His mouth tight, nails digging into his palms, Shaw moved away. The petty officer opened the gates, walked through, picked up the Sten and the revolver. “Right, in you go now. Watch your step. Move along, miss, please.”
Shaw and Gillian went in through the gates, covered now by the two guns. They were pushed into the guardroom. The petty officer called out in a loud voice, “Knocker… you’re wanted. Look lively now.” A moment later a door opened and another British rating came in, nipping off a dog-end and buckling a blancoed belt. The petty officer said, “Keep these two covered while I ring the Commander’s office.”
The man called Knocker jerked a revolver from his holster.
Ordering the sentry back to his post, the petty officer took up an internal telephone and asked the exchange for Geis-ler’s room. He waited, then said, “No reply, eh? Put me through to Mr Hartog, then.” A few moments later he was speaking to the scientist. After a while he put down the phone ruefully, his face very red.
He said, “Sorry, sir. Reckon I’ve maybe overstepped myself this time… but you’ll understand I’ve got to make sure who I let through. Very strict, the orders are, and without papers, sir, well…”
“I understand, of course. You were only doing your duty.” The petty officer was standing squarely in front of the door, and Shaw was trembling with impatience, fists clenching and unclenching again and again. “For God’s sake, don’t waste any more time now. I’ve—”
The petty officer raised a hand. “If you’ll just hang on a moment, sir, Mr Hartog’s coming down himself to identify you. I can’t let you go right in till he’s done that.”
“What about Commander Geisler?”
“Busy, sir. Mr Hartog, ’e says he’s the only other gentleman as can positively identify you.”
“That’s true, but—” Shaw lifted his arms, let them drop again, gave a despairing look at Gillian. Hartog, if he chose to — and it was almost a certainty he would — could so easily fail to identify him. And then what? They’d be treated as a couple of lunatics and chucked into a cell to await investigation by Geisler, an investigation which Hartog would presumably see to it was delayed until it was too late… Shaw walked up and down like a caged tiger, looking at his watch. Hartog was taking his time… it wasn’t that far from the admin, block to the gates… what was going on?
It was nearly ten minutes before Hartog came in, dripping rain off his oilskin. Shaw swung round, face tight, and stared at the scientist. There was a curious look in the man’s eyes, and he seemed once again to have been drinking heavily. His step was uncertain and his words were a trifle slurred.
He smiled sardonically, and then, to Shaw’s relief and surprise, he said, “Why, hullo there, Shaw—”
The petty officer broke in, “It’s all right, then, Mr Hartog?”
Hartog nodded. “Perfectly all right. I’ll vouch for him.” There was a tenseness in the air as he turned back almost broodingly to Shaw. “We were expecting you long before this, you know. Get delayed in Jinda, did you?”
Shaw said evenly, “Yes, I did, just a little. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Hartog belched. “Not me. You get any further ahead?” Shaw stared at him, still puzzled, wishing he could fathom what was going on behind those eyes… the man seemed quite unconcerned, unworried. That could be because he was genuinely innocent after all, had really been double-crossing Wiley. Shaw said, “I’ve got quite a long way ahead, I fancy. I’d like a word with you, Hartog. At once.”
“Why, sure. Come along up to the office. All right, P.O.?”
“Yessir, of course, on your say-so. They’ll have to leave their arms behind, though, the Sten and the lady’s revolver.” He added to Shaw, “That’s the orders, sir. You can collect ’em on leaving, of course.”
There was no time to argue the point, and Shaw thought it unlikely in any case that he would need a gun now he was inside the station. The arms were left in the guardroom, and they went outside with Hartog, making for the admin, block.
Hartog asked, “Who’s the lady, eh?”
“Never mind that just for now. As it happens, though, she can back up what I’m going to say, and I’d like you to listen. It’d be as well if Commander Geisler was present too, so we’ll use his office.”
“Geisler?” Hartog’s dark eyes glittered strangely. “Oh— sure! I thought you’d want to see him, since the petty officer told me on the phone you asked for him in the first place. He’s expecting you.” They were nearing the veranda now, and Hartog added, “Oh, by the way… it may sound trite to say this, but I can explain everything.” He stopped just by the steps, looked away over Shaw’s head, around the lighted compound, eyes darting here and there. Then he grinned in a sardonic way and said, “What are we waiting for? Come into Steve’s office and we’ll talk. I rather fancy you’ve a few nasty thoughts about me — right?”
“Right,” Shaw agreed quietly. “So — just be careful.”
“I told you I could explain everything. Steve’s satisfied, anyway.” The scientist rammed his hands into his pockets and ran up the steps. Just before he’d turned away Shaw had noticed the sudden red glint in his eyes; that was partly drink, and partly a kind of phobia, a madness, he felt certain. And yet somehow, against all the evidence, he still had that odd, illogical feeling that Hartog wasn’t quite in this thing as deeply as Wiley had said he was.
He followed Hartog along the passage. There was nobody about, and Geisler’s door stood open, with light streaming out. Hartog said casually, “Looks as if Steve may have nipped out for a moment. Hell be back.”
He walked with his loping strides straight into Geisler’s office and went across to the desk without a sideways glance, fumbling in his shirt pocket for a cigarette. The office appeared to be empty; but as Shaw followed Hartog in he caught the sudden swift movement of a black-skinned arm from behind the door and then something heavy came down hard on the back of his head, there was a flash of brilliant light, and he went down, stone-cold out. As Gillian opened her mouth to scream a hand came across her face, a length of piping took her in the same way as Shaw, and she too fell in a crumpled heap, without a sound.
Two Africans stood by the door, grinning.
Hartog looked at them. He said tautly, “Well done.” If Shaw had been conscious he would have detected a note of distaste, of unwillingness in the way Hartog had said that, as though the man were having to force himself to get the words out. That in itself might have added to Shaw’s puzzlement… and then Hartog went on, speaking again to the two Africans, who were men from the station’s own local labour force, “Go into my equipment store. You will find an instrument packing-crate. A big one. Bring it in here.”
The man went out, returned quickly with the crate. Hartog said, “The girl first. Take her to the store where Commander Geisler is — and hurry. Come back for the man. He’ll be a tight fit, but you’ll have to get him in somehow. He’s to go in the store too… and you are not to harm either of them. They’ll be out for as long as I want them to be. You understand?”
The men nodded.
“Right. Now get out, the pair of you.”
When they had made the two journeys with the heavy crate Hartog dusted his hands together distastefully and went across the passage to his own office. He opened his drink cupboard and poured himself a large whisky, which he took neat in a couple of long gulps. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips and gave a slight belch. Then he went softly across to the window and looked through it, glancing at his wrist-watch.
He stared into the pitch blackness, the dark of the night relieved only by the floodlights on the gates and the brilliant glow coming through the control-tower’s dome to light up the great beaming mast. In times of international conflict that dome would be blacked out, but not to-night… that was all part of the plan, his own idea. He looked at his watch again. It shouldn’t be more than half an hour now. Hartog found that his palms were clammy, that his hands were shaking badly. He had to be in first-class form for what he had to do, and he mustn’t make any mistakes. It was so important so vital for the whole world. He wiped his hands on the slack of his khaki trousers and went back and had another whisky, and this steadied him. He returned to the window and lit a cigarette, stared out at the rain.