The Golden Keel

I

Two months later we sailed into Tangier harbour, the ‘Q’ flag hoisted, and waited for the doctor to give us pratique and for the Customs to give us the once-over. To port of Sanford was the modern city with its sleek, contemporary buildings sharply outlined against the sky. To starboard was the old city — the Arab city — squat and low-roofed and hugging a hill, the skyline only broken by the up-flung spear of a minaret.

To port — Europe; to starboard — Africa.

This was nothing new to Walker and Coertze. They had sown a few wild oats in their army days, roistering in Cairo and Alexandria. On the voyage from Cape Town they had talked much about their army days — and all in Italian, too. We made it a rule to speak as much Italian as possible, and while the others were on a refresher course, I didn’t lag far behind even though I had to start from scratch.

We had settled on a good cover story to veil our activities in the Mediterranean. I was a South African boat builder on a cruise combining business with pleasure. I was thinking of expanding into the lucrative Mediterranean market and might buy a boatyard if the price and conditions were right. This story had the advantage of not departing too far from the truth and would serve if we really had to buy a yard to cast the golden keel.

Coertze was a mining man with medical trouble. His doctor had advised him to take a leisurely holiday and so he was crewing Sanford for me. His cover story would account for any interest he might take in derelict lead mines.

Walker, who proved to be something of an actor, was a moderately wealthy playboy. He had money but disliked work and was willing to go a long way to avoid it. He had come on this Mediterranean trip because he was bored with South Africa and wanted a change. It was to be his job to set things up in Tangier; to acquire a secluded house where we could complete the last stages of the operation.

All in all, I was quite satisfied, even though I had got a bit tired of Coertze on the way north. He didn’t like the way I seemed to be taking charge of things and I had to ram home very forcibly the fact that a ship can only have one skipper. He had seen the point when we ran into heavy weather off the Azores, and it galled him that the despised Walker was the better seaman.

Now we were in Tangier, he had recovered his form and was a bit more inclined to throw his weight around. I could see that I’d have to step on him again before long.

Walker looked about the yacht basin. ‘Not many sailing boats here,’ he commented.

That was true. There were a few ungainly-looking fishing boats and a smart ketch, probably bound for the Caribbean. But there were at least twenty big power craft, fast-looking boats, low on the water. I knew what they were.

This was the smuggling fleet. Cigarettes to Spain, cigarette lighters to France, antibiotics to where they could make a profit (although that trade had fallen off), narcotics to everywhere. I wondered if there was much arms smuggling to Algeria.

At last the officials came and went, leaving gouges in my planking from their hob-nailed boots. I escorted them to their launch, and as soon as they had left, Walker touched my arm.

‘We’ve got another visitor,’ he said.

I turned and saw a boat being sculled across the harbour. Walker said, ‘He was looking at us through glasses from that boat across there.’ He pointed to one of the motor craft. ‘Then he started to come here.’

I watched the approaching dinghy. A European was rowing and I couldn’t see his face, but as he dexterously backed water and swung round to the side of Sanford he looked up and I saw that it was Metcalfe.

Metcalfe is one of that international band of scallywags of whom there are about a hundred in the world. They are soldiers of fortune and they flock to the trouble spots, ignoring the danger and going for the money. I was not really surprised to see Metcalfe in Tangier; it had been a pirates’ stronghold from time immemorial and would be one of Metcalfe’s natural hang-outs.

I had known him briefly in South Africa but I didn’t know what he was at the time. All that I knew was that he was a damned good sailor who won a lot of dinghy races at Cape Town and who came close to winning the South African dinghy championship. He bought one of my Falcons and had spent a lot of time at the yard tuning it.

I had liked him and had crewed for him a couple of times. We had had many a drink together in the yacht club bar and he had spent a week-end at Kirstenbosche with Jean and myself. It was in the way of being a firmly ripening friendship between us when he had left South Africa a hop, skip and a jump ahead of the police, who wanted to nail him on a charge of I.D.B. Since then I had not seen him, but I had heard passing mentions and had occasionally seen his name in the papers, usually quoted as being in trouble in some exotic hot-spot.

Now he was climbing on to the deck of Sanford.

‘I thought it was you,’ he said. ‘So I got the glasses to make sure. What are you doing here?’

‘Just idly cruising,’ I said. ‘Combining business with pleasure. I thought I might see what the prospects in the Med. are like.’

He grinned. ‘Brother, they’re good. But that’s not in your line, is it?’

I shook my head, and said, ‘Last I heard of you, you were in Cuba.’

‘I was in Havana for a bit,’ he said. ‘But that was no place for me. It was an honest revolution, or at least it was until the Commies moved in. I couldn’t compete with them, so I quit.’

‘What are you doing now?’

He smiled and looked at Walker. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

I said, ‘This is Walker and this is Coertze.’ There was handshaking all round and Metcalfe said, ‘It’s good to hear a South African accent again. You’d have a good country there if the police weren’t so efficient.’

He turned to me. ‘Where’s Jean?’

‘She’s dead,’ I said. ‘She was killed in a motor smash.’

‘How did it happen?’

So I told him of Chapman’s Peak and the drunken driver and the three-hundred-foot fall to the sea. As I spoke his face hardened, and when I had finished, he said, ‘So the bastard only got five years, and if he’s a good boy he’ll be out in three and a half.’

He rubbed his finger against the side of his nose. ‘I liked Jean,’ he said. ‘What’s the bludger’s name? I’ve got friends in South Africa who can see to him when he comes out.’

‘Forget it,’ I said. ‘That won’t bring Jean back.’

He nodded, then slapped his hands together. ‘Now you’re all staying with me at my place; I’ve got room enough for an army.’

I said hesitantly, ‘What about the boat?’

He smiled. ‘I see you’ve heard stories about the Tangier dock thieves. Well, let me tell you they’re all true. But that doesn’t matter; I’ll put one of my men on board. Nobody steals from my men — or me.’

He rowed back across the harbour and presently returned with a scar-faced Moroccan, to whom he spoke in quick and guttural Arabic. Then he said, ‘That’s all fixed. I’ll have the word passed round the docks that you’re friends of mine. Your boat’s safe enough, as safe as though it lay in your own yard.’

I believed him. I could believe he had a lot of pull in a place like Tangier.

‘Let’s go ashore,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘So am I,’ said Coertze.

‘It’ll be a relief not to do any more cooking for a while, won’t it?’ I said.

‘Man,’ said Coertze, ‘I wouldn’t mind if I never saw a frypan again.’

‘That’s a pity,’ said Metcalfe. ‘I was looking forward to you making me some koeksusters; I always liked South African grub.’ He roared with laughter and slapped Coertze on the back.

Metcalfe had a big apartment on the Avenida de España, and he gave me a room to myself while Coertze and Walker shared a room. He stayed and chatted while I unpacked my bag.

‘South Africa too quiet for you?’ he asked.

I went into my carefully prepared standard talk on the reasons I had left. I had no reason to trust Metcalfe more than anyone else — probably less — judging by the kind of man he was. I don’t know whether he believed me or not, but he agreed that there was scope in the Mediterranean for a good boatyard.

‘You may not get as many commissions to build,’ he said. ‘But there certainly is room for a good servicing and maintenance yard. I’d go east, towards Greece, if I were you. The yards in the islands cater mostly for the local fishermen; there’s room for someone who understands yachts and yachtsmen.’

‘What have you got a boat for?’ I asked banteringly. ‘Hiring it out for charter cruises?’

He grinned. ‘Aw, you know me. I carry all sorts of cargoes; anything except narcotics.’ He pulled a face. ‘I’m a bad bastard, I know, but I draw the line at drugs. Anything else I’m game for.’

‘Including guns to Algeria,’ I hazarded.

He laughed. ‘The French in Algiers hate my guts — they tried to do me down a couple of months ago. I’d unloaded a cargo into some fishing boats and then I ran into Algiers to refuel. I was clean, see! they couldn’t touch me — my papers were in order and everything.’

‘I let the crew go ashore for a drink and I turned in and had a zizz. Then something woke me up — I heard a thump and then a queer noise that seemed to come from underneath the boat. So I got up and had a look around. When I got on deck I saw a boat pulling away and there seemed to be a man in the water, swimming alongside it.’

He grinned. ‘Well, I’m a careful and cautious man, so I got my snorkel and my swim-fins and went over the side to have a look-see. What do you think those French Security bastards had done to me?’

I shook my head. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘They’d put a limpet mine on my stern gear. They must have reckoned that if they couldn’t nail me down legally they’d do it illegally. If that thing went off it would blow the bottom out of my stern. Well, I got it off the boat and did a bit of heavy thinking. I knew they wouldn’t have timed it to blow up in harbour — it wouldn’t have looked nice — so I reckoned it was set to blow after I left.

‘I slung it round my neck by the cord and swam across the harbour to where the police patrol boat was lying and stuck it under their stern. Let them have the trouble of buying a new boat.

‘Next day we left early as planned and, as we moved out, I heard the police boat revving up. They followed us a long way while I was taking it nice and easy, cruising at about ten knots so they wouldn’t lose me. They hung on to my tail for about thirty miles, waiting for the bang and laughing to themselves fit to bust, I suppose. But they didn’t laugh when the bang came and blew the arse off their own boat.

‘I turned and picked them up. It was all good clean fun — no one was hurt. When I’d got them out of the water I took them back to Algiers — the noble rescuer. You ought to have seen the faces of the Security boys when I pitched up. Of course, they had to go through the motions of thanking me for rescuing those lousy, shipwrecked mariners. I kept a straight face and said I thought it must have been one of the antisubmarine depth charges in the stern that had gone off. They said it couldn’t have been that because police boats don’t carry depth charges. And that was that.’

He chuckled. ‘No, they don’t like me in Algiers.’

I laughed with him. It was a good story and he had told it well.

I was in two minds about Metcalfe; he had his advantages and his disadvantages. On the one hand, he could give us a lot of help in Tangier; he knew the ropes and had the contacts. On the other hand, we had to be careful he didn’t get wind of what we were doing. He was a hell of a good chap and all that, but if he knew we were going to show up with four tons of gold he would hijack us without a second thought. We were his kind of meat.

Yes, we had to be very careful in our dealings with Mr Metcalfe. I made a mental note to tell the others not to let anything drop in his presence.

I said, ‘What kind of boat have you got?’

‘A Fairmile,’ he said. ‘I’ve re-engined it, of course.’

I knew of the Fairmiles, but I had never seen one close up. They had been built in the hundreds during the war for harbour defence. The story was that they were built by the mile and cut off as needed. They were 112 feet overall with powerful engines and could work up over twenty knots easily, but they had the reputation of being bad rollers in a cross sea. They were not armoured or anything like that, being built of wood, and when a few of them went into St Nazaire with the Campbelltown they got shot up very badly.

After the war you could buy a surplus Fairmile for about five thousand quid and they had become a favourite with the smugglers of Tangier. If Metcalfe had re-engined his Fairmile, he had probably gone for power to outrun the revenue cutters and his boat would be capable of at least twenty-six knots in an emergency. Sanford would have no chance of outrunning a boat like that if it came to the push.

‘I’d like to see her sometime,’ I said. There was no harm in looking over a potential enemy.

‘Sure,’ said Metcalfe expansively. ‘But not just yet. I’m going out tomorrow night.’

That was good news — with Metcalfe out of the way we might be able to go about our business undisturbed. ‘When are you coming back?’ I asked.

‘Some time next week,’ he said. ‘Depending on the wind and the rain and suchlike things.’

‘Such as those French Security bastards?’

‘That’s right,’ he said carelessly. ‘Let’s eat.’

II

Metcalfe made us free of his flat and said we could live there in his absence — the servants would look after us. That afternoon he took me round town and introduced me to several people. Some were obviously good contacts to have, such as a ship’s chandler and a boat builder. Others were not so obviously good; there was a villainous-looking café proprietor, a Greek with no discernible occupation and a Hungarian who explained volubly that he was a ‘Freedom Fighter’ who had escaped from Hungary after the abortive revolution of 1956. I was particularly cynical about him.

I think that Metcalfe was unobtrusively passing the word that we were friends of his, and so immune to any of the usual tricks played on passing yachtsmen. Metcalfe was not a bad man to have around if he was your friend and you were a yachtsman. But I was not a yachtsman and that made Metcalfe a potential bomb.

Before we left the flat I had the chance to talk to Coertze and Walker privately. I said, ‘Here’s where we keep our mouths shut and stick to our cover story. We don’t do a damn’ thing until Metcalfe has pushed off — and we try to finish before he gets back.’

Walker said, ‘Why, is he dangerous?’

‘Don’t you know about Metcalfe?’ I explained who he was. They had both heard of him; he had made quite a splash in the South African Press — the reporters loved to write about such a colourful character.

‘Oh, that Metcalfe,’ said Walker, impressed.

Coertze said, ‘He doesn’t look much to me. He won’t be any trouble.’

‘It’s not Metcalfe alone,’ I said. ‘He’s got an organization and he’s on his own territory. Let’s face it; he’s a professional and we’re amateurs. Steer clear of Metcalfe.’

I felt like adding ‘and that’s an order,’ but I didn’t. Coertze might have taken me up on it and I didn’t want to force a showdown with him yet. It would come of its own accord soon enough.

So for a day and a half we were tourists in Tangier, rubbernecking our way about the town. If we hadn’t had so much on our minds it might have been interesting, but as it was, it was a waste of time.

Luckily, Metcalfe was preoccupied by his own mysterious business and we saw little of him. However, I did instruct Walker to ask one crucial question before Metcalfe left.

Over breakfast, he said, ‘You know — I like Tangier. It might be nice to stay here for a few months. Is the climate always like this?’

‘Most of the time,’ answered Metcalfe. ‘It’s a good, equable climate. There’s lots of people retire here, you know.’

Walker smiled. ‘Oh, I’m not thinking of retiring. I’ve nothing to retire from.’ He was proving to be a better actor than I had expected — that touch was perfect. He said, ‘No, what I thought was that I might like to buy a house here. Somewhere I could live a part of the year.’

‘I should have thought the Med. would be your best bet,’ said Metcalfe. ‘The Riviera, or somewhere like that.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Walker. ‘This seems to be as good a place as any, and the Riviera is so crowded these days.’ He paused as though struck by a sudden thought. ‘I’d want a boat, of course. Could you design one for me? I’d have it built in England.’

‘Sure I could,’ I said. ‘All you have to do is pay me enough.’

‘Yes,’ said Walker. ‘You can’t do without the old boat, can you?’

He was laying it on a bit too thick and I could see that Metcalfe was regarding him with amused contempt, so I said quickly, ‘He’s a damned good sailor. He nearly ran off with the Cape Dinghy Championship last year.’

That drew Metcalfe as I knew it would. ‘Oh,’ he said with more respect, and for a few minutes he and Walker talked boats. At last Walker came out with it. ‘You know, what would be really perfect would be a house on the coast somewhere with its own anchorage and boat-shed. Everything self-contained, as it were.’

‘Thinking of joining us?’ asked Metcalfe with a grin.

‘Oh, no,’ said Walker, horrified. ‘I wouldn’t have the nerve. I’ve got enough money, and besides, I don’t like your smelly Fairmiles with their stinking diesel oil. No, I was thinking about a real boat, a sailing boat.’

He turned to me. ‘You know, the more I think about it the better I like it. You could design a 10-tonner for me, something I could handle myself, and this place is a perfect jumping-off place for the Caribbean. A transatlantic crossing might be fun.’

He confided in Metcalfe. ‘You know, these ocean-crossing johnnies are all very well, but most of them are broke and they have to live on their boats. Why should I do that? Think how much better it would be if I had a house here with a boat-shed at the bottom of the garden, as it were, where I could tune the boat for the trip instead of lying in that stinking harbour.’

It was a damned good idea if you were a wealthy playboy with a yen to do a single-handed Atlantic crossing. I gave Walker full credit for his inventive powers.

Metcalfe didn’t find it unreasonable, either. He said, ‘Not a bad idea if you can afford it. I tell you what; go and see Aristide, a friend of mine. He’ll try to rent you a flat, he’s got dozens empty, but tell him that I sent you and he’ll be more reasonable.’ He scribbled an address on a piece of paper and handed it to Walker.

‘Oh, thanks awfully,’ said Walker. ‘It’s really very kind of you.’

Metcalfe finished his coffee. ‘I’ve got to go now; see you tonight before I leave.’

When he had gone Coertze, who had sat through all this with no expression at all on his face, said, ‘I’ve been thinking about the go...’

I kicked his ankle and jerked my head at the Moroccan servant who had just come into the room. ‘Tula,’ I said. ‘Moenie hier praat nie.’ Then in English, ‘Let’s go out and have a look round.’

We left the flat and sat at a table of a nearby café. I said to Coertze, ‘We don’t know if Metcalfe’s servants speak English or not, but I’m taking no chances. Now, what did you want to say?’

He said, ‘I’ve been thinking about bringing the gold in here. How are we going to do it? You said yesterday that bullion has to be declared at Customs. We can’t come in and say, ‘Listen, man; I’ve got a golden keel on this boat and I think it weighs about four tons.’

‘I’ve been thinking of that myself,’ I said. ‘It looks as though we’ll have to smuggle it in, recast it into standard bars, smuggle it out again a few bars at a time, then bring the bars in openly and declare them at Customs.’

‘That’s going to take time,’ objected Coertze. ‘We haven’t got the time.’

I sighed. ‘All right; let’s take a good look at this time factor. Today is 12th January and Tangier shuts up shop as far as gold is concerned on 19th April — that’s — let me see, er — ninety-seven days — say fourteen weeks.’

I began to calculate and to allocate this time. It would be a week before we left Tangier and another fortnight to get to Italy. That meant another fortnight coming back, too, and I would like a week spare in case of bad weather. That disposed of six weeks. Two weeks for making preparations and for getting the gold out, and three weeks for casting the keel — eleven weeks altogether, leaving a margin of three weeks. We were cutting it fine.

I said, ‘We’ll have to see what the score is when we get back here with the gold. Surely to God someone will buy it, even if it is in one lump. But we don’t say anything until we’ve got it.’

I began to have some visions of sailing back to Egypt or even India like some sort of modern Flying Dutchman condemned to sail the seas in a million pound yacht.

Walker did not go much for these planning sessions. He was content to leave that to Coertze and me. He had been sitting listening with half an ear, studying the address which Metcalfe had given him.

Suddenly he said, ‘I thought old Aristide would have been an estate agent, but he’s not.’ He read the address from the slip of paper. ‘“Aristide Theotopopoulis, Tangier Mercantile Bank, Boulevard Pasteur.” Maybe we could ask him something about it.’

‘Not a chance,’ I said derisively. ‘He’s a friend of Metcalfe.’ I looked at Walker. ‘And another thing,’ I said. ‘You did very well with Metcalfe this morning, but for God’s sake, don’t put on that phoney Oxford accent, and less of that “thanks awfully” stuff. Metcalfe’s a hard man to fool; besides, he’s been to South Africa and knows the score. You’d have done better to put on a Malmesbury accent, but it’s too late to change now. But tone it down a bit, will you?’

Walker grinned and said, ‘O.K, old chappie.’

I said, ‘Now we’ll go and see Aristide Theoto-whatever-it-is. It wouldn’t be a bad idea if we hired a car, too. It’ll help us get around and it adds to the cover. We are supposed to be rich tourists, you know.’

III

Aristide Theotopopoulis was a round man. His girth was roughly equal to his height, and as he sat down he creased in the middle like a half-inflated football bladder. Rolls of fat flowed over his collar from his jowls and the back of his neck. Even his hands were round — pudgy balls of fat with the glint of gold shining from deeply embedded rings.

‘Ah, yes, Mr Walker; you want a house,’ he said. ‘I received a phone call from Mr Metcalfe this morning. I believe I have the very thing.’ His English was fluent and colloquial.

‘You mean you have such a house?’ inquired Walker.

‘Of course! Why do you suppose Mr Metcalfe sent you to me? He knows the Casa Saeta.’ He paused. ‘You don’t mind if it’s an old house?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Not at all,’ replied Walker easily. ‘I can afford any alterations provided the house suits me.’ He caught my eye, then said, hastily, ‘But I would like to suggest that I rent it for six months with an option to buy.’

Aristide’s face lengthened from a circle to an ellipse. ‘Very well, if that is what you wish,’ he said dubiously.

He took us up the north coast in a Cadillac with Coertze following in our hired car. The house looked like something from a Charles Addams’ cartoon and I expected to see Boris Karloff peering from a window. There was no Moorish influence at all; it was the most hideous Victorian Gothic in the worst possible taste. But that didn’t matter if it could give us what we wanted.

We went into the house and looked cursorily over the worm-eaten panelling and viewed the lack of sanitation. The kitchen was primitive and there was a shaggy garden at the back of the house. Beyond was the sea and we looked over a low cliff to the beach.

It was perfect. There was a boat-house big enough to take Sanford once we unstepped the mast, and there was a crude slip badly in need of repair. There was even a lean-to shed where we could set up our foundry.

I looked at everything, estimating how long it would take to put in order, then I took Coertze on one side while Aristide extolled the beauties of the house to Walker.

‘What do you think?’ I asked.

‘Man, I think we should take it. There can’t be another place like this in the whole of North Africa.’

‘That’s just what I was thinking,’ I said. ‘I hope we can find something like this in Italy. We can get local people to fix up the slip, and with a bit of push we should be finished in a week. We’ll have to do some token work on the house, but the bulk of the money must go on essentials — there’ll be time to make the house livable when we come back. I’ll tip Walker off about that; he’s good at thinking up wacky reasons for doing the damnedest things.’

We drifted back to Walker and Aristide who were still going at it hammer and tongs, and I gave Walker an imperceptible nod. He smiles dazzlingly at Aristide, and said, ‘It’s no use, Mr Theotopopoulis, you can’t talk me out of taking this house. I’m determined to have it at once — on a six months’ rental, of course.’

Aristide, who hadn’t any intention of talking anyone out of anything, was taken aback, but making a game recovery, said, ‘You understand, Mr Walker, I can give no guarantees...’ His voice tailed off, giving the impression that he was doing Walker a favour.

‘That’s all right, old man,’ said Walker gaily. ‘But I must have a six months’ option on the house, too. Remember that.’

‘I think that can be arranged,’ said Aristide with spurious dubiety.

‘Won’t it be fun, living in this beautiful house?’ said Walker to me. I glared at him. That was the trouble with Walker; he got wrapped up in his part too much. My glare went unnoticed because he had turned to Aristide. ‘The house isn’t haunted, or anything like that?’ he demanded, as though he equated ghosts with dead rats in the wainscotting.

‘Oh, no,’ said Aristide hurriedly. ‘No ghosts.’

‘A pity,’ said Walker negligently. ‘I’ve always wanted to live in a haunted house.’

I saw Aristide changing his mind about the ghosts, so I spoke hastily to break up this buffoonery. I had no objection to Aristide thinking he was dealing with a fool, but no one could be as big a damn’ fool as Walker was acting and I was afraid that Aristide might smell a rat.

I said, ‘Well, I suggest we go back to Mr Theotopopoulis’s office and settle the details. It’s getting late and I have to do some work on the boat.’

To Coertze, I said, ‘There’s no need for you to come. We’ll meet you for lunch at the restaurant we went to last night.’

I had watched his blood pressure rising at Walker’s fooleries and I wanted him out of the way in case he exploded. It’s damned difficult working with people, especially antagonistic types like Walker and Coertze.

We went back to Aristide’s office and it all went off very well. He stung us for the house, but I had no objection to that. No one who splashed money around like Walker could be anything but an honest man.

Then Walker said something that made my blood run cold, although afterwards, on mature consideration, I conceded that he had built up his character so that he could get away with it. He said to Aristide, ‘Tangier is a funny place. I hear you’ve got bars of gold scattered about all over the place.’

Aristide smiled genially. He had cut his pound of flesh and was willing to waste a few minutes in small talk; besides, this idiot Walker was going to live in Tangier — he could be milked a lot more. ‘Not scattered, exactly,’ he said. ‘We keep our gold in very big safes.’

‘Um,’ said Walker. ‘You know, it’s a funny thing, but I’ve lived all my life in South Africa where they mine scads of gold, and I’ve never seen any. You can’t buy gold in South Africa, you know.’

Aristide raised his eyebrows as though this was unheard of.

‘I’ve heard you can buy gold here by the pound like buying butter over the counter. It might be fun to buy some gold. Imagine me with all my money and I’ve never seen a gold bar,’ he said pathetically. ‘I’ve got a lot of money, you know. Most people say I’ve got too much.’

Aristide frowned. This was heresy; in his book no one could have too much money. He became very earnest. ‘Mr Walker, the best thing anyone can do in these troubled times is to buy gold. It’s the only safe investment. The value of gold does not fluctuate like these unstable paper currencies.’ With a flick of his fingers he stripped the pretentions from the U.S. dollar and the pound sterling. ‘Gold does not rust or waste away; it is always there, always safe and valuable. If you want to invest, I am always willing to sell gold.’

‘Really?’ said Walker. ‘You sell it, just like that?’

Aristide smiled. ‘Just like that.’ His smile turned to a frown. ‘But if you want to buy, you must buy now, because the open market in Tangier is closing very soon.’ He shrugged. ‘You say that you have never seen a bar of gold. I’ll show you bars of gold — many of them.’ He turned to me. ‘You too, Mr Halloran, if you wish,’ he said off-handedly. ‘Please come this way.’

He led us down into the bowels of the building, through grilled doors and to the front of an immense vault. On the way down, two broad-shouldered bodyguards joined us. Aristide opened the vault door, which was over two feet thick, and led us inside.

There was a lot of gold in that vault. Not four tons of it, but still a lot of gold. It was stacked up neatly in piles of bars of various sizes; it was boxed in the form of coins; it was a hell of a lot of gold.

Aristide indicated a bar. ‘This is a Tangier standard bar. It weighs 400 ounces troy — about twenty-seven and a half pounds avoirdupois. It is worth over five thousand pounds sterling.’ He picked up a smaller bar. ‘This is a more convenient size. It weighs a kilo — just over thirty-two ounces — and is worth about four hundred pounds.’

He opened a box and let coins run lovingly through his pudgy fingers. ‘Here are British sovereigns — and here are American double eagles. These are French napoleons and these are Austrian ducats.’ He looked at Walker with a gleam in his eye and said, ‘You see what I mean when I say that gold never loses its value?’

He opened another box. ‘Not all gold coins are old. These are made privately by a bank in Tangier — not mine. This is the Tangier Hercules. It contains exactly one ounce of fine gold.’

He held the coin out on the palm of his hand and let Walker take it. Walker turned it in his fingers and then passed it to me reluctantly.

It was then that this whole crazy, mad expedition ceased to be just an adventure to me. The heavy, fatty feel of that gold coin turned something in my guts and I understood what people meant when they referred to gold lust. I understood why prospectors would slave in arid, barren lands looking for gold. It is not just the value of the gold that they seek — it is gold itself. This massive, yellow metal can do something to a man; it is as much a drug as any hell-born narcotic.

My hand was trembling slightly when I handed the coin back to Aristide.

He said, tossing it, ‘This costs more than bullion of course, because the cost of coining must be added. But it is in a much more convenient form.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘We sell a lot to political refugees and South American dictators.’

When we were back in his office, Walker said, ‘You have a lot of gold down there. Where do you get it from?’

Aristide shrugged. ‘I buy gold and I sell gold. I make my profit on both transactions. I buy it where I can; I sell it when I can. It is not illegal in Tangier.’

‘But it must come from somewhere,’ persisted Walker. ‘I mean, suppose one of the pirate chaps, I mean one of the smuggling fellows, came to you with half a ton of gold. Would you buy it?’

‘If the price was right,’ said Aristide promptly.

‘Without knowing where it came from?’

A faint smile came to Aristide’s eyes. ‘There is nothing more anonymous than gold,’ he said. ‘Gold has no master; it belongs only temporarily to the man who touches it. Yes I would buy the gold.’

‘Even when the gold market closes?’

Aristide merely shrugged and smiled.

‘Well, now, think of that,’ said Walker fatuously. ‘You must get a lot of gold coming into Tangier.’

‘I will sell you gold when you want it, Mr Walker,’ said Aristide, seating himself behind his desk. ‘Now, I assume that, since you are coming to live in Tangier, you will want to open a bank account.’ He was suddenly all businessman.

Walker glanced at me, then said, ‘Well, I don’t know. I’m on this cruise with Hal here, and I’m taking care of my needs with a letter of credit that was issued in South Africa. I’ve already cashed in a lot of boodle at one of the other banks here — I didn’t realize I would have the good fortune to meet a friendly banker.’ He grinned engagingly.

‘We’re not going to stay here long,’ he said. ‘We’ll be pushing off in a couple of weeks, but I’ll be back; yes, I’ll be back. When will we be back, Hal?’

I said, ‘We’re going to Spain and Italy, and then to Greece. I don’t think we’ll push on as far as Turkey or the Lebanon, although we might. I should say we’ll be back here in three or four months.’

‘You see,’ said Walker. ‘That’s when I’ll move into the house properly. Casa Saeta,’ he said dreamily. ‘That sounds fine.’

We took our leave of Aristide, and when we got outside, I said furiously, ‘What made you do a stupid thing like that?’

‘Like what?’ asked Walker innocently.

‘You know very well what I mean. We agreed not to mention gold.’

‘We’ve got to say something about it sometime,’ he said. ‘We can’t sell gold to anyone with saying anything about it. I just thought it was a good time to find out something about it, to test Aristide’s attitude towards gold of unknown origin. I thought I worked up to it rather well.’

I had to give him credit for that. I said, ‘And another thing: let’s have less of the silly ass routine. You nearly gave me a fit when you started to pull Aristide’s leg about the ghosts. There are more important things at stake than fooling about.’

‘I know,’ he said soberly. ‘I realized that when we were in the vault. I had forgotten what gold felt like.’

So it had hit him too. I calmed down and said, ‘O.K. But don’t forget it. And for God’s sake don’t act the fool in front of Coertze. I have enough trouble keeping the peace as it is.’

IV

When we met Coertze for lunch, I said, ‘We saw a hell of a lot of gold this morning.’

He straightened. ‘Where?’

Walker said, ‘In a bloody big safe at Aristide’s bank.’

‘I thought...’ Coertze began.

‘No harm done,’ I said. ‘It went very smoothly. We saw a lot of ingots. There are two standard sizes readily acceptable here in Tangier. One is 400 ounces, the other is one kilogram.’ Coertze frowned, and I said, ‘That’s nearly two and a quarter pounds.’

He grunted and drank his Scotch. I said, ‘Walker and I have been discussing this and we think that Aristide will buy the gold under the counter, even after the gold market closes — but we’ll probably have to approach him before that so he can make his arrangements.’

‘I think we should do it now,’ said Walker.

I shook my head. ‘No! Aristide is a friend of Metcalfe; that’s too much like asking a tiger to come to dinner. We mustn’t tell him until we come back and then we’ll have to take the chance.’

Walker was silent so I went on. ‘The point is that it’s unlikely that Aristide will relish taking a four-ton lump of gold into stock, so we’ll probably have to melt the keel down into ingots, anyway. In all probability Aristide will fiddle his stock sheets somehow so that he can account for the four extra tons, but it means that he must be told before the gold market closes — which means that we must be back before April 19.’

Coertze said, ‘Not much time.’

