‘David!’ I exclaimed.
He started and then stared at me as though I were a ghost. For a moment both of us were too surprised to speak. ‘Good God!’ he said. ‘It really is you, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is,’ I replied. ‘What are you doing here? And what’s the news, David? Where’s Freya? There’s a whole heap of questions I want to ask you.’
‘And there’s a whole heap I want to ask you,’ he said. His eyes glanced furtively in the direction of the bridge. ‘I’m going to take a few shots from the stern,’ he added, bending to adjust the mechanism of his camera. ‘If the coast is clear, drop down and have a few words in a minute. They’re keeping an eye on me.’
I turned back and resumed my interest in the settling of the slings under the torpedo boat. They had managed to get the for’ard sling in position now. But I barely took in the scene below. My whole mind was concentrated on the fact of David’s presence. I heard him climb down the ladder on to the after deck. I glanced towards the bridge and caught my breath. Sedel was standing on the fo’c’sle. He was by himself and he seemed to be staring straight at me. I looked down again at the figures moving in the boat below. Had Sedel seen us talking? Was David really a suspect, and if so, why was the fool on board the Thirlmere at all? These and many other questions raced through my mind, and I was conscious all the time of my companion’s curiosity. But he had the self-control not to ask questions.
A seaman on the after deck suddenly raised his hand and the steam winches broke into clattering activity. The torpedo boat, now slung firmly below the girder, rose slowly from the water. Soon its decks were level with the poop on which we were standing and I could see its keel, with the water dripping from it. I glanced for’ard. Sedel had disappeared. Everyone’s attention seemed riveted on the torpedo boat. I climbed down on to the after deck and joined David, who was taking shots of the boat’s stern as it rose above the deck level.
He did not pause in his work or look up. ‘Thank God you’re all right, Andrew,’ he said. ‘When I saw that story in the evening papers yesterday I thought they must have got you.’
‘So they did,’ I said. ‘But I escaped.’
‘Well, they’re after me, too,’ he said. ‘That’s why you mustn’t be seen talking to me. I’ve been under observation ever since I came on board.’
‘Then why the devil did you come?’
‘I wanted to find out what had happened to Freya. And I’m going to find out before I leave this ship, if I have to break every bone in Marburg’s great carcass.’
‘Freya,’ I cried, with a sudden horrible fear. ‘They haven’t got Freya, have they?’
‘Afraid so,’ he said laconically.
I was on the point of cursing him. But he seemed to sense my condemnation, for he said, ‘I’m sorry, Andrew. I ought to have been more careful. I think they trailed me down from Calboyds. I arrived back at Guildford Street about nine yesterday morning with a pretty hot story, to find Freya in a terrible state of emotional turmoil. You were missing, and she had discovered her father was still alive. There had been a message for Olwyn in the personal column of the Daily Telegraph that morning. He had suggested a meeting place in Billingsgate, of all places, and we had just time to make the appointment. Yes, it was genuine, all right. I’ve never seen two people so overjoyed at seeing each other again. Freya told the old boy about your disappearance. He was very upset. He gave us the low-down on the whole thing then. Do you realise who is behind this business, Andrew?’
‘For goodness’ sake come to the point, David,’ I said. ‘What’s happened to Freya?’
‘But this is the point, old boy. The man behind this business is Baron Marburg, the banker.’
‘I know that,’ I said, losing my patience. ‘This munitions for Finland story is a ramp and there, in that boat, is Schmidt’s precious engine. But what’s happened to Freya?’
‘I’m sorry, Andrew.’ He was apologetic. ‘I don’t know. We left old Schmidt in Fish Street shortly after eleven yesterday morning. I left Freya to pick up an “18” bus and took the District to Westminster. That’s the last I saw of her. She never reached Guildford Street.’
‘And you went to see your godfather?’
‘Correct. And the old boy listened open-mouthed.’
‘And pigeon-holed your story as soon as the door was closed?’
David hesitated. ‘No, I don’t think so. He certainly didn’t believe me when I brought Marburg’s name into it. Schmidt could give no very convincing evidence. But I think he believed what I told him about Calboyds and about the stealing of the engine, and I fancy he’ll try to do something. But I’m afraid he found my accusations about the Thirlmere business as difficult to swallow as those about Marburg.’
‘But you don’t think anything will be done in time?’ I said.
‘Afraid not. At best they’ll be slow to reach a decision. But the other side is getting rattled. They’ve advanced the sailing schedule by twenty-four hours, and Marburg himself has suddenly decided to sail with the ship.’
‘And you come galloping like Saint George right into the dragon’s mouth,’ I said. ‘Man, what dam’-fool game are you playing? Are you aiming to try and blow the ship up, or what?’
‘No — to rescue Freya,’ was the reply.
My heart leapt. ‘Is she on board?’
‘Yes, she was brought on board in a tank in the early hours of the morning.’
‘In a tank!’ I exploded. ‘Why in a tank?’
‘Well, it’s unobtrusive, isn’t it? One of the tanks was driven on board by a volunteer and she was inside it.’
‘But how do you know?’
‘Her father told me. He’s got a berth as something in the galley. Knows a Jewish export firm that has a pull with the captain. That’s an incredible little man, Andrew. He looks so shabby and nondescript, until you meet his eyes. Where do you think he went to earth? At the Calboyd Power Boat yard at Tilbury. Got a job as a fitter.’
‘But why didn’t he come and see me on the Monday?’ I asked.
‘The chase was getting too hot. He had no more information to give you, and he thought that if he disappeared, you’d be more inclined to treat the matter seriously and do what you could. He didn’t know, of course, that most of the information had been pinched from us. Another thing, he thought that sooner or later the Sea Spray would be discovered at Porthgwarra, and he guessed they’d bring it up to the Calboyd works. When that happened, he wanted to be on the spot, in order either to destroy it, or get it away. Do you know he nearly succeeded? The night after it arrived, he started a fire in a corner of the works. The police guard on the Sea Spray came ashore and he went aboard. As soon as he had started down the river, Sedel’s men were after him in a power boat. Unfortunately, he knew nothing about the special valve Freya had put in, and he couldn’t open the engine out. He hadn’t a chance, so he ran her full tilt into a pier and sank her. He only just managed …’ David’s eyes suddenly became riveted on the far side of the poop. ‘We’re being watched,’ he whispered.
I glanced round. One of the volunteers was coming down on to the after deck. I became interested in the lowering of the torpedo boat amidships and climbed back over the poop. David had given me plenty to think about. And the focus of all my thoughts was Freya. Why had she been captured? And why had she been brought aboard the Thirlmere? Did they want her as a hostage? Or — and then I knew the reason. She was the bait. They were taking his engine to Germany. But what was the good of that if the man who knew the formula of the special alloy and who had designed it was still in England? Not only had they got Schmidt on board, whether they knew it or not, but they had got the only other two people who could really testify that an engine of outstanding performance had passed into German hands. I paused in the midst of clambering over the maze of winch machinery. My journalist friend was no longer standing against the deck rail of the poop. And down on the well deck the crowd was gathered about the torpedo boat which was being lowered on to its cradle. I was just on the point of descending to the well deck, when I heard a dull thud behind me from the after deck. Almost simultaneously there was a low cry, and this was followed by the sound of metal striking metal. I was very close to the deck rail here and instinctively I leaned over the side, thinking someone might have fallen overboard. I was just in time to see what looked like a square bright lump of metal fall into the water with a splash. The ripples were already beginning to fade before I realised that what I had seen fall into the water was a news-camera.