‘Well, you shall not be joining him, Billy.’
The boy gave Fortescue a puzzled look.
‘You have a talent so prodigious, it would be a scandal to squander it and I shall do everything I can to make sure that does not happen. No, Billy, when we reach New York, I shall have a word with your uncle and aunt and we’ll see what we can do about getting you a decent education.’
Billy looked at Fortescue and the man could see that there was not the merest hint of hope in the boy’s eyes.
26
Billy did not return to Third Class; he still had plenty of zest for what he liked to call ‘exploring’. Fortescue saw him out onto the deck, and from there he snuck into a ‘crew only’ corridor. He was an expert at dodging out of sight. It was a skill he had acquired in Belfast where he had spent the first ten years of his life before moving to Hackney. Where he came from such skills kept you alive. He had known nothing but thievery and grubbing for food, so stealth and ‘exploring’ came naturally.
He slunk into the kitchen. It was a large room crammed with brand-new ovens and steel counters. Pipes ran across the ceiling; the floor was spotless and buffed to a high polish. From his vantage point behind a cupboard Billy could see the staff rushing around, each dedicated to their own particular task, cogs in a well-oiled machine that produced hundreds of meals each day for the First Class passengers.
Billy watched a young lad, perhaps no more than a couple of years older than him, cutting thin slices of meat from a heavy pink ham on a thick oak chopping board. A row of delicate porcelain plates lay on the counter to the young cook’s right. As a sliver of meat slipped from the ham onto the chopping board he lifted it and placed it decorously on the closest plate.
A gruff voice from across the kitchen called out. The boy looked up and dashed over to one of the senior chefs. Checking it was safe, Billy slipped from behind the cupboard, crouched low and shuffled over to the counter where the boy had stood. In one swift movement he peeked over the edge of the counter, grabbed a fistful of meat and swung back round. He was back behind the cupboard, stuffing his face with the luscious lean ham before the young man had even reached the senior chef.
Two minutes later Billy had slipped from the kitchen unobserved and was creeping along a little-used corridor leading from a set of storerooms to the boat deck. He heard voices — two people — a man and a woman. It sounded as though they were approaching from just beyond a bend a few yards ahead.
He felt a tingle of excitement. He could not keep going, nor could he turn and head back. Whoever was coming along the corridor would realize immediately that he was an intruder in First Class; one glance at his filthy shirt and torn clothes would give him away.
There was nowhere to hide in the corridor. He spun on his heel, then changed his mind. The excitement turned to panic just as he glimpsed a door standing ajar a short way along the passage in the direction of the two people approaching the bend. He dashed through the doorway.
It was a small, grey room; dark, the only light coming from a single porthole half blocked by one of several crates that took up most of the floor space. It smelled of damp rope, grease and rubber. Billy guessed it was a storeroom for spare parts.
He expected the two people to pass the door and for their voices to fade away, but he ducked behind one of the crates just in case.
The couple stopped outside the storeroom door. Billy held his breath, listening intently.
‘Let’s pull in here,’ the man said.
‘Good God!’ the woman replied.
‘The cleaners will be in our rooms now. Can you suggest anywhere more salubrious?’
Billy heard the woman huff as they entered the room. The door squeaked as it was pulled inwards and clunked closed.
‘I still can’t get anything,’ the man said. He had a refined English voice.
‘But you had at least three hours last night and then all the time he was with the boy on deck,’ the woman replied. She had a distinctive foreign accent that Billy couldn’t quite identify. He thought it was probably German.
‘After my last attempt he had the lock changed so I couldn’t get in. He obviously suspected something. It took me almost two hours to get a new key, by which time he was back in the room.’
The woman huffed again. ‘You said you left no traces.’
‘I didn’t. The man must have a sixth sense. Did you gather anything from him? You were together long enough.’ There was a raw edge to the man’s voice.
‘We were busy with other things. But you have seen photographs of Fortescue, the same as I have. Wickins is definitely the same man.’
‘And his cover story is pure fabrication?’
‘Of course… it’s just as we were told in Berlin, Charles. You did well to gather the information on the man and his mission. The surveillance of the scientists in Manchester was worth you suffering the cold for.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t have to put up with it!’
‘Oh, do stop moaning,’ the woman snapped. ‘You turn a compliment into a chance to whinge. I thought English public schools were meant to harden you chaps, make men of you.’ She laughed mirthlessly.
‘I need another try in his cabin. I’m certain he has the material in the safe. We need a second diversion, get him out of therefor a while.’
The woman sighed. ‘And then what? If you get the stuff, we still have almost three days before we reach New York.’
‘Well, obviously Mr Wickins has to be dealt with, doesn’t he? It’s a big ocean to lose a body in.’
Behind the crate Billy was itching to see the faces of the two people, but he could not tell precisely where they were standing, and for all he knew one of them could be looking his way. He slowly shuffled along the ground, inching his way towards a narrow gap between two crates. He slid along the cold metal floor, eased upright a little and pulled close to the crack between the boxes. With one eye to the opening, he could see the two grown-ups in profile. They stood just a few feet away.
The gasp was completely involuntary. It just seemed to escape from Billy’s throat.
The couple instantly stopped talking and he saw the dark outline of a person’s face peering over the top of the crate beside him. The boy yanked himself up and sprang away into the room, charging straight into the woman. She produced a low growl as they collided and fell back against a bulkhead behind her.