I said, ‘I’ve worked out all the probable times for each stage of the operation and we have a month in hand. But there’ll be snags and we’ll need all of that. But that isn’t what’s worrying me now — I’ve got other things on my mind.’

‘Such as?’

‘Look. When — and if — we get the gold here and we start to melt it down, we’re going to have a hell of a lot of ignots lying around. I don’t want to dribble them to Aristide as they’re cast — that’s bad policy, too much chance of an outsider catching on. I want to let him have the lot all at once, get paid with a cast-iron draft on a Swiss bank and then clear out. But it does mean that we’ll have a hell of a lot of ignots lying around loose in the Casa Saeta and that’s bad.’

I sighed. ‘Where do we keep the damn’ things? Stacked up in the living room? And how many of these goddammed ignots will there be?’ I added irritably.

Walker looked at Coertze. ‘You said there was about four tons, didn’t you?’

‘Ja,’ said Coertze. ‘But that was only an estimate.’

I said, ‘You’ve worked with bullion since. How close is that estimate?’

He thought about it, sending his mind back fifteen years and comparing what he saw then with what he had learned since. The human mind is a marvellous machine. At last he said slowly, ‘I think it is a close estimate, very close.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘So it’s four tons. That’s 9000 pounds as near as dammit. There’s sixteen ounces to the pound and...’

‘No,’ said Coertze suddenly. ‘Gold is measured in troy ounces. There’s 14.58333 recurring ounces troy to the English pound.’

He had the figures so pat that I was certain he knew what he was talking about. After all, it was his job. I said, ‘Let’s not go into complications; let’s call it fourteen and a half ounces to the pound. That’s good enough.’

I started to calculate, making many mistakes although it should have been a simple calculation. The mathematics of yacht design don’t have the same emotional impact.

At last I had it. ‘As near as I can make out, in round figures we’ll have about 330 bars of 400 ounces each.’

‘What’s that at five thousand quid a bar?’ asked Walker.

I scribbled on the paper again and looked at the answer unbelievingly. It was the first time I had worked this out in terms of money. Up to this time I had been too busy to think about it, and four tons of gold seemed to be a good round figure to hold in one’s mind.

I said hesitantly, ‘I work it out as £1,650,000!’

Coertze nodded in satisfaction. ‘That is the figure I got. And there’s the jewels on top of that.’

I had my own ideas about the jewels. Aristide had been right when he said that gold is anonymous — but jewels aren’t. Jewels have a personality of their own and can be traced too easily. If I had my way the jewels would stay in the tunnel. But that I had to lead up to easily.

Walker said, ‘That’s over half a million each.’

I said, ‘Call it half a million each, net. The odd £150,000 can go to expenses. By the time this is through we’ll have spent more than we’ve put in the kitty.’

I returned to the point at issue. ‘All right, we have 330 bars of gold. What do we do with them?’

Walker said meditatively, ‘There’s a cellar in the house.’

‘That’s a start, anyway.’

He said, ‘You know the fantastic thought I had in that vault? I thought it looked just like a builder’s yard with a lot of bricks lying all over the place. Why couldn’t we build a wall in the cellar?’

I looked at Coertze and he looked at me, and we both burst out laughing.

‘What’s funny about that?’ asked Walker plaintively.

‘Nothing,’ I said, still spluttering. ‘It’s perfect, that’s all.’

Coertze said, grinning, ‘I’m a fine bricklayer when the rates of pay are good.’

A voice started to bleat in my ear and I turned round. It was an itinerant lottery-ticket seller poking a sheaf of tickets at me. I waved him away, but Coertze, in a good mood for once, said tolerantly, ‘No, man, let’s have one. No harm in taking out insurance.’

The ticket was a hundred pesetas, so we scraped it together from the change lying on the table, and then we went back to the flat.

V

The next day we started work in earnest. I stayed with Sanford, getting her ready for sea by dint of much bullying of the chandler and the sailmaker. By the end of the week I was satisfied that she was ready and was able to leave for anywhere in the world.

Coertze and Walker worked up at the house, rehabilitating the boat-shed and the slip and supervising the local labour they had found through Metcalfe’s kind offices. Coertze said, ‘You have no trouble if you treat these wogs just the same as the Kaffirs back home.’ I wasn’t so sure of that, but everything seemed to go all right.

By the time Metcalfe came back from whatever nefarious enterprise he had been on, we were pretty well finished and ready to leave. I said nothing to Metcalfe about this, feeling that the less he knew, the better.

When I’d got Sanford shipshape I went over to Metcalfe’s Fairmile to pay my promised visit. A fair-haired man who was flushing the decks with a hose said, ‘I guess you must be Halloran. I’m Krupke, Metcalfe’s side-kick.’

‘Is he around?’

Krupke shook his head. ‘He went off with that friend of yours — Walker. He said I was to show you around if you came aboard.’

I said, ‘You’re an American, aren’t you?’

He grinned. ‘Yep, I’m from Milwaukee. Didn’t fancy going back to the States after the war, so I stayed on here. Hell, I was only a kid then, not more’n twenty, so I thought that since Uncle Sam paid my fare out here, I might as well take advantage of it.’

I thought he was probably a deserter and couldn’t go back to the States, although there might have been an amnesty for deserters. I didn’t know how the civil statute limitations worked in military law. I didn’t say anything about that, though — renegades are touchy and sometimes unaccountably patriotic.

The wheelhouse — which Krupke called the ‘deckhouse’ — was well fitted. There were two echo sounders, one with a recording pen. Engine control was directly under the helmsman’s hand and the windows in front were fitted with Kent screens for bad weather. There was a big marine radio transceiver — and there was radar.

I put my hand on the radar display and said, ‘What range does this have?’

‘It’s got several ranges,’ he said. ‘You pick the one that’s best at the time. I’ll show you.’

He snapped a switch and turned a knob. After a few seconds the screen lit up and I could see a tiny plan of the harbour as the scanner revolved. Even Sanford was visible as one splotch among many.

‘That’s for close work,’ said Krupke, and turned a knob with a click. ‘This is maximum range — fifteen miles, but you won’t see much while we’re in harbour.’

The landward side of the screen was now too cluttered to be of any use, but to seaward, I saw a tiny speck. ‘What’s that?’

He looked at his watch. ‘That must be the ferry from Gibraltar. It’s ten miles away — you can see the mileage marked on the grid.’

I said, ‘This gadget must be handy for making a landfall at night.’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘All you have to do is to match the screen profile with the chart. Doesn’t matter if there’s no moon or if there’s a fog.’

I wished I could have a set like that on Sanford but it’s difficult installing radar on a sailing vessel — there are too many lines to catch in the antenna. Anyway, we wouldn’t have the power to run it.

I looked around the wheelhouse. ‘With all this gear you can’t need much of a crew, even though she is a biggish boat,’ I said. ‘What crew do you have?’

‘Me and Metcalfe can run it ourselves,’ said Krupke. ‘Our trips aren’t too long. But usually we have another man with us — that Moroccan you’ve got on Sanford.’

I stayed aboard the Fairmile for a long time, but Metcalfe and Walker didn’t show up, so after a while I went back to Metcalfe’s flat. Coertze was already there, but there was no sign of the others, so we went to have dinner as a twosome.

Over dinner I said, ‘We ought to be getting away soon. Everything is fixed at this end and we’d be wasting time if we stayed any longer.’

‘Ja,’ Coertze agreed. ‘This isn’t a pleasure trip.’

We went back to the flat and found it empty, apart from the servants. Coertze went to his room and I read desultorily from a magazine. About ten o’clock I heard someone coming in and I looked up.

I was immediately boiling with fury.

Walker was drunk — blind, paralytic drunk. He was clutching on to Metcalfe and sagging at the knees, his face slack and his bleared eyes wavering unseeingly about him. Metcalfe was a little under the weather himself, but not too drunk. He gave Walker a hitch to prevent him from falling, and said cheerily, ‘We went to have a night on the town, but friend Walker couldn’t take it. You’d better help me dump him on his bed.’

I helped Metcalfe support Walker to his room and we laid him on his bed. Coertze, dozing in the other bed, woke up and said, ‘What’s happening?’

Metcalfe said, ‘Your pal’s got no head for liquor. He passed out on me.’

Coertze looked at Walker, then at me, his black eyebrows drawing angrily over his eyes. I made a sign for him to keep quiet.

Metcalfe stretched and said, ‘Well, I think I’ll turn in myself.’ He looked at Walker and there was an edge of contempt to his voice. ‘He’ll be all right in the morning, barring a hell of a hangover. I’ll tell Ismail to make him a prairie oyster for breakfast.’ He turned to Coertze. ‘What do you call it in Afrikaans?’

‘’n Regmaker,’ Coertze growled.

Metcalfe laughed. ‘That’s right. A Regmaker. That was the first word I ever learned in Afrikaans.’ He went to the door. ‘See you in the morning,’ he said, and was gone.

I closed the door. ‘The damn fool,’ I said feelingly.

Coertze got out of bed and grabbed hold of Walker, shaking him. ‘Walker,’ he shouted. ‘Did you tell him anything?’

Walker’s head flapped sideways and he began to snore. I took Coertze’s shoulder. ‘Be quiet; you’ll tell the whole household,’ I said. ‘It’s no use, anyway; you won’t get any sense out of him tonight — he’s unconscious. Leave it till morning.’

Coertze shook off my hand and turned. He had a black anger in him. ‘I told you,’ he said in a suppressed voice. ‘I told you he was no good. Who knows what the dronkie said?’

I took off Walker’s shoes and covered him with a blanket. ‘We’ll find out tomorrow,’ I said. ‘And I mean we. Don’t you go off pop at him, you’ll scare the liver out of him and he’ll close up tight.’

‘I’ll donner him up,’ said Coertze grimly. ‘That’s God’s truth.’

‘You’ll leave him alone,’ I said sharply. ‘We may be in enough trouble without fighting among ourselves. We need Walker.’

Coertze snorted.

I said, ‘Walker has done a job here that neither of us could have done. He has a talent for acting the damn’ fool in a believable manner.’ I looked down at him, then said bitterly, ‘It’s a pity he can be a damn’ fool without the acting. Anyway, we may need him again, so you leave him alone. We’ll both talk to him tomorrow, together.’

Coertze grudgingly gave his assent and I went to my room.

VI

I was up early next morning, but not as early as Metcalfe, who had already gone out. I went in to see Walker and found that Coertze was up and half dressed. Walker lay on his bed, snoring. I took a glass of water and poured it over his head. I was in no mood to consider Walker’s feelings.

He stirred and moaned and opened his eyes just as Coertze seized the carafe and emptied it over him. He sat up spluttering, then sagged back. ‘My head,’ he said, and put his hands to his temples.

Coertze seized him by the front of the shirt. ‘Jou goggamannetjie, what did you say to Metcalfe?’ He shook Walker violently. ‘What did you tell him?’

This treatment was doing Walker’s aching head no good, so I said, ‘Take it easy; I’ll talk to him.’

Coertze let go and I stood over Walker, waiting until he had recovered his wits. Then I said, ‘You got drunk last night, you stupid fool, and of all people to get drunk with you had to pick Metcalfe.’

Walker looked up, the pain of his monumental hangover filming his eyes. I sat on the bed. ‘Now, did you tell him anything about the gold?’

‘No,’ cried Walker. ‘No, I didn’t.’

I said evenly, ‘Don’t tell us any lies, because if we catch you out in a lie you know what we’ll do to you.’

He shot a frightened glance at Coertze who was glowering in the background and closed his eyes. ‘I can’t remember,’ he said. ‘It’s blank; I can’t remember.’

That was better; he was probably telling the truth now. The total blackout is a symptom of alcoholism. I thought about it for a while and came to the conclusion that even if Walker hadn’t told Metcalfe about the gold he had probably blown his cover sky high. Under the influence, the character he had built up would have been irrevocably smashed and he would have reverted to his alcoholic and unpleasant self.

Metcalfe was sharp — he wouldn’t have survived in his nefarious career otherwise. The change in character of Walker would be the tip-off that there was something odd about old pal Halloran and his crew. That would be enough for Metcalfe to check further. We would have to work on the assumption that Metcalfe would consider us worthy of further study.

I said, ‘What’s done is done,’ and looked at Walker. His eyes were downcast and his fingers were nervously scrabbling at the edge of the blanket.

‘Look at me,’ I said, and his eyes rose slowly to meet mine. ‘I think you’re telling the truth,’ I said coldly. ‘But if I catch you in a lie it will be the worse for you. And if you take another drink on this trip I’ll break your back. You think you’re scared of Coertze here; but you’ll have more reason to be scared of me if you take just one more drink. Understand?’

He nodded.

‘I don’t care how much you drink once this thing is finished. You’ll probably drink yourself to death in six months, but that’s got nothing to do with me. But just one more drink on this trip and you’re a dead man.’

He flinched and I turned to Coertze. ‘Now, leave him alone; he’ll behave.’

Coertze said, ‘Just let me get at him. Just once,’ he pleaded.

‘It’s finished,’ I said impatiently. ‘We have to decide what to do next. Get your things packed — we’re moving out.’

‘What about Metcalfe?’

‘I’ll tell him we want to see some festival in Spain.’

‘What festival?’

‘How do I know which festival? There’s always some goddam festival going on in Spain; I’ll pick the most convenient. We sail this afternoon as soon as I can get harbour clearance.’

‘I still think I could do something about Metcalfe,’ said Coertze meditatively.

‘Leave Metcalfe alone,’ I said. ‘He may not suspect anything at all, but if you try to beat him up then he’ll know there’s something fishy. We don’t want to tangle with Metcalfe if we can avoid it. He’s bigger than we are.’

We packed our bags and went to the boat, Walker very quiet and trailing in the rear. Moulay Idriss was squatting on the foredeck smoking a kif cigarette. We went below and started to stow our gear.

I had just pulled out the chart which covered the Straits of Gibraltar in preparation for planning our course when Coertze came aft and said in a low voice, ‘I think someone’s been searching the boat.’

‘What the hell!’ I said. Metcalfe had left very early that morning — he would have had plenty of time to give Sanford a good going over. ‘The furnaces?’ I said.

We had disguised the three furnaces as well as we could. The carbon clamps had been taken off and scattered in tool boxes in the forecastle where they would look just like any other junk that accumulates over a period. The main boxes with the heavy transformers were distributed about Sanford, one cemented under the cabin sole, another disguised as a receiving set complete with the appropriate knobs and dials, and the third built into a marine battery in the engine space.

It is doubtful if Metcalfe would know what they were if he saw them, but the fact that they were masquerading in innocence would make him wonder a lot. It would be a certain clue that we were up to no good.

A check over the boat showed that everything was in order. Apart from the furnaces, and the spare graphite mats which lined the interior of the double coach roof, there was nothing on board to distinguish us from any other cruising yacht in these waters.

I said, ‘Perhaps the Moroccan has been doing some exploring on his own account.’

Coertze swore. ‘If he’s been poking his nose in where it isn’t wanted I’ll throw him overboard.’

I went on deck. The Moroccan was still squatting on the foredeck. I said interrogatively, ‘Mr Metcalfe?’

He stretched an arm and pointed across the harbour to the Fairmile. I put the dinghy over the side and rowed across. Metcalfe hailed me as I got close. ‘How’s Walker?’

‘Feeling sorry for himself,’ I said, as Metcalfe took the painter. ‘A pity it happened; he’ll probably be as sick as a dog when we get under way.’

‘You leaving?’ said Metcalfe in surprise.

I said, ‘I didn’t get the chance to tell you last night. We’re heading for Spain.’ I gave him my prepared story, then said, ‘I don’t know if we’ll be coming back this way. Walker will, of course, but Coertze and I might go back to South Africa by way of the east coast.’ I thought that there was nothing like confusing the issue.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Metcalfe. ‘I was going to ask you to design a dinghy for me while you were here.’

‘Tell you what,’ I said. ‘I’ll write to Cape Town and get the yard to send you a Falcon kit. It’s on me; all you’ve got to do is pay for the shipping.’

‘Well, thanks,’ said Metcalfe. ‘That’s decent of you.’ He seemed pleased.

‘It’s as much as I can do after all the hospitality we’ve had here,’ I said.

He stuck out his hand and I took it. ‘Best of luck, Hal, in all your travels. I hope your project is successful.’

I was incautious. ‘What project?’ I asked sharply.

‘Why, the boatyard you’re planning. You don’t have anything else in mind, do you?’

I cursed myself and smiled weakly. ‘No, of course not.’ I turned to get into the dinghy, and Metcalfe said quietly, ‘You’re not cut out for my kind of life, Hal. Don’t try it if you’re thinking of it. It’s tough and there’s too much competition.’

As I rowed back to Sanford I wondered if that was a veiled warning that he was on to our scheme. Metcalfe was an honest man by his rather dim lights and wouldn’t willingly cut down a friend. But he would if the friend didn’t get out of his way.

At three that afternoon we cleared Tangier harbour and I set course for Gibraltar. We were on our way, but we had left too many mistakes behind us.

I

When we were beating through the Straits Coertze suggested that we should head straight for Italy. I said, ‘Look, we’ve told Metcalfe we were going to Spain, so that’s where we are going.’

He thumped the cockpit coaming. ‘But we haven’t time.’

‘We’ve got to make time,’ I said doggedly. ‘I told you there would be snags which would use up our month’s grace; this is one of the snags. We’re going to take a month getting to Italy instead of a fortnight, which cuts us down to two weeks in hand — but we’ve got to do it. Maybe we can make it up in Italy.’

He grumbled at that, saying I was unreasonably frightened of Metcalfe. I said, ‘You’ve waited fifteen years for this opportunity — you can afford to wait another fortnight. We’re going to Gibraltar, to Malaga and Barcelona; we’re going to the Riviera, to Nice and to Monte Carlo; after that, Italy. We’re going to watch bullfights and gamble in casinos and do everything that every other tourist does. We’re going to be the most innocent people that Metcalfe ever laid eyes on.’

‘But Metcalfe’s back in Tangier.’

I smiled thinly. ‘He’s probably in Spain right now. He could have passed us any time in that Fairmile of his. He could even have flown or taken the ferry to Gibraltar, dammit. I think he’ll keep an eye on us if he reckons we’re up to something.’

‘Damn Walker,’ burst out Coertze.

‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘But that’s water under the bridge.’

I was adding up the mistakes we had made. Number one was Walker’s incautious statement to Aristide that he had drawn money on a letter of credit. That was a lie — a needless one, too — I had the letter of credit and Walker could have said so. Keeping control of the finances of the expedition was the only way I had of making sure that Coertze didn’t get the jump on me. I still didn’t know the location of the gold.

Now, Aristide would naturally make inquiries among his fellow bankers about the financial status of this rich Mr Walker. He would get the information quite easily — all bankers hang together and the hell with ethics — and he would find that Mr Walker had not drawn any money from any bank in Tangier. He might not be too perturbed about that, but he might ask Metcalfe about it, and Metcalfe would find it another item to add to his list of suspicions. He would pump Aristide to find that Walker and Halloran had taken an undue interest in the flow of gold in and out of Tangier.

He would go out to the Casa Saeta and sniff around. He would find nothing there to conflict with Walker’s cover story, but it would be precisely the cover story that he suspected most — Walker having blown hell out of it when he was drunk. The mention of gold would set his ears a-prick — a man like Metcalfe would react very quickly to the smell of gold — and if I were Metcalfe I would take great interest in the movements of the cruising yacht, Sanford.

All this was predicated on the fact that Walker had not told about the gold when he was drunk. If he had, then the balloon had really gone up.

We put into Gibraltar and spent a day rubber-necking at the Barbary apes and looking at the man-made caves. Then we sailed for Malaga and heard a damn’ sight more flamenco music than we could stomach.

It was on the second day in Malaga, when Walker and I went out to the gipsy caves like good tourists, that I realized we were being watched. We were bumping into a sallow young man with a moustache everywhere we went. He sat far removed when we ate in a sidewalk café, he appeared in the yacht basin, he applauded the flamenco dancers when we went to see the gipsies.

I said nothing to the others, but it only went to confirm my estimate of Metcalfe’s abilities. He would have friends in every Mediterranean port, and it wouldn’t be difficult to pass the word around. A yacht’s movements are not easy to disguise, and he was probably sitting in Tangier like a spider in the centre of a web, receiving phone calls from wherever we went. He would know all our movements and our expenditure to the last peseta.

The only thing to do was to act the innocent and hope that we could wear him out, string him on long enough so that he would conclude that his suspicions were unfounded, after all.

In Barcelona we went to a bullfight — the three of us. That was after I had had a little fun in trying to spot Metcalfe’s man. He wasn’t difficult to find if you were looking for him and turned out to be a tall, lantern-jawed cut-throat who carried out the same routine as the man in Malaga.

I was reasonably sure that if anyone was going to burgle Sanford it would be one of Metcalfe’s friends. The word would have been passed round that we were his meat and so the lesser fry would leave us alone. I hired a watchman who looked as though he would sell his grandmother for ten pesetas and we all went to the bullfight.

Before I left I was careful to set the stage. I had made a lot of phoney notes concerning the costs of setting up a boatyard in Spain, together with a lot of technical stuff I had picked up. I also left a rough itinerary of our future movements as far as Greece and a list of addresses of people to be visited. I then measured to a millimetre the position in which each paper was lying.

When we got back the watchman said that all had been quiet, so I paid him off and he went away. But the papers had been moved, so the locked cabin had been successfully burgled in spite of — or probably because of — the watchman. I wondered how much he had been paid — and I wondered if my plant had satisfied Metcalfe that we were wandering innocents.

From Barcelona we struck out across the Gulf of Lions to Nice, giving Majorca a miss because time was getting short. Again I went about my business of visiting boatyards and again I spotted the watcher, but this time I made a mistake.

I told Coertze.

He boiled over. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ he demanded.

‘What was the point?’ I said. ‘We can’t do anything about it.’

‘Can’t we?’ he said darkly, and fell into silence.

Nothing much happened in Nice. It’s a pleasant place if you haven’t urgent business elsewhere, but we stayed just long enough to make our cover real and then we sailed the few miles to Monte Carlo, which again is a nice town for the visiting tourist.

In Monte Carlo I stayed aboard Sanford in the evening while Coertze and Walker went ashore. There was not much to do in the way of maintenance beyond the usual housekeeping jobs, so I relaxed in the cockpit enjoying the quietness of the night. The others stayed out late and when they came back Walker was unusually silent.

Coertze had gone below when I said to Walker, ‘What’s the matter? The cat got your tongue? How did you like Monte?’

He jerked his head at the companionway. ‘He clobbered someone.’

I went cold. ‘Who?’

‘A chap was following us all afternoon. Coertze spotted him and said that he’d deal with it. We let this bloke follow us until it got dark and then Coertze led him into an alley and beat him up.’

I got up and went below. Coertze was in the galley bathing swollen knuckles. I said, ‘So you’ve done it at last. You must use your goddamn fists and not your brains. You’re worse than Walker; at least you can say he’s a sick man.’

Coertze looked at me in surprise. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I hear you hit someone.’

Coertze looked at his fist and grinned at me. ‘He’ll never bother us again — he’ll be in hospital for a month.’ He said this with pride, for God’s sake.

‘You’ve blown it,’ I said tightly. ‘I’d just about got Metcalfe to the point where he must have been convinced that we were O.K. Now you’ve beaten up one of his men, so he knows we are on to him, and he knows we must be hiding something. You might just as well have phoned him up and said, “We’ve got some gold coming up; come and take it from us.” You’re a damn’ fool.’

His face darkened. ‘No one can talk to me like that.’ He raised his fist.

‘I am talking to you like that,’ I said. ‘And if you lay one finger on me you can kiss the gold goodbye. You can’t sail this or any other boat worth a damn, and Walker won’t help you — he hates your guts. You hit me and you’re out for good. I know you could probably break me in two and you’re welcome to try, but it’ll cost you a cool half-million for the pleasure.’

This showdown had been coming for a long time.

He hesitated uncertainly. ‘You damned Englishman,’ he said.

‘Go ahead — hit me,’ I said, and got ready to take his rush.

He relaxed and pointed his finger at me threateningly. ‘You wait until this is over,’ he said. ‘Just you wait — we’ll sort it out then.’

‘All right, we’ll sort it out then,’ I said. ‘But until then I’m the boss. Understand?’

His face darkened again. ‘No one bosses me,’ he blustered.

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Then we start going back the way we came — Nice, Barcelona, Malaga, Gibraltar. Walker will help me sail the boat, but we won’t do a damn’ thing for you.’ I turned away.

‘Wait a minute,’ said Coertze and I turned back. ‘All right,’ he said hoarsely. ‘But wait till this is over; by God, you’ll have to watch yourself then.’

‘But until then I’m the boss?’

‘Yes,’ he said sullenly.

‘And you take my orders?’

His fists tightened but he held himself in. ‘Yes.’

‘Then here’s your first one. You don’t do a damn’ thing without consulting me first.’ I turned to go up the companionway, got half-way up, then had a sudden thought and went below again.

I said, ‘And there’s another thing I want to tell you. Don’t get any ideas about double-crossing me or Walker, because if you do, you’ll not only have me to contend with but Metcalfe as well. I’d be glad to give Metcalfe a share if you did that. And there wouldn’t be a place in the world you could hide if Metcalfe got after you.’

He stared at me sullenly and turned away. I went on deck.

Walker was sitting in the cockpit. ‘Did you hear that?’ I said.

He nodded. ‘I’m glad you included me on your side.’

I was exasperated and shaking with strain. It was no fun tangling with a bear like Coertze — he was all reflex and no brain and he could have broken me as anyone else would break a matchstick. He was a man who had to be governed like a fractious horse.

I said, ‘Dammit, I don’t know why I came on this crazy trip with a dronkie like you and a maniac like Coertze. First you put Metcalfe on our tracks and then he clinches it.’

Walker said softly, ‘I didn’t mean to do it. I don’t think I told Metcalfe anything.’

‘I don’t think so either, but you gave the game away somehow.’ I stretched, easing my muscles. ‘It doesn’t matter; we either get the gold or we don’t. That’s all there is to it.’

Walker said, ‘You can rely on me to help you against Coertze, if it comes to that.’

I smiled. Relying on Walker was like relying on a fractured mast in a hurricane — the hurricane being Coertze. He affected people like that; he had a blind, elemental force about him. An overpowering man, altogether.

I patted Walker on the knee. ‘O.K. You’re my man from now on.’ I let the hardness come into my voice because Walker had to be kept to heel, too. ‘But keep off the booze. I meant what I said in Tangier.’

II

The next stop was Rapallo, which was first choice as our Italian base, provided we could get fixed up with a suitable place to do our work. We motored into the yacht basin and damned if I didn’t see a Falcon drawn up on the hard. I knew the firm had sold a few kits in Europe but I didn’t expect to see any of them.

As we had come from a foreign port there were the usual Customs and medical queries — a mere formality. Yachtsmen are very well treated in the Mediterranean. I chatted with the Customs men, discussing yachts and yachting and said that I was a boat designer and builder myself. I gave the standard talk and said that I was thinking of opening a yard in the Mediterranean, pointing to the Falcon as a sample of my work.

They were impressed at that. Anyone whose product was used six thousand miles from where it was made must obviously be someone to be reckoned with. They didn’t know much about local conditions but they gave me some useful addresses.

I was well satisfied. If I had to impress people with my integrity I might as well start with the Customs. That stray Falcon came in very handy.

I went ashore, leaving Walker and Coertze aboard by instruction. There was no real need for such an order but I wanted to test my new-found ascendancy over them. Coertze had returned to his old self, more or less. His mood was equable and he cracked as few jokes as usual — the point being that he cracked jokes at all. But I had no illusions that he had forgotten anything. The Afrikaner is notorious for his long memory for wrongs.

I went up to the Yacht Club and presented my credentials. One of the most pleasant things about yachting is that you are sure of a welcome in any part of the world. There is a camaraderie among yachtsmen which is very heartening in a world which is on the point of blowing itself to hell. This international brotherhood, together with the fact that the law of the sea doesn’t demand a licence to operate a small boat, makes deep-sea cruising one of the most enjoyable experiences in the world.

I chatted with the secretary of the club, who spoke very good English, and talked largely of my plans. He took me into the bar and bought me a drink and introduced me to several of the members and visiting yachtsmen. After we had chatted at some length about the voyage from South Africa I got down to finding out about the local boatyards.

On the way round the Mediterranean I had come to the conclusion that my cover story need not be a cover at all — it could be the real thing. I had become phlegmatic about the gold, especially after the antics of Walker and Coertze, and my interest in the commercial possibilities of the Mediterranean was deepening. I was nervous and uncertain as to whether the three of us could carry the main job through — the three-way pull of character was causing tensions which threatened to tear the entire fabric of the plan apart. So I was hedging my bet and looking into the business possibilities seriously.

The lust for gold, which I had felt briefly in Aristide’s vault, was still there but lying dormant. Still, it was enough to drive me on, enough to make me out-face Coertze and Walker and to try to circumvent Metcalfe.

But if I had known then that other interests were about to enter the field of battle I might have given up there and then, in the bar of the Rapallo Yacht Club.

During the afternoon I visited several boatyards. This was not all business prospecting — Sanford had come a long way and her bottom was foul. She needed taking out of the water and scraping, which would give her another halfknot. We had agreed that this would be the ostensible reason for pulling her out of the water, and a casual word dropped in the Yacht Club that I had found something wrong with her keel bolts would be enough excuse for making the exchange of keels. Therefore I was looking for a quiet place where we could cast our golden keel.

I was perturbed when I suddenly discovered that I could not spot Metcalfe’s man. If he had pulled off his watchdogs because he thought we were innocent, then that was all right. But it seemed highly unlikely now that Coertze had given the game away. What seemed very likely was that something was being cooked up — and whatever was going to happen would certainly involve Sanford. I dropped my explorations and hurried back to the yacht basin.

‘I wasn’t followed,’ I said to Coertze.

‘I told you my way was best,’ he said. ‘They’ve been frightened off.’

‘If you think that Metcalfe would be frightened off because a hired wharf rat was beaten up, you’d better think again,’ I said. I looked hard at him. ‘If you go ashore to stretch your legs can I trust you not to hammer anyone you might think is looking at you cross-eyed?’

He tried to hold my eye and then his gaze wavered. ‘O.K.,’ he said sullenly. ‘I’ll be careful. But you’ll find out that my way is best in the end.’

‘All right; you and Walker can go ashore to get a bite to eat.’ I turned to Walker. ‘No booze, remember. Not even wine.’

Coertze said, ‘I’ll see to that. We’ll stick close together, won’t we?’ He clapped Walker on the back.

They climbed on to the dockside and I watched them go, Coertze striding out and Walker hurrying to keep pace. I wondered what Metcalfe was up to, but finding that profitless, I went below to review our needs for the next few days. I stretched on the port settee and must have been very tired, because when I woke it was dark except for the lights of the town glimmering through the ports.

And it was a movement on deck that had wakened me!

I lay there for a moment until I heard another sound, then I rose cautiously, went to the companionway very quietly and raised my head to deck level. ‘Coertze?’ I called softly.

A voice said, ‘Is that Signor Halloran?’ The voice was very feminine.

I came up to the cockpit fast. ‘Who is that?’

A dark shape moved towards me. ‘Mr Halloran, I want to talk to you.’ She spoke good English with but a trace of Italian accent and her voice was pleasantly low and even.

I said, ‘Who are you?’

