She shrugged, and moved into gear without replying. The roads were jammed with traffic and conditions were bad due to the early darkness and heavy rain, but she handled the wheel expertly and they made good time.
As they approached the docks, the streets became quieter until they were moving through dark canyons flanked by great warehouses, shuttered and barred for the night.
She braked to a halt underneath a lamp in a narrow alley beside a gate. Through the iron bars, he could see out into the river and somewhere, an anchor-chain rattled and a ship’s hooter sounded faintly down-river.
“We’ll have to walk from here,” she said.
He got out and moved round to join her. The main gates were locked, but a small Judas gate at one side opened to her touch and they passed through.
The watchman’s hut was dark and empty. “Where is he?” Brady demanded.
She shrugged. “Where he always is, I suppose. In the pub at the end of the street. He won’t bother us.”
As they rounded the corner of the first cargo shed, rain drifted in a cloud across the river, driven by the wind. Brady lowered his head to avoid the worst of it and followed her across the black shining cobbles to the ship which was moored at the far end of the wharf.
The Kontoro was brilliantly lit and hummed with the pulse-beat of her hidden machinery. The watchman who leaned over the rail and stared morosely out into the heavy rain, smoked a clay pipe and carried a pick helve.
Soames mounted the slippery gangplank and Brady followed her. “And who the hell might you be?” the watchman demanded ungraciously.
“I’m a friend of the captain’s,” she said. “I must see him before you sail. It’s very urgent.”
“No skin off my nose.” The watchman shrugged. “He’s in his cabin. You’d better hurry, though. We’re casting-off in twenty minutes.”
The decks bustled with activity as men worked busily, battening down hatch-covers and making ready to sail. Soames threaded her way through them, ignoring the ribald comments and coarse laughter, and mounted a companionway to the next deck.
At the entrance to the captain’s cabin, she hesitated and turned to Brady. “What now?”
“Tell him you’ve changed your mind,” Brady said. “I’ll handle it from there.”
When she opened the door, Skiros was sitting at a desk in one corner and he swivelled to face them, a pen in one hand. He was large and fat, the great pendulous stomach straining against the buttons of his shabby uniform. His face with its multiple chins gave an impression of jollity and good-humour that was belied by the sharp cunning in the little pig eyes.
He looked surprised and when he spoke, his English was good with just the hint of accent. “My dear professor, what brings you back so soon?”
Soames managed a smile. “Something came up, Skiros,” she said. “Something important. I’m afraid I’m going to have to call our little deal off.”
The smile remained fixed firmly in position, but his eyes became cold and hard. “But that is impossible, my friend. The bargain has been made. You have my money, I have the girl, so everybody should be satisfied.”
“Not quite,” Brady interrupted calmly. “The professor made a mistake. The merchandise wasn’t hers to sell.” He took the bundle of banknotes from his pocket and tossed them on to the desk.
Skiros laughed until his eyes almost disappeared between folds of flesh. “Your friend is really very funny,” he said to Soames. “Does he expect me to give up the girl in exchange for what I paid for her? That would leave me with no profit on the transaction. In my country we do not do business in such a way.”
“In my country we’re not used to this kind of transaction so you’ll have to excuse my bad manners.” Brady produced the .38 from his raincoat pocket and thumbed back the hammer. “This thing has a hair trigger, fat man,” he said. “I could easily have an accident. I probably will if you don’t produce that girl in about ten seconds flat.”
The Greek’s eyes became round pieces of stone. “You are on my ship, surrounded by my crew,” he said. “And they usually do as I tell them.”
“In case you haven’t noticed it, you’ve put on weight lately,” Brady said calmly. “I’d find it difficult to miss.”
“If I were you, I’d do as he says,” Soames put in quickly. “He means every word, believe me.”
Skiros sighed, put down his pen and took a bunch of keys from the drawer of his desk. “As always, I bow to your perspicacity, my friend. You will find, however, that the terms of our next little transaction will require some adjusting, if only to recompense me for the loss of profit and considerable annoyance I have suffered over this affair.”
He crossed to the door to the inner cabin and unlocked it. “Come out!” he said sharply and stood to one side.
Anne Dunning appeared in the doorway and stood there, her shoulders bowed in defeat. Her face was shadowed so that the bones stood out in relief, the eyes deep-set in their sockets and the hand that pushed back a tendril of dark hair, trembled slightly.
Then she saw Brady, the shock was almost physical. She gave a long shuddering sigh and lurched forward into his arms.
Her slender body started to shake uncontrollably and he held her close with one hand and said, “Hang on, Anne. There’s nothing to worry about any more. I’m going to get you out of here.”
She nodded several times, unable to answer him and he glared coldly at Skiros. “What have you done to her?”
For the first time Skiros looked worried. “But nothing, I assure you, my friend. No one has laid a finger on her.”
“I gave her an injection to keep her quiet earlier on this afternoon,” Soames interrupted. “With some people it has side effects. Nothing serious. All she needs is a good night’s sleep.”
“Is that true, Anne?” Brady said. “This pig hasn’t harmed you in any way?”
She nodded briefly and Brady turned to Soames, satisfied. “Okay, this is what we do. You go first with the girl. Skiros and I bring up the rear. If either of you makes a wrong move, he gets it. Is that understood?”
Skiros shrugged and reached for his cap. “How far do we go?”
“To the main gate,” Brady said. “We’ve got a car there.”
“I think you are a very careful man,” Skiros said, and there was a reluctant smile on his face.
“If we parted at the gangplank, I’d have your crew on my tail before we’d gone halfway along the wharf. You know it and I know it,” Brady said. “Now let’s cut the small talk and move out.”
Soames went first, supporting Anne easily with one massive arm and Skiros followed, Brady bringing up the rear. He had the .38 ready in his raincoat pocket, finger on the trigger, but there was no need — no need at all. As they negotiated the companionway and moved amongst the crew, heads lifted curiously, but Skiros made no sign. At the head of the gangplank he slapped the watchman on the shoulder and grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m only going as far as the gate with my friends. Make ready to sail. We cast off as soon as I return.”
No one spoke again until they reached the gates. Brady gave Soames the keys and she unlocked the door and put Anne into the rear seat. When this was accomplished, she got back behind the wheel and waited.
“May I go now?” the Greek said.
Brady nodded. “I don’t see why not.”
Skiros smiled and in the light of the lamp, his face looked quite genial. “Life is a circle, turning upon itself endlessly, my friend. We will meet again, and when we do …”
“It’s hardly likely,” Brady said. “We inhabit different worlds. I’d chalk it up to experience, if I were you, and leave it at that.”
He climbed in beside Soames and she moved into gear and drove away. As she slowed to turn the corner at the end of the alley, Brady turned and looked through the rear window. The Greek was still standing there under the lamp, staring after them.