Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [60]
"Paul's gone ashore to see how the land lies," he told her. "So we'll be just cruising around for the next hour till we hear from him. Bring me up some coffee when it's ready."
He moved back along the passageway and paused as a thunderous kicking commenced on one of the cabin doors and Vaughan called to him.
"I say, old man, have you got a moment?"
Youngblood unlocked the door. "What do you want?" he said ungraciously.
"Where's Drummond?"
"Gone ashore."
"Has he, indeed? Now that was enterprising of him. On the other hand he seems a very resourceful sort of chap altogether, our Mr. Drummond. I must say I'd love to know how he found out who the Baron is."
Youngblood frowned. "What in the hell are you talking about?"
"Count Anton Stavru--the Baron," Vaughan said. "Drummond seemed to know all about him when we were having words half an hour or so ago."
Youngblood grabbed him by the front of his jacket, pulled him into the passageway and pushed him along to the saloon. He flung him down into a chair and stood over him threateningly.
"Now let's get this clear. You say Drummond told you he knows the Baron was this bloke Stavru?"
"That's right, old man. He even knew about our London front--World Wide Exports. To be perfectly honest, he seemed remarkably well informed to me."
"So it would seem," Youngblood said, his face dark.
Vaughan registered innocent surprise. "Don't tell me he didn't take you into his confidence?"
Youngblood didn't seem to hear him. His face had gone white and a vein bulged in his forehead just above one eye. He turned suddenly, plunged towards the companionway and went up on deck.
Vaughan started to laugh, his bound hands stretched out before him across the table and Molly, who had just come in from the galley, stood staring at him, a mug of coffee in one hand.
"Now I call that very, very funny indeed." He looked at her enquiringly. "Don't you think so?"
She eased past him on the other side of the table, a look of fear on her face and went up the companionway quickly.
Vaughan's smile disappeared and he was on his feet in an instant and moving towards the galley. He went straight to the cutlery drawer next to the sink, opened it and searched for the bread knife. He closed the drawer on the handle so that the blade stood up and set to work on the rope that linked his wrists. He was free within a couple of minutes and hurried back into the saloon.
He dropped to one knee, opened the locker beneath the bench seat and felt for the secret catch. He had made his choice in advance and stood up, the Sterling submachine gun in his hands. He checked the action quickly, then went up the companionway to the deck.
Youngblood was at the rail, binoculars raised as he searched for Chavasse through the mist and Molly stood at his left side holding his mug of coffee.
"Can you see him?" she said.
Youngblood nodded. "He's still on the beach. Must be looking for a way up."
There was an audible click behind them as Vaughan cocked the Sterling and Youngblood swung around.
"Nice and easy," Vaughan said. "And don't try anything silly and heroic, there's a good chap."
The girl gave a tiny cry of alarm and dropped the mug of coffee on the deck, clutching at Youngblood's sleeve. He pushed her away violently.
"Get off me, you stupid bitch!"
"Now then, old man, don't lose your temper. Just walk along to the wheelhouse and get this tub moving."
"And where are we supposed to be going?" Youngblood said.
"Straight into harbour as fast as we can. I want to be on hand when your friend Drummond turns up at the house, just to see the look on his face when he finds us all waiting for him."
Chavasse shrugged off the aqualung, stripped the great rubber fins from his feet and left them in a crevasse in the rocks which seemed to be well out of reach of the sea.
The cliffs towered above him into the mist, black and green, glistening with rain and spray, certainly completely unclimbable at this point and he started to work his way along the narrow strip of beach, clambering over boulders, in one place wading waist-deep, hanging