‘Surely introductions would be more in order if we could see each other.’ There was a hint of command in her voice as though she was accustomed to getting her own way.

‘O.K.,’ I said. ‘Let’s go below.’

She slipped past me and went down the companionway and I followed, switching on the main cabin lights. She turned so that I could see her, and she was something worth looking at. Her hair was raven black and swept up into smooth wings on each side of her head as though to match the winged eyebrows which were dark over cool, hazel eyes. Her cheekbones were high, giving a trace of hollow in the cheeks, but she didn’t look like one of the fashionably emaciated models one sees in Vogue.

She was dressed in a simple woollen sheath which showed off a good figure to perfection. It might have been bought at a local department store or it might have come from a Parisian fashion house; I judged the latter — you can’t be married to a woman for long without becoming aware of the price of feminine fripperies.

She carried her shoes in her hand and stood in her stockinged feet, that was a point in her favour. A hundred-pound girl in a spike heel comes down with a force of two tons, and that’s hell on deck planking. She either knew something about yachts or...

I pointed to the shoes and said, ‘You’re a pretty inexperienced burglar. You ought to have those slung round your neck to leave your hands free.’

She laughed. ‘I’m not a burglar, Mr Halloran, I just don’t like shoes very much; and I have been on yachts before.’

I moved towards her. She was tall, almost as tall as myself. I judged her to be in her late twenties or possibly, but improbably, her early thirties. Her lips were pale and she wore very little make-up. She was a very beautiful woman.

‘You have the advantage of me,’ I said.

‘I am the Contessa di Estrenoli.’

I gestured at the settee. ‘Well, sit down, Contessa.’

‘Not Contessa — Madame,’ she said, and sat down, pulling the dress over her knees with one hand and placing the shoes at her side. ‘In our association together you will call me Madame.’

I sat down slowly on the opposite settee. Metcalfe certainly came up with some surprises. I said carefully, ‘So we are going to be associated together? I couldn’t think of a better person to be associated with. When do we start?’

There was frost in her voice. ‘Not the kind of association you are obviously thinking of, Mr Halloran.’ She went off at a tangent. ‘I saw your... er... companions ashore. They didn’t see me — I wanted to talk to you alone.’

‘We’re alone,’ I said briefly.

She gathered her thoughts, then said precisely, ‘Mr Halloran, you have come to Italy with Mr Coertze and Mr Walker to remove something valuable from the country. You intend to do this illicitly and illegally, therefore your whole plan depends on secrecy; you cannot — shall we say ‘operate’ — if someone is looking over your shoulder. I intend to look over your shoulder.’

I groaned mentally. Metcalfe had the whole story. Apparently the only thing he didn’t know was where the treasure was hidden. This girl was quite right when she said that it couldn’t be lifted if we were under observation, so he was coming right out and asking for a cut. Walker really must have talked in Tangier if Metcalfe could pinpoint it as close as Rapallo.

I said, ‘O.K., Contessa; how much does Metcalfe want?’

She raised her winged eyebrows. ‘Metcalfe?’

‘Yes, Metcalfe; your boss.’

She shook her head. ‘I know of no Metcalfe, whoever he is. And I am my own boss, I assure you of that.’

I think I kept my face straight. The surprises were certainly piling up. If this Estrenoli woman was mixed up with Metcalfe, then why would she deny it? If she wasn’t then who the devil was she — and how did she know of the treasure?’

I said, ‘Supposing I tell you to jump over the side?’

She smiled. ‘Then you will never get these valuables out of Italy.’

There seemed to be a concession there, so I said, ‘And if I don’t tell you to jump over the side, then we will get the stuff out of the country, is that it?’

‘Some of it,’ she compromised. ‘But without my cooperation you will spend a long time in an Italian prison.’

That was certainly something to think about and when I had time. I said, ‘All right; who are you, and what do you know?’

‘I knew that the news was out on the waterfront to watch for the yacht Sanford. I knew that the yacht was owned by Mr Halloran and that Mr Coertze and Mr Walker were his companions. That was enough for me.’

‘And what has the Contessa di Estrenoli got to do with waterfront rumours? What has an Italian aristocrat got to do with the jailbirds that news was intended for?’

She smiled and said, ‘I have strange friends, Mr Halloran. I learn all that is interesting on the waterfront. I realize now that perhaps your Mr Metcalfe was responsible for the circulation of those instructions.’

‘So you learned that a yacht and three men were coming to Rapallo, and you said to yourself, “Ah, these three men are coming to take something out of Italy illegally,” ’ I said with heavy irony. ‘You’ll have to do better than that, Contessa.’

‘But you see, I know Mr Coertze and Mr Walker,’ she said. ‘The heavy and clumsy Mr Coertze has been to Italy quite often. I have always known about him and I always had him watched.’ She smiled. ‘He was like a dog at a rabbit hole who yelps because it is too small and he cannot get in. He always left Italy empty-handed.’

That did it. Coertze must have shown his hand on one of his periodic trips to Italy. But how the devil did she know Walker? He hadn’t been to Italy recently — or had he?

She continued. ‘So when I heard that Mr Coertze was returning with Mr Walker and the unknown Mr Halloran, then I knew that something big was going to happen. That you were ready to take away whatever was buried, Mr Halloran.’

‘So you don’t know exactly what we’re after?’

‘I know that it is very valuable,’ she said simply.

‘I might be an archaeologist,’ I said.

She laughed. ‘No, you are not an archaeologist, Mr Halloran; you are a boat-builder.’ She saw the surprise in my eyes, and added, ‘I know a lot about you.’

I said, ‘Let’s quit fencing; how do you know about whatever it is?’

She said slowly, ‘A man called Alberto Corso had been writing a letter to my father. He was killed before the letter was finished, so there was not all the information that could be desired. But there was enough for me to know that Mr Coertze must be watched.’

I snapped my fingers. ‘You’re the Count’s little daughter. You’re... er... Francesca.’

She inclined her head. ‘I am the daughter of a count.’

‘Not so little now,’ I said. ‘So the Count is after the loot.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, no. My father knows nothing about it. Nothing at all.’

I thought that could do with a bit of explanation and was just going to query the statement when someone jumped on deck. ‘Who is that?’ asked the Contessa.

‘Probably the others coming back,’ I said, and waited. Perhaps there were to be some more surprises before the evening was out.

Walker came down the companionway and stopped when he saw her. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I hope I’m not butting in.’

I said, ‘This is the Contessa di Estrenoli — Mr Walker.’ I watched him to see if he recognized her, but he didn’t. He looked at her as one looks at a beautiful woman and said, in Italian, ‘A pleasure, signora.’

She smiled at him and said, ‘Don’t you know me, Mr Walker? I bandaged your leg when you were brought into the hill camp during the war.’

He looked at her closely and said incredulously, ‘Francesca!’

‘That’s right; I’m Francesca.’

‘You’ve changed,’ he said. ‘You’ve grown up. I mean... er...’ he was confused.

She looked at him. ‘Yes, we’ve all changed,’ she said. I thought I detected a note of regret. They chatted for a few minutes and then she picked up her shoes. ‘I must go,’ she said.

Walker said, ‘But you’ve only just got here.’

‘No, I have an appointment in twenty minutes.’ She rose and went to the companionway and I escorted her on deck.

She said, ‘I can understand Coertze, and now I can understand Walker; but I cannot understand you, Mr Halloran. Why are you doing this? You are a successful man, you have made a name in an honourable profession. Why should you do this?’

I sighed and said, ‘I had a reason in the beginning; maybe I still have it — I don’t know. But having come this far I must go on.’

She nodded, then said, ‘There is a café on the waterfront called the Three Fishes. Meet me there at nine tomorrow morning. Come alone; don’t bring Coertze or Walker. I never liked Coertze, and now I don’t think I like Walker any more. I would prefer not to talk to them.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll be there.’

She jumped lightly on to the jetty and swayed a little as she put her shoes on. I watched her go away, hearing the sharp click of her heels long after the darkness had swallowed her. Then I went below.

Walker said, ‘Where did she come from? How did she know we were here?’

‘The gaff has been blown with a loud trumpeting noise,’ I said. ‘She knows all — or practically all — and she’s putting the screws on.’

Walker’s jaw dropped. ‘She knows about the gold?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I’m not going to talk about it till Coertze comes. No point in going over it twice.’

Walker protested, but swallowed his impatience when I made it clear that I wasn’t going to talk, and sat wriggling on the settee. After half an hour we heard Coertze come on board.

He was affable — full of someone else’s cooking for a change, and he’d had a few drinks. ‘Man,’ he said, ‘these Italians can cook.’

‘Francesca was here,’ I said.

He looked at me, startled. ‘The Count’s daughter?’

‘Yes.’

Walker said, ‘I want to know how she found us.’

‘What did the stuck-up bitch want?’ asked Coertze.

I raised my eyebrows at that. Apparently the dislike between these two was mutual. ‘She wants a cut of the treasure,’ I said bluntly.

Coertze swore. ‘How the hell did she get to know about it?’

‘Alberto wrote a letter before he was killed.’

Coertze and Walker exchanged looks, and after a pregnant silence, Coertze said, ‘So Alberto was going to give us away, after all.’

I said, ‘He did give you away.’

‘Then why is the gold still there?’ demanded Coertze.

‘The letter was incomplete,’ I said. ‘It didn’t say exactly where the gold is.’

Coertze sighed windily. ‘Well, there’s not too much damage done.’

I fretted at his stupidity. ‘How do you suppose we’re going to get it out with half of Italy watching us?’ I asked. ‘She’s been on to you all the time — she’s watched you every time you’ve been in Italy and she’s been laughing at you. And she knows there’s something big under way now.’

‘That bitch would laugh at me,’ said Coertze viciously. ‘She always treated me like dirt. I suppose the Count has been laughing like hell, too.’

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. ‘She says the Count knows nothing about it. Tell me about him.’

‘The Count? Oh, he’s an old no-good now. He didn’t get his estates back after the war — I don’t know why — and he’s as poor as a church mouse. He lives in a poky flat in Milan with hardly enough room to swing a cat.’

‘Who supports him?’

Coertze shrugged. ‘I dunno. Maybe she does — she can afford it. She married a Roman count; I heard he was stinking rich, so I suppose she passes on some of the housekeeping money to the old boy.’

‘Why don’t you like her?’

‘Oh, she’s one of these stuck-up society bitches — I never did like that kind. We get plenty in Houghton, but they’re worse here. She wouldn’t give me the time of day. Not like her old man. I get on well with him.’

I thought perhaps that on one of his visits to Italy Coertze had made a pass at her and been well and truly slapped down. A pass from Coertze would be clumsy and graceless, like being propositioned by a gorilla.

I said, ‘Was she around often during the times you were in Italy?’

He thought about that, and said, ‘Sometimes. She turned up at least once on every trip.’

‘That’s all she’d need. To locate you, I mean. She seems to have a circle of pretty useful friends and apparently they’re not the crowd you’d think a girl like that would mix with. She picked up Metcalfe’s signals to the Mediterranean ports and interpreted them correctly, so it looks as though she has brains as well as beauty.’

Coertze snorted. ‘Beauty! She’s a skinny bitch.’

She had got under his skin. I said, ‘That may be, but she’s got us cold. We can’t do a damn’ thing while she’s on our necks. To say nothing of Metcalfe, who’ll be on to us next. Funny that he hasn’t shown his hand in Rapallo yet.’

‘I tell you he’s scared off,’ growled Coertze.

I let that pass. ‘Anyway, we can’t do any heavy thinking about it until we find out exactly what she wants. I’m seeing her tomorrow morning, so perhaps I’ll be able to tell you more after that.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Coertze instantly.

‘She wants to see me, not you,’ I said. ‘That was something she specified.’

‘The bloody little bitch,’ exploded Coertze.

‘And for God’s sake, think up another word; I’m tired of that one,’ I said irritably.

He glowered at me. ‘You falling for her?’

I said wearily, ‘I don’t know the woman — I’ve seen her for just fifteen minutes. I’ll be better able to tell you about that tomorrow, too.’

‘Did she say anything about me?’ asked Walker.

‘No,’ I lied. There wasn’t any point in having both of them irritated at her — it was likely that we’d all have to work closely together, and the less friction the better. ‘But I’d better see her alone.’

Coertze growled under his breath, and I said, ‘Don’t worry; neither she nor I know where the gold is. We still need you — she and I and Metcalfe. We mustn’t forget Metcalfe.’

III

Early next morning I went to find the Three Fishes. It was just an ordinary dockside café, the kind of dump you find on any waterfront. Having marked it, I went for a stroll round the yacht basin, looking at the sleek sailing yachts and motor craft of the European rich. A lot were big boats needing a paid crew to handle them while the owner and his guests took it easy, but some were more to my taste — small, handy sailing cruisers run by their owners who weren’t afraid of a bit of work.

After a pleasant hour I began to feel hungry so I went back to the Three Fishes for a late breakfast and got there on the dot of nine. She wasn’t there, so I ordered breakfast and it turned out better than I expected. I had just started to eat when she slid into the seat opposite.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said.

‘That’s O.K.’

She was wearing slacks and sweater, the kind of clothes you see in the women’s magazines but seldom in real life. The sweater suited her.

She looked at my plate and said, ‘I had an early breakfast, but I think I’ll have another. Do you mind if I join you?’

‘It’s your party.’

‘The food is good here,’ she said, and called a waiter, ordering in rapid Italian. I continued to eat and said nothing. It was up to her to make the first move. As I had said — it was her party.

She didn’t say anything, either; but just watched me eat. When her own breakfast arrived she attacked it as though she hadn’t eaten for a week. She was a healthy girl with a healthy appetite. I finished my breakfast and produced a packet of cigarettes. ‘Do you mind?’ I asked.

I caught her with her mouth full and she shook her head, so I lit a cigarette. At last she pushed her plate aside with a sigh and took the cigarette I offered. ‘Do you know our Espresso?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I know it.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, yes, I forgot that it must have penetrated even your Darkest Africa. It is supposed to be for after dinner, but I drink it all the time. Would you like some?’

I said that I would, so she called out to the waiter, ‘Due Espressi,’ and turned back to me. ‘Well, Mr Halloran, have you thought about our conversation last night?’

I said I had thought about it.

‘And so?’

‘And so,’ I repeated. ‘Or more precisely — so what? I’ll need to know a lot more about you before I start confiding in you, Contessa.’

She seemed put out. ‘Don’t call me Contessa,’ she said pettishly. ‘What do you want to know?’

I flicked ash into the ashtray. ‘For one thing, how did you intercept Metcalfe’s message? It doesn’t seem a likely thing for a Contessa to come across — just like that.’

‘I told you I have friends,’ she said coldly.

‘Who are these friends?’

She sighed. ‘You know that my father and I were rebels against the Fascist Government during the war?’

‘You were with the partisans, I know.’

She gestured with her hand. ‘All right, with the partisans, if you wish. Although do not let my friends hear you say that — the Communists have made it a dirty word. My friends were also partisans and I have never lost contact with them. You see, I was only a little girl at the time and they made me a sort of mascot of the brigade. After the war most of them went back to their work, but some of them had never known any sort of life other than killing Germans. It is a hard thing to forget, you understand?’

I said, ‘You mean they’d had a taste of adventure, and liked it.’

‘That is right. There was plenty of adventure even after the war. Some of them stopped killing Germans and started to kill Communists — Italian Communists. It was dreadful. But the Communists were too strong, anyway. A few turned to other adventures — some are criminals — nothing serious, you understand; some smuggling, some things worse, but nothing very terrible in most cases. Being criminals, they also know other criminals.’

I began to see how it had been worked; it was all very logical, really.

‘There is a big man in Genoa, Torloni; he is a leader of criminals, a very big man in that sort of thing. He sent word to Savona, to Livorno, to Rapallo, to places as far south as Napoli, that he was interested in you and would pay for any information. He gave all your names and the name of your boat.’

That was the sort of pull Metcalfe would have. Probably this Torloni owed him a favour and was paying it off.

Francesca said, ‘My friends heard the name — Coertze. It is very uncommon in Italy, and they knew I was interested in a man of that name, so I was told of this. When I also heard the name of Walker I was sure that something was happening.’ She shrugged. ‘And then there was this Halloran — you. I did not know about you, so I am finding out.’

‘Has Torloni been told about us?’

She shook her head. ‘I told my friends to see that Torloni was not told. My friends are very strong on this coast; during the war all these hills belonged to us — not to the Germans.’

I began to get the picture. Francesca had been the mascot and, besides, she was the daughter of the revered leader. She was the Lady of the Manor, the Young Mistress who could do no wrong.

It looked also as though, just by chance, Metcalfe had been stymied — temporarily, at least. But I was landed with Francesca and her gang of merry men who had the advantage of knowing just what they wanted.

I said, ‘There’s another thing. You said your father doesn’t know anything about this. How can that be when Alberto Corso wrote him a letter?’

‘I never gave it to him,’ she said simply.

I looked at her quizzically. ‘Is that how a daughter behaves to her father? Not only reading his correspondence, but withholding it as well.’

‘It was not like that at all,’ she said sharply. ‘I will tell you how it was.’ She leaned her elbows on the table. ‘I was very young during the war, but my father made me work, everyone had to work. It was one of my tasks to gather together the possessions of those who were killed so that useful things could be saved and anything personal could be passed on to the family.

‘When Alberto was killed on the cliff I gathered his few things and I found the letter. It was addressed to my father and there were two pages, otherwise it was unfinished. I read it briefly and it seemed important, but how important it was I did not know because I was very young. I put it in my pocket to give to my father.

‘But there was a German attack and we had to move. We sheltered in a farmhouse but we had to move even from there very quickly. Now, I carried my own possessions in a little tin box and that was left in the farmhouse. It was only in 1946 that I went back to the farm to thank those people — the first chance I had.

‘They gave me wine and then the farmer’s wife brought out the little box and asked it if was mine. I had forgotten all about it and I had forgotten what was in it.’ She smiled. ‘There was a doll — no, not a doll; what you call an... Eddy-bear?’

‘A Teddy-bear.’

‘That is right; a Teddy-bear — I have still got it. There were some other things and Alberto’s letter was there also.’

I said, ‘And you still didn’t give it to your father. Why not?’

She thumped the table with a small fist. ‘It is difficult for you to understand the Italy of just after the war, but I will try to explain. The Communists were very strong, especially here in the north, and they ruined my father after the war. They said he had been a collaborationist and that he had fought the Communist partisans instead of fighting the Fascists. My father, who had been fighting the Fascists all his life! They brought up false evidence and no one would listen to him.

‘His estates had been confiscated by the Fascist Government and he could not get them back. How could he when Togliatti, the Vice-Premier of the Government, was the leader of the Italian Communist Party? They said, ‘No, this man was a collaborator, so he must be punished. But even with all their false evidence they dared not bring him to trial, but he could not get back his estates, and today he is a poor man.’

Francesca’s eyes were full of tears. She wiped them with a tissue and said, ‘Excuse me, but my feeling on this is strong.’

I said awkwardly, ‘That’s all right.’

She looked up and said, ‘These Communists with their fighting against the Fascists. My father fought ten times harder than any of them. Have you heard of the 52nd Partisan Brigade?’

I shook my head.

‘That was the famous Communist Brigade which captured Mussolini. The famous Garibaldi Brigade. Do you know how many men were in this so-famous Garibaldi Brigade in 1945?’

I said, ‘I know very little about it.’

‘Eighteen men,’ she said contemptuously. ‘Eighteen men called themselves the 52nd Brigade. My father commanded fifty times as many men. But when I went to Parma for the anniversary celebrations in 1949 the Garibaldi Brigade marched through the street and there were hundreds of men. All the Communist scum had crawled out of their holes now the war was over and it was safe. They marched through the streets and every man wore a red scarf about his neck and every man called himself a partisan. They even painted the statue of Garibaldi so that it had a red shirt and a red hat. So my friends and I do not call ourselves partisans, and you must not call us by that word the Communists have made a mockery of.’

She was shaking with rage. Her fists were clenched and she looked at me with eyes bright with unshed tears.

‘The Communists ruined my father because they knew he was a strong man and because they knew he would oppose them in Italy. He was a liberal, he was for the middle of the road — the middle way. He who is in the middle of the road gets knocked down, but he could not understand that,’ she said sombrely. ‘He thought it was an honourable fight — as though the Communists have ever fought honourably.’

It was a moving story and typical of our times. I also observed that it fitted with what Coertze had told me. I said, ‘But the Communists are not nearly as strong today. Is it not possible for your father to appeal and to have his case reviewed?’

‘Mud sticks, whoever throws it,’ she said sadly. ‘Besides, the war was a long time ago — people do not like to be reminded about those times — and people, especially officials, never like to admit their mistakes.’

She was realistic about the world and I realized that I must be realistic too. I said, ‘But what has this got to do with the letter?’

‘You wanted to know why I did not give the letter to my father after the war; is that so?’

‘Yes.’

She smiled tightly. ‘You must meet my father and then you would understand. You see, whatever you are looking for is valuable. I understood from Alberto’s letter that there are papers and a lot of gold bars. Now, my father is an honourable man. He would return everything to the Government because from the Government it came. To him, it would be unthinkable to keep any of the gold for himself. It would be dishonourable.’

She looked down at the backs of her hands. ‘Now, I am not an honourable woman. It hurts me to see my father so poor he has to live in a Milan slum, that he has to sell his furniture to buy food to eat. He is an old man — it is not right that he should live like that. But if I can get some money I would see that he had a happy old age. He does not need to know where the money comes from.’

I leaned back in my chair and looked at her thoughtfully. I looked at the expensive, fashion-plate clothing she was wearing, and she coloured under my scrutiny. I said softly, ‘Why don’t you send him money? I hear you made a good marriage; you ought to be able to spare a little for an old man.’

Her lips twisted in a harsh smile. ‘You don’t know anything about me, do you, Mr Halloran? I can assure you that I have no money and no husband, either — or no one that I would care to call my husband.’ She moved her hands forward on the table. ‘I sold my rings to get money to send to my father, and that was a long time ago. If it were not for my friends I would be on the streets. No, I have no money, Mr Halloran.’

There was something here I did not understand, but I didn’t press it. The reason she wanted to cut in didn’t matter; all that mattered was she had us over a barrel. With her connections we could not make a move in Italy without falling over an ex-partisan friend of hers. If we tried to lift the gold without coming to terms with her she would coolly step in at the right time and take the lot. She had us taped.

I said, ‘You’re as bad as Metcalfe.’

‘That is something I wanted to ask you,’ she said. ‘Who is this Metcalfe?’

‘He’s up to the same lark that you are.’

Her command of English was not up to that. ‘Lark?’ she said in mystification. ‘That is a bird?’

I said, ‘He’s one of our mutual competitors. He’s after the gold, too.’ I leaned over the table. ‘Now, if we cut you in, we would want certain guarantees.’

‘I do not think you are in a position to demand guarantees,’ she said coldly.

‘Nevertheless, we would want them. Don’t worry, this is in your interest, too. Metcalfe is the man behind Torloni and he’s quite a boy. Now, we would want protection against Metcalfe and anything he could throw against us. From what you’ve said, Torloni carries a bit of weight, and if he hasn’t got enough, Metcalfe can probably drum up some more. What I want to know is — can you give us protection against that lot?’

‘I can find a hundred men, any time I want,’ she said proudly.

‘What kind of men?’ I asked bluntly. ‘Old soldiers on pension?’

She smiled. ‘Most of my wartime friends live quietly and go about their work. I would not want them to be mixed up in anything illegal or violent, although they would help if they had to. But my...’ she hesitated for a word, ‘...my more unsavoury friends I would willingly commit to this affair. I told you they are adventurous and they are not old men — no older than you, Mr Halloran,’ she ended sweetly.

‘A hundred of them?’

She thought a little. ‘Fifty, then,’ she compromised. ‘My father’s hill fighters will be more than a match for those dockland gangsters.’

I had no doubt about that — if they fought man to man. But Metcalfe and Torloni could probably whip up every thug in Italy, and would do for a stake as large as this.

I said, ‘I want further guarantees. How do I know we won’t be double-crossed?’

‘You don’t,’ she said meagrely.

I decided to go in for some melodramatics. ‘I want you to swear that you won’t double-cross us.’

She raised her hand. ‘I swear that I, Francesca di Estrenoli, promise faithfully not to trick, in any way, Mr Halloran of South Africa.’ She smiled at me. ‘Is that good enough?’

I shook my head. ‘No, it isn’t enough. You said yourself that you were a dishonourable woman. No, I want you to swear on your father’s name and honour.’

Pink anger spots burned on her cheeks and I thought for a moment that she was going to slap my face. I said gently, ‘Do you swear?’

She dropped her eyes. ‘I swear,’ she said in a low voice.

‘On your father’s name and honour,’ I persisted.

‘On my father’s name and on his honour,’ she said, and looked up. ‘Now I hope you are satisfied.’ There were tears in her eyes again.

I relaxed. It wasn’t much but it was the best I could do and I hoped it would hold her.

The man from behind the counter came over to the table slowly. He looked at me with dislike and said to Francesca, ‘Is everything all right, madame?’

‘Yes, Giuseppi, everything is all right.’ She smiled at him. ‘Nothing is wrong.’

Giuseppi smiled back at her, gave me a hard look and returned to the counter. I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. I had the feeling that if Francesca had said that everything was not all right I would have been a candidate for a watery dockside grave before the week was out.

I cocked my thumb at the counter. ‘One of your soldier friends?’

She nodded. ‘He saw you had hurt me, so he came over to see what he could do.’

‘I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ I said.

‘You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have come to Italy. What is it to you? I can understand Coertze and Walker; they fought the Germans, they buried the gold. But I cannot understand you.’

I said gently, ‘I fought the Germans, too, in Holland, and Germany.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘That’s all right. As for the rest...’ I shrugged. ‘Somebody had to plan — Coertze and Walker couldn’t do it. Walker is an alcoholic and Coertze is all beef and no — subtlety. They needed someone to get behind and push.’

‘But why is it you who has to push?’

‘I had a reason once,’ I said shortly. ‘Forget it. Let’s get some things straightened out. What about the split?’

‘The split?’

‘How do we divide the loot?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that — it will need some thinking about.’

‘It will,’ I agreed. ‘Now, there’s the three of us, there’s you and there’s fifty of your friends — fifty-four in all. If you’re thinking along the lines of fifty-four equal shares you can forget about it. We won’t have it.’

‘I can’t see how we can work this out when we don’t know how much money will be involved.’

‘We work it on a percentage basis,’ I said impatiently. ‘This is how I see it — one share each for the three of us, one share for you and one share to be divided among your friends.’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘That’s not fair. You have done nothing about this, at all. You are just a plunderer.’

‘I thought you’d take that attitude,’ I said. ‘Now, listen, and listen damned carefully because I’m not going to repeat this. Coertze and Walker are entitled to a share each. They fought for the gold and they disposed of it carefully. Besides, they are the only people who know where it is. Right?’

She nodded agreement.

I smiled grimly. ‘Now we come to me whom you seem to despise.’ She made a sudden gesture with her hand and I waved her down. ‘I’m the brains behind this. I know a way of getting the stuff out of Italy and I’ve arranged a sale for it. Without me this whole plan would flop, and I’ve invested a lot of time and money in it. Therefore I think I’m entitled to an equal share.’

I stabbed my finger at her. ‘And now you come along and blackmail us. Yes, blackmail,’ I said as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘You’ve done nothing constructive towards the plan and you complain about getting an equal share. As for your friends, as far as I’m concerned, they are hired muscle to be paid for. If you don’t think they’re being paid enough with one-fifth between them you can supplement it out of your own share.’

‘But it will be so little for them,’ she said.

‘Little!’ I said, and was shocked into speechlessness. I recovered my breath. ‘Do you know how much is involved?’

‘Not exactly,’ she said cautiously.

I threw discretion to the winds. ‘There’s over £1,500,000 in gold alone — and there’s probably an equal amount in cut gem-stones. The gold alone means £300,000 for a fifth share and that’s £6,000 each for your friends. If you count the jewels you can double those figures.’

Her eyes widened as she mentally computed this into lire. It was an astronomical calculation and took her some time. ‘So much,’ she whispered.

‘So much,’ I said. I had just had an idea. The gems had been worrying me because they would be hot — in the criminal sense. They would need recutting and disguising and the whole thing would be risky. Now I saw the chance of doing an advantageous deal.

‘Look here,’ I said generously. ‘I’ve just offered you and your friends two-fifths of the take. Supposing the jewels are worth more than two-fifths — and I reckon they are — then you can take the lot of them, leaving the disposal of the gold to the three of us. After all, gems are more portable and easily hidden.’

She fell for it. ‘I know a jeweller who was with us during the war; he could do the valuation. Yes, that seems reasonable.’

It seemed reasonable to me, also, since I had been taking only the gold into my calculations all the time. Coertze, Walker and myself would still come out with half a million each.

‘There’s one other thing,’ I said.

‘What’s that?’

‘There’s a lot of paper money in this hoard — lire, francs, dollars and so on. Nobody takes any of that — there’ll be records of the numbers lodged with every bank in the world. You’ll have to control your friends when it comes to that.’

‘I can control them,’ she said loftily. She smiled and held out her hand. ‘It’s a deal, then, as the Americans say.’

I looked at her hand but didn’t touch it. I shook my head. ‘Not yet. I still have to discuss it with Coertze and Walker. They’ll take a hell of a lot of convincing — especially Coertze. What did you do to him, anyway?’ She withdrew her hand slowly and looked at me strangely.‘Almost you convince me that you are an honest man.’

I grinned at her cheerfully. ‘Out of necessity, that’s all. Those two are the only ones who know where the gold is.’

‘Oh, yes, I had forgotten. As for Coertze, he is a boor.’

‘He’d be the first to agree with you,’ I said. ‘But it means something different in Afrikaans.’ I had a sudden thought. ‘Does anyone else know what you know — about Alberto’s letter and all that?’

She started to shake her head but stopped suddenly, deciding to be honest. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘One man, but he can be trusted — he is a true friend.’

‘O.K.,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to be sure that no one else will try to pull the same stunt that you’ve just pulled. The whole damn’ Mediterranean seems to be getting into the act. I wouldn’t tell your friends anything you don’t have to — at least, not until it’s all over. If they are criminals, as you say, they might get their own ideas.’

‘I haven’t told them anything so far, and I’m not going to tell them now.’

‘Good. But you can tell them to watch for Torloni’s men. They’ll be keeping an eye on Sanford when they get round to finding where she is.’

‘Oh, yes, Mr Halloran; I’ll certainly tell them to keep a watch on your boat,’ she said sweetly.

I laughed. ‘I know you will. When you’ve got things organized drop in and see us anytime — but make it quick, there’s a time limit on all this.’

I got up from the table and left her. I thought she might as well pay for the breakfast since we were partners — or, as she had put it, ‘in association’.

IV

She came that afternoon, accompanied by a man even bigger than Coertze, whom she introduced as Piero Morese. He nodded civilly enough to me, ignored Walker and regarded Coertze watchfully.

I had had trouble with Coertze — he had taken a lot of convincing and had reiterated in a bass growl, ‘I will not be cheated, I will not be cheated.’

I said wearily, ‘O.K. The gold is up in those hills somewhere; you know where it is. Why don’t you go and get it? I’m sure you can fight Torloni and Metcalfe and the Contessa and her cut-throats single-handed; I’m sure you can bring back the gold and take it to Tangier before April 19. Why don’t you just go ahead and stop bothering me?’

