Before the meeting broke up he made one concession to Kroll — yes, the Kestrel could be searched. It must be done officially by Odd Dahl, the lensman, and Olaf Petersen, the harbourmaster. Kroll could accompany them in his capacity as Vise-Ordforer. The reason for the search was to be given as action following a drug tip-off. There was to be no reference to the missing Russian naval officer.
With a smile of satisfaction Kroll said, ‘Thank you, Nordsen. I’m sure that is a wise decision.’ Which wasn’t the most tactful thing to say to Vrakoy’s ‘Little King’. Nordsen said, ‘You needn’t thank me, Kroll. I think you’ll be wasting your time. I’m more concerned with the disappearance of the two Frenchmen.’
Martinsen said, ‘What’s the latest news about them, Ordforer?’
‘As you know, the search party found nothing on the eastern slopes. Low cloud and mist are making things difficult. There is no way of scanning the rock faces. We have notified the company in Bordeaux.’
‘I expect they’ll turn up,’ said Martinsen. ‘They’re probably shut in by the weather.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Some time after midnight, the mist thickening and swirling wetly across the fjord, Kroll, Dahl and Petersen arrived at the jetty where Kestrel lay. They stood for some time looking down on her, wondering quite how to go about their business.
The ketch’s cockpit lay between the double cabin aft and the companionway to the saloon forward. It was brightly lit. The hatches to the engine-space were off and two men, evidently unaware of the observers above, were working on the engine.
‘Hullo, there,’ called Petersen. ‘Can we come aboard?’
Nunn’s grease-streaked face looked up from the engine. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked.
‘Petersen the harbourmaster, Odd Dahl the bailiff, and Doctor Kroll.’
Nunn, who’d been expecting the visit, looked pointedly at his watch, then at the men on the quay, ‘Certainly. Come aboard if you wish.’
Petersen and his companions came down into the cockpit, Kroll breathing heavily from his exertions. Nunn wiped his hands on a lump of cotton waste. ‘What’s the trouble?’ he said. ‘Our sailing clearance not in order?’ Sandstrom left the engine where he’d been working, straightened his back and ranged himself along Nunn. He gave the visitors a long hard look. A big man with dark shaggy hair and rough-hewn features, he could look intimidating when he wanted to; this was such an occasion.
Petersen looked embarrassed. ‘We’re sorry to trouble you at such a time, Mr Nunn. But, well, we know you intend to sail tonight so we…’
‘This morning,’ corrected Nunn tapping his watch. ‘Yes, we hope to sail soon. That was why I got clearance from you yesterday. As soon as we get this fuel injector properly adjusted we’re off.’ He looked towards Sandstrom. ‘It’s almost right, isn’t it?’
‘Won’t take long now. Just some bolts to tighten.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Nunn.’ Petersen struggled with his problem. ‘But we received information… that is to say we had a tip-off.’
‘Bully for you,’ said Nunn.
Petersen didn’t understand the idiom. ‘You say?’
‘Nothing,’ said Nunn. ‘Carry on.’
‘Yes, we had a tip-off. About drugs on board your ship.’
Nunn hesitated, allowing what he hoped would pass for a stunned silence. Eventually he said, ‘Drugs in Kestrel? Good God! We’ve morphine, a syringe and some Disprins in the medicine chest. Is that what you’re after?’
‘These tip-offs are often inaccurate,’ apologized Petersen. ‘Sometimes a hoax. Someone with a grudge. But we have to act on them. Just in case, you know.’
Kroll evidently felt it was time to assert himself. He took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, then let it go with a wheeze. ‘I come in my capacity as Vise-Ordforer, Mr Nunn. Odd Dahl is our bailiff. Now please. If you do not mind we must discharge the unpleasant duty of searching your ship.’ Nunn affected surprise. ‘Search the Kestrel At this hour?’
‘I regret,’ said Kroll, arranging his fleshy chin into what he imagined was a pretty firm affair, ‘it must be done.’ Nunn’s sigh was a mixture of irritation and annoyance. ‘Very well. I’ll get one of my crew to show you round. I’m too busy, I’m afraid. We must get this blasted engine fixed. We’ve already wasted three days of our holidays. Excuse me for a moment.’
He went down to the saloon where Boland was lying on a settee reading. Julie had gone to her cabin.
Nunn explained the situation quickly, it was one for which the crew had been briefed, took the keys from the keyboard and handed them to Boland. ‘Show them everything. There’s nothing to hide. Make it snappy. Sooner we get rid of them the better.’
Boland followed him back into the cockpit. Nunn did the introductions, then rejoined Sandstrom on the engine.
Boland stared at the Norwegians with chilly unfriendly eyes. ‘Where d’you want to start? Aft?’
‘Forward,’ said Petersen with the instincts of a sailor.
The search party moved off, Boland leading. He opened every batch, every door, every cupboard and locker they requested. It was soon evident it was not drugs they were after. Little attention was paid to the contents of lockers where tinned food and ship’s stores were stowed, or to bilges and other spaces too small for a man. For these reasons the search was soon over. It ended with a check along the upper deck where torch beams were directed into every nook and cranny. Kroll, at times on all fours, insisted on checking along the outside of the hull. Finally he directed the beam of his torch into the rigging.
‘Bad place for drugs,’ suggested Boland. ‘Too much wind.’
Kroll glared at him. ‘You understand we have to be thorough.’
‘Quite.’ Nunn’s face, high cheekboned and almond-eyed, betrayed no emotion. ‘Hope you’re now satisfied. There is of course the hull underwater. You might care to look at that.’
Kroll ignored the jibe. He turned to Petersen and Dahl. ‘Are you both satisfied?’
They’d not shared Kroll’s obsession and were only too ready to abandon a search they’d considered unnecessary.
Kroll bowed stiffly to Nunn. ‘Goodnight, Mr Nunn. I am sorry we had to disturb you. We were doing our duty.’
‘I am sure you were, Doctor Kroll,’ Nunn smiled at Petersen. He’d always liked the harbourmaster who was a bluff honest-to-God seaman. ‘We want to leave as soon as we get this injector working, Mr Petersen. We’d like to get to Andenes at first light if possible.’
‘Of course,’ said the harbourmaster. ‘You’ve settled your harbour dues, completed the clearance papers. You are free to leave when you like.’
‘Thank you, Mr Petersen.’
There was an exchange of goodbyes and the Norwegians climbed up the ladder to the jetty and disappeared into the darkness.
Nunn watched while Sandstrom replaced the bolts in the fuel injector which he’d removed soon after dark. When he’d finished they went down to the saloon.
Julie, disturbed from sleep by the search party, and Boland were already there. Nunn drew a hand across his forehead and yawned. ‘So that little comedy is over. Christ, what a day.’
Sandstrom said, ‘That was a bit dodgy. We got back less than ten minutes before they arrived.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ said Boland. ‘I was sweating blood. The dinghy’s only about thirty yards astern.’