“I hope it will be all right.”
“I don’t see why it shouldn’t be,” Fletcher said. “As long as they haven’t put chlorine in the cylinders.”
Denning must have detected a note of sourness. “You don’t appear to have slept too well.”
“I haven’t slept at all. I listened to a long story instead. It was pretty sordid in places.”
“You’ve been talking to Leonora?”
“Yes.”
“And now you know it all?”
“And I don’t like it.”
“You’re not being asked to like it.” Denning’s voice had hardened slightly and he seemed a shade less genial. “Just do the job, that’s all.”
“And after?”
“We’ll have to think about that, won’t we?”
“I have thought about it.”
“And?”
“And I want a boat to take me off the island.”
“Where do you propose to go?”
“I’m not much bothered. Anywhere in the Caribbean from which I can get a flight or a sea passage back to England.”
“We’ll have to see about that.”
“Yes,” Fletcher said, “you see about it. And don’t take too long seeing about it, either, because I’m not terribly keen on the idea of being taken home in a coffin.”
Denning gave a laugh; he seemed to think it was a good joke. Fletcher was damned if he could see anything funny in it, so maybe he was standing in the wrong place.
“Well,” Denning said, “I’m sure we shall be able to work something out. But tomorrow we have another problem on our minds. Tomorrow you have a bit of underwater photography to do. I expect you’re looking forward to it.”
“Like a man looks forward to having both legs amputated.”
Denning laughed again. Fletcher thought he had never met anyone with such a warped sense of humour.
ELEVEN:
TOUCH WOOD
They rose early and drove to the village before daybreak. It was still not light when they went on board the boat and eased it out of its berth. Denning himself had arranged for it to be refuelled the previous day and the tanks were full. A few minutes later they had cleared the harbour and were heading east.
It was too good a start — no snags, no hitches, no inquisitive officials, no policemen, nothing. Fletcher could not believe that the whole operation would go as smoothly as this. It was simply too good to last.
Lawrence again was at the helm. Fletcher was sitting on one side of the cockpit and King was hunched up on the opposite side, looking cold. The air was fresh and cool, and the sea was calm. The boat was running smoothly at an easy speed and Lawrence was not pushing it; there was plenty of time.
Leonora had driven them down to the harbour and Fletcher had sat beside her in the front of the car. They had talked off and on, and he had asked her how Denning was going to spend the day.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Does it matter?”
Fletcher could see no reason why she should have come with them; any one of them could have driven the Ford, and they could have parked it where they had left it before. It meant an extra journey, because she would have to come and meet them when they returned; but perhaps she liked driving.
“No,” he said; “it doesn’t matter. He can just sit around at Mission Control and wait for the boys to come back. Nice for him.”
She gave him a quick glance. “You don’t like Conrad, do you?”
“Am I supposed to like him?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“Do you like him?”
“Yes,” she said, “I do.”
He wondered, with a sudden stab of jealousy, whether there was anything between Denning and her. She had been living for quite a while in his house, so there had been ample opportunity. And Denning was a handsome devil, no doubt about that; mature certainly, but nevertheless handsome; the kind of man a girl half his age might very well fall for. So had she fallen for him? Though he had asked her whether she was in love with Matthew King, he hesitated to ask a similar question in this instance. And why? Because he feared what the answer might be? Maybe, damn it. Yes; maybe so.
She must have sensed that something was wrong. “What’s on your mind?” she asked. “Is it the job? Is that what’s bothering you?”
“You bet it’s bothering me,” he said. “It scares me sick.”
“The diving?”
“No, not that. I do that for fun.”
“What is it, then?”
“I keep thinking when the thing’s done there may be a reception committee waiting for us.”
“That’s crazy. Nobody knows—”
“Nobody knew about the boat coming from Cuba. Remember?”
“That was different.”
“You mean there were more people in the secret?”
“Yes.”
“Okay; so this time there aren’t so many. But as long as you just have two people in a secret, it isn’t a secret any
more.”
“You really do worry too much,” she said.
“Yes, maybe I do,” Fletcher agreed. But he had a feeling that now he was not alone; perhaps he had her worrying too.
She had helped them get the gear on board and had watched as the boat moved out of the berth. Fletcher’s last sight of her was a lone figure standing under the lamp on the board-walk; looking somehow a little forlorn and dejected, he thought. But he could think of no reason why she should have been; unless she had been thinking about what he had said. And wondering.
When it grew light they were already out of sight of land. Lawrence altered course a few points to the southward and kept the boat going at the same steady rate of knots, since there was no need for haste; they would be at the right place soon enough.
King said: “You got the camera all fixed up ready?”
“I’ve got it fixed up,” Fletcher said.
“Soon be there now.”
Fletcher grunted.
“Anybody like some coffee?” King asked. He had brought a big vacuum flask and sandwiches.
They all had coffee. The sandwiches had chicken and ham in them. Fletcher ate two. Physically he felt better for the snack; mentally he was in the same depressed state. It grew steadily warmer as the sun rose; the sea gleamed as though the surface had been strewn with silver plates; an oil-tanker, made small by distance, appeared to be utterly motionless on the skyline, but a little later when Fletcher looked for it, it had vanished.
The rocky islet appeared out of the haze ahead, gradually becoming clearer. To the east of it was another, smaller object. Fletcher was the first to spot it.
“There’s a boat.”
“Damn!” King said.
Fletcher did not care for the look of it; the other boat seemed to be just about at the place where the wreck was, a short way to the east of the islet. It was as though it had been waiting for them.
“I think we’re in trouble.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Lawrence said. “Just because there’s a boat don’t mean it has to have anything to do with us.”
“It’s a bit of a coincidence it should be right there. Wouldn’t you say it was? It doesn’t seem to be moving.”
“How can you tell? It’s too far away.”
King picked up a pair of powerful binoculars, focused them on the other boat and studied it intently for a while. Then he handed the binoculars to Fletcher.
“Take a look.”
Fletcher put the binoculars to his eyes and the distance separating the two boats seemed to contract miraculously. The one ahead appeared to be a large motor-launch and he could see some men moving about on board. And then he saw a sudden flurry of foam at the stern, and he half expected the launch to turn about and start heading towards them; but it did not. In fact, it appeared to be heading in the opposite direction, the white break of water at the bows indicating that it was building up a good turn of speed.