He had calmed down but was not altogether happy and he rumbled like a volcano which does not know whether to erupt again or not. Now he sat in the cabin looking at the Contessa with contempt and the big Italian with mistrust.

Morese had no English so the meeting came to order in Italian, which I could understand if it was not spoken too quickly. The Contessa said, ‘It is all right to speak in front of Piero, he knows everything that I know.’

‘I know you: you were with Umberto,’ said Coertze in mashed Italian.

Morese gave a quick nod but said nothing. The Contessa said, ‘Here is where we talk seriously.’ She looked at me. ‘Have you talked this over?’

‘We have.’

‘Do they accept the terms?’

‘They do.’

‘Very well, where is the gold?’

There was a growl from Coertze which I covered with a quick burst of laughter. ‘Contessa, you’ll be the death of me,’ I said. ‘I’ll die laughing. You don’t suppose we’ll tell you that, do you?’

She smiled acidly. ‘No — but I thought I would try it. All right, how do we go about this?’

I said, ‘First of all, there’s a time limit. We’ll want the gold delivered to Rapallo by the 1st of March at the latest. We also want a place where we can work undisturbed with this boat; either a private boat-shed or a boatyard. That must be arranged for now.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why the 1st of March?’

‘That is of no consequence to you, but that is the way it must be.’

Morese said, ‘That does not leave much time. The first of the month is in two weeks.’

‘True,’ I said. ‘But that is the way it must be. The next thing is that only the five of us here will go to the gold. There must be no one else. We will unseal the place where it is hidden, pack what we want into strong boxes and move it out. Then we will seal the hidden place again. After that, and only after that, will we need the help of anyone else, and even then, only for lifting and transport to the coast. There is no need to have too many people knowing what we are doing.’

‘That is well thought of,’ said Morese.

I said, ‘Everything will be brought to the boat-shed — everything, including the jewels. We five will live together for one month while my friends and I do what we have to do. If you want the jewels valued you must bring your valuer to the jewels — not vice versa. The final share-out will be decided when the stones have been valued, but will not take place until the boat is in the water.’

‘You talk as though you do not trust us,’ said Morese.

‘I don’t,’ I said bluntly. I jerked my thumb at the Contessa. ‘Your friend here is blackmailing us into all this, so I don’t see where the trust comes in.’

His face darkened. ‘That is unworthy of you.’

I shrugged. ‘Say, rather, it is unworthy of her. She started all this and those are the facts.’

The Contessa put her hand on Morese’s shoulder and he subsided. Coertze barked a short laugh. ‘Magtig, but you have taken her measure.’ He nodded. ‘You’ll have to watch her, she a slim meisie.’

I turned to him. ‘Now it’s up to you. What will you need to get the gold?’

Coertze leaned forward. ‘When I was here last year nothing had changed or been disturbed. The place is in the hills where no one goes. There is a rough road so we can take a lorry right up to the place. The nearest village is four miles away.’

‘Can we work at night?’ I asked.

Coertze thought about that. ‘The fall of rocks looks worse than it is,’ he said. ‘I know how to blast and I made sure of that. Two men with picks and shovels will be able to get through in four hours — longer at night, perhaps — I would say six hours at night.’

‘So we will be there at least one whole night and probably longer.’

‘Ja,’ he said. ‘If we work at night only, it will take two nights.’

The Contessa said, ‘Italians do not walk the hills at night. It will be safe to have lights if they cannot be seen from the village.’

Coertze said, ‘No lights can be seen from the village.’

‘All the same, we must have a cover,’ I said. ‘If we have to hang around in the vicinity for at least one day then we must have a sound reason. Has anyone got any ideas?’

There was a silence and suddenly Walker spoke for the first time. ‘What about a car and a caravan? The English are noted for that kind of thing — camping and so on. The Italians don’t even have a word for it, they use the English word. If we camp out for a couple of nights we’ll be only another English crowd as far as the peasants are concerned.’

We all thought about that and it seemed a good idea. The Contessa said, ‘I can arrange for the car and the caravan and a tent.’

I started to tick off all the things we would need. ‘We want lights.’

‘We use the headlights of the car,’ said Coertze.

‘That’s for outside,’ I said. ‘We’ll need lights for inside. We’ll need torches — say a dozen — and lots of torch cells.’ I nodded to Morese. ‘You get those. We need picks and shovels, say four of each. We’ll need lorries. How many to do the job in one haul?’

‘Two three-tonners,’ said Coertze with certainty. ‘The Germans had four, but they were carrying a lot of stuff we won’t want.’

‘We’ll have to have those standing by with the drivers,’ I said. ‘Then we’ll need a lot of timber to make crates. The gold will need re-boxing.’

‘Why do that when it’s already in boxes?’ objected Coertze. ‘It’s just a lot of extra work.’

‘Think back,’ I said patiently. ‘Think back to the first time you saw those boxes in the German truck. You recognized them as bullion boxes. We don’t want any snooper doing the same on the way back.’

Walker said, ‘You don’t have to take the gold out, and it wouldn’t need much timber. Just nail thin pieces of wood on the outside of the bullion boxes to change their shape and make them look different.’

Walker was a real idea machine when he wasn’t on the drink. He said, ‘There must be plenty of timber down there we can use.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘We use new wood. I don’t want anything that looks or even smells as though it’s come from a hole in the ground. Besides, there might be a mark on the wood we could miss which would give the game away.’

‘You don’t take any chances, do you?’ observed the Contessa.

‘I’m not a gambler,’ I said shortly. ‘The timber can go up in the trucks,’ I looked at Morese.

‘I will get it,’ he said.

‘Don’t forget hammers and nails,’ I said. I was trying to think of everything. If we slipped up on this job it would be because of some insignificant item which nobody had thought important.

There was a low, repeated whistle from the dockside. Morese looked at the Contessa and she nodded almost imperceptibly. He got up and went on deck.

I said to Coertze, ‘Is there anything else we ought to know — anything you’ve forgotten or left out?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s all.’

Morese came back and said to the Contessa, ‘He wants to talk to you.’

She rose and left the cabin and Morese followed her on deck. Through the open port I could hear a low-voiced conversation.

‘I don’t trust them,’ said Coertze violently. ‘I don’t trust that bitch and I don’t trust Morese. He’s a bad bastard; he was a bad bastard in the war. He didn’t take any prisoners — according to him they were all shot while escaping.’

‘So were yours,’ I said, ‘when you took the gold.’

He bridled. ‘That was different; they were escaping.’

‘Very conveniently,’ I said acidly. It galled me that this man, whom I had good reason to suspect of murdering at least four others, should be so mealy-mouthed.

He brooded a little, then said, ‘What’s to stop them taking it all from us when we’ve got it out? What’s to stop them shooting us and leaving us in the tunnel when they seal it up again?’

‘Nothing that you’d understand,’ I said. ‘Just the feeling of a girl for her father and her family.’ I didn’t elaborate on that; I wasn’t certain myself that it was a valid argument.

The Contessa and Morese came back. She said, ‘Two of Torloni’s men are in Rapallo. They were asking the Port Captain about you not ten minutes ago.’

I said, ‘Don’t tell me that the Port Captain is one of your friends.’

‘No, but the Chief Customs Officer is. He recognized them immediately. One of them he had put in jail three years ago for smuggling heroin; the other he has been trying to catch for a long time. Both of them work for Torloni, he says.’

‘Well, we couldn’t hope to hide from them indefinitely,’ I said. ‘But they mustn’t connect you with us — not yet, anyway — so you’ll have to wait until it’s dark before you leave.’

She said, ‘I am having them watched.’

‘That’s fine, but it’s not enough,’ I said. ‘I want to do to Metcalfe what he’s been doing to us. I want Torloni watched in Genoa; I want the docks watched all along this coast for Metcalfe’s boat. I want to know when he comes to Italy.’ I gave her a detailed description of Metcalfe, of Krupke and the Fairmile. ‘Can you do all that?’

‘Of course. You will know all about this Metcalfe as soon as he sets foot in Italy.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then what about a drink?’ I looked at Coertze. ‘It seems you didn’t scare Metcalfe off, after all.’ He looked back at me with an expressionless face, and I laughed. ‘Don’t look so glum. Get out the bottle and cheer up.’

V

We didn’t see the Contessa or Morese after that. They stayed out of sight, but next morning I found a note in the cockpit telling me to go to the Three Fishes and say that I wanted a watchman for Sanford.

I went, of course, and Giuseppi was more friendly than when I had last seen him. He served me personally and, as he put down the plate, I said, ‘You ought to know what goes on on the waterfront. Can you recommend a watchman for my boat? He must be honest.’

‘Ah, yes, signor,’ he said. ‘I have the very man — old Luigi there. It’s a pity; he was wounded during the war and since then he has been able to undertake only light work. At present he is unemployed.’

‘Send him over when I have finished breakfast,’ I said.

Thus it was that we got an honest watchman and old Luigi became the go-between between the Contessa and Sanford. Every morning he would bring a letter in which the Contessa detailed her progress.

Torloni was being watched, but nothing seemed to be happening; his men were still in Rapallo watching Sanford and being watched themselves; the trucks had been arranged for and the drivers were ready; the timber was prepared and the tools had been bought; she had been offered a German caravan but she had heard of an English caravan for sale in Milan and thought it would be better — would I give her some money to buy it as she had none.

It all seemed to be working out satisfactorily.

The three of us from Sanford spent our time sightseeing, much to the disgust of Torloni’s spies. I spent a lot of time in the Yacht Club and it was soon noised about that I intended to settle in the Mediterranean and was looking for a suitable boatyard to buy.

On our fifth day in Rapallo the morning letter instructed me to go to the boatyard of Silvio Palmerini and to ask for a quotation for the slipping and painting of Sanford. ‘The price will be right,’ wrote the Contessa. ‘Silvio is one of my — our — friends.’

Palmerini’s yard was some way out of Rapallo. Palmerini was a gnarled man of about sixty who ruled his yard and his three sons with soft words and a will of iron. I said, ‘You understand, Signor Palmerini, that I am a boat-builder, too. I would like to do the job myself in your yard.’

He nodded. It was only natural that a man must look after his own boat if he could; besides, it would be cheaper.

‘And I would want it under cover,’ I said. ‘I fastened the keel in an experimental way and I may want to take it off to see if it is satisfactory.’

He nodded again. Experimental ways were risky and a man should stick to the old traditional ways of doing things. It would be foolish, indeed, if milord’s keel dropped off in the middle of the Mediterranean.

I agreed that I should look a fool, and said, ‘My friends and I are capable of doing the work and we shall not need extra labour. All that is required is a place where we can work undisturbed.’

He nodded a third time. He had a large shed we could use and which could be locked. No one would disturb us, not even himself — certainly no one outside his family — he would see to that. And was milord the rich Englishman who wanted to buy a boatyard? If so, then perhaps the milord would consider the boatyard Palmerini, the paragon of the Western Mediterranean.

That brought me up with a jerk. Another piece of polite blackmail was under way and I could see that I would have to buy the yard, probably at an exorbitant price — the price of silence.

I said diplomatically, ‘Yes, I am thinking of buying a yard, but the wise man explores every avenue.’ Dammit, I was falling into his way of speech. ‘I have been to Spain and France; now I am in Italy and after Italy I am going to Greece. I must look at everything.’

He nodded vigorously, his crab-apple head bobbing up and down. Yes, the milord was indeed wise to look at everything, but in spite of that he was sure that the milord would unfailingly return to the boatyard Palmerini because it was certainly the best in the whole Mediterranean.

Pah, what did the Greeks know of fine building? All they knew were their clumsy caiques. The price would be reasonable for milord since it appeared that they had mutual friends, and such a price could be spread over a period provided the proper guarantees could be given.

From this I understood the old rascal to say that he would wait until the whole job was completed and I had fluid capital, if I could prove that I would keep my word.

I went back to Sanford feeling satisfied that this part of the programme was going well. Even if I had to buy Palmerini’s yard, it would not be a bad thing and any lengthening of the price could be written off as expedition expenses.

On the ninth day of our stay in Rapallo the usual morning letter announced that all was now ready and we could start at any time. However, it was felt that, since the next day was Sunday, it would be more fitting to begin the expedition inland on Monday. That gave an elevating tone to the whole thing, I thought; another crazy aspect of a crazy adventure.

The Contessa wrote: ‘Torloni’s men will be discreetly taken care of, and will not connect their inability to find you with any trickery on your part. They will have no suspicions. Leave your boat in the care of Luigi and meet me at nine in the morning at the Three Fishes.’

I put a match to the letter and called Luigi below. ‘They say you are an honest man, Luigi; would you take a bribe?’

He was properly horrified. ‘Oh no, signor.’

‘You know this boat is being watched?’

‘Yes, signor. They are enemies of you and Madame.’

‘Do you know what Madame and I are doing?’

He shook his head. ‘No, signor. I came because Madame said you needed my help. I did not ask any questions,’ he said with dignity.

I tapped on the table. ‘My friends and I are going away for a few days soon, leaving the boat in your charge. What will you do if the men who are watching want to bribe you to let them search the boat?’

He drew himself up. ‘I would slap the money out of their hands, signor.’

‘No, you won’t,’ I said. ‘You will say it is not enough and you will ask them for more money. When you get it, you will let them search the boat.’

He looked at me uncomprehendingly. I said slowly, ‘I don’t mind if they search — there is nothing to be found. There is no reason why you should not make some money out of Madame’s enemies.’

He laughed suddenly and slapped his thigh. ‘That is good, signor; that is very good. You want them to search.’

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘But don’t make it too easy for them or they will be suspicious.’

I wanted, as a last resort, to try to fool Metcalfe as I had fooled him in Barcelona, or rather, as I had hoped to fool him before Coertze put his foot in it. I wrote a letter to the Contessa telling her what I was doing, and gave it to Luigi to pass on.

‘How long have you known Madame?’ I asked curiously.

‘Since the war, signor, when she was a little girl.’

‘You would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?’

‘Why not?’ he asked in surprise. ‘She has done more for me that I can ever repay. She paid for the doctors after the war when they straightened my leg. It is not her fault they could not get it properly straight — but I would have been a cripple, otherwise.’

This was a new light on Francesca. ‘Thank you, Luigi,’ I said. ‘Give the letter to Madame when you see her.’

I told Coertze and Walker what was happening. There was nothing else to do now but wait for Monday morning.

I

On Monday morning I again set the stage, leaving papers where they could easily be found. On the principle of the Purloined Letter I had even worked out a costing for a refit of Sanford at Palmerini’s boatyard, together with some estimates of the probable cost of buying the yard. If we were seen there later we would have good reason.

We left just before nine, saying goodbye to Luigi, who gave me a broad wink, and arrived at the Three Fishes on time. The Contessa and Morese were waiting and we joined them for breakfast. The Contessa wore clothing of an indefinably English cut of which I approved; she was using her brain.

I said, ‘How did you get rid of Torloni’s boys?’

Morese grinned. ‘One of them had an accident with his car. The other, who was waiting for him at the dock, got tired of waiting and unaccountably fell into the water. He had to get a taxi to his hotel so that he could change his clothes.’

‘Your friend Metcalfe arrived in Genoa last night,’ said the Contessa.

‘You’re sure.’

‘I’m certain. He went straight to Torloni and stayed with him for a long time. Then he went to a hotel.’

That settled that. I had wondered for a long time if my suspicions of Metcalfe hadn’t been just a fevered bit of imagination. After all, my whole case against Metcalfe had been built up of supposition and what I knew of his character.

‘You’re having him watched?’

‘Of course.’

Breakfast arrived and all conversation stopped until Giuseppi went back to his counter. Then I said, ‘All right, friend Kobus, this is where you tell us where the gold is.’

Coertze’s head came up with a jerk. ‘Not on,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you there, but I’m not telling first.’

I sighed. ‘Look, these good people have laid on transport. How can they tell the trucks to rendezvous unless we know where we’re going?’

‘They can telephone back here.’

‘From where?’

‘There’ll be a phone in the village.’

‘None of us is going anywhere near that village,’ I said. ‘Least of all one of us foreigners. And if you think I’ll let one of these two go in alone, you’re crazy. From now on we don’t let either of them out of our sight.’

‘Not very trusting, are you?’ observed the Contessa.

I looked at her. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Not much.’

‘Then we’re even.’ I turned back to Coertze. ‘Any telephoning the Contessa is going to do is from that telephone in the corner there — with me at her elbow.’

‘Don’t call me the Contessa,’ she snapped.

I ignored her and concentrated on Coertze. ‘So, you see, we have to know the spot. If you won’t tell us, I’m sure that Walker will — but I’d rather it was you.’

He thought about it for quite a while, then he said, ‘Magtig, but you’ll argue your way into heaven one day. All right, it’s about forty miles north of here, between Varsi and Tassaro.’ He went into detailed explanations and Morese said, ‘It’s right in the hills.’

I said, ‘Do you think you can direct the trucks to this place?’

Francesca said, ‘I will tell them to wait in Varsi. We will not need them until the second night; we can go to Varsi and direct them from there tomorrow.’

‘O.K.,’ I said. ‘Let’s make that phone call.’

I escorted her to the corner and stood by while she gave the instructions, making sure she slipped nothing over. A trustful lot, we were. When we got back to the table, I said, ‘That does it; we can start at any time.’

We finished breakfast and got up to go. Francesca said, ‘Not by the front; Torloni’s men will be back now and they can see this café. We go this way.’

She led us out by the back door into a yard where a car was standing with an Eccles touring caravan already coupled. She said, ‘I stocked up with enough food for a week — it might be necessary.’

‘It won’t,’ I said grimly. ‘If we don’t have the stuff out by tomorrow night we’ll never get it — not with Metcalfe sniffing on our trail.’

I looked at our party and make a quick decision. ‘We look English enough, all except you, Morese; you just don’t fit. You travel in the caravan and keep out of sight.’

He frowned and looked at Francesca. She said, ‘Get into the caravan, Piero; do as Mr Halloran says,’ and then turned to me. ‘Piero takes his instructions from no one but me, Mr Halloran. I hope you remember that in future.’

I shrugged and said, ‘Let’s go.’

Coertze was driving because he knew the way. Walker was also in front and Francesca and I shared the back seat. No one did much talking and Coertze drove very slowly because he was unaccustomed to towing a caravan and driving on the right simultaneously.

We left Rapallo and were soon ascending into the hills — the Ligurian Apennines. It looked poor country with stony soil and not much cultivation. What agriculture there was was scattered and devoted to vines and olives, the two trees which look as though they’ve been tortured to death. Within the hour we were in Varsi, and soon after that, we left the main road and bounced along a secondary country road, unmetalled and with a poor surface. It had not rained for some days and the dust rose in clouds.

After a while Coertze slowed down almost to a stop as he came to a corner. ‘This is where we shot up the trucks,’ he said.

We turned the corner and saw a long stretch of empty road. Coertze stopped the car and Walker got out. This was the first time he had seen the place in fifteen years. He walked a little way up the road to a large rock on the right, then turned and looked back. I guessed it was by that rock that he had stood while he poured bullets into the driver of the staff car.

I thought about the sudden and dreadful slaughter that had happened on that spot and, looking up the shaggy hillside, I visualized the running prisoners being hunted and shot down. I said abruptly, ‘No point in waiting here, let’s get on with it.’

Coertze put the car into gear and drove forward slowly until Walker had jumped in, then he picked up speed and we were on our way again. ‘Not far now,’ said Walker. His voice was husky with excitement.

Less than fifteen minutes later Coertze pulled up again at the junction of another road so unused that it was almost invisible. ‘The old mine is about a mile and a half up there,’ he said. ‘What do we do now?’

Francesca and I got out of the car and stretched our stiffened legs. I looked about and saw a stream about a hundred yards away. ‘That’s convenient,’ I said. ‘The perfect camp site. One thing is certain — none of us so much as looks sideways at that side road during the hours of daylight.’

We pulled the caravan off the road and extended the balance legs, then we put up the tent. Francesca went into the caravan and talked to Morese. I said, ‘Now, for God’s sake, let’s act like innocent tourists. We’re mad Englishmen who prefer to live uncomfortably rather than stay at a hotel.’

It was a long day. After lunch, which Francesca made in the little galley of the caravan, we sat about and talked desultorily and waited for the sun to go down. Francesca stayed in the caravan most of the time keeping Morese company; Walker fidgeted; Coertze was apparently lost in contemplating his navel; I tried to sleep, but couldn’t.

The only excitement during the afternoon was the slow approach of a farm cart. It hove into sight as a puff of dust at the end of the road and gradually, with snail-like pace, came near enough to be identified. Coertze roused himself enough to make a number of small wagers as to the time it would draw level with the camp. At last it creaked past, drawn by two oxen and looking like a refugee from a Breughel painting. A peasant trudged alongside and I mustered my worst Italian, waved and said, ‘Buon giorno.’

He gave me a sideways look, muttered something I did not catch, and went on his way. That was the only traffic on the road the whole time we were there.

At half past four I roused myself and went to the caravan to see Francesca. ‘We’d better eat early,’ I said. ‘As soon as it’s dark we’ll be taking the car to the mine.’

‘Everything is in cans,’ she said. ‘It will be easy to prepare. We will want something to eat during the night, so I got two of these big vacuum containers — I will cook the food before we go and it will keep hot all night. There are also some vacuum flasks for coffee.’

‘You’ve been spending my money well,’ I said.

She ignored that. ‘I will need some water. Will you get me some from the stream?’

‘If you will come with me,’ I said. ‘You need to stretch a bit.’ I had a sudden urge to talk to her, to find out what made her tick.

‘All right,’ she said, and opening a cupboard, produced three canvas buckets. As we walked towards the stream, I said, ‘You must have been very young during the war.’

‘I was. We took to the hills, my father and I, when I was ten years old.’ She waved at the surrounding mountains. ‘These hills.’

‘Not a very pleasant life for a little girl.’

She considered that. ‘It was fun at first. Everyone likes a camping holiday and this was one long holiday for me. Yes, it was fun.’

‘When did it stop being fun?’

Her face was quietly sad. ‘When the men started to die; when the fighting began. Then it was not fun, it became a serious thing we were doing. It was a good thing — but it was terrible.’

‘And you worked in the hospital?’

‘Yes. I tended Walker when he came from the prison camp. Did you know that?’

I remembered Walker’s description of the grave little girl who wanted him to get better so he could kill Germans. ‘He told me,’ I said.

We reached the stream and I looked at it doubtfully. It looked clear enough, but I said, ‘Is it all right for drinking?’

‘I will boil the water; it will be all right,’ she said, and knelt to dig a hole in the shallows. ‘We must have a hole deep enough to take a bucket; it is easier then.’

I helped her make a hole, reflecting that this was a product of her guerilla training. I would have tried to fill the buckets in drips and drabs. When the hole was big enough we sat on the bank waiting for the sediment to settle, and I said, ‘Was Coertze ever wounded?’

‘No, he was very lucky. He was never wounded beyond a scratch, although there were many times he could have been.’

I offered her a cigarette and lit it. ‘So he did a lot of fighting?’

‘All the men fought,’ she said, and drew on the cigarette reflectively. ‘But Coertze seemed to like fighting. He killed a lot of Germans — and Italians.’

‘What Italians?’ I said quickly. I was thinking of Walker’s story.

‘The Fascists,’ she said. ‘Those who stuck by Mussolini during the time of the Salo Republic. There was a civil war going on in these mountains. Did you know that?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ I said. ‘There’s a lot about Italy that I don’t know.’

We sat quietly for a while, then I said, ‘So Coertze was a killer?’

‘He was a good soldier — the kind of man we needed. He was a leader.’

I switched. ‘How was Alberto killed?’

‘He fell off a cliff when the Germans were chasing Umberto’s section. I heard that Coertze nearly rescued him, but didn’t get there in time.’

‘Um,’ I said. ‘I heard it was something like that. How did Harrison and Parker die?’

She wrinkled her brow. ‘Harrison and Parker? Oh yes, they were in what we called the Foreign Legion. They were killed in action. Not at the same time, at different times.’

‘And Donato Rinaldi; how was he killed?’

‘That was a funny thing. He was found dead near the camp with his head crushed. He was lying under a cliff and it was thought he had been climbing and had fallen off.’

‘Why should he climb? Was he a mountaineer or something like that?’

‘I don’t think so, but he was a young man and young men do foolish things like that.’

I smiled, thinking to myself; not only the very young are foolish; and tossed a pebble into the stream. ‘It sounds very like the song about the “Ten Little Niggers”. “And then there were Two.” Why did Walker leave?’

She looked up sharply. ‘Are you saying that these men should not have died? That someone from the camp killed them?’

I shrugged. ‘I’m not saying anything — but it was very convenient for someone. You see, six men hid this gold and four of them came to a sudden end shortly afterwards.’ I tossed another pebble into the water. ‘Who profits? There are only two — Walker and Coertze. Why did Walker leave?’

‘I don’t know. He left suddenly. I remember he told my father that he was going to try to join the Allied armies. They were quite close at that time.’

‘Was Coertze in the camp when Walker left?’

She thought for a long time, then said, ‘I don’t know; I can’t remember.’

‘Walker says he left because he was frightened of Coertze. He still is, for that matter. Our Kobus is a very frightening man, sometimes.’

Francesca said slowly, ‘There was Alberto on the cliff. Coertze could have...’

‘...pushed him off? Yes, he could. And Walker said that Parker was shot in the back of the head. By all accounts, including yours, Coertze is a natural-born killer. It all adds up.’

She said, ‘I always knew that Coertze was a violent man, but...’

‘But? Why don’t you like him, Francesca?’

She threw the stub of her cigarette into the water and watched it float downstream. ‘It was just one of those things that happen between a man and a woman. He was... too pressing.’

‘When was this?’

‘Three years ago. Just after I was married.’

I hesitated. I wanted to ask her about that marriage, but she suddenly stood up and said, ‘We must get the water.’

As we were going back to the caravan I said, ‘It looks as though I’ll have to be ready to jump Coertze — he could be dangerous. You’d better tell Piero the story so that he can be prepared if anything happens.’

She stopped. ‘I thought Coertze was your friend. I thought you were on his side.’

‘I’m on nobody’s side,’ I said shortly. ‘And I don’t condone murder.’

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

For the rest of the afternoon until it became dark Francesca was busy cooking in the caravan. As the light faded the rest of us began to make our preparations. We put the picks and shovels in the boot of the car, together with some torches. Piero had provided a Tilley pressure lamp together with half a gallon of paraffin — that would be a lot better than torches once we got into the tunnel. He also hauled a wheelbarrow out of the caravan, and said, ‘I thought we could use this for taking the rock away; we must not leave loose rock at the entrance of the tunnel.’

I was pleased about that; it was something I had forgotten.

Coertze examined the picks with a professional air, but found no fault. To me, a pick is a pick and a spade is a bloody shovel, but I suppose that even pick-and-shovelling has its more erudite technicalities. As I was helping Piero put the wheelbarrow into the boot my foot turned on a stone and I was thrown heavily against Coertze.

‘Sorry,’ I said.

Don’t be sorry, be more careful,’ he grunted.

We got the wheelbarrow settled — although the top of the boot wouldn’t close — and I said to Coertze in a low voice, ‘I’d like to talk to you... over there.’

We wandered a short distance from the rest of the party where we were hidden in the gathering darkness. ‘What is it?’ asked Coertze.

I tapped the hard bulge under the breast of his jacket, and said, ‘I think that’s a gun.’

‘It is a gun,’ he said.

Who are you thinking of shooting?’

‘Anyone who gets between me and the gold.’

‘Now listen carefully,’ I said in a hard voice. ‘You’re not going to shoot anyone, because you’re going to give that gun to me. If you don’t, you can get the gold yourself. I didn’t come to Italy to kill anybody; I’m not a murderer.’

Coertze said, ‘Klein man, if you want this gun you’ll have to take it from me.’

‘O.K. You can force us all up to the mine at pistol point. But it’s dark and you’ll get a rock thrown at your head as soon as you turn your back — and I’d just as soon be the one who throws it. And if you get the gold out — at pistol point — what are you going to do besides sit on it? You can’t get it to the coast without Francesca’s men and you can’t get it out of Italy without me.’

I had him cornered in the same old stalemate that had been griping him since we left South Africa. He was foxed and he knew it.

He said, ‘How do we know the Contessa’s partisans aren’t hiding in these damned hills waiting to jump us as soon as the tunnel is opened?’

‘Because they don’t know where we are,’ I said. ‘The only instruction that the truck drivers had was to go to Varsi. Anyway, they wouldn’t try to jump us; we have the Contessa as hostage.’

He hesitated, and I said, ‘Now, give me the gun.’

Slowly he put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out the gun. It was too dark to see his eyes but I knew they were filled with hate. He held the gun pointed at me and I am sure he was tempted to shoot — but he relaxed and put it into my outstretched hand.

‘There’ll be a big reckoning between us when this is all over,’ he said.

I remained silent and looked at the gun. It was a Luger, just like my own pistol which I had left in South Africa. I held it on him, and said, ‘Now stand very still; I’m going to search you.’

He cursed me, but stood quietly while I tapped his pockets. Sure enough, in his jacket pocket I found a spare magazine. I took the clip from the Luger and snapped the action to see if he had a round up the spout. He had.

He said, ‘Morese is sure to have a gun.’

‘We’ll see about that right now,’ I said. ‘I’ll tackle him and you stand behind him ready to sock him.’

We walked back to the caravan and I called for Francesca and Piero and when they came Coertze unobtrusively stationed himself behind the big Italian. I said to Francesca, ‘Has Piero got a gun?’

She looked startled. ‘I don’t know.’ She turned to him. ‘Are you carrying a gun, Piero?’

He hesitated, then nodded. I brought up the Luger and held it on him. ‘All right, bring it out — slowly.’

He looked at the Luger and his brows drew down angrily, but he obeyed orders and slowly pulled a gun from a shoulder holster. I said, ‘This is one time you take orders from me, Piero. Give it to Francesca.’

He passed the pistol to Francesca and I put the Luger away and took it from her. It was an army Beretta, probably a relic of his partisan days. I took the clip out, worked the action and put it in another pocket. Coertze passed two spare clips to me which he had taken from Piero’s pockets.

I said to Walker, ‘Are you carrying a gun?’

He shook his head.

‘Come and be searched.’ I was taking no chances.

Walker was bare of guns, so I said, ‘Now search the car and see if anything is tucked away there.’

I turned to Francesca. ‘Are you carrying anything lethal?’

She folded her arms. ‘Are you going to search me, too?’

‘No. I’ll take your word, if you’ll give it.’

She dropped her aggressive pose. ‘I haven’t a gun,’ she said in a low voice.

I said, ‘Now listen, everybody. I’ve taken a gun from Coertze and a gun from Morese. I hold in my hands the ammunition for those guns.’ With a quick double jerk I threw the clips away into the darkness and they clattered on a rock. ‘If there’s going to be any fighting between us it will be with bare fists. Nobody gets killed, do you hear?’

I took the empty pistols from my pockets and gave them back to Coertze and Piero. ‘You can use these as hammers to nail the crates up.’

They took them with bad grace and I said, ‘We’ve wasted enough time with this nonsense. Is that car ready?’

‘Nothing in here,’ said Walker.

As the others were getting into the car, Francesca said to me, ‘I’m glad you did that. I didn’t know Piero had a gun.’

