They would not, he reasoned, be likely to tell him as soon as he got in the car what they were going to do. The fiction about the hotel and the clinic near Santa Margherita would be maintained until the last moment. From their point of view, it would be much easier to drive through the narrow streets of Genoa with a man who thought he was going to have six weeks’ holiday than with a man who had to be forcibly prevented from attracting the attention of passers-by. They would be inclined to humour him. They might even let him register at a hotel. In any case, it was unlikely that the car would go right through the city without being held up once by the traffic. His chances of escape lay in his being able to take them by surprise. Let him once get free in a crowded street, and they would have great difficulty in catching him. His objective, then, would be the Turkish Consulate. He had chosen the Turkish Consulate rather than his own, for the simple reason that with the Turks he would have to do less explaining. A reference to Colonel Haki would simplify matters considerably.
The ship was approaching the berth now, and men were standing on the quay ready to catch the lines. Banat had not seen him, but now Josette and José came out on deck. He moved quickly round to the other side. Josette was the last person he wanted to talk to at that moment. She might suggest that they share a taxi to the centre of the city. He would have to explain why he was leaving the quay in a private car with Moeller and Banat. There might be all sorts of other difficulties. At that moment he came face to face with Moeller.
The old man nodded affably. “Good morning, Mr. Graham. I was hoping to see you. It will be pleasant to get ashore again, won’t it?”
“I hope so.”
Moeller’s expression changed slightly. “Are you ready?”
“Quite.” He looked concerned. “I haven’t seen Kuvetli this morning. I hope everything is going to be all right.”
Moeller’s eyes did not flicker. “You need not worry, Mr. Graham.” Then he smiled tolerantly. “As I told you last night, you can safely leave everything to me. Kuvetli will not worry us. If necessary,” he went on blandly, “I shall use force.”
“I hope that won’t be necessary.”
“And so do I, Mr. Graham! So do I!” He lowered his voice confidentially. “But while we are on the subject of the use of force, may I suggest that you are not in too much of a hurry to land? You see, should you happen to land before Banat and I have time to explain the new situation to those who are waiting, an accident might happen. You are so obviously an Englishman. They would have no difficulty in identifying you.”
“I had already thought of that.”
“Splendid! I am so glad that you are entering into the spirit of the arrangements.” He turned his head. “Ah, we are alongside. I shall see you again in a few minutes, then.” His eyes narrowed. “You won’t make me feel that my confidence has been misplaced, will you, Mr. Graham?”
“I shall be there.”
“I am sure that I can count on you.”
Graham went into the deserted saloon. Through one of the port-holes he could see that a section of the deck had been roped off. The Mathis and the Beronellis had already joined Josette, José and Banat and, as he watched, Moeller came up with his “wife.” Josette was looking round as if she were expecting someone, and Graham guessed that his absence was puzzling her. It was going to be difficult to avoid an encounter with her. She might even wait for him in the Customs shed. He would have to forestall that.
He waited until the gangway had been hoisted into position and the passengers, headed by the Mathis, were beginning to troop down it, then went out and brought up the rear of the procession immediately behind Josette. She half turned her head and saw him.
“Ah! I have been wondering where you were. What have you been doing?”
“Packing.”
“So long! But you are here now. I thought that perhaps we could drive together and leave our luggage in the consigne at the station. It will save a taxi.”
“I’m afraid I shall keep you waiting. I have some things to declare. Besides, I must go to the Consulate first. I think that we had better keep to our arrangement to meet at the train.”
She sighed. “You are so difficult. Very well, we will meet at the train. But do not be late.”
“I won’t.”
“And be careful of the little salop with the perfume.”
“The police will take care of him.”
They had reached the passport control at the entrance to the Customs shed and José, who had walked on ahead, was waiting as if the seconds were costing him money. She pressed Graham’s hand hurriedly. “Alors, chéri! A tout à l’heure.”
Graham got his passport and slowly followed them through to the Customs shed. There was only one Customs officer. As Graham approached he disposed of Josette and José, and turned to the Beronelli’s mountainous bundles. To his relief, Graham had to wait. While he was waiting he opened his case and transferred some papers that he needed to his pocket; but several more minutes passed before he was able to show his transit visa, have his suit-case chalked and give it to a porter. By the time he had made his way through the group of mourning relatives which had surrounded the Beronellis, Josette and José had gone.
Then he saw Moeller and Banat.
They were standing beside a big American sedan drawn up beyond the taxis. There were two other men on the far side of the car: one was tall and thin and wore a mackintosh and a workman’s cap, the other was a very dark heavy-jowled man with a grey belted ulster and a soft hat which he wore without a dent in it. A fifth and younger man sat at the wheel of the car.
His heart thumping, Graham beckoned to the porter, who was making for the taxis, and walked towards them.
Moeller nodded as he came up. “Good! Your luggage? Ah, yes.” He nodded to the tall man, who came round, took the case from the porter, and put it in the luggage boot at the back.
Graham tipped the porter and got in the car. Moeller followed him and sat beside him. The tall man got in beside the driver. Banat and the man in the ulster sat on the pull-down seats facing Graham and Moeller. Banat’s face was expressionless. The man in the ulster avoided Graham’s eyes and looked out of the window.
The car started. Almost immediately, Banat took out his pistol and snapped the safety catch.
Graham turned to Moeller. “Is that necessary?” he demanded. “I’m not going to escape.”
Moeller shrugged. “As you please.” He said something to Banat who grinned, snapped the safety catch again and put the gun back in his pocket.
The car swung into the cobbled road leading to the dock gates.
“Which hotel are we going to?” Graham inquired.
Moeller turned his head slightly. “I have not yet made up my mind. We can leave that question until later. We shall drive out to Santa Margherita first.”
“But …”
“There are not ‘buts.’ I am making the arrangements.” He did not bother to turn his head this time.
“What about Kuvetli?”
“He left by the pilot boat early this morning.”
“Then what’s happened to him?”
“He is probably writing a report to Colonel Haki. I advise you to forget about him.”
Graham was silent. He had asked about Mr. Kuvetli with the sole object of concealing the fact that he was badly frightened. He had been in the car less than two minutes, and already the odds against him had lengthened considerably.