It was another piece of the puzzle, and it fit nicely. There were many more pieces to come, but the vague beginnings of a pattern were beginning to be distinguishable. And I was damn sure that the pattern spelled out S.M.U.T.! It was no mere chance that Mavis had chosen this ship to sail on from Malta to Manila!
I reached into my breast pocket and came up with a fountain pen. I chose a dark corner to squirt the ink out. Then I dipped the pen into the milk and sucked up some of it into the ink sac. I put the cap back on the pen and the pen back in my pocket. Now, when I got to Manila, I’d be able to have the milk analyzed.
It wasn’t a perfect job, but I got the lid back on the container as best I could. If they didn’t look too closely, it might go unnoticed. Then I crept back up the staircase, waited until the coast was clear, and scooted back to my cabin.
I didn’t see anything of Mavis that evening, or all the next day. The day following, we rounded the tip of Luzon and headed back down south along the coastline toward Manila. We entered the half-moon shaped harbor in late afternoon.
We anchored at the mouth of the harbor, but we didn’t have to wait long. Evidently the docking authorities wanted to get us into our berth before sundown. They had a pilot out to us within a half-hour. We hove anchor again when he took over the helm and steamed slowly into the harbor.
“All packed and ready to disembark, Mr. O’Ryan?” I'd been standing at the rail and now it was Mavis at my elbow who was speaking.
“That I am,” I told her. “And what of yourself?”
“Oh, yes. I can’t wait to get off this dreadful old tub and onto dry land.”
“I’m hopin’ we’ll be seein’ each other in Manila,” I told her. “It’s been a right interestin’ sort of friendship, an’ I wouldn’t be wantin’ to lose it after we dock.”
“Of course we shall,” she said, surprising me with a warmth she’d never shown before. “I’m just as anxious not to lose track of you as you are not to lose track of me, Liam. I’m being met at the dock by my people. I’ll introduce you to them, and you can take their number and call me when you get the chance.”
“ ’Tis right happy I’ll be to make their acquaintance. I’ll bring me bags out on deck, and then we can go down the gangplank together. All right?”
“Why not have the steward do that?”
“He’ll be havin’ other things to attend to, I hope. Police matters an’ such. So you’ll be rememberin’ what the Captain said, anyway.”
“That’s right. I had forgotten for a moment. Well, I’ll just leave my bags and make arrangements to pick them up after we dock. You go and get yours now, though, if that’s what you want to do.”
When I came back with my luggage, we were just dropping anchor at the dock. A few moments later the gangplank was lowered. With a suitcase under each arm, I walked down it beside Mavis.
Halfway down I saw two uniformed officers of the Philippine National Constabulary starting up the gang-plank from the bottom. They looked pretty grim coming up with their revolvers drawn. I glanced back over my shoulder and thought I saw the reason for their demeanor. The steward was coming down the gangplank behind us, the Captain and the Mate on either side of him. For a moment, I was chagrined. I hadn’t really believed the Captain meant to have the little thief arrested. Then, suddenly, I wasn’t chagrined any more.
The two cops stopped right in front of Mavis and myself, blocking our way. “Are you Mrs. Wheatley?” one of them asked politely.
“Yes. I am,” she replied.
“Is this the man you wired us about?" The cop gestured his pistol toward me.
“Yes.”
“You’re under arrest,” the second cop told me. “Put your hands on top of your head.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “That’s the man you want.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at the steward, who was practically breathing down my neck in his eagerness to leer at the scene.
“Don’t let him distract you, officer,” the steward said. “He is a very dangerous man. That red beard of his iss false. He iss very clever.”
“Don’t worry,” the cop assured him. “Mrs. Wheatley wired us about his phoney eye-patch and his beard.” The cop turned to me. “She might never have spotted you if you hadn’t gotten mixed up and switched eyes with the patch.”
“Excuse me,” the Captain interrupted; “But if you have no need of us, we’d like to disembark. May we get past?”
"Of course, sir.” The cop tipped his hat politely.
I Watched as the three of them continued down the gangplank and onto the dock. The Captain actually had his arm around the latter-day Lorre’s shoulder in a sort of comradely embrace. The three musketeers—that’s what they looked like. A trio of scoundrels walking off scotfree while I stood there with my hands on my head.
“May I leave too?” Mavis asked the cop.
“Of course, madame. You will let us now where you are staying, of course. We will want you to testify. This man is the most wanted criminal in the Philippines right now. It was most fortunate that you were able to recognize him.”
“I’d have known him anywhere,” Mavis said as she edged past the cops and continued down the gangplank. “His disguise didn’t fool me for a moment. I knew he was Steve Victor.”
“Steve Victor!” The cop looked at me and shook his head. “Well, you certainly led us a merry chase. But we’ve got you now. Just keep your hands on top of your head and stay between us.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “But do you mind telling me what the charge is against me?"
“Murder!” he said. “As if you didn’t know, Victor. The charge against you is murder! ”
Murder, he said!
chapter eight
THE cops weren’t taking any chances. They had a paddy wagon waiting for me on the dock. The steward was standing a few paces away from it with the Captain and the Mate as the cops shoved me inside.
“Take it easy with that nightstick!” I exclaimed as one of them prodded me in the kidneys.
“Mr. O’Ryan,” the steward cackled. “Whatever hass happened to your Irish accent?”
“Ooh! Am I gonna give it to you if I ever get the chance!” I promised him.
His answer was a laugh, an insidious, top-Lorre laugh. It was the last thing I heard as the paddy-wagon door clanged shut behind me. The last thing I saw was the fast-darkening sky as night descended on the Manila docks.
Those docks, and the situation that prevails in the running of them, are unique. Since that uniqueness has a direct bearing on what followed, perhaps I’d better explain it. It’s the kind of setup that makes the jurisdictional disputes and murderous battles between longshoremen in New York seem like child’s play.
As I described it before, Manila’s harbor is shaped like a half-moon. In terms of the labor wars which constantly rage there, this half-moon is bisected. The two sections are known respectively as the north dock and the south dock.
The Luzona Maru had dropped anchor at the north dock. This is the area of the harbor which handles most industrial shipping. Smack in the center of it is the rear of the building which houses the U.S. Embassy. The front of the Embassy faces out on Dewey Boulevard, the main drag of the area. The rear extends out to the water and has docking facilities for pleasure craft used by the higher mucky-mucks among the U. S. diplomats.
The south dock is on Subic Bay. Most of it is taken up by the U. S. Naval Base there. It’s devoted mostly to the handling of military supplies and shipping. But the labor here, as on the north dock, is done by civilians. Unlike the north dock, it’s distributed by government contract.