‘I didn’t know Coertze had one, either; although I should have guessed — knowing his record.’

‘How did you take it from him?’ she asked curiously.

‘Psychology,’ I said. ‘He would rather have the gold than kill me. Once he gets the gold it might be a different matter.’

‘You will have to be very careful,’ she said.

‘It’s nice to know you care,’ I said. ‘Let’s get in the car.’

II

Coertze drove slowly without lights along the overgrown road until we had turned a corner and were out of sight of the ‘main’ highway. I could hear the long grass swishing on the underside of the car. Once the first corner was turned he switched on the lights and picked up speed.

No one spoke. Coertze and Morese were mad at me and so was Francesca because of what I’d said. Walker was boiling with ill-suppressed excitement, but he caught the mood of the others and remained quiet. I said nothing because I had nothing to say.

It didn’t take long to get to the mine and soon the headlights swept over the ruins of buildings — the shabby remnants of an industrial enterprise. There is nothing more ruinous-looking than derelict factory buildings and neglected machinery. Not that there was much left. The surrounding peasantry must have overrun the place like a swarm of locusts very soon after the mine was abandoned and carried off everything of value. What was left was worth about ten lire and would have cost a hundred thousand lire to take away.

Coertze stopped the car and we all got out. Piero said, ‘What kind of mine was this?’

‘A lead mine,’ said Coertze. ‘It was abandoned a long time ago — about 1908, I was told.’

‘That was about the time they found the big deposits in Sardinia,’ said Piero. ‘It was easier to ship ore to the smeltery in Spezia than to rail it from here.’

‘Where’s your tunnel?’ I asked.

Coertze pointed. ‘Over there. There were four others besides the one I blocked.’

‘We might as well get the car into position,’ I said, so Coertze got into the driving seat and edged the car forward. The beams of light swept round and illuminated the caved-in mouth of the tunnel. It looked as though it would need a regiment of pioneers to dig that lot away and it would probably take them a month.

Coertze leaned out of the side window. ‘I did a good job there,’ he said with satisfaction.

I said, ‘You’re sure we can get through there in one night?’

‘Easy,’ he said.

I supposed he knew what he was about — he had been a miner. I went to help Piero and Walker get the tools from the boot and Coertze went to the rockfall and began to examine it. From this time on he took charge and I let him — I knew nothing about the job and he did. His commands were firm-voiced and we all jumped to it with a will.

He said, ‘We don’t have to dig the whole lot away. I set the charges so that the fall on this side would be fairly thin — not more than ten feet.’

I said, ‘Ten feet sounds like a hell of a lot.’

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, contemptuous of my ignorance. ‘It isn’t as though it was solid rock — this stuff is pretty loose.’ He turned and pointed. ‘Behind that building you’ll find some baulks of timber I sorted out three years ago. You and Morese go and get them. Walker and I will start to dig this stuff out.’

‘What can I do?’ asked Francesca.

‘You can load up the wheelbarrow with the stuff we dig out. Then take it away and scatter it so that it looks natural. Morese is right — we don’t want to leave a pile of rocks here.’

Piero and I took torches and found the timber where Coertze had indicated. I thought of Coertze coming here every three or four years, frustrated by a problem he couldn’t solve. He must have planned this excavating problem many times and spent hours sorting out this timber in readiness for a job which might never have happened. No wonder he was so touchy.

It took us about an hour to transfer all the timber and by that time Coertze and Walker had penetrated three feet into the rockfall. That was good going, and I said as much. Coertze said, ‘It won’t be easy as this all the way. We’ll have to stop and shore the roof; that’ll take time.’

The hole he was digging was not very big; about five feet high and two feet wide — just enough for one man to go through. Coertze began to select his timbers for the shoring and Piero and I helped Francesca to distribute the spoil.

Coertze was right. The shoring of the roof took a long time but it had to be done. It would be bad if the whole thing collapsed and we had to begin all over again; besides, someone might get hurt. A moon rose, making the distribution of the spoil easier, so the car lights were switched off and Coertze was working by the light of the Tilley lamp.

He would not let anyone work at the face except himself, so Walker, Piero and I took it in turns helping him, standing behind him and passing out the loose rocks to the entrance of the passage. After another three hours we had six feet of firmly shored passage drilled through the rockfall and at this stage we broke off for something to eat.

Piero had spoken to me about taking away his gun. He said, ‘I was angry when you did it. I do not like to have guns pointed at me.’

‘It was empty,’ I said.

‘That I found out, and it was that which made me angrier.’ He chuckled suddenly. ‘But I think it was well done, now I have thought about it. It is best if there is no shooting.’

We were some distance from the rockfall. I said, ‘Did Francesca tell you about Coertze?’

‘Yes. She told me what you said. It is something I have not thought of at all. I was surprised when Donato Rinaldi was found dead that time during the war, but I did not think anyone would have killed him. We were all friends.’

Gold is a solvent which dissolves friendships, I thought, but I could not put that into my limited Italian. Instead, I said, ‘From what you know of that time, do you think that Coertze could have killed these four men?’

Piero said, ‘He could not have killed Harrison because I myself saw Harrison killed. He was shot by a German and I killed the man who shot him. But the others — Parker, Corso and Rinaldi — yes, I think Coertze could have killed them. He was a man who thought nothing of killing.’

‘He could have killed them, but did he?’ I asked.

Piero shrugged. ‘Who can tell? It was a long time ago and there are no witnesses.’

That was that, and there seemed no point in pressing it, so we returned to our work.

Coertze hurried over his meal so that he could get back to the rock face. His eyes gleamed brightly in the light of the lamp; the lust for gold was strong upon him, for he was within four feet of the treasure for which he had been waiting fifteen years. Walker was as bad; he scrambled to his feet as soon as Coertze made a move and they both hurried to the rockfall.

Piero and Francesca were more placid. They had not seen the gold and mere descriptive words have not that immediacy. Francesca leisurely finished her midnight snack and then collected the dishes and took them to the car.

I said to Piero, ‘That is a very strange woman.’

‘Any child who was brought up in a guerilla camp would be different,’ he said. ‘She has had a difficult life.’

I said carefully, ‘I understand she has had an unfortunate marriage.’

He spat. ‘Estrenoli is a degenerate.’

‘Then why did she marry him?’

‘The ways of the aristos are not our ways,’ he said. ‘It was an arranged marriage — or so everyone thinks. But that was not really the way of it.’

‘What do you mean?’

He accepted a cigarette. ‘Do you know what the Communists did to her father?’

‘She told me something about it.’

‘It was shameful. He was a man, a true man, and they were not fit to lick his boots. And now he is but a shell, an old broken man.’ He struck a match and the flame lit up his face. ‘Injustice can crush the life from a man even if his body still walks the streets,’ he said.

‘What has this to do with Francesca’s marriage?’

‘The old man was against it. He knew the Estrenoli breed. But Madame was insistent on it. You see, young Estrenoli wanted her. There was no love in him, only lust — Madame is a very beautiful woman — and so he wanted her, but he could not get her. She knew what he was.’

This was confusing. ‘Then why the hell did she marry him?’

‘That was where Estrenoli was clever. He has an uncle in the Government and he said that perhaps they would reconsider the case of her father. But, of course, there was a price.’

‘I see,’ I said thoughtfully.

‘So she married him. I would as soon she married an animal.’

‘And he found he could not keep his promise?’

‘Could not?’ said Piero disgustedly. ‘He had no intention of keeping it. The Estrenolis have not kept a promise in the last five hundred years.’ He sighed. ‘You see, she is a good daughter of the Church and when she married him, Estrenoli knew that he had her for ever. And he was proud of her; oh yes, very proud. She was the most beautiful woman in Roma, and he bought her clothes and dressed her as a child will dress a doll. She was the most expensively dressed mannequin in Italy.’

‘And then?’

‘And then he got tired of her. He is an unnatural man and he went back to his little boys and his drugs and all the other vices of Roma. Signor Halloran, Roman society is the most corrupt in the world.’

I had heard something of that; there had been a recent case of a drowned girl which threatened to rip apart the whole shoddy mess. But it was said that the Italian Government was intent on hushing it up.

Piero said, ‘At that time she helped her father and her old comrades. There were many cases of hardship and she did what she could. But Estrenoli found out and said he would not have his money squandered on a lot of filthy partisans, so he did not give her any more money — not one single lire. He tried to corrupt her, to bring her down to his level, but he could not — she is incorruptible. So then he threw her out on to the street — he had what he wanted, as much as he could get, and he was finished with her.’

‘So she came back to Liguria.’

‘Yes. We help her when we can because of what she is and because of her father. We also try to help him, but that is difficult because he refuses to accept what he calls charity.’

‘And she is still married to Estrenoli?’

‘There is no divorce in Italy and she follows the Church. But before God I say the Church is wrong when this can happen.’

I said, ‘And so you are helping her in this venture.’

‘I think it is wrong and I think she is mistaken,’ he said. ‘I think many lives will be lost because of this. But I am helping her.’

‘This is what is puzzling me,’ I said. ‘Her father is an old man; this gold cannot help him much.’

‘But it is not only for her father,’ said Piero. ‘She says that the money is for all the men who fought with her father and were cheated by the Communists. She says it will be used to send them to hospitals when that is necessary and to educate their children. It will be a good thing if there is no killing.’

‘Yes, it will,’ I said reflectively. ‘I do not want killing, either, Piero.’

‘I know, Signor Halloran; you have already shown that. But there are others — Torloni and this Metcalfe. And there is your friend Coertze.’

‘You don’t trust him, do you? What about Walker?’

Pah — a nonentity.’

‘And me? Do you trust me?’

He stood and put a foot on his cigarette deliberately. ‘I would trust you in another place, Signor Halloran, such as in a boat or on a mountain. But gold is not good for the character.’

He had said in different words what I had thought earlier. I was going to reply when Coertze shouted irately, ‘What the hell are you doing out there? Come and get this stuff away.’

So we went on with the work.

III

We broke through at three in the morning. Coertze gave a joyous shout as his pick point disappeared unresistingly into emptiness. Within ten minutes he had broken a hole big enough to crawl through and he went into it like a terrier after a rabbit. I pushed the Tilley lamp through the hole and followed it.

I found Coertze scrambling over fallen rocks which littered the floor of the tunnel. ‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘There’s no hurry.’

He took no notice but plunged on into the darkness. There was a clang and he started to swear. ‘Bring that bloody light,’ he shouted.

I moved forward and the circle of light moved with me. Coertze had run full tilt into the front of a truck. He had gashed his cheek and running blood was making runnels in the dust which coated his face, giving him a maniacal look which was accentuated by the glare of his eyes.

‘Here it is,’ he cackled. ‘Magtig, what did I tell you? I told you I had gold here. Well, here it is, as much gold as comes out of the Reef in a month.’ He looked at me in sudden wonder. ‘Christus, but I’m happy,’ he said. ‘I never thought I’d make it.’

I could hear the others coming through the hole and I waited for them to come up. ‘Kobus Coertze is going to give us a guided tour of his treasure cave,’ I said.

Walker said, chattering, ‘The gold is in the first truck, this one. Most of it, that is. There’s some more, though, in the second one, but most of it is in this one. The jewels are in the second one; lots and lots of necklaces and rings, diamonds and emeralds and pearls and cigarette lighters and cases, all in gold, and there’s lots of money, too, lire and dollars and pounds and stuff like that, and there’s lots of papers but those are in the trucks right at the back with the bodies...’ His voice trailed off. ‘With the bodies,’ he repeated vacantly.

There was a bit of a silence then as we realized that this was a mausoleum as well as a treasure cave. Coertze recovered his usual gravity and took the lamp from me. He held it up and looked at the first truck. ‘I should have put it up on blocks,’ he observed wryly.

The tyres were rotten and sagging, as flat as I’ve ever seen tyres. ‘You know,’ said Coertze, ‘when we put this lot in here, my intention was to drive these trucks out some time. I never thought it would be fifteen years.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘We’d have a job starting these engines now.’

Walker said impatiently, ‘Well, let’s get on with it.’ He had apparently recovered from the scare he had given himself.

I said, ‘We’d better do this methodically, truck by truck. Let’s have a look in the first one.’

Coertze led the way, holding up the Tilley lamp. There was just enough room to squeeze between the truck and the side of the tunnel. I noticed the shattered windscreen where a burst of machine-gun fire had killed the driver and his mate. Everything was covered with a heavy layer of dust, most of which must have been deposited when Coertze originally blew in the front of the tunnel.

Coertze was hammering at the bolts of the tailboard with a piece of rock. ‘The damn’ things have seized solid,’ he said. ‘I’ll need a hammer.’

‘Piero,’ I called. ‘Bring a hammer.’

‘I’ve got one,’ said Francesca quietly, so close behind me that I jumped. I took it and passed it on to Coertze. With a few blows the bolt came free and he attacked the other and caught the tailboard as it dropped. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘here we go for the gold,’ and vaulted into the truck.

I handed him the lamp and then climbed up and turned to give Francesca a hand. Walker crowded past me, eager to see the gold, while Piero climbed in more sedately. We squatted on our haunches in a circle, sitting on the bullion boxes.

‘Where’s the one we opened?’ asked Coertze. ‘It must be at the back somewhere.’

Francesca gave a yelp. ‘I’ve got a nail in my foot.’

‘That’s the box,’ said Coertze with satisfaction.

Francesca moved and Coertze held up the lamp. The box on which Francesca had been sitting had been torn open and the cover roughly replaced. I stretched my hand and lifted the lid slowly. In the light of the lamp there was the yellow gleam of metal, the dull radiance of gold which rusts not nor doth moth corrupt — rather like treasure laid up in heaven. This gold, however, had been laid up in hell.

Coertze sighed. ‘There it is.’

I said to Francesca, ‘Did you hurt your foot?’

She was staring at the gold, ‘No, it’s all right,’ she said absently.

Piero lifted an ingot from the box. He misjudged the weight and tried to use one hand; then he got both hands to it and rested the ignot on his thighs. ‘It is gold!’ he said in wonder.

The ingot was passed round the circle and we all handled it and stroked it. I felt a sudden resurgence of the passion I had felt in Aristide’s strong-room when I held the heavy gold Hercules in my fingers.

Walker had a kind of terror in his voice. ‘How do we know that all these boxes have gold in them? We never looked.’

‘I know,’ said Coertze. ‘I tested the weight of every box fifteen years ago. I made sure all right. There’s about three tons of gold in this truck and another ton in the next one.’

The gold had an insidious fascination and we were reluctant to leave it. For Walker and Coertze this was the culmination of the battle which was fought on that dusty road fifteen years previously. For me, it was the end of a tale that had been told many years before in the bars of Cape Town.

I suddenly pulled myself together. It was not the end of the tale, and if we wanted the tale to have a happy ending there was still much to do.

‘O.K., let’s break it up,’ I said. ‘There’s still a lot more to see and a hell of a lot to do.’

The golden spell broken, we went to the next truck and Coertze again hammered the tailboard free. The bullion boxes were hidden this time, lying on the floor of the truck with other boxes piled on top.

‘That’s the box with the crown in it,’ said Walker excitedly.

We all climbed in, squashed at the back of the truck, and Coertze looked round. He suddenly glanced at Francesca and said, ‘Open that box and take your pick.’ He pointed to a stout case with a broken lock.

She opened the box and gasped. There was a shimmer of coruscating light, the pure white of diamonds, the bright green of emeralds and the dull red of rubies. She stretched forth her hand and picked out the first thing she encountered. It was a diamond and emerald necklace.

She ran it through her fingers. ‘How lovely!’

There was a catch in Piero’s voice. ‘How much would that be worth?’ he asked huskily.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Fifty thousand pounds, perhaps. That is, if the stones are real,’ I ended sardonically.

Coertze said, ‘Get this stuff out, then we can see what we have. I didn’t have time when we put it in here.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ I said. ‘But you won’t have too much time now. It’ll be dawn pretty soon, and we don’t want to be seen around here.’

We began to pull the boxes out. Coertze had thoughtfully left plenty of room between the trucks so that it was easy enough. There were four boxes of jewellery, one filled with nothing else but wedding rings, thousands of them. I had a vague recollection that the patriotic women of Italy had given their wedding rings to the cause — and here they were.

There was the box containing the crown, a massive head-piece studded with jewels. There were eight large cases holding paper currency, neatly packeted and bound with rotting rubber bands. The lire had the original bank wrappers round each bundle. Then there were the remaining bullion boxes on the floor of the truck — another ton of gold.

Francesca went out to the car and brought in some flasks of coffee, and then we sat about examining the loot. The box from which Francesca had taken the necklace was the only one containing jewellery of any great value — but that was enough. I don’t know anything about gems, but I conservatively estimated the value of that one box at well over a million pounds.

One of the other boxes was filled with various objects of value, usually in gold, such as pocket watches of bygone design, cigarette cases and lighters, gold medals and medallions, cigar cutters and all the other usual pieces of masculine jewellery. A lot of the pieces were engraved, but with differing names, and I thought that this must be the masculine equivalent of the wedding rings — sacrifices to the cause.

The third box contained the wedding rings and the last one was full of gold currency. There were a lot of British sovereigns and thousands of other coins which I identified as being similar to the coins shown to me by Aristide. There were American eagles and Austrian ducats and even some Tangier Hercules. That was a very heavy box.

Francesca picked up the necklace again. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ I said.

‘It’s the loveliest thing I’ve seen,’ she breathed.

I took it from her fingers. ‘Turn round,’ I said, and fastened it round her neck. ‘This is the only opportunity you’ll have of wearing it; it’s a pity to waste it.’

Her shoulders straightened and the triple line of diamonds sparkled against her black sweater. Womanlike, she said, ‘Oh, I wish I had a mirror.’ Her fingers caressed the necklace.

Walker laughed and staggered to his feet, clutching the crown in both hands. He placed it on Coertze’s head, driving the bullet head between the broad shoulders. ‘King Coertze,’ he cried hysterically. ‘All hail.’

Coertze braced under the weight of the crown. ‘Nee, man,’ he said, ‘I’m a Republican.’ He looked straight at me and smiled sardonically. ‘There’s the king of the expedition.’

To an outsider it would have been a mad sight. Four dishevelled and dirty men, one wearing a golden crown and with drying blood streaking his face, and a not-too-clean woman wearing a necklace worth a queen’s ransom. We ourselves were oblivious to the incongruity of the scene; it had been with us too long in our imaginations.

I said, ‘Let’s think of the next step.’

Coertze lifted his hands and took off the crown. The fun was over; the serious work was to begin again.

‘You’ll have to finish off the entrance,’ I said. ‘That last bit isn’t big enough to take the loot out.’

Coertze said, ‘Ja, but that won’t take long.’

‘Nevertheless, it had better be done now; it’ll soon be dawn.’ I jerked my thumb at the third truck. ‘Anything of value back there?’

‘There’s nothing there but boxes of papers and dead Germans. But you can have a look if you want.’

‘I will,’ I said, and looked about the tunnel. ‘What I suggest is that Walker and I stay here today to get this stuff, sorted out and moved to the front where it’ll be easier to get out. It’ll save time when the trucks come; I don’t want them hanging about here for a long time.’

I had thought out this move carefully. Coertze could be relied upon to keep a close watch on Piero and Francesca and would stand no nonsense from them when they went into Varsi.

But Coertze was immediately suspicious; he didn’t want to leave me and Walker alone with the loot. I said, ‘Dammit, you’ll seal us in, and even if we did make a break the stuff we would carry in our pockets wouldn’t be worth worrying about compared with the rest of the treasure. All I want to do is save time.’

After a glowering moment he accepted it, and he and Piero went to complete the entrance. I said to Walker, ‘Come on, let’s take a look farther back.’

He hesitated, and then said, ‘No. I’m not going back there. I’m not.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ said Francesca quietly. ‘I’m not afraid of Germans, especially dead ones.’ She gave Walker a look of contempt.

I picked up the Tilley lamp and Walker said hysterically, ‘Don’t take the light.’

‘Don’t be a damn’ fool,’ I said. ‘Take this to Coertze; it’ll suit him better than a torch. You can give him a hand, too.’

As he left I switched on my torch and Francesca did the same. I hefted the hammer and said, ‘O.K. Let’s frighten all those ghosts.’

The third truck was full of packing cases and weapons. There looked to be enough guns to start a war. I picked up a sub-machine-gun and cocked the action; it was stiff, but it worked and a round flew out of the breech. I thought that my gallant efforts at disarming Coertze and Piero were all wasted, or would have been if Coertze had remembered that all these guns were here. I wondered if the ammunition was still safe to use.

Francesca pushed some rifles aside and pulled the lid off one of the cases. It was full of files — dusty files with the fasces of the Fascist Government embossed on the covers. She pulled a file out and started to read, riffling the pages from time to time.

‘Anything interesting?’ I asked.

‘It’s about the invasion of Albania,’ she said. ‘Minutes of the meetings of the Army Staff.’ She took another file and became absorbed in it. ‘This is the same kind of thing, but it’s the Ethiopian campaign.’

I left her to the dusty records of forgotten wars and went back to the fourth truck. It was not pretty. The tunnel was very dry and apparently there had been no rats. The bodies were mummified, the faces blackened and the skin drawn tight into ghastly grins — the rictus of death. I counted the bodies — there were fifteen in the truck, piled in higgledy-piggledy like so many sides of beef — and two in the staff car, one of which was the body of an S.S. officer. There was a wooden case in the back of the truck but I did not investigate it — if it contained anything of value, the dead were welcome to keep it.

I went back to the staff car because I had seen something that interested me. Lying in the back, half hidden by the motor-cycle, was a Schmeisser machine pistol. I picked it up and hefted it thoughtfully in my hand. I was thinking more of Coertze than of Metcalfe and my thoughts weren’t pleasant. Coertze was suspected of having killed at least three men in order to get this treasure to himself. There was still the share-out to take place and it was on the cards that he would play the same game at some stage or other. The stake involved was tremendous.

The Schmeisser machine pistol is a very natty weapon which I had seen and admired during the war. It looks exactly like an ordinary automatic pistol and can be used as such, but there is a simple shoulder rest which fits into the holster and which clips into place at the back of the hand-grip so that you can steady the gun at your shoulder.

In principle, this is very much like the old Mauser pistol, but there the resemblance ends. Magazines for the Schmeisser come in two sizes — one of eight rounds like an ordinary pistol clip — and the long magazine holding about thirty rounds. With the long magazine in place and the gun switched to rapid fire you have a very handy submachinegun, most effective at close range.

I had not fired a gun since the war and the thought of something which would make up for my lack of marksmanship by its ability to squirt out bullets was very appealing. I looked round to see if there were any spare clips but I didn’t see any. Machine pistols were usually issued to sergeants and junior officers, so I prepared myself for an unpleasant task.

Ten minutes later I had got what I wanted. I had the holster and belt, stiff with neglect, but containing the shoulder rest, four long clips and four short clips. There was another machine pistol, but I left that. I put the gun in the holster and left it resting in a niche in the tunnel wall together with the clips of ammunition. Then I went back to Francesca.

She was still reading the files by the light of her torch. I said, ‘Still reading history?’

She looked up. ‘It’s a pitiful record; all the arguments and quarrels in high places, neatly tabulated and set down.’ She shook her head. ‘It is best that these files stay here. All this should be forgotten.’

‘It’s worth a million dollars,’ I said, ‘if we could find an American university dishonest enough to buy it. Any historian would give his right arm for that lot. But you’re right; we can’t let it into the world outside — that would really give the game away.’

‘What is it like back there?’ she asked.

‘Nasty.’

‘I would like to see,’ she said and jumped down from the truck. I remembered the little girl of the war years who hated Germans, and didn’t try to stop her.

She came back within minutes, her face pale and her eyes stony, and would not speak of it. A long time afterwards she told me that she had vomited back there in sheer horror at the sight. She thought that the bodies ought to have been given decent burial, even though they were German.

When we got back to the front of the tunnel Coertze had finished his work and the entrance was now big enough to push the cases through. I sent Walker and Francesca back to the caravan to bring up food and bedding, then I took Coertze to one side, speaking in English so that Piero wouldn’t understand.

‘Is there any way to this mine other than by the road we came?’ I asked.

‘Not unless you travel cross-country,’ he said.

I said, ‘You’ll stay with Piero and Francesca at the caravan until late afternoon. You’ll be able to see if anyone goes up the road; if anyone does you’ll have to cut across country damn’ quick and warn us, because we may be making a noise here. We’ll probably sleep in the afternoon, so it should be all right then.’

‘That sounds fair enough,’ he said.

‘Piero will probably start to look for those ammunition clips I threw away,’ I said. ‘So you’ll have to keep an eye on him. And when you go to Varsi to pick up the trucks, make sure that you all stick together and don’t let them talk to anyone unless you’re there.’

‘Moenie panik nie,’ he said. ‘They won’t slip anything over on me.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘I’m just going to slip out for a breath of fresh air. It’ll be the last I’ll get for a long time.’

I went outside and strolled about for a while. I thought that everything was going well and if it stayed that way I would be thankful. Only one thing was worrying me. By bringing Francesca and Piero with us, we had cut ourselves off from our intelligence service and we didn’t know what Metcalfe and Torloni were up to. It couldn’t be helped, but it was worrying all the same.

After a while Piero came from the tunnel and joined me. He looked at the sky and said, ‘It will soon be dawn.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I wish Walker and Francesca would come back,’ I turned to him. ‘Piero, something is worrying me.’

‘What is it, Signor Halloran?’

I said, ‘Coertze! He still has his gun, and I think he will try to look for those ammunition clips I threw away.’

Piero laughed. ‘I will watch him. He will not get out of my sight.’

And that was that. Those two would be so busy watching each other that they wouldn’t have time to get up to mischief, and they would stay awake to watch the road. I rather fancied myself as a Machiavelli. I was no longer worrying too much about Francesca; I didn’t think she would double-cross anyone. Piero was different; as he had said himself — gold has a bad effect on the character.

A few minutes later, Walker and Francesca came back in the car bringing food and blankets and some upholstered cushions from the caravan to use as pillows. I asked Walker discreetly, ‘Any trouble?’

‘Nothing,’ he said.

The first faint light of morning was in the east. I said, ‘Time to go in,’ and Walker and I went back into the tunnel. Coertze began to seal up the entrance and I helped him from the inside. As the wall of rock grew higher I began to feel like a medieval hermit being walled up for the good of his soul. Before the last rocks were put in place Coertze said, ‘Don’t worry about Varsi, it will be all right.’

I said, ‘I’ll be expecting you tomorrow at nightfall.’

‘We’ll be here,’ he said. ‘You don’t think I trust you indefinitely with all that stuff in there?’

Then the last rock sealed the entrance, but I heard him scuffling about for a long time as he endeavoured to make sure that it looked normal from the outside.

I went back into the tunnel to find Walker elbow deep in sovereigns. He was kneeling at the box, dipping his hands into it and letting the coins fall with a pleasant jingling sound. ‘We might as well make a start,’ I said. ‘We’ll get half of the stuff to the front, then have breakfast, then shift the other half. After that we’ll be ready for sleep.’

The job had to be done so we might as well do it. Besides, I wanted to get Walker dead tired so that he would be heavily asleep, when I went to retrieve the Schmeisser.

The first thing we did was to clear the fallen rock from in front of the first truck. This would be our working space when we had to disguise the bullion boxes and recrate the other stuff. We worked quickly without chatting. There was no sound except our heavy breathing, the subdued roar of the Tilley lamp and the occasional clatter of a rock.

After an hour we had a clear space and began to bring the gold to the front. Those bullion boxes were damnably heavy and needed careful handling. One of them nearly fell on Walker’s foot before I evolved the method of letting them drop from the lorry on to the piled-up caravan cushions. The cushions suffered but that was better than a broken foot.

It was awkward getting them to the front of the tunnel. The space between the lorry and the wall was too narrow for the two of us to carry a box together and the boxes were a little too heavy for one man to carry himself. I swore at Coertze for having reversed the trucks into the tunnel.

Eventually I hunted round among the trucks and found a long towing chain which we fastened round each box in turn so that we could pull it along the ground. The work went faster then.

After we had emptied all the gold from the first truck and had taken it to the front, I declared a breakfast break. Francesca had prepared a hot meal and there was plenty of coffee. As we ate we conversed desultorily.

‘What will you do with your share?’ I asked Walker curiously.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I haven’t any real plans. I’ll have a hell of a good time, I’ll tell you that.’

I grimaced. The bookmakers would take a lot of it, I guessed, and the distillers would show a sudden burst in their profits for the first year, and then Walker would probably be dead of cirrhosis of the liver and delirium tremens.

‘I’ll probably do a lot of travelling,’ he said. ‘I’ve always wanted to travel. What will you do?’

I leaned my head back dreamily. ‘Half a million is a lot of money,’ I said. ‘I’d like to design lots of boats, the experimental kind that no one in their right minds would touch with a barge pole. A big cruising catamaran, for instance; there’s a lot of work to be done in that field. I’d have enough money to have any design tank-tested as it should be done. I might even finance a private entry for the America’s Cup — I’ve always wanted to design a 12-metre, and wouldn’t it be a hell of a thing if my boat won?’

‘You mean you’d go on working? said Walker in horror.

‘I like it,’ I said. ‘It’s not work if you like it.’

And so we planned our futures, going from vision to wilder vision until I looked at my watch and said, ‘Let’s get cracking; the sooner we finish, the sooner we can sleep.’ It was nine o’clock and I reckoned we would be through by midday.

We moved the gold from the third truck. This was a longer haul and so took more time. After that it was easy and soon there was nothing left except the boxes of paper currency. Walker looked at them and said hesitantly, ‘Shouldn’t we...?’

‘Nothing doing,’ I said sharply. ‘I’d burn the lot if I was sure no one would see the smoke.’

He seemed troubled at the heresy of someone wanting to burn money and set himself to count it while I got my blankets together and prepared for sleep. As I lay down, he said suddenly, ‘There’s about a thousand million lire here — that’s a hell of a lot of money. And there’s any amount of sterling. Thousands of British fivers.’

I yawned. ‘What colour are they?’

‘White,’ he said. ‘The biggest notes I’ve ever seen.’

‘You pass one of those and you’re for the high jump,’ I said. ‘They changed the design of the fiver when they discovered that the Germans had forged God knows how many millions. Come to think of it, it’s quite likely that those are of German manufacture.’

He seemed disappointed at that, and I said, ‘Get some sleep; you’ll be glad of it later.’

He gathered his blankets and settled himself down. I lay awake, fighting off sleep, until I heard the slow, regular breathing of deep slumber, then I got up and softly made my way down the tunnel. I retrieved the Schmeisser and the clips and brought them back. I didn’t know where to put them at first, then I found that the cushion I was using as a pillow was torn and leaking stuffing. I tore out some more of the stuffing and put the gun and the clips inside. It made a hard pillow, but I didn’t mind that — if people were going to wave guns at me, I wanted one to wave back.

IV

Neither of us slept very well — we had too much on our minds. I lay, turning restlessly, and hearing Walker doing the same until, at last, we could stand it no longer and we abandoned the pretence of sleep. It was four in the afternoon and I reckoned that the others should be starting for Varsi just about then.

We went up to the front of the tunnel and checked everything again, then settled to wait for nightfall. It could have been night then, if my watch hadn’t told us otherwise, because there was no light in the tunnel except for the bright circle cast by the lamp, which quickly faded into darkness.

