Passage by Night - Jack Higgins [51]
'On the house, George, and the same for me.' He turned with a smile, supremely elegant in his white dinner jacket. 'Ready to go, Harry?'
'Whenever you are.'
'I've one or two things to settle up here. I'll see you on the jetty in about an hour as arranged.' He raised his glass and a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 'Let's hope you get what you're expecting at the other end.'
'Don't worry about me,' Manning said. 'I'll make out.'
He finished his drink, turned and pushed his way through the crowd. As he went down the steps into the cool night there was a slight frown on his face because for some obscure reason, Viner had appeared to be laughing at him and he couldn't think why.
There were lights in one or two boats, but the jetty was deserted. As he drew near to the Grace Abounding he could hear the radio. It was one of the many record shows that could be picked up from the States and of all things, they were playing 'Valse Triste.'
He moved across the deck and paused in the shadows by the companionway, filled with that strange aching sadness again. As the record ended, he sighed and took a step forward. Someone planted a foot in his back that sent him stumbling down the steps. The door at the bottom swung open and he staggered into the cabin and fell on his knees.
He started to get up and a voice said, 'Careful, Manning.'
Hans stood behind the door, a submachine gun in his hands. Anna, her father, and Seth sat on one side of the saloon, Orlov and Morrison on the other. A large, grim-faced islander in red-and-white-striped jersey lounged in the entrance to the galley. He was armed with a machine-pistol.
Manning stood up, arms raised and Hans ran an expert hand over him and found the Luger. He shoved it into his waistband, stepped back and Manning turned.
Kurt Viner was standing in the entrance to the companionway.
'And now perhaps we can get started?' he said.
17
The Green Light
As the Grace Abounding moved out of harbour and turned into the gulf, Manning glanced back over his shoulder and watched the lights of Spanish Cay fade into the darkness. For the moment, there was nothing to be done. The big black leaned in the corner of the wheelhouse, the barrel of his submachine gun resting across his forearm, and a third man squatted in the stern holding a rifle.
After a while, the door opened and Viner came in. 'You can wait outside, Charlie. I don't think Mr Manning will do anything foolish.'
'I wouldn't be too sure about that,' Manning said as he moved out.
'Oh, but I am. Hans has orders to open fire at the first sign of trouble on deck. I'm sure you realize the damage even a single burst from his submachine gun would inflict in the confined space of the cabin.'
'So you win for the moment,' Manning said. 'Where do we go from here?'
Viner leaned over the chart table. 'Jackson Cay, about ten miles off the southern tip of Cat Island. Do you know it?'
'I've been near it a time or two, that's all. I heard it was owned by some American millionaire.'
'So it was a year or two back. Cigarette?'
There seemed no point in refusing and Manning leaned forward for the proffered light. The northwest trades blowing across the gulf carried some of the warmth of day through the open window. There was no moon and yet the sky seemed to be alive, aglow with the incandescence of millions of stars.
Viner breathed deeply, inhaling the freshness, and followed with his eyes a school of flying fish as they curved out of the sea in a shower of phosphorescent water.
'You know, Harry, on a night like this it's good to be alive.' He sounded as if he genuinely meant it.
Manning shook his head. 'There are times when I'm almost convinced you're human.'
'My dear fellow, there's nothing personal in any of this. I hope you realize that. You were foolish enough to get mixed up in something that wasn't really any of your business and you've lost rather badly, that's all.'
'Aren't you forgetting Maria and Jimmy Walker?'
Viner sighed and shrugged helplessly. 'A regrettable necessity