and Chavasse, feeling unaccountably sad, turned and went out on deck.
He had a bacon sandwich and more coffee with Molly and then went to check on Vaughan. He was lying on his bunk face to the wall and when he turned, looked paler than ever.
"What's wrong with you?" Chavasse demanded, hauling him into a sitting position.
"Some people have the stomach for this kind of life, old man--others haven't. They said Nelson was sick every time he put to sea or didn't you know?"
Chavasse pulled him off the bunk, pushed him along the passage way to the saloon and shoved him down into a chair.
"How about some coffee?"
"Now that I wouldn't mind."
Chavasse nodded and Molly filled one of the enamel mugs and pushed it across the table. Vaughan lifted it in both hands, his wrists still tied.
"I don't know how long it will stay down," he said. "But we can but try."
Chavasse lit a cigarette and put it between Vaughan's lips. "And now we talk."
"Do we, old man? That's nice."
"It won't be if you persist in being awkward. Who are we going to find on Longue Pierre--the Baron?"
"God help you if you do."
"What kind of a set-up does he have there?"
Vaughan smiled pleasantly. "Now you really can't expect me to answer that. A breach of faith."
Chavasse sighed. "You know you're putting me in a very awkward position. I may even have to send Youngblood down to talk to you and I wouldn't like that."
"He doesn't worry me in the slightest."
"He should do. I think you're forgetting an important item. I'm just an amateur compared to Youngblood. He knows that if they get their hands on him he goes back inside for fifteen years and they'll watch him every minute of the time. He'll never get out again."
"So what?"
"He'd cut your throat if he thought it was necessary to prevent that happening."
Vaughan showed not the slightest sign of fear, but he stopped smiling and frowned slightly. He was, in fact, remembering Rosa Hartman's prediction and he smiled again, nodding to himself. No, he would not make it easy for her. If death was to come, then it must find him--he would not go looking for it.
"All right," he said calmly. "The Baron may be on the island or he may not--I honestly don't know. He doesn't come in by boat usually. He has a private helicopter."
"Owned by World Wide Exports of London?"
Vaughan's eyes widened in amazement, then narrowed. "I say, you do know a lot, don't you? Now that is interesting. I'll be perfectly honest, old man, and say that I never was very happy about you from the start."
"How big a staff does Stavru keep up at the house?"
Vaughan shrugged. "It depends. Most of the time, there's just a caretaker--a trusted old retainer called Gledik. The Baron--or should I say the Count--is very feudal, you know. Always going on about happy days in dear old Hungary. Loathes the commies."
"But isn't above doing business with them when he has some expensive merchandise to sell?"
"Just like Alice--curiouser and curiouser." Vaughan's eyes flared with a strange green light. "I've a nasty feeling we've all been had where you're concerned, old man."
"Isn't that a shame?"
Chavasse killed the conversation stone dead at that point by hauling Vaughan to his feet, running him back along the passageway and locking him in his cabin. When he returned to the saloon, Molly was still sitting at the table. It was obvious that the conversation had been completely meaningless to her and he paused and tilted her chin.
Her eyes had dropped back into their sockets and were red and angry from lack of sleep. Her skin was blotched and unsightly and she seemed completely exhausted.
"I don't like him, Paul," she said. "He frightens me."
"He can't harm you--not now." Chavasse patted her shoulder. "Why not lie down for a while? You look all in."
She nodded