Walker was nervous. Twice he asked me if I heard a noise, not from the entance but from back in the tunnel. The bodies of the men he had killed were worrying him. I told him to go back and look at them, thinking the shock treatment might do him good, but he refused to go.

At last I heard a faint noise from the entrance. I took the hammer in my hand and waited — this might not be Coertze at all. A rock clattered and a voice said, ‘Halloran?’

I relaxed and blew my cheeks out. It was Coertze.

Another rock clattered and I said, ‘Is everything all right?’

‘No trouble at all,’ he said, furiously pulling down the screen of rocks. ‘The trucks are here.’

Walker and I helped to push down the wall from the inside and Coertze shone a torch in my face. ‘Man,’ he said. ‘But you need a clean-up, ay.’

I could imagine what I looked like. We had no water for washing and the dust lay heavily upon us. Francesca stood next to Coertze. ‘Are you all right, Mr Halloran?’

‘I’m O.K. Where are the trucks?’

She moved, barely distinguishable in the darkness. ‘They are back there.’

‘There are four Italians,’ said Coertze.

‘Do they know what they are doing here?’ I asked swiftly.

Piero loomed up. ‘They know that this is secret, and therefore certainly illegal,’ he said. ‘But otherwise they know nothing.’

I thought about that. ‘Tell two of them to go down to the caravan, strike camp, and then wait there. Tell them to keep a watch on the road and to warn us if anyone comes up. The other two must go into the hills overlooking the mine, one to the left, the other to the right. They must watch for anyone coming across country. This is the tricky part and we don’t want anyone surprising us when the gold is in the open.’

Piero moved away and I heard him giving quick instructions. I said, ‘The rest of us will start work inside. Bring the timber from the trucks.’

The trucks were all right, bigger than we needed. One of them was loaded with lengths of rough boxwood and there were also some crude crates that would do for putting the loose stuff in. We hauled out the wood and took it into the tunnel, together with the tools — a couple of saws, four hammers and several packets of nails — and we started to nail covers on to the bullion boxes, changing their shape and character.

With four of us it went quickly and, as we worked, we developed an assembly-line technique. Walker sawed the wood into the correct lengths, Coertze nailed on the bottoms and the tops, I put on the sides and Piero put on the ends. Francesca was busy transferring the jewels and the gold trivia from the original boxes into the crates.

Within three hours we had finished and all there was left to do was to take the boxes outside and load them into the trucks.

I rolled my blankets and took my pillow outside and thrust them behind the driving-seat of one of the trucks — that disposed of the Schmeisser very nicely.

The boxes were heavy but Coertze and Piero had the muscle to hoist them vertically into the trucks and to stow them neatly. Walker and I used the chain again to pull the boxes through the narrow entrance. Francesca produced some flasks of coffee and a pile of cut sandwiches and we ate and drank while we worked. She certainly believed in feeding the inner man.

At last we were finished. I said, ‘Now we must take away from the tunnel everything we have brought here. We mustn’t leave a scrap of evidence that we have been here, not a thing that can be traced back to us.’

So we all went back into the tunnel and collected everything — blankets, cushions, tools, torches, flasks, even the discarded bent nails and the fragments of stuffing from the torn cushions. All this went outside to be stowed in the trucks and I stayed behind to take one last look round. I picked up a length of wood that had been forgotten and turned to leave.

Then it happened.

Coertze must have been hasty in shoring up the last bit of the entrance — he had seen the gold and his mind wasn’t on his job. As I turned to leave, the piece of timber I was carrying struck the side of the entrance and dislodged a rock. There was a warning creak and I started to run — but it was too late.

I felt a heavy blow on my shoulder which drove me to my knees. There was a rumble of falling rock and then I knew no more.

V

I came round fuzzily, hearing a voice, ‘Halloran, are you all right? Halloran!’

Something soft touched my cheek and then something cold and wet. I groaned and opened my eyes but everything was hazy. The back of my head throbbed and waves of pain washed forward into my eyes.

I must have passed out again, but the next time I opened my eyes things were clearer. I heard Coertze saying, ‘Can you move your legs, man; can you move your legs?’

I tried. I didn’t understand why I should move my legs but I tried. They seemed to move all right so, dizzily, I tried to get up. I couldn’t! There was a weight on my back holding me down.

Coertze said, ‘Man, now take it easy. We’ll get you out of there, ay.’

He seemed to move away and then I heard Francesca’s voice. ‘Halloran, you must stay quiet and not move. Can you hear me?’

‘I can hear you,’ I mumbled. ‘What happened?’ I found it difficult to speak because the right side of my face was lying on something rough and hard.

‘You are pinned down by a lot of rock,’ she said. ‘Can you move your legs?’

‘Yes, I can move my legs.’

She went away and I could hear her talking to someone. My wits were coming back and I realized that I was lying prone with a heavy weight on my back and my head turned so that my right cheek was lying on rock. My right arm was by my side and I couldn’t move it; my left arm was raised, but it seemed to be wedged tight.

Francesca came back and said, ‘Now, you must listen carefully. Coertze says that if your legs are free then you are only held in your middle. He is going to get you out, but it will be very slow and you mustn’t move. Do you understand?’

‘I understand,’ I said.

‘How do you feel? Is there pain?’ Her voice was low and gentle.

‘I feel sort of numb,’ I said. ‘All I feel is a lot of pressure on my back.’

‘I’ve got some brandy. Would you like some?’

I tried to shake my head and found it impossible. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Tell Coertze to get cracking.’

She went away and Coertze came back. ‘Man,’ he said. ‘You’re in a spot, ay. But not to worry, I’ve done this sort of thing before. All you have to do is keep still.’

He moved and then I heard the scrape of rock and there was a scattering of dust on my face.

It took a long time. Coertze worked slowly and carefully, removing rocks one at a time, testing each one before he took it away. Sometimes he would go away and I would hear a low-voiced conversation, but he always came back to work again with a slow patience.

At last he said, ‘It won’t be long now.’

He suddenly started to shovel away rocks with more energy and the weight on my back eased. It was a wonderful feeling. He said, ‘I’m going to pull you out now. It might hurt a bit.’

‘Pull away,’ I said.

He grasped my left arm and tugged. I moved. Within two minutes I was in the open air looking at the fading stars. I tried to get up, but Francesca said, ‘Lie still.’

Dawn was breaking and there was enough light to see her face as she bent over me. The winged eyebrows were drawn down in a frown as her hands pressed gently on my body testing for broken bones. ‘Can you turn over?’ she asked.

It hurt, but I turned on to my stomach and heard the rip as she cut away my shirt. Then I heard the sudden hiss of her breath. ‘Your back is lacerated badly,’ she said.

I could guess how badly. Her hands were soft and gentle as they moved over my back. ‘You haven’t broken anything,’ she said in wonderment.

I grinned. To me it felt as though my back was broken and someone had built a fire on it, but to hear that there were no broken bones was good. She tore some cloth and began to bind the wounds and when she had finished I sat up.

Coertze held out a baulk of six-by-six. ‘You were damned lucky, man. This was across your back and kept the full weight of the rock off you.’

I said, ‘Thanks, Kobus.’

He coloured self-consciously and looked away. ‘That’s all right — Hal,’ he said. It was the first time he had ever called me Hal.

He looked at the sky. ‘We had better move now.’ He appealed to Francesca. ‘Can he move?’

I got to my feet slowly. ‘Of course I can move,’ I said. Francesca made a sudden gesture which I ignored. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

I looked at the tunnel. ‘You’d better bring down the rest of that little lot and make a good job of it. Then we’ll leave.’

Coertze went off towards the tunnel, and I said, ‘Where’s Walker?’

Piero said, ‘He is sitting in a truck.’

‘Send him down to the caravan, and whistle up your other two boys — they can go with him. They can all leave now for Rapallo.’

Piero nodded and went away. Francesca said, ‘Hadn’t you better rest a little?’

‘I can rest in Rapallo. Can you drive one of those?’ I nodded towards a truck.

‘Of course.’

‘Good. Coertze and Piero can take one; we’ll take the other. I might not be able to manage the driving part, though.’

I didn’t want Piero and Francesca alone, and I wanted Walker to keep a watch on the other Italians. Of course, I could have gone as passenger with Piero, but if he tried anything rough I was no match for him in my beat-up condition. Coertze could cope with him — so that left me with Francesca.

‘I can manage,’ she said.

There was a rumble from the tunnel as Coertze pulled in the entrance, sealing it for ever, I hoped. He came back and I said, ‘You go with Piero in that truck; he’ll be back in a minute. And don’t tail me too close; we don’t want to look like a convoy.’

He said, ‘Think you’ll be all right?’

‘I’ll be O.K.,’ I said, and walked stiffly towards the truck in which I had left my gear. It was a painful business getting into the cab, but I managed in the end and rested gingerly in the seat, not daring to lean back. Francesca swung easily into the driving seat and slammed the door. She looked at me and I waved my hand. ‘Off we go.’

She started the engine and got off badly by grinding the gears, and we went bouncing down the road from the mine, the rising sun shining through the windscreen.

The journey back to Rapallo was no joy-ride for me. The truck was uncomfortable as only trucks can be at the best of times, and for me it was purgatory because I was unable to lean back in the seat. I was very tired, my limbs were sore and aching, and my back was raw. Altogether I was not feeling too bright.

Although Francesca had said that she could drive the truck, she was not doing too well. She was used to the synchromesh gears of a private car and had a lot of trouble in changing the gears of the truck. To take my mind off my troubles we slowed down and I taught her how to double-declutch and after that things went easier and we began to talk.

She said, ‘You will need a doctor, Mr Halloran.’

‘My friends call me Hal,’ I said.

She glanced at me and raised her eyebrows. ‘Am I a friend now?’

‘You didn’t kick me in the teeth when I was stuck in the tunnel,’ I said. ‘So you’re my friend.’

She slanted her eyes at me. ‘Neither did Coertze.’

‘He still needs me. He can’t get the gold out of Italy without me.’

‘He was very perturbed,’ she agreed. ‘But I don’t think he had the gold on his mind.’ She paused while she negotiated a bend. ‘Walker had the gold on his mind, though. He sat in a truck all the time, ready to drive away quickly. A contemptible little man.’

I was too bemused by my tiredness to take in the implications of all this. I sat watching the ribbon of road unroll and I lapsed into an almost hypnotic condition. One of the things which fleetingly passed through my mind was that I hadn’t seen the cigarette case which Walker had spoken of many years previously — the cigarette case which Hitler was supposed to have presented to Mussolini at the Brenner Pass in 1940.

I thought of the cigarette case once and then it passed from my mind, not to return until it was too late to do anything about it.

I

The next day I felt better.

Everybody had got back to Palmerini’s boatyard without untoward happenstance and we had moved into the big shed that was reserved for us. The trucks had been unloaded and returned to their owners with thanks, and the caravan stayed in a corner to provide cooking and sleeping space.

But I was in no shape to do much work, so Walker and Coertze went to bring Sanford from the yacht basin, after I had checked on Metcalfe and Torloni. Francesca spoke to Palmerini and soon a procession of Italians slipped into the yard to make their reports. They spoke seriously to Francesca and ducked out again, obviously delighting in their return to the role of partisans.

When she had absorbed all they could tell her, Francesca came to me with a set face. ‘Luigi is in hospital,’ she said unhappily. ‘They broke his skull.’

Poor Luigi. Torloni’s men had not bothered to bribe him, after all. The harbour police were searching for the assailants but had had no success; and they wanted to see me to find out what had been stolen. As far as they were concerned it was just another robbery.

Francesca had an icy coldness about her. ‘We know who they were,’ she said. ‘They will not walk out of Rapallo on their own legs.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Leave them alone.’ I didn’t want to show my hand yet because, with any luck, Metcalfe and Torloni might have fallen for the story I had planted. And for some reason, not yet clearly defined in my mind, I didn’t want Francesca openly associated with us — she would still have to live in Italy when we had gone.

‘Don’t touch them,’ I said. ‘We’ll take care of them later. What about Metcalfe and Torloni?’

They were still in Genoa and saw each other every day. When they had found out that we had disappeared from Rapallo they had rushed up another three men, making five in all. Metcalfe had pulled the Fairmile from the water and Krupke was busy repainting the bottom. The Arab, Moulay Idriss, had vanished; no one knew where he was, but he was certainly not in Rapallo.

That all seemed satisfactory — except for the reinforcement of Torloni’s men in Rapallo. I called Coertze and told him what was happening. ‘When you go to get Sanford tell the police that I’ve had a climbing accident, and that I’m indisposed. Make a hell of a fuss about the burglary, just as though you were an honest man. Go to the hospital, see Luigi and tell him that his hospital bill will be paid and that he’ll get something extra for damages.’

Coertze said, ‘Let me donner those bastards. They needn’t have hit that old man.’

‘Don’t go near them,’ I said. ‘I’ll let you loose later, just before we sail.’

He grumbled but held still, and he and Walker went to see what damage had been done to Sanford. After they had gone I had a talk with Piero. ‘You heard about Luigi?’

He pulled down his mouth. ‘Yes, a bad business — but just like Torloni.’

I said, ‘I am thinking we might need some protection here.’

‘That is taken care of,’ he said. ‘We are well guarded.’

‘Does Francesca know about this?’

He shook his head. ‘Women do not know how to do these things — I will tell Madame when it is necessary. But this boatyard is well guarded; I can call on ten men within fifteen minutes.’

‘They’ll have to be strong and tough men to fight Torloni’s gangsters.’

His face cracked into a grim smile. ‘Torloni’s men know nothing,’ he said contemptuously. ‘The men I have called are fighting men; men who have killed armed Germans with their bare hands. I would feel sorry for Torloni’s gang were it not for Luigi.’

I felt satisfied at that. I could imagine the sort of dock rats Torloni would have working for him; they wouldn’t stand a chance against disciplined men accustomed to military tactics.

I said, ‘Remember, we want no killing.’

‘There will be no killing if they do not start it first. After that...?’ He shrugged. ‘I cannot be responsible for the temper of the men.’

I left him and went into the caravan to clean and oil the Schmeisser. The tunnel had been dry and the gun hadn’t taken much harm. I was more dubious about the ammunition; wondering if the charges behind the bullets had suffered chemical deterioration over the past fifteen years. That was something I would find out when the shooting started.

But perhaps there would be no shooting. There was a fair chance that Metcalfe and Torloni knew nothing of our connection with the partisans — I had worked hard enough to cover it. If Torloni attacked he would get the surprise of his life, but I hoped he wouldn’t — I didn’t want the Italians involved too much.

Coertze and Walker brought Sanford to the yard in the late afternoon and Palmerini’s sons got busy slipping her and unstepping the mast. Coertze said, ‘We were followed by a fast launch.’

So they know we are here?’

‘Ja,’ he said, ‘But we made them uncomfortable.’

Walker said, ‘We took her out, and they had to follow us because they thought we were leaving. There was a bit of a lop outside the harbour and they were sea-sick — all three of them.’ He grinned. ‘So was Coertze.’

‘Did they do much damage to Sanford when they broke in?’

‘Not much,’ replied Coertze. ‘They turned everything out of the lockers, but the police had cleaned up after the pigs.’

‘The furnaces?’

‘All right; those were the first things I checked.’

That was a relief. The furnaces were now the king-pins of the plan and if they had gone the whole of our labour would have been wasted. There would have been no time to replace them and still meet the deadline of Tangier. As it was, we would have to work fast.

Coertze got busy getting the furnaces out of Sanford. It wasn’t a long job and soon he was assembling them on a bench in the corner of the shed. Piero looked at them uncomprehendingly but said nothing.

I realized it would be pointless to try to conceal our plan from him and Francesca — it just couldn’t be done. And in any case, I was getting a bit tired of the shroud of suspicion with which I had cloaked myself. The Italians had played fair with us so far and we were entirely at their mercy, anyway; they could take the lot any time they wanted if they felt so inclined.

I said, ‘We’re going to cast a new keel for Sanford.’

Piero said, ‘Why? What is wrong with that one?’

‘Nothing, except it’s made of lead. I’m a particular man — I want a keel of gold.’

His face lit up in a delighted smile. ‘I wondered how you were going to get the gold out of the country. I thought about it and could see no way, but you seemed so sure.’

‘Well, that’s how we’re going to do it,’ I said, and went over to Coertze. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to be good for any heavy work over the next few days. I’ll assemble these gadgets — it’s a sitting job — you’d better be doing something else. What about the mould?’

‘I’ll get started on that,’ he said. ‘Palmerini has plenty of moulding sand.’

I unfastened my belt and, from the hidden pocket, I took the plan of the new keel I had designed many months previously. I said, ‘I had Harry make the alterations to the keelson to go with the new keel. He thought I was nuts. All you’ve got to do is to cast the keel to this pattern and it’ll fit sweetly.’

He took the drawing and went off to see Palmerini. I started to assemble the furnaces — it wasn’t a long job and I finished that night.

II

I suppose that few people have had occasion to cut up gold ingots with a hacksaw. It’s a devilish job because the metal is soft and the teeth of the saw blades soon become clogged. Walker said it was like sawing through treacle.

It had to be done because we could only melt a couple of pounds of gold at a time, and it was Walker’s job to cut up the ingots into nice handy pieces. The gold dust was a problem which I solved by sending out for a small vacuum cleaner which Walker used assiduously, sucking up every particle of gold he could find.

And when he had finished sawing for the day he would sweep round his bench and wash the dust in a pan just like an old-time prospector. Even with all those precautions I reckon we must have wasted several pounds of gold in the sawing operation.

We all gathered round to watch the first melt. Coertze dropped the small piece of gold on to the graphite mat and switched on the machine. There was an intense white flare as the mat went incandescent and the gold drooped and flowed and, within seconds, was ready for pouring into the mould.

The three furnaces worked perfectly but as they were only laboratory instruments after all, and could only take a small amount at a time, it was going to be a long job. Inside the mould we put a tangle of wires which was to hold the gold together. Coertze was dubious about the method of pouring so little at a time and several times he stopped and removed gold already poured.

‘This keel will be so full of faults and cracks I don’t think it’ll hold,’ he said.

So we put in more and more wires and poured the gold round them, hoping they would bind the mass together.

I was stiff and sore and to bend was an agony, so there was not much I could do to help effectively. I discussed this with Coertze, and said, ‘You know, one of us had better show his face in Rapallo. Metcalfe knows we’re here and it’ll look odd if we all stay in this shed and never come out. He’ll know we’re up to something.’

‘You’d better wander round town then,’ said Coertze. ‘You can’t do much here.’

So after Francesca had rebandaged my back, I went into town and up to the Yacht Club. The secretary commiserated with me on the fact that Sanford had been broken into and hoped that nothing had been stolen. ‘It cannot have been done by men of Rapallo,’ he said. ‘We are very strict about that here.’

He also looked at my battered face in mute inquiry, so I smiled and said, ‘Your Italian mountains seem to be made of harder rock than those in South Africa.’

‘Ah, you’ve been climbing?’

‘Trying to,’ I said. ‘Allow me to buy you a drink.’

He declined, so I went into the bar and ordered a Scotch, taking it to the table by the window where I could look over the yacht basin. There was a new boat in, a large motor yacht of about a hundred tons. You see many of those in the Mediterranean — the luxury boats of the wealthy. They put to sea in the calmest of weather and the large paid crews have the life of Reilly — hardly any work and plenty of shore time. Idly, I focused the club binoculars on her. Her name was Calabria.

When I left the club I spotted my watchers and took delight in leading them to innocent places which any tourist might have visited. If I had been fitter I would have walked their legs off, but I compromised by taking a taxi. Their staff-work was good, because I noticed a cruising car come up from nowhere and pick them up smoothly.

I went back and reported to Francesca. She said, ‘Torloni has sent more men into Rapallo.’

That sounded bad. ‘How many?’

‘Three more — that makes eight. We think that he wants enough men to follow each of you, even if you split up. Besides, they must sleep sometimes, too.’

‘Where’s Metcalfe?’

‘Still in Genoa. His boat was put into the water this morning.’

‘Thanks, Francesca, you’re doing all right,’ I said.

‘I will be glad when this business is finished,’ she said sombrely. ‘I wish I had never started it.’

‘Getting cold feet?’

‘I do not understand what you mean by that; but I am afraid there will be much violence soon.’

‘I don’t like it, either,’ I said candidly. ‘But the thing is under way; we can’t stop now. You Italians have a phrase for it — che sera, sera.’

She sighed. ‘Yes, in a matter like this there is no turning back once you have begun.’

I left her sitting in the caravan, thinking that she was beginning to realize that this was no light-hearted adventure she had embarked upon. This was deadly serious, a game for high stakes in which a few murders would not be boggled at, at least, not by the opposition — and I wasn’t too sure about Coertze.

The keel seemed to be going well. Coertze and Piero were sweating over the hot furnaces, looking demoniacal in the sudden bursts of light. Coertze pushed up his goggles and said, ‘How many graphite mats did we have?’

‘Why?’

‘They don’t last long. I’m not getting more than four melts out of each, then they burn out. We might run out of mats before the job’s finished.’

‘I’ll check on it,’ I said, and went to figure with pencil and paper. After checking my calculations and recounting the stock of mats I went back to Coertze. ‘Can you squeeze five melts out of a mat?’

He grunted. ‘We’ll have to be careful about it, which means we’ll be slower. Can we afford the time?’

‘If we burn out the mats before the job’s done then the time won’t matter — it’ll be wasted anyway. We’ll have to afford the time. How many melts a day can you do at five melts to a mat?’

He thought about that. ‘It’ll cut us down to twelve melts an hour, no more than that.’

I went away to do some more figuring. Taking the gold at 9000 pounds, that meant 4,500 melts of which Coertze had already done 500. Twelve melts an hour meant 340 working hours — at twelve hours a day, twenty-eight days.

Too long — start again.

Three hundred and forty hours working at sixteen hours a day — twenty-one days. But could he work sixteen hours a day? I cursed my lacerated back which kept me from helping, but if anything happened and it got worse then I was sure the plan would be torpedoed. Somebody had to take Sanford out and I had an increasing distrust of Walker, who had grown silent and secretive.

I went back to Coertze, walking stiffly because my back was hurting like hell. ‘You’ll have to work long hours,’ I said. ‘Time’s running out.’

‘I’d work twenty-four hours a day if I could,’ he said. ‘But I can’t, so I’ll work till I drop.’

I thought maybe I’d better go at it a different way, so I stood back and watched how Coertze and Piero were going about the job. Soon I had ideas about speeding it up.

The next morning I took charge. I told Coertze to do nothing but pour gold; he must not have anything to do with loading the furnaces or cleaning mats — all he had to do was pour gold. Piero I assigned to melting the gold and to passing the furnace with the molten gold to Coertze. The furnaces were light enough to be moved about so I arranged a table so that they could move bodily along it.

Walker had sawn plenty of gold, so I pulled him from his bench. He had to take a furnace from Coertze, replace the mat with a new one and put a chunk of gold on it ready for melting. Myself I set to the task of cleaning the used mats ready for re-use — this I could do sitting down.

All in all, it was a simple problem in time and motion study and assembly line technique. By the end of the day we were doing sixteen melts an hour without too many burnt-out mats.

So the days went by. We started by working sixteen hours a day but we could not keep it up and gradually our daily output dropped in spite of the increase in the hourly output. Mistakes were made in increasing numbers and the percentage of burnt-out mats went up sharply.

Working in those sudden bursts of heat from the furnaces was hellish; we all lost weight and our thirst was unquenchable.

When the output dropped below 150 melts a day with another 2000 to go I began to get really worried. I wanted a clear three weeks to sail to Tangier and it looked as though I was not going to get them.

Obviously something had to be done.

That evening, when we were eating supper after finishing work for the day, and before we turned exhaustedly into our berths, I said, ‘Look, we’re too tired. We’re going to have a day off, tomorrow. We do nothing at all — we just laze about.’

I was taking a chance, gambling that the increased output by refreshed men would more than offset the loss of a day. But Coertze said bluntly. ‘No, we work. We haven’t the time to waste.’

Coertze was a good man if a bit bull-headed. I said, ‘I’ve been right up to now, haven’t I?’

He grudgingly assented to that.

‘The output will go up if we have a rest,’ I said. ‘I promise you.’

He grumbled a little, but didn’t press it — he was too tired to fight. The others agreed lacklustrely, and we turned in that night knowing that the next day would be a day of rest.

III

At breakfast, next morning, I asked Francesca, ‘What’s the enemy doing?’

Still watching.’

‘Any reinforcements?’

She shook her head, ‘No, there’s just the eight of them. They take it in turns.’

I said, ‘We might as well give them some exercise. We’ll split up and run them about town, or even outside it. They’ve been having it too easy lately.’

I looked at Coertze. ‘But don’t touch them — we’re not ready to force a showdown yet, and the later it comes the better for us. We can’t afford for any one of us to be put out of action now; if that happens we’re sunk. It’ll take all our time to cast the keel and meet the deadline as it is.’

To Walker I said, ‘And you keep off the booze. You might be tempted, but don’t do it. Remember what I said in Tangier?’

He nodded sullenly and looked down at his plate. He had been too quiet lately to suit me and I wondered what he was thinking.

I said to Francesca, ‘I thought you were getting a jeweller to appraise the gems.’

‘I will see him today,’ she said. ‘He will probably come tomorrow.’

‘Well, when he comes, it must be in disguise or something. Once Torloni’s men know that there are jewels involved there may be no holding them.’

Piero said, ‘Palmerini will bring him hidden in a lorry.’

‘Good enough.’ I got up from the table and stretched. ‘Now to confuse the issue and the enemy. We’ll all leave in different directions. Piero, you and Francesca had better leave later; we don’t want any connection to be made between us. Will this place be safe with us all gone?’

Francesca said, ‘There’ll be ten of our men in the yard all day.’

‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘Tell them not to be too conspicuous.’

I felt fine as I walked into town. My back was healing and my face no longer looked like a battlefield. I was exhilarated at the prospect of a day off work and Coertze must have been feeling even better, I thought. He had not left Palmerini’s yard since he had brought Sanford in, while I had had several visits to town.

I spent the morning idling, doing a little tourist shopping in the Piazza Cavour where I found a shop selling English books. Then I had a lengthy stay at a boulevard café where I leisurely read a novel over innumerable cups of coffee, something I had not had time for for many months.

Towards midday I went up to the Yacht Club for a drink. The bar seemed noisier than usual and I traced the disturbance to an argumentative and semi-drunken group at the far end of the room. Most members were pointedly ignoring this demonstration but there were raised eyebrows at the more raucous shouts. I ordered a Scotch from the steward and said, ‘Why the celebration?’

He sneered towards the end of the bar. ‘No celebration, signor; just idle drunkenness.’

I wondered why the secretary didn’t order the men from the club and said so. The steward lifted his shoulders helplessly. ‘What can one do, signor? There are some men who can break all rules — and here is one such man.’

I didn’t press it; it was no affair of mine and it wasn’t my business to tell the Italians how to run the club in which I was their guest. But I did take my drink into the adjoining lounge where I settled down to finish the novel.

It was an interesting book, but I never did get it finished, and I’ve often wondered how the hero got out of the predicament in which the author placed him. I had not read half a dozen pages when a steward came up and said, ‘There is a lady to see you, signor.’

I went into the foyer and saw Francesca. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’ I demanded.

‘Torloni is in Rapallo,’ she said.

I was going to speak when the club secretary came round the corner and saw us. I said, ‘You’d better come inside; it’s too damn’ conspicuous here.’

The secretary hurried over, saying, ‘Ah, Madame, we have not had the honour of a visit from you for a long time.’

I was a member of the club — if only honourary — so I said, ‘Perhaps I could bring Madame into the club as my guest?’

He looked unaccountably startled and said nervously, ‘Yes, yes, of course. No, there is no need for Madame to sign the book.’

As I escorted Francesca into the lounge I wondered what was agitating the secretary, but I had other things on my mind so I let it slide. I seated Francesca and said, ‘You’d better have a drink.’

‘Campari,’ she said, and then quickly, ‘Torloni brought a lot of men with him.’

‘Relax,’ I said, and ordered a Campari from the lounge steward. When he had left the table I said, ‘What about Metcalfe?’

‘The Fairmile left Genoa; we don’t know where it is.’

‘And Torloni? Where is he?’

‘He booked into a hotel on the Piazza Cavour an hour ago.’

That was when I had been sitting in the pavement café. I might even have seen him. I said, ‘You say he brought some men with him?’

‘There are eight men with him.’

That was bad; it looked as though an attack was building up. Eight plus eight made sixteen, plus Torloni himself and possibly Metcalfe, Krupke, the Moroccan and what other crew the Fairmile might have. More than twenty men!

She said, ‘We had to work quickly. There was a lot of reorganizing to do — that is why I came here myself, there was no one else.’

I said, ‘Just how many men have we got?’

She furrowed her brow. ‘Twenty-five — possibly more later. I cannot tell yet.’

That sounded better; the odds were still in our favour. But I wondered about Torloni’s massing of force. He would not need so many men to tackle three presumably unsuspecting victims, therefore he must have got wind of our partisan allies, so perhaps we wouldn’t have the advantage of surprise.

The steward came with the Campari and as I paid him Francesca looked from the window over the yacht basin. When the steward had gone, she said, ‘What ship is that?’

‘Which one?’

She indicated the motor yacht I had noticed on my earlier visit to the club. ‘Oh, that! It’s just some rich man’s floating brothel.’ Her voice was strained. ‘What is the name?’

I hunted in my memory. ‘Er — Calabria, I think.’

Her knuckles were clenched white as she gripped the arms of her chair. ‘It is Eduardo’s boat,’ she said in a low voice.

‘Who is Eduardo?’

‘My husband.’

A light dawned on me. So that was why the secretary had been so startled. It is not very usual for a stranger to ask a lady to be his guest when the lady’s husband is within easy reach and possibly in the club at that very moment. I chuckled and said, ‘I’ll bet he’s the chap who is kicking up such a shindy in the bar.’

She said, ‘I must go.’

‘Why?’

‘I do not wish to meet him.’ She pushed her drink to one side and picked up her handbag.

I said, ‘You might as well finish your drink. It’s the first drink I’ve ever bought you. No man is worth losing a drink over, anyway.’

She relaxed and picked up the Campari. ‘Eduardo is not worth anything,’ she said tightly. ‘All right, I will be civilized and finish my drink; then I will go.’

But we did meet him, after all. Only an Estrenoli — from what I had heard of the breed — would have paused dramatically in the doorway, veered over to our table and have addressed Francesca as he did.

‘Ah, my loving wife,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised to find you here in civilized surroundings. I thought you drank in the gutters.’

He was a stocky man, with good looks dissipated by red-veined eyes and a slack mouth. A wispy moustache disfigured his upper lip and his face was flushed with drink. He ignored me altogether.

Francesca looked stonily ahead, her lips compressed, and did not turn to face him even when he dropped heavily into a chair by her side.

I said, ‘You weren’t invited to sit with us, signor.’

He swung round and gave a short laugh, looking at me with an arrogant stare. He turned back to Francesca. ‘I see that even the Italian scum is not good enough for you now; you must take foreign lovers.’

I stretched out my foot and hooked it behind the rung of his chair, then pulled hard. The chair slid from under him and he tumbled on to the floor and sprawled full length. I got up and stood over him. ‘I said you weren’t invited to sit down.’

