By that time Robinson was in the cab and the engine of the truck roared. I leaped over the sprawled bodies of Deane and the driver and jumped for the cab, but it was too late and the truck was moving. I missed and fell to the ground. By the time I had picked myself up the truck was speeding up the road.
I saw Perigord getting into his car so I ran and piled in next to him just as he drove off with a squeal of rubber and a lot of wheel spin. He drove with one hand while unhooking the microphone of his radio from its bracket. He began to give brief but precise instructions, and I gathered that he was remarshalling his forces.
The truck was still in sight and we were gaining on it. It turned left on to East Sunrise Highway, and I said, ‘He’ll be going on to Midshipman Road, by the Garden of the Groves.’
‘Yes,’ said Perigord, and spoke into the microphone again.
The Garden of the Groves is one of the more sedate of our tourist attractions, the name being a punning one because the 100-acre gardens are dedicated to the memory of Wallace Groves, the founder of Freeport. There were always tourists wandering about that area and the chances were that Robinson could kill someone, travelling at the speed he was.
We sped down East Sunrise and turned on to Midshipman, and by then we were within fifty yards of the truck. A car shot out of a side road and hit the truck a glancing blow and Perigord braked hard as it crashed into a palm tree. I fumbled for the door handle as I saw Robinson jump from the cab and run towards the Garden.
Perigord was out before me, and he did something surprising — he threw his swagger stick at Robinson. It flew straight as an arrow and hit Robinson at the nape of the neck and he fell in a tumbled heap in the road.
Perigord was about to go to him but jumped back as a big double-decker London bus came around the corner. The driver swerved to avoid the crashed truck and his brakes squealed, but it was too late. The bus brushed past Perigord but one wheel went over Robinson’s head.
Epilogue
After the immediate discussion that followed that incident I did not see Perigord to talk with seriously for nearly a month. He was a very busy man, and so was Commissioner Deane over in Nassau. But he did telephone to tell me that the ampoules found on Carrasco-Perez proved to contain a culture of L. pneumophila, enough to poison the water in every hotel in the Bahamas.
On the occasion of the annual BASRA Swimming Marathon I invited him and his family back to the house for drinks. Both our daughters had been competitors and Karen, like Sue before her, had won a second prize in her class. Full of pride and ice-cream she cavorted in the pool with Ginnie Perigord, and there did not seem to be much difference between a tanned white hide and a natural brown hide.
Debbie laughed and said to Amy Perigord, ‘Where do they get the energy? You wouldn’t think they’ve just swum two miles. Would you like a drink?’
‘I’d rather have tea,’ said Mrs Perigord. ‘I’m not really a drinker.’
‘We won’t bother Luke,’ said Debbie. ‘Come into the kitchen and chat while I make it.’
I smiled at Perigord as they went away. Because he had attended the Marathon in his official capacity he was in full fig, swagger stick and all. I said, ‘I propose something stronger. What will you have?’
He sat down and laid his cap and swagger stick by the chair. ‘Some people think because I’m a black Bahamian that I exist on a liquid diet of rum, but I prefer scotch.’
I went to the poolside bar and held up a bottle of Glenlivet. ‘This do?’
He grinned. ‘That will do very well.’
I poured two drinks and put a bottle of iced water at his elbow. I said, ‘Billy Cunningham rang me this morning. He says he’s growing a streak of white hair where that bullet grazed him. He thinks it makes him look distinguished.’
‘Did he really lose that pistol in the water?’ asked Perigord curiously.
‘I’ll answer that by asking you a question,’ I said. ‘Would Deane really have framed the crew of Capistrano by planting cocaine?’
Perigord smiled. ‘I see.’ He ignored the water and sipped the scotch. ‘Very good,’ he observed.
‘Now, tell me — who was Robinson?’
‘We sent his fingerprints to the States and the Americans told us, but we could have found out ourselves once we began to dig. He was an Anglo-Cuban, educated in England. His name was Rojas and he was Perez’s brother-in-law.’
I contemplated that information which did not mean much to me. ‘So what happens now? Do we live in a permanent state of siege?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Perigord. ‘An attempt was made — a covert attack on the Bahamas — and it failed. We have investigated every unusual occurrence since Rojas was killed and have found nothing to indicate that the attack is continuing. In my opinion, an opinion now shared by Commissioner Deane and the Government, the whole idea was conceived, planned and executed by Perez and Rojas. Probably Castro knew nothing about it.’
‘You think not?’
‘I think it was rather like Henry II and Becket. You know the story?’
‘Henry said, “Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?” and the four knights went and slaughtered Becket in the cathedral.’
‘Henry did penance for it afterwards,’ said Perigord. ‘I know Fidel Castro is no saint, but I don’t think he’d stoop to what that pair did. He’s too vulnerable himself. No, there’s been bad blood between Cuba and the Bahamas ever since their jet planes shot up our fishery patrol vessel and killed four men, and matters haven’t become any easier since. I think Castro wondered aloud how to solve the Bahamian question, and Perez and Rojas decided to take action.’
‘So you now think we can live like reasonable human beings.’
‘I would say so.’ He smiled. ‘But didn’t someone say that eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. It has taught us a lesson from which we have benefited. At a cost.’
‘I’m not going to relax the security measures in the hotels,’ I said.
‘Very wise. We also have instituted security measures; they are unobtrusive but they are there.’ He held up his hand. ‘Don’t ask me what they are.’
I grinned at him. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ We sat in silence for a while and Perigord savoured his whisky. I said, ‘You know the funniest thing in the whole damn business?’
‘What?’
‘When you threw that swagger stick. You looked so damned silly, but it worked.’
‘Ah, the swagger stick. Do you know the history of this?’
‘No.’
‘It’s the lineal descendant of the ash plant carried by the Roman centurion over two thousand years ago. He used it to discipline his men, but then it became a staff of office. The line split quite early; one way led to the field marshal’s baton, the other to the officer’s cane. Catch!’ He suddenly tossed it to me.
I grabbed it out of the air and nearly dropped it because it was unexpectedly heavy. I had thought it to be merely a cane encased in leather, but this one was loaded with lead at both ends. Perigord said suavely, ‘Not only a staff of office but a weapon against crime. It has saved my life twice.’
I returned the weapon against crime, and he said, ‘Amy confided in me this afternoon that your wife is expecting a baby. Is that so?’
‘Yes — in about six months.’
‘I’m glad she wasn’t permanently harmed by what happened in Texas. In view of what I know about your family history may I offer the hope that it will be a boy?’
And six months later Karen had a brother.