He looked up at me, his face suffused with anger, and slowly scrambled to his feet. Then he glared at me. ‘I’ll have you out of the country within twenty-four hours,’ he screamed. ‘Do you know who I am?’

The chance was too good to miss. ‘Scum usually floats on top,’ I said equably, then I hardened my voice. ‘Estrenoli, go back to Rome. Liguria isn’t a healthy place for you.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ he said uneasily. ‘Are you threatening me?’

‘There are fifty men within a mile of here who would fight each other for the privilege of cutting your throat,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you what; I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get out of Liguria. After that I wouldn’t give a busted lira for your chances.’

I turned to Francesca. ‘Let’s get out of here; I don’t like the smell.’

She picked up her handbag and accompanied me to the door, walking proudly and leaving Estrenoli standing there impotently. I could hear a stifled buzz of comment in the lounge and there were a few titters at his discomfiture. I suppose there were many who had wanted to do the same thing but he was too powerful a man to cross. I didn’t give a damn; I was boiling with rage.

The tittering was too much for Esternoli and he caught up with us as we were crossing the foyer. I felt his hand on my shoulder and turned my head. ‘Take your hand off me,’ I said coldly.

He was almost incoherent in his rage. ‘I don’t know who you are, but the British Ambassador will hear about this.’

‘The name’s Halloran, and take your goddamn hand off me.’

He didn’t. Instead his hand tightened and he pulled me round to face him.

That was too much.

I sank three stiff fingers into his soft belly and he gasped and doubled up. Then I hit him with my fist as hard as I could. All the pent-up frustrations which had accumulated over the past weeks went into that blow; I was hitting Metcalfe and Torloni and all the thugs who were gathering like vultures. I must have broken Estrenoli’s jaw and I certainly scraped my knuckles. He went down like a sack of meal and lay in a crumpled heap, blood welling from his mouth.

In the moment of hitting him I felt a fierce pain in my back. ‘Christ, my back!’ I groaned, and turned to Francesca. But she was not there.

Instead, I was face to face with Metcalfe.

‘What a punch!’ he said admiringly. ‘That bloke’s got a busted jaw for sure; I heard it go. Ever consider fighting light-heavyweight, Hal?’

I was too astounded to say anything, then I remembered Francesca and looked about wildly. She moved into sight from behind Metcalfe.

He said, ‘Wasn’t this character saying something about the British Ambassador?’ He looked about the foyer. Luckily it was deserted and no one had seen the fracas. Metcalfe looked at the nearest door, which was the entrance to the men’s room. He grinned. ‘Shall we lug the guts into the neighbouring room?’

I saw his point and together we dragged Estrenoli into the lavatory and stuffed him into a cubicle. Metcalfe straightened and said, ‘If this bird is on speaking terms with the British Ambassador he must be a pretty big noise. Who is he?’

I told him and Metcalfe whistled. ‘When you hit ‘em, you hit ‘em big! Even I have heard of Estrenoli. What did you slug him for?’

‘Personal reasons,’ I said.

Connected with the lady?’

‘His wife.’

Metcalfe groaned. ‘Brother you do get complicated. You’re in a jam, for sure — you’ll be tossed out of Italy on your ear within twelve hours.’ He scratched behind his ear. ‘But maybe not; maybe I can fix it. Wait here and don’t let anyone use this john. I’ll tell your girlfriend to stick around — and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.’

I leaned against the wall and tried to think coherently about Metcalfe, but I couldn’t. My back was hurting like hell and there was a dull throbbing in the hand with which I had hit Estrenoli. It looked as though I had made a mess of everything. I had repeatedly warned Coertze not to get into brawls and now I was guilty of that same thing — and mixed up with Metcalfe to boot.

Metcalfe was as good as his word and was back within two minutes. With him was a squat, blue-jowled Italian dressed in a sharp suit. Metcalfe said, ‘This is a friend of of mine, Guido Torloni. Guido, this is Peter Halloran.’

Torloni looked at me in quick surprise. Metcalfe said, ‘Hal’s in a jam. He’s a broken a governmental jaw.’ He took Torloni on one side and they spoke in low tones. I watched Torloni and thought that the mess was getting worse.

Metcalfe came back. ‘Don’t worry, Guido can fix it, he can fix anything.’

‘Even Estrenoli?’ I said incredulously.

Metcalfe smiled. ‘Even Estrenoli. Guido is Mr Fixit himself in this part of Italy. Come, let’s leave him to it.’

We went into the foyer and I did not see Francesca. Metcalfe said, ‘Mrs Estrenoli is waiting in my car.’

We went out to the car and Francesca said, ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Everything is fine,’ I said.

Metcalfe chuckled. ‘Excepting your husband, Madame. He will be very sorry for himself when he wakes up.’

Francesca’s hand was on the edge of the door. I put my hand over hers and pressed it warningly. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Francesca, this is Mr Metcalfe, an old friend of mine from South Africa.’

I felt her fingers tense. I said quickly, ‘Mr Metcalfe’s friend, Mr Torloni, is looking after your husband. I’m sure he’ll be all right.’

‘Oh yes,’ agreed Metcalfe cheerfully. ‘Your husband will be fine. He won’t make trouble for anyone.’ He suddenly frowned. ‘How’s your back, Hal? You’d better have it seen to right away. If you like I’ll drive you to a doctor.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. I didn’t want to be driving anywhere with Metcalfe.

‘Nonsense!’ he said. ‘Who is your doctor?’

It made a bit of difference if he would take us to a doctor of our choice. I looked at Francesca who said, ‘I know a good doctor.’

Metcalfe clapped his hands together. ‘Fine. Let’s get cracking.’

So he drove us through the town and Francesca pointed out a doctor’s rooms. Metcalfe pulled up and said, ‘You two go in; I’ll wait for you here and give you a lift to Palmerini’s yard.’

That was another facer. Apparently Metcalfe didn’t mind us knowing that he knew our whereabouts. There was something queer in the air and I didn’t like it.

As soon as we got into the doctor’s waitingroom Francesca said, ‘Is that Metcalfe? He seems a nice man.’

‘He is,’ I said. ‘But don’t get in his way or you’ll get run over.’ I winced as my back gave a particularly nasty throb. ‘What the hell do we do now?’

‘Nothing has changed,’ said Francesca practically. ‘We knew they would be coming. Now they are here.’

That was true. I said, ‘I’m sorry I hit your husband.’

‘I’m not,’ she said simply. ‘The only thing I’m sorry for is that you got hurt doing it. And that it might cause trouble for you.’

‘It won’t,’ I said grimly. ‘Not while he’s in Torloni’s hands. And that’s another thing I don’t understand — why should Metcalfe and Torloni be interested in getting me out of trouble? It doesn’t make sense.’

The doctor was ready for us then and he looked at my back. He said that I had torn a ligament and proceeded to truss me up like a chicken. He also bound up my hand, which was a bit damaged where the knuckles had been scraped on Estrenoli’s teeth. When we came out Metcalfe waved at us from the car, and called, ‘I’ll take you down to the yard.’

There didn’t seem to be much point in refusing under the circumstances so we climbed into the car. As we were pulling away I said casually, ‘How did you know we were in Palmerini’s yard?’

‘I knew you were cruising in these waters so I asked the Port Captain if you’d shown up yet,’ said Metcalfe airily. ‘He told me all about you.’

It was logical enough, and if I hadn’t known better I might have believed him. He said, ‘I hear you’re having trouble with your keel.’

That was cutting a bit near the bone. I said, ‘Yes, I tried an experimental method of fastening but it doesn’t seem to be working out. I might have to take the keel off and refasten it.’

‘Make a good job of it,’ he said. ‘It would be a pity if it dropped off when you’re off-shore. You’d capsize immediately.’

This was an uncomfortable conversation; it was reasonable small boat shop-talk, but with Metcalfe you never knew. To my relief he switched to something else. ‘What did you do to your face? Been in another brawl lately?’

‘I fell off a mountain,’ I said lightly.

He made a sucking sound with his lips in commiseration. ‘You want to take more care of yourself, Hal, my boy. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.’

This was too much. ‘Why the sudden solicitude?’ I asked acidly.

He turned in surprise. ‘I don’t like seeing my friends get bashed about, especially you. You’re quite a handsome feller, you know.’ He turned to Francesca. ‘Isn’t he?’

‘I think so,’ she said.

I was surprised at that. ‘I’ll survive,’ I said, as Metcalfe drew up at the gate of the boatyard. ‘I’m getting to be an expert at it.’

Francesca and I got out of the car, and Metcalfe said, ‘Not going to show me your new keel fastening, Hal?’

I grinned. ‘Hell, I’m a professional designer; I never show my mistakes to anyone.’ If he could play fast and loose in a hinting conversation, so could I.

He smiled. ‘Very wise of you. I’ll be seeing you around, I suppose?’

I stepped up to the car out of earshot of Francesca. ‘What will happen to Estrenoli?’

‘Nothing much, Guido will take him to a good, safe doctor and have him fixed up, then he’ll dump him in Rome after throwing a hell of a scare into him. It’s my guess that Estrenoli’s not very brave and our Guido is a very scary character when he wants to be. There’ll be no more trouble.’

I stepped back from the car, relieved. I had been afraid that Estrenoli would be dumped at the bottom of the bay in a concrete overcoat, and I didn’t want anyone’s life on my conscience, not even his. I said, ‘Thanks. Yes, I’ll be seeing you around. One can scarcely avoid it — in a town as small as this, can one?’

He put the car into gear and moved forward slowly, grinning from the side window. ‘You’re a good chap, Hal; don’t let anybody put one over on you.’

Then he was gone and I was left wondering what the hell it was all about.

IV

The atmosphere in the shed was tense. As we walked through the yard I noticed that there were many more people about than usual; those would be Francesca’s friends. When we got into the shed Piero strode up and said, ‘What happened at the club?’ His voice was shaking with emotion.

‘Nothing happened,’ I said. ‘Nothing serious.’ I saw a stranger in the background, a little man with bright, watchful eyes. ‘Who the devil’s that?’

Piero turned. ‘That’s Cariaceti, the jeweller — never mind him. What happened at the club? You went in and so did Madame; then this Metcalfe and Torloni went in; then you and Madame came out with Metcalfe. What is happening?’

I said, ‘Take it easy; everything is all right. We bumped into Estrenoli and he got flattened.’

‘Estrenoli?’ said Piero in surprise, and looked at Francesca who nodded in confirmation. ‘Where is he now?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘Torloni’s got him,’ I said.

That was too much for Piero. He sat on a trestle and gazed at the floor. ‘Torloni?’ he said blankly. ‘What would Torloni want with Estrenoli?’

‘Damned if I know,’ I said. ‘This whole thing is one of Metcalfe’s devious plays. All I know is that I had a bust-up with Estrenoli and Metcalfe has removed him from circulation for a while — and don’t ask me why.’

He looked up. ‘It is said that you were very friendly with Metcalfe today.’ His voice was heavy with suspicion.

‘Why not? There’s nothing to be gained by antagonizing him. If you want to know what happened, ask Francesca — she was there.’

‘Hal is right,’ said Francesca. ‘His treatment of Metcalfe was correct. He was given much provocation and refused to be annoyed by it. Besides,’ she said with a slight smile, ‘Metcalfe would seem to be a difficult man to hate.’

‘It is not difficult to hate Torloni,’ growled Piero. ‘And Metcalfe is his friend.’

This wasn’t getting us anywhere, so I said, ‘Where are Coertze and Walker?’

‘In the town,’ said Piero. ‘We know where they are.’

‘I think they had better come in,’ I said. ‘Things may start to move fast — we’d better decide what to do next.’

He silently got up and went outside. I walked over to the little jeweller. ‘Signor Cariaceti,’ I said. ‘I understand that you have come here to look at some gems.’

‘That is so,’ he said. ‘But I do not wish to remain here long.’

I went back to Francesca. ‘You’d better turn Cariaceti loose among those jewels,’ I said. ‘There may not be much time.’

She went to talk to Cariaceti and I looked moodily at the keel, still lacking nearly two tons of weight. Things were at a low ebb and I felt pretty desperate. It would take eight more days working at high pressure to finish the keel, another day to fasten it in position and another to replace the glass-fibre cladding and to launch Sanford.

Ten days! Would Metcalfe and Torloni wait that long?

After a little while Francesca came back. ‘Cariaceti is amazed,’ she said. ‘He is the happiest man I have ever seen.’

‘I’m glad someone is happy,’ I said gloomily. ‘This whole thing is on the point of falling to pieces.’

She put her hand on my arm. ‘Don’t blame yourself,’ she said. ‘No one could have done more than you.’

I sat on the trestle. ‘I suppose things could be worse,’ I said. ‘Walker could get stinking drunk just when we need him, Coertze could run amok like a mad bull and I could fall and break a few bones.’

She took my bandaged hand in hers. ‘I have never said this to any man,’ she said. ‘But you are a man I could admire very much.’

I looked at her hand on mine. ‘Only admire?’ I asked gently.

I looked up to see her face colouring. She took her hand away quickly and turned from me. ‘Sometimes you make me very annoyed, Mr Halloran.’

I stood up. ‘It was “Hal” not very long ago. I told you that my friends called me Hal.’

‘I am your friend,’ she said slowly.

‘Francesca, I would like you to be more than my friend,’ I said.

She was suddenly very still and I put my hand on her waist. I said, ‘I think I love you, Francesca.’

She turned quickly, laughing through tears. ‘You only think so, Hal. Oh, you English are so cold and wary. I know that I love you.’

Something seemed to give at the pit of my stomach and the whole dark shed suddenly seemed brighter. I said, ‘Yes, I love you; but I didn’t know how to say it properly — I didn’t know what you would say when I told you.’

‘I say “bravo”.’

‘We’ll have a good life,’ I said. ‘The Cape is a wonderful place — and there is the whole world besides.’

She saddened quickly. ‘I don’t know, Hal; I don’t know. I am still a married woman; I can’t marry you.’

‘Italy isn’t the world,’ I said softly. ‘In most other countries divorce is not dishonourable. The men who made the laws for divorce were wise men; they would never tie anyone to a man like Estrenoli for life.’

She shook her head. ‘Here in Italy and in the eyes of my Church, divorce is a sin.’

‘Then Italy and your Church are wrong. I say it; even Piero says it.’

She said slowly, ‘What is going to happen to my husband?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Metcalfe tells me that he will be taken back to Rome — under escort.’

‘That is all? Torloni will not kill him?’

‘I don’t think so. Metcalfe said not — and I believe Metcalfe. He may be a scoundrel, but I’ve never caught him out in a black lie yet.’

She nodded. ‘I believe him, too.’ She was silent for a while, then she said, ‘When I know that Eduardo is safe, then I will come away with you, to South Africa or any other place. I will get a foreign divorce and I will marry you, but Eduardo must be alive and well. I could not have that thing on my conscience.’

I said, ‘I will see to it. I will see Metcalfe.’ I looked at the keel. ‘But I must also see this thing through. I have set my hand to it and there are others to consider — Coertze, Walker, Piero, all your men — I can’t stop now. It isn’t just the gold, you know.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘You must have been hurt by someone to start a thing like this. It is not your natural way.’

I said, ‘I had a wife who was killed by a drunkard like Walker.’

‘I know so little of your past life,’ she said in wonder. ‘I have so much to learn. Your wife — you loved her very much.’ It was not a question, it was a statement.

I told her a little about Jean and more about myself and for a while we talked about each other in soft voices, the way that lovers do.

V

Then Coertze came in.

He wanted to know what all the hurry was and why his rest day had been broken into. For a man who didn’t want to stop work he was most averse to being interrupted in his brief pleasures.

I brought him up to date on events and he was as puzzled as any of us. ‘Why should Metcalfe want to help us?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know, and I don’t intend to ask him,’ I said. ‘He might tell me the truth and the truth might be worse than any supicions we might have.’

Coertze did as I had done and went to stare at the keel. I said, ‘Another eight days of casting — at the least.’

‘Magtig,’ he burst out. ‘No one is going to take this away from me now.’ He took off his jacket. ‘We’ll get busy right now.’

‘You’ll have to do without me for an hour,’ I said. ‘I have an appointment.’

Coertze stared at me but did not say anything as I struggled into my jacket. Francesca helped me to put it on over the carapace of bandaging under my shirt. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked quietly.

‘To see Metcalfe. I want to make things quite clear.’

She nodded. ‘Be careful.’

On the way out I bumped into Walker who looked depressed. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ I said. ‘You look as though you’ve lost a shilling and found a sixpence.’

‘Some bastard picked my pocket,’ he said savagely.

‘Lose much?’

‘I lost my ci...’ He seemed to change his mind. ‘I lost my wallet.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ I said. ‘We’re going to lose the gold if we aren’t careful. See Coertze, he’ll tell you about it.’ I pushed past him, leaving him staring at me.

I went into Palmerini’s office and asked if I could borrow his car. He didn’t mind so I took his little Fiat and drove down to the yacht basin. I found the Fairmile quite easily and noted that it was not visible from the Yacht Club, which was why I hadn’t spotted it earlier. Krupke was polishing the brightwork of the wheelhouse.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Glad to see you. Metcalfe told me you were in town.’

‘Is he on board? I’d like to see him.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Krupke and went below. He came back almost immediately. ‘He says you’re to come below.’

I jumped on to the deck and followed Krupke below to the main saloon. Metcalfe was lying on a divan reading a book. ‘What brings you here so soon?’ he asked.

‘I want to tell you something,’ I said, and glanced at Krupke.

‘O.K., Krupke,’ said Metcalfe, and Krupke went out. Metcalfe opened a cupboard and produced a bottle and two glasses. ‘Drink?’

‘Thanks,’ I said.

He poured out two stiff ones, and said, ‘Mud in your eye.’ We drank, then he said, ‘What’s your trouble?’

‘That story you told me about Torloni taking care of Estrenoli — is it true?’

‘Sure. Estrenoli’s with a doctor now.’

‘I just wanted to make sure,’ I said. ‘And to make certain, you can tell Torloni from me that if Estrenoli doesn’t reach Rome safe and sound then I’ll kill him personally.’

Metcalfe looked at me with wide eyes. ‘Wow!’ he said. ‘Someone’s been feeding you on tiger’s milk. What’s your interest in the safety of Estrenoli?’ He looked at me closely, then laughed and snapped his fingers. ‘Of course, the Contessa has turned chicken.’

‘Leave her out of it,’ I said.

Metcalfe smiled slyly, ‘Ah, you young folk; there’s no knowing what you’ll get up to next.’

‘Shut up.’

He held up his hands in mock terror. ‘All right, all right.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘You damn’ near killed Estrenoli yourself. If you’d have hit him a fraction harder he’d have been a dead man.’

‘I couldn’t hit him harder.’

‘I wouldn’t take any bets on that,’ said Metcalfe. ‘He’s still unconscious. The quack has wired up his jaw and he won’t be able to speak for a month.’ He poured out another couple of drinks. ‘All right, I’ll see he gets to Rome not hurt any more than he is now.’

‘I’ll want that in writing,’ I said. ‘From Estrenoli himself — through the post in a letter from Rome datemarked not later than a week today.’

Metcalfe was still. ‘You’re pushing it a bit hard, aren’t you?’ he said softly.

‘That’s what I want,’ I said stubbornly.

He looked at me closely. ‘Someone’s been making a man out of you, Hal,’ he said. ‘All right; that’s the way it’ll be.’ He pushed the drink across the table. ‘You know,’ he said musingly, almost to himself, ‘I wouldn’t stay long in Rapallo if I were you. I’d get that keel fixed damn’ quick and I’d clear out. Torloni’s a bad man to tangle with.’

‘I’m not tangling with Torloni; I only saw him for the first time today.’

He nodded. ‘O.K. If that’s the way you’re going to play it, that’s your business. But look, Hal; you pushed me just now and I played along because Estrenoli is no business of mine and you’re by way of being a pal and maybe I don’t mind being pushed in this thing. But don’t try to push Torloni; he’s bad, he’d eat you for breakfast.’

‘I’m not pushing Torloni,’ I said. ‘Just as long as he doesn’t push me.’ I finished the drink and stood up. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Metcalfe grinned. ‘You certainly will. As you said — it’s a small town.’

He came up on deck to see me off and as I drove back to the yard I wondered greatly about Metcalfe. There had been some plain speaking — but not plain enough — and the whole mystery of Metcalfe’s position was deepened. He had as much as said, ‘Get clear before Torloni chops you,’ and I couldn’t understand his motives — after all, Torloni was his man.

It was beyond me.

When I got back to the boatyard work in the shed was continuing as though there had never been a break. There was a sudden glare as a chunk of gold melted and Coertze bent over the mould to pour it.

Francesca came up to me and I said, ‘It’s fixed; you’ll hear from Eduardo within the week.’

She sighed. ‘Come and have supper. You haven’t eaten yet.’

‘Thanks,’ I said and followed her to the caravan.

I

We worked, my God, how we worked.

The memory of that week remains with me as a dark and shadowed mystery punctuated by bright flashes of colour. We melted and poured gold for sixteen hours a day, until our arms were weary and our eyes sore from the flash of the furnaces. We dropped into our berths at night, asleep before we hit the pillows, and it would seem only a matter of minutes before we were called again to that damned assembly line I had devised.

I grew to hate the sight and the feel of gold, and the smell too — it has a distinctive odour when molten — and I prayed for the time when we would be at sea again with nothing more than a gale and a lee shore to worry about. I would rather have been alone in a small boat in a West Indies hurricane than undergo another week of that torture.

But the work got done. The mass of gold in the mould grew bigger and bigger and the pile of unmelted ingots became smaller. We were doing more than 250 melts a day and I calculated that we would gain half a day on my original ten-day schedule. A twelve-hour gain was not much, but it might mean the difference between victory and defeat.

Metcalfe and Torloni were keeping oddly quiet. We were watched — or rather, the boatyard was watched — and that was all. In spite of the reinforcements that Torloni had pushed into Rapallo, and in spite of the fact that he was personally supervising operations himself, there were no overt moves against us.

I couldn’t understand it.

The only cheering aspect of the whole situation was Francesca. She cooked our food and did our housekeeping, received messages and issued instructions to the intelligence service and, although in the pace of work we had little time to be together, there was always something small like a hand’s touch or a smile across the room to renew my will to go on.

Five days after I had seen Metcalfe she received a letter which she burned after reading it with a frown of pain on her brow. She came to me and said, ‘Eduardo is safe in Rome.’

‘Metcalfe kept his promise,’ I said.

A brief smile touched her lips. ‘So will I.’ She grew serious. ‘You must see the doctor tomorrow.’

‘I haven’t time,’ I said impatiently.

‘You must make time,’ she insisted. ‘You will have to sail Sanford very soon; you must be fit.’

She brought Coertze into the argument. He said, ‘She’s right. We don’t want to depend on Walker, do we?’

That was another worry. Walker was deteriorating rapidly. He was moody and undependable, given to violent tempers and unpredictable fits of sulking. The gold was rotting him slowly but certainly, corrupting him far more surely than any alcohol.

Coertze said, ‘Man, go to the doctor.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘It’s my fault you have a bad back, anyway. I could have shored up that passage better than I did. You go, and I’ll see the work doesn’t suffer.’

That was the first time that Coertze admitted responsibility for anything, and I respected him for it. But he had no sympathy for my scraped knuckles, maintaining that a man should learn how to punch without damaging himself.

So the next day Francesca drove me to see the doctor. After he had hissed and tutted and examined and rebandaged my back, he expressed satisfaction at my progress and said I must see him at the same time the following week. I said I would come, but I knew that by then we would be at sea on our way to Tangier.

When we were again seated in the car Francesca said, ‘Now we go to the Hotel Levante.’

‘I’ve got to get back,’ I said.

‘A drink will do you good,’ she said. ‘A few minutes won’t hurt.’

So we went to the Hotel Levante, wandered into the lounge and ordered drinks. Francesca toyed with her glass and then said hesitantly, ‘There’s something else — another reason why I brought you here. I want you to meet someone.’

‘Someone here? Who?’

My father is upstairs. It is right that you see him.’

This was unexpected. ‘Does he know about us?’

She shook her head. ‘I told him about the gold and the jewels. He was very angry about that, and I don’t know what he is going to do. I did not tell him about you and me.’

This looked as though it was going to be a difficult interview. It is not often that a prospective son-in-law has to admit that he is a gold smuggler before he asks for a hand in marriage — a hand that is already married to someone else, to make things worse.

I said, ‘I would like very much to meet your father.’

We finished our drinks and went up to the old man’s room. He was sitting in an armchair with a blanket across his knees and he looked up sharply when we appeared. He looked tired and old; his hair was white and his beard no longer bristled, as I had heard it described, but had turned wispy and soft. His eyes were those of a beaten man and had no fight in them.

This is Mr Halloran,’ said Francesca.

I walked across to him. ‘I’m very glad to meet you, sir.’

Something sparked in his eyes. ‘Are you?’ he said, ignoring my outstretched hand. He leaned back in his chair. ‘So you are the thief who is stealing my country’s gold.’

I felt my jaw tightening. I said evenly, ‘Apparently you do not know the laws of your own country, sir.’

He raised shaggy white eyebrows. ‘Oh! Perhaps you can enlighten me, Mr Halloran.’

‘This treasure falls under the legal heading of abandoned property,’ I said. ‘According to Italian law, whoever first takes possession of it thereafter is the legal owner.’

He mused over that. ‘I dare say you could be right; but, in that case, why all this secrecy?’

I smiled. ‘A lot of money is involved. Already the vultures are gathering, even with the secrecy we have tried to keep.’

His eyes snapped. ‘I don’t think your law is good, young man. This property was not abandoned; it was taken by force of arms from the Germans. It would make a pretty court case indeed.’

‘The whole value would go in legal expenses, even if we won,’ I said dryly.

‘You have made your point,’ he said. ‘But I don’t like it, and I don’t like my daughter being involved in it.’

‘Your daughter has been involved in worse things,’ I said tightly.

‘What do you mean by that?’ he demanded sharply.

‘I mean Estrenoli.’

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, the spark that had been in him burned out and he was once more a weary old man. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said tiredly. ‘That was a shameful thing. I ought to have forbidden it, but Francesca...’

I had to do it,’ she said.

‘Well you won’t have to worry about him any more,’ I said. ‘He’ll stay away from you now.’

The Count perked up. ‘What happened to him?’

There was a ghost of a smile round Francesca’s mouth as she said, ‘Hal broke his jaw.’

‘You did? You did?’ The Count beckoned. ‘Come here, young man; sit close to me. You really hit Estrenoli? Why?’

I didn’t like his manners.’

He chuckled. ‘A lot of people don’t like Estrenoli manners, but no one has hit an Estrenoli before. Did you hurt him?’

A friend tells me that I nearly killed him.’

‘Ah, a pity,’ said the Count ambiguously. ‘But you will have to be careful. He is a powerful man with powerful friends in the Government. You will have to leave Italy quickly.’

‘I will leave Italy, but not because of Estrenoli. I imagine he is a very frightened man now. He will be no trouble.’

The Count said, ‘Any man who can get the better of an Estrenoli must have my thanks — and my deepest respect.’

Francesca came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. ‘I also am going to leave Italy,’ she said. ‘I am going away with Hal.’

The Count looked at her for a long time then dropped his head and stared at the bony hands crossed in his lap. ‘You must do what you think best, my child,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Italy has given you nothing but unhappiness; perhaps to find happiness you must go to another country and live under different laws.’

He raised his head. ‘You will cherish her, Mr Halloran?’

I nodded, unable to speak.

Francesca went to him, kneeling at his side, and took his hand in hers. ‘We must do it, Papa; we’re in love. Can you give us your blessing?’

He smiled wryly. ‘How can I give my blessing to something I think is a sin, child? But I think that God is wiser than the churchmen and He will understand. So you have my blessing and you must hope that you have God’s blessing too.’

She bent her head and her shoulders shook. He looked up at me. ‘I was against this marriage to Estrenoli, but she did it for me. It is our law here that such a thing cannot be undone.’

Francesca dried her eyes. She said, ‘Papa, we have little time and I must tell you something. Cariaceti — you remember little Cariaceti — will come to you from time to time and give you money. You must...’

He broke in. ‘I do not want such money.’

‘Papa, listen. The money is not for you. There will be a lot of money and you must take a little for yourself if you need it, but most of it must be given away. Give some to Mario Pradelli for his youngest child who was born spastic; give some to Pietro Morelli for his son whom he cannot afford to send to university. Give it to those who fought with you in the war; those who were cheated by the Communists just like you were; those who need it.’

I said, ‘My share of the gold is Francesca’s to do with as she likes. That can be added, too.’

The Count thought deeply for a long time, then he said musingly, ‘So something good may come out of this after all. Very well, I will take the money and do as you say.’

She said, ‘Piero Morese will help you — he knows where all your old comrades are. I will not be here; I leave with Hal in a few days.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You stay. I will come back for you.’

I am coming with you,’ she declared.

‘You’re staying here. I won’t have you on Sanford.’

The Count said, ‘Obey him, Francesca. He knows what he must do, and perhaps he could not do it if you were there.’

She was rebellious, but she acquiesced reluctantly. The Count said, ‘Now you must go, Francesca. I want to talk to your Hal — alone.’

‘I’ll wait downstairs,’ she said.

The Count watched her go. ‘I think you are an honourable man, Mr Halloran. So I was told by Piero Morese when he talked to me on the telephone last night. What are your exact intentions when you take my daughter from Italy?’

‘I’m going to marry her,’ I said. ‘Just as soon as she can get a divorce.’

‘You realize that she can never come back to Italy in those circumstances? You know that such a marriage would be regarded here as bigamous?’

‘I know — and Francesca knows. You said yourself that she has had nothing but unhappiness in Italy.’

‘That is true.’ He sighed. ‘Francesca’s mother died when she was young, before the war. My daughter was brought up in a partisan camp in the middle of a civil war and she has seen both the heroism and degradation of men from an early age. She is not an ordinary woman because of this; some would have been made bitter by her experiences, but she is not bitter. Her heart is big enough to have compassion for all humanity — I would not like to see it broken.’

‘I love Francesca,’ I said. ‘I will not break her heart, not wittingly.’

He said, ‘I understand you are a ship designer and a shipbuilder.’

‘Not ships — small boats.’

‘I understand. After I talked to Piero I thought I would see what sort of a man you were, so a friend kindly asked some questions for me. It seems you have a rising reputation in your profession.’

I said, ‘Perhaps in South Africa; I didn’t know I was known here.’

‘There has been some mention of you,’ he said. ‘The reason I bring this up is that I am pleased that it is so. This present venture in which you are engaged I discount entirely. I do not think you will succeed — but if you do, such wealth is like the gold of fairies, it will turn to leaves in your hands. It is good to know that you do fine work in the field of your choice.’

He pulled the blanket round him. ‘Now you must go; Francesca will be waiting. I cannot give you more than my good wishes, but those you have wherever you may be.’

I took his proffered hand and said impulsively, ‘Why don’t you leave Italy, too, and come with us?’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘No, I am old and the old do not like change. I cannot leave my country now, but thank you for the thought. Goodbye, Hal, I think you will make my daughter very happy.’

I said goodbye and left the room. I didn’t see the Count ever again.

II

The time arrived when, incredibly, the keel was cast.

We all stood round the mould and looked at it a little uncertainly. It seemed impossible that all our sweat and labour should have been reduced to this inert mass of dull yellow metal, a mere eight cubic feet shaped in a particular and cunning way.

I said, ‘That’s it. Two more days and Sanford will be in the water.’

Coertze looked at his watch. ‘We’ve got to do some more work today; we can’t knock off just because the keel is finished — there’s still plenty to do.’

So we got on with it. Walker began to strip the furnaces and I directed Coertze and Piero in stripping the glass-fibre cladding from Sanford preparatory to removing the lead keel. We were happy that night. The change of work and pace had done us good and we all felt rested.

Francesca reported that everything was quiet on the potential battle-front — Metcalfe was on the Fairmile and Torloni was in his hotel; the watch on the boatyard had not been intensified — in fact, everything was as normal as a thoroughly abnormal situation could be.

The trouble would come, if it had to come at all, when we launched Sanford. At the first sign of us getting away the enemy would be forced to make a move. I couldn’t understand why they hadn’t jumped us before.

The next day was pure joy. We worked as hard as ever and when we had finished Sanford was the most expensively built boat in the world. The keel bolts which Coertze had cast into the golden keel slipped smoothly into the holes in the keelson which Harry had prepared long ago in Cape Town, and as we let down the jacks Sanford settled comfortably and firmly on to the gold.

Coertze said, ‘I can’t see why you didn’t use the existing holes — the ones drilled for the old keel.’

‘It’s the difference in weight distribution,’ I said. ‘Gold is half as heavy again as lead and so this keel had to be a different shape from the old one. As it is, I had to juggle with the centre of gravity. With the ballast being more concentrated I think Sanford will roll like a tub, but that can’t be helped.’

I looked at Sanford. She was now worth not much short of a million and three-quarter pounds — the most expensive 15-tonner in history. I felt quite proud of her — not many yacht designers could boast of such a design.

When we had supper that night we were all very quiet and relaxed. I said to Francesca, ‘You’d better get the jewels out tonight — it may be your last chance before the fireworks start.’

She smiled. ‘That will be easy; Piero has cast them into concrete bricks — we are learning the art of disguise from you. They are outside near the new shed that Palmerini is building.’

I laughed. ‘I must see this.’

‘Come,’ she said. ‘I will show you.’

We went into the dark night and she flashed a torch on an untidy heap of bricks near the new shed. ‘There they are; the valuable bricks are spotted with whitewash.’

‘Not bad,’ I said. ‘Not bad at all.’

She leaned against me and I put my arms around her. It was not often we had time for this sort of thing, we were missing a lot that normal lovers had. After a moment she said quietly, ‘When are you coming back?’

‘As soon as I’ve sold the gold,’ I said. ‘I’ll take the first plane out of Tangier.’

‘I’ll be waiting,’ she said. ‘Not here — I’ll be in Milan with my father.’

She gave me the address which I memorized. I said, ‘You won’t mind leaving Italy?’

‘No, not with you.’

‘I asked your father to come with us, but he wouldn’t.’

‘Not after seventy years,’ she said. ‘It’s too much to ask an old man.’

I said, ‘I knew that, but I thought I’d make the offer.’

We talked for a long time there in the darkness, the small personal things that lovers talk about when they’re alone.

Then Francesca said that she was tired and was going to bed.

‘I’ll stay and have another cigarette,’ I said. ‘It’s pleasant out here.’

I watched her melt into the darkness and then I saw the gleam of light as she opened the door of the shed and slipped inside.

A voice whispered from out of the darkness, ‘Halloran!’

I started, ‘Who’s that?’ I flashed my torch about.

‘Put out that damned light. It’s me — Metcalfe.’

I clicked off the torch and stooped to pick up one of the concrete bricks. I couldn’t see if it had spots of whitewash on it or not; if it had, then Metcalfe was going to be clobbered by a valuable brick.

A dark silhouette moved closer. ‘I thought you’d never stop making love to your girlfriend,’ said Metcalfe.

What do you want, and how did you get here?’

He chuckled. ‘I came in from the sea — Torloni’s boys are watching the front of the yard.’

I know,’ I said.

There was surprise in his voice. ‘Do you, now?’ I saw the flash of his teeth. ‘That doesn’t matter, though; it won’t make any difference.’

‘It won’t make any difference to what?’

‘Hal, boy, you’re in trouble,’ said Metcalfe. ‘Torloni’s going to jump you — tonight. I tried to hold him in, but he’s got completely out of hand.’

‘Whose side are you on?’ I demanded.

He chuckled. ‘Only my own,’ he said. He changed his tone. ‘What are you going to do?’

I shrugged. ‘What can I do except fight?’

‘Be damned to that,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t have a chance against Torloni’s cut-throats. Isn’t your boat ready for launching?’

‘Not yet. She still needs sheathing and painting.’

‘What the hell?’ he said angrily. ‘What do you care if you get worm in your planking now? Is the new keel on?’

I wondered how he knew about that. ‘What if it is?’

‘Then get the stick put back and get the boat into the water, and do it now. Get the hell out of here as fast as you can.’ He thrust something into my hand. ‘I had your clearance made out. I told you I was a pal of the Port Captain.’

I took the paper and said, ‘Why warn us? I thought Torloni was your boy.’

He laughed gently. ‘Torloni is nobody’s boy but his own. He was doing me a favour but he didn’t know what was in the wind. I told him I just wanted you watched. I was sorry to hear about the old watchman — that was Torloni’s thugs, it wasn’t my idea.’

I said, ‘I thought hammering old men wasn’t your style.’

‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘Torloni knows the score now. It was that damn’ fool Walker who gave it away.’

‘Walker! How?’

‘One of Torloni’s men picked his pocket and pinched his cigarette case. It wasn’t a bad case, either; it was made of gold and had a nice tasteful inscription on the inside — ‘Caro Benito da parte di Adolf — Brennero — 1940.’ As soon as Torloni saw that he knew what was up, all right. People have been scouring Italy for that treasure ever since the war, and now Torloni thinks he has it right in his greasy fist.’

I damned Walker at length for an incompetent, crazy idiot.

Metcalfe said, ‘I tried to hold Torloni, but he won’t be held any longer. With what’s at stake he’d as soon cut my throat as yours — that’s why I’m giving you the tip-off.’

‘When is he going to make his attack?’

‘At three in the morning. He’s going to move in with all his crowd.’

‘Any guns?’

Metcalfe’s voice was thoughtful. ‘No, he won’t use guns. He wants to do this quietly and he has to get the gold out. That’ll take some time and he doesn’t want the police breathing down his neck while he’s doing it. So there’ll be no guns.’

That was the only good thing I’d heard since Metcalfe had surprised me. I said, ‘Where are his men now?’

‘As far as I know they’re getting some sleep — they don’t like being up all night.’

‘So they’re in their usual hotels — all sixteen of them.’

Metcalfe whistled. ‘You seem to know as much about it as I do.’

‘I’ve known about it all the time,’ I said shortly. ‘We’ve had them tabbed ever since they moved into Rapallo — before that, too. We had your men spotted in every port in the Mediterranean.’

He said slowly, ‘I wondered about that ever since Dino was beaten up in Monte Carlo. Was that you?’

‘Coertze,’ I said briefly. I gripped the brick which I was still holding. I was going to clobber Metcalfe after all — he played a double game too often and he might be playing one now. I thought we had better keep him where we could watch him.

He laughed. ‘Yes, of course; that’s just his mark.’

I lifted the brick slowly. ‘How did you cotton on to us?’ I asked. ‘It must have been in Tangier, but what gave the game away?’ There was no answer.

I said, ‘What was it, Metcalfe?’ and raised the brick.

There was silence.

‘Metcalfe?’ I said uncertainly, and switched on my torch. He had gone and I heard a faint splashing from the sea and the squeak of a rowlock. I ought to have known better than to think I could outwit Metcalfe; he was too wise a bird for me.

III

As I went back to the shed I looked at my watch; it was ten o’clock — five hours to go before Torloni’s assault. Could we replace the mast and all the standing rigging in time? I very much doubted it. If we turned on the floodlights outside the shed, then Torloni’s watchers would know that something unusual was under way and he would move in immediately. If we worked in the dark it would be hell’s own job — I had never heard of a fifty-five foot mast being stepped in total darkness and I doubted if it could be done.

It looked very much as though we would have to stay and fight.

I went in and woke Coertze. He was drowsy but he woke up fast enough when I told him what was happening. I omitted to mention Walker’s part in the mess — I still needed Walker and I knew that if I told Coertze about it I would have a corpse and a murderer on my hands, and this was not time for internal dissension.

Coertze said suspiciously, ‘What the hell is Metcalfe’s game?’

‘I don’t know and I care less. The point is that he’s given us the tip-off and if we don’t use it we’re fools. He must have fallen out with Torloni.’

‘Reg,’ said Coertze and swung himself out of his berth. ‘Let’s get cracking.’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘What about the mast?’ I told him my estimate of the chance of replacing the mast in darkness.

He rubbed his chin and the bristles crackled in the silence. ‘I reckon we should take a chance and turn the lights on,’ he said at last. ‘That is, after we’ve made our preparations for Torloni. We know he’s going to attack and whether he does it sooner or later doesn’t matter as long as we’re ready for him.’

This was the man of action — the military commander — speaking. His reasoning was good so I left him to it. He roused Piero and they went into a huddle while Walker and I began to clear the shed and to load up Sanford. Francesca heard the noise and got up to see what was going on and was drawn into Coertze’s council of war.

Presently Piero slipped out of the shed and Coertze called me over. ‘You might as well know what’s going to happen,’ he said.

He had a map of Rapallo spread out, one of the giveaways issued by the Tourist Office, and as he spoke he pointed to the salient features on the map. It was a good plan that he described and like all good plans it was simple.

I think that if Coertze had not been taken prisoner at Tobruk he would have been commissioned as an officer sooner or later. He had a natural grasp of strategy and his plan was the classic military design of concentration to smash the enemy in detail before they could concentrate.

He said, ‘This is the holiday season and the hotels are full. Torloni couldn’t get all his men into the same hotel, so they’re spread around the town — four men here, six here, three here and the rest with Torloni himself.’ As he spoke his stubby forefinger pointed to places on the map.

‘We can call up twenty-five men and I’m keeping ten men here at the yard. There are four of Torloni’s men outside the yard right now, watching us, and we’re going to jump them in a few minutes — ten men should clean them up easily. That means that when we turn on the lights there’ll be no one to warn Torloni about it.’

‘That seems a good idea,’ I said.

‘That leaves us fifteen men we can use outside the yard as a mobile force. We have two men outside each hotel excepting this one, here, where we have nine. There are four of Torloni’s men staying here and when they come out they’ll get clobbered. That ought to be easy, too.’

‘You’ll have already cut his force by half,’ I said.

‘That’s right. Now, there’ll be Torloni and eight men moving in on the yard. He’ll expect to have sixteen, but he won’t get them. This may make him nervous, but I think not. He’ll think that there’ll only be four men and a girl here and he’ll reckon he can take us easily. But we’ll have fourteen men in the yard — counting us — and I’ll bring in another fifteen behind him as soon as he starts anything.’

He looked up. ‘How’s that, ay?’

‘It’s great,’ I said. ‘But you’ll have to tell the Italians to move in fast. We want to nail those bastards quick before they can start shooting. Metcalfe said they wouldn’t shoot, but they might if they see they’re on the losing end.’

‘They’ll be quick,’ he promised. ‘Piero’s on the blower now, giving instructions. The orders are to clean up the four watchers here at eleven o’clock.’ He looked at his watch. ‘That’s in five minutes. Let’s go and see the fun.’

Francesca said, ‘I don’t see how anything can go wrong.’

Neither could I — but it did!

We were leaving the shed when I noticed Walker tagging on behind. He had been keeping in the background, trying to remain inconspicuous. I let the others go and caught his arm. ‘You stay here,’ I said. ‘If you move out of this shed I swear I’ll kill you.’

His face went white. ‘Why?’

‘So you had your wallet stolen,’ I said. ‘You damn’ fool, why did you have to carry that cigarette case?’

He tried to bluff his way out of it. ‘Wh... what cigarette case?’

‘Don’t lie to me. You know what cigarette case. Now stay here and don’t move out. I don’t want you underfoot — I don’t want to have to keep an eye on you all the time in case you make any more damn’ silly mistakes.’ I took him by the shirt. ‘If you don’t stay in here I’ll tell Coertze just why Torloni is attacking tonight — and Coertze will dismember you limb from limb.’

His lower lip started to tremble. ‘Oh, don’t tell Coertze,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t tell him.’

I let him go. ‘O.K. But don’t move out of this shed.’

I followed the others up to Palmerini’s office. Coertze said, ‘It’s all set.’

I said to Piero, ‘You’d better get Palmerini down here; we’ll need his help in rigging the mast.’

‘I have telephoned him,’ said Piero. ‘He will be coming at eleven-fifteen — after we have finished our work here.’ He nodded towards the main gate.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Do you think we shall see anything of what is happening?’

‘A little. One of Torloni’s men is not troubling to hide himself; he is under the street lamp opposite the main gate.’

We went up to the gate, moving quietly so as not to alarm the watchers. The gate was of wood, old, unpainted and warped by the sun; there were plenty of cracks through which we could see. I knelt down and through one of the cracks saw a man on the other side of the road, illuminated by the street lamp. He was standing there, idly smoking a cigarette, with one hand in his trouser-pocket. I could hear the faint click as he jingled money or keys.

Coertze whispered, ‘Any time now.’

Nothing happened for a while. There was no sound to be heard except for the sudden harsh cry of an occasional seabird. Piero said in a low voice, ‘Two have been taken.’

‘How do you know?’

There was laughter in his voice. ‘The birds — they tell me.’

I suddenly realized what had been nagging at my mind. Seagulls sleep at night and they don’t cry.

There was a faint sound of singing which grew louder, and presently three men came down the street bellowing vociferously. They had evidently been drinking because they wavered and staggered and one of them had to be helped by the others. The man under the lamp trod on the butt of his cigarette and moved back to the wall to let them pass. One of them waved a bottle in the air and shouted, ‘Have a drink, brother; have a drink on my firstborn.’

Torloni’s man shook his head but they pressed round him clamouring in drunken voices for him to drink. Suddenly the bottle came down sharply and I heard the thud even from across the street.

‘God,’ I said. ‘I hope they haven’t killed him.’

Piero said, ‘It will be all right; they know the thickness of a man’s skull.’

The drunken men were suddenly miraculously sober and came across the street at a run carrying the limp figure of Torloni’s man. Simultaneously others appeared from the left and the right, also bearing unconscious bodies. A car came up the street and swerved through the gateway.

‘That’s four,’ said Coertze with satisfaction. ‘Take them into the shed.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Put them in that half-finished shed.’ I didn’t want them to get a glimpse of anything that might do us damage later. ‘Tie them up and gag them; let two men watch them.’

Piero issued orders in rapid Italian and the men were carried away. We were surrounded by a group of Italians babbling of how easy it was until Piero shouted for silence. ‘Are you veterans or are you green recruits?’ he bawled. ‘By God, if the Count could see you now he’d have you all shot.’

There was an abashed silence at this, and Piero said, ‘Keep a watch outside. Giuseppi, go to the office and stay with the telephone; if it rings, call me. You others, watch and keep quiet.’

A car hooted outside the gate and I started nervously. Piero took a quick look outside. ‘It is all right; it is Palmerini. Let him in.’

Palmerini’s little Fiat came through the gateway and disgorged Palmerini and his three sons in a welter of arms and legs. He came up to me and said, ‘I am told you are in a hurry to get your boat ready for sea. That will be extra for the overtime, you understand.’

I grinned. Palmerini was running true to form. ‘How long will it take?’

‘With the lights — four hours, if you help, too.’

That would be three-fifteen — just too late. We would probably have to fight, after all. I said, ‘We may be interrupted, Signor Palmerini.’

‘That is all right, but any damage must be paid for,’ he answered.

Evidently he knew the score, so I said, ‘You will be amply recompensed. Shall we begin?’

He turned and began to berate his sons. ‘What are you waiting for, you lazy oafs; didn’t you hear the signor? The good God should be ashamed for giving me sons so strong in the arm but weak in the head.’ He chased them down to the shed and I began to feel happier about everything.

As the lights sprang up at the seaward end of the shed Francesca looked at the gate and said thoughtfully, ‘If I was Torloni and I wanted to come in here quickly I would drive right through the gate in a car.’

‘You mean ram it?’

‘Yes, the gate is very weak.’

Coertze said jovially. ‘Reg, we can soon stop that. We’ve captured one of his cars; I’ll park it across the gateway behind the gate. If he tries that trick he’ll run into something heavier than he bargains for.’

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to help Palmerini.’ I ran down to the shed and heard the car revving up behind me.

Palmerini met me at the door of the shed. He was outraged. ‘Signor, you cannot put this boat into the water. There is no paint, no copper, nothing on the bottom. She will be destroyed in our Mediterranean water — the worms will eat her up entirely.’

I said, ‘We have no time; she must go into the water as she is.’

His professional ethics were rubbed raw. ‘I do not know whether I should permit it,’ he grumbled. ‘No boat has ever left my yard in such a condition. If anyone hears of it they will say, “Palmerini is an old fool; Palmerini is losing his mind — he is getting senile in his old age.”’

In my impatience to get on with the job I suspected he wasn’t far off the truth. I said, ‘No one will know, Signor Palmerini. I will tell no one.’

We walked across to Sanford. Palmerini was still grumbling under his breath about the iniquity of leaving a ship’s bottom unprotected against the small beasts of the sea. He looked at the keel and rapped it with his knuckles. ‘And this, signor. Whoever heard of a brass keel?’

‘I told you I was experimenting,’ I said.

He cocked his head on one side and his walnut face looked at me impishly. ‘Ah, signor, never has there been such a yacht as this in the Mediterranean. Not even the famous Argo was like this boat, and not even the Golden Fleece was so valuable.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll see if my lazy sons are getting things ready.’

He went off into the lighted area in front of the shed, cackling like a maniac. I suppose no one could do anything in his yard without his knowing exactly what was going on. He was a great leg-puller, this Palmerini.

I called him back, and said, ‘Signor Palmerini, if all goes well I will come back and buy your boatyard if you are willing to sell. I will give you a good price.’

He chuckled. ‘Do you think I would sell my yard to a man who would send a boat out without paint on her bottom? I was teasing you, my boy, because you always look so serious.’

I smiled. ‘Very well, but there is a lead keel I have no use for. I’m sure you can use it.’ At the current price of lead the old keel was worth nearly fifteen hundred pounds.

He nodded judiciously. ‘I can use it,’ he said. ‘It will just about pay for tonight’s overtime.’ He cackled again and went off to crack the whip over his sons.

Walker was still sullen and pale and when I began to drive him he became even more sulky, but I ignored that and drove him all the more in my efforts to get Sanford ready for sea. Presently we were joined by Coertze and Francesca and the work went more quickly.

Francesca said, ‘I’ve left Piero in charge up there. He knows what to do; besides, he knows nothing about boats.’

‘Neither do you,’ I said.

‘No, but I can learn.’

I said, ‘I think you should leave now. It might get a bit dangerous round here before long.’

‘No,’ she said, stubbornly, ‘I’m staying.’

‘You’re going.’

She faced me. ‘And just how will you make me go?’

She had me there and she knew it. I hesitated, and she said, ‘Not only am I staying, but I’m coming with you in Sanford.’

‘We’ll see about that later,’ I said. ‘At the moment I’ve no time to argue.’

We pulled Sanford out of the shed and one of Palmerini’s sons ran the little crane alongside. He picked up the mast and hoisted it high above the boat, gently lowering it between the mast partners. I was below, making sure that the heel of the mast was correctly bedded on the butt plate. Old Palmerini came below and said, ‘I’ll see to the wedges. If you are in the hurry you say you are, you had better see that your engine is fit to run.’

So I went aft and had a look at the engine. When Sanford had been taken from the water I had checked the engine twice a week, turning her over a few revolutions to circulate the oil. Now, she started immediately, running sweetly, and I knew with satisfaction that once we were in the water we could get away at a rate of knots.

I checked the fuel tanks and the water tanks and then went on deck to help the Palmerini boys with the standing rigging. After we had been working for some time, Francesca brought us coffee. I accepted it with thanks, and she said quietly, ‘It’s getting late.’

I looked at my watch; it was two o’clock. ‘My God!’ I said. ‘Only an hour before the deadline. Heard anything from Piero?’

She shook her head. ‘How long will it be before you are finished?’ she asked, looking round the deck.

‘It looks worse than it is,’ I said. ‘I reckon we’ll be nearly two hours, though.’

‘Then we fight,’ she said with finality.

‘It looks like it.’ I thought of Coertze’s plan. ‘It shouldn’t come to much, though.’

‘I’ll stay with Piero,’ she said. ‘I’ll let you know if anything happens.’

I watched her go, then went to Walker. ‘Never mind the running rigging,’ I said. ‘We’ll fix that at sea. Just reeve the halyards through the sheaves and lash them down. We haven’t much time now.’

If we worked hard before, we worked harder then — but it was no use. Francesca came running down from the office. ‘Hal, Hal, Piero wants you.’

I dropped everything and ran up the yard, calling for Coertze as I went. Piero was talking on the telephone when I arrived. After a minute he hung up and said, ‘It’s started.’ Coertze sat on at the desk upon which was spread the map. ‘Who was that?’

Piero laid his finger on the map. ‘These men. We have two men following.’

‘Not the four we’re tackling straight away?’ I asked.

‘No, I haven’t heard of them.’ He crossed to the window and spoke a few words to a man outside. I looked at my watch — it was half past two.

We sat in silence and listened to the minutes tick away. The atmosphere was oppressive and reminded me of the time during the war when we expected a German attack but didn’t know just when or where it was going to come.

Suddenly the telephone rang and we all started.

Piero picked it up and as he listened his lips tightened. He put the telephone down and said, ‘Torloni has got more men. They are gathering in the Piazza Cavour — there are two lorry loads.’

‘Where the hell did they come from?’ I demanded.

‘From Spezia; he has called in another gang.’

My brain went into high gear. Why had Torloni done that? He didn’t need so many men against four of us — unless he knew of our partisan allies — and it was quite evident that he did. He was going to overrun us by force of numbers.

‘How many extra men?’ asked Coertze.

Piero shrugged. ‘At least thirty, I was told.’

Coertze cursed. His plan was falling to pieces — the enemy was concentrating and our own forces were divided.

I said to Piero, ‘Can you get in touch with your men?’

He nodded. ‘One watches — the other is near a telephone.’

I looked at Coertze. ‘You’d better bring them in.’

He shook his head violently. ‘No, the plan is still good. We can still engage them here and attack them in the rear.’

‘How many men have we got altogether?’

Coertze said, ‘Twenty-five Italians and the four of us.’

‘And they’ve got forty-three at least. Those are bad odds.’

Francesca said to Piero, ‘The men we have are those who can fight. There are others who cannot fight but who can watch. It is a pity that the fighters have to be watchers, too. Why not get some of the old men to do the watching so that you can collect the fighters together?’

Piero’s hand went to the phone but stopped as Coertze abruptly said, ‘No!’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s a good idea, but it’s too late. We can’t start changing plans now. And I want that phone free — I want to know what is happening to our mobile force.’

We waited while the leaden minutes dragged by. Coertze suddenly said, ‘Where’s Walker?’

‘Working on the boat,’ I said. ‘He’s of more use down there.’

Coertze snorted. ‘That’s God’s truth. He’ll be no use in a brawl.’

The telephone shrilled and Piero scooped it up in one quick movement. He listened intently, then began to give quick instructions. I looked at Coertze and said, ‘Four down.’

‘...and thirty-nine to go,’ he finished glumly.

Piero put down the phone. ‘That was the mobile force — they are going to the Piazza Cavour.’

The phone rang again under his hand and he picked it up. I said to Francesca, ‘Go down to the boat and tell Walker to work like hell. You’d better stay down there, too.’

As she left the office, Piero said, ‘Torloni has left the Piazza Cavour — two cars and two trucks. We had only two men there and they have already lost one truck. The other truck and the cars are coming straight here.’

Coertze thumped the table. ‘Dammit, where did that other truck go?’

I said sardonically, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. Things can’t help but get better from now on; they can’t get any worse, and we’ve nowhere to go but up.’

I left the office and stood in the darkness. Giuseppi said, ‘What is happening, signor?’

‘Torloni and his men will be here within minutes. Tell the others to be prepared.’

After a few moments Coertze joined me. ‘The telephone line’s been cut,’ he said.

‘That tops it,’ I said. ‘Now we don’t know what’s going on at all.’

‘I hope our friends outside use their brains and concentrate into one bunch; if they don’t, we’re sunk,’ he said grimly.

Piero joined us. ‘Will Palmerini’s sons fight?’ I asked.

‘Yes, if they are attacked.’

‘You’d better go down and tell the old man to lie low. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt.’

Piero went away and Coertze settled down to watch. The street was empty and there was no sound. We waited a long time and nothing happened at all. I thought that perhaps Torloni was disconcerted by finding his watchmen missing — that might put him off his stroke. And if he had a roll-call and discovered a total of eight men missing it was bound to make him uneasy.

I looked at my watch — three-fifteen. If Torloni would only hold off we might get the boat launched and away and the men dispersed. I prayed he would hold off at least another half-hour.

He didn’t.

Coertze said suddenly, ‘Something’s coming.’

I heard an engine changing gear and the noise was suddenly loud. Headlights flashed from the left, approaching rapidly, and the engine roared. I saw it was a lorry being driven fast, and when it was abreast of the yard, it swerved and made for the gate.

I blessed Francesca’s intuition and shouted in Italian, ‘To the gates!’

The lorry smashed into the gates and there was a loud cracking and snapping of wood, overlaid by the crash as the lorry hit the car amidships and came to a jolting halt. We didn’t wait for Torloni’s men to recover but piled in immediately. I scrambled over the ruined car and got on to the bonnet of the lorry, whirling round to the passenger side. The man in the passenger seat was shaking his head groggily; he had smashed it against the windscreen, unready for such a fierce impact. I hit him with my fist and he slumped down to the floor of the cab.

The driver was frantically trying to restart his stalled engine and I saw Coertze haul him out bodily and toss him away into the darkness. Then things got confused. Someone from the back of the lorry booted me on the head and I slipped from the running-board conscious of a wave of our men going in to the attack. When I had recovered my wits it was all over.

Coertze dragged me from under the lorry and said, ‘Are you all right?’

I rubbed my sore head. ‘I’m O.K. What happened?’

‘They didn’t know what hit them — or they didn’t know what they hit. The smash shook them up too much to be of any use; we drove them from the lorry and they ran for it.’

‘How many of them were there?’

‘They were jammed in the back of the lorry like sardines. I suppose they thought they could smash in the gates, drive into the yard and get out in comfort. They didn’t get the chance.’ He looked at the gateway. ‘They won’t be coming that way again.’

The gateway, from being our weakest point had become our strongest. The tangled mess of the lorry and the car completely blocked the entrance, making it impassable.

Piero came up and said, ‘We have three prisoners.’

‘Tie them up and stick them with the others,’ I said. One commodity which is never in short supply in a boatyard is rope. Torloni was now missing eleven men — a quarter of his force. Perhaps that would make him think twice before attacking again.

I said to Coertze, ‘Are you sure they can’t attack us from the sides?’

‘Positive. We’re blocked in with buildings on both sides. He has to make a frontal attack. But, hell, I wish I knew where that other lorry went.’

The telephone began to ring shrilly.

I said, ‘I thought you said the wire had been cut.’

‘Piero said it had.’

We ran to the office and Coertze grabbed the phone. He listened for a second, then said, ‘It’s Torloni!’

‘I’ll speak to him,’ I said, and took the phone. I held my hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I’ve got an idea — get old Palmerini up here.’ Then I said into the phone, ‘What do you want?’

‘Is that Halloran?’ The English was good, if strongly tinged with an American accent.

‘Yes.’

‘Halloran, why don’t you be reasonable? You know you haven’t a chance.’

I said, ‘This phone call of yours is proof that we have a chance. You wouldn’t be speaking to me if you thought you could get what you want otherwise. Now, if you have a proposition, make it; if you haven’t, shut up.’

His voice was softly ugly. ‘You’ll be sorry you spoke to me like that. Oh, I know all about the Estrenoli woman’s old soldiers, but you haven’t got enough of them. Now if you cut me in for half I’ll be friendly.’

‘Go to hell!’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll crush you and I’ll like doing it.’

‘Make one more attack and the police will be here.’ I might as well try to pull a bluff.

He thought that one over, then said silkily, ‘And how will you call them with no telephone?’

‘I’ve made my arrangements,’ I said. ‘You’ve already run into some of them.’ I rubbed it in. ‘A lot of your men are mysteriously missing, aren’t they?’

I could almost hear his brain click to a decision. ‘You won’t send for the police,’ he said with finality. ‘You want the police as little as I do. Halloran, I did you a favour once; I got rid of Estrenoli, didn’t I? You could return the favour.’

‘The favour was for Metcalfe, not me,’ I said, and hung up on him. He wouldn’t like that.

Coertze said, ‘What did he want?’

‘A half-share — or so he said.’

‘I’ll see him in hell first,’ he said bluntly.

‘Where’s Palmerini?’

‘Coming up. I sent Giuseppi for him.’

Just then Palmerini came into the office. I said, ‘First, how’s the boat getting on?’

‘Give me fifteen minutes — just fifteen minutes, that’s all.’

‘I may not be able to,’ I said. ‘You’ve got some portable floodlights you use for working at night. Take two men and bring them up here quickly.’

I turned to Coertze. ‘We want to be able to see what’s happening. They’ll have to come over the wall this time, and once they’re over it won’t be easy for them to get back. That means that the next attack will be final — make or break. Now here’s what we do.’

I outlined what I wanted to do with the lights and Coertze nodded appreciatively. It took a mere five minutes to set them up and we used the Fiat and a truck to give added light by their headlamps. We placed the men and settled down to wait for the impending attack.

It wasn’t long in coming. There were odd scraping noises from the wall and Coertze said, ‘They’re coming over.’

‘Wait,’ I breathed.

There were several thumps which could only be made by men dropping heavily to the ground. I yelled, ‘Luce!’ and the lights blazed out.

It was like a frozen tableau. Several of the enemy were on our side of the wall, squinting forward at the light pouring on to them. Several others were caught lowering themselves, their head turned to see what was happening.

What they must have seen cannot have been reassuring — a blaze of blinding light behind which was impenetrable darkness heavy with menace, while they themselves were in the open and easily spotted — not a very comfortable thought for men supposedly making a surprise attack.

They hesitated uncertainly and in that moment we hit them on both flanks simultaneously, Piero leading from the right and Coertze from the left. I stayed with a small reserve of three men, ready to jump in if either flank party had bitten off more than it could chew.

I saw upraised clubs and the flash of knives and three of Torloni’s men went down in the first ten seconds. We had caught them off balance and the flank attacks quickly rolled them up into the centre and there was a confused mob of shouting, fighting men. But more of the enemy were coming over the wall fast, and I was just going to move my little group into battle when I heard more shouting.

It came from behind me.

‘Come on,’ I yelled and ran down the yard towards Sanford. Now we knew what had happened to that other lorryload of men. They had come in from the seaward side and Torloni was attacking us front and rear.

Sanford was beseiged. A boat was drawn up on the hard and another boat full of men was just landing. There was a fight going on round Sanford with men trying to climb up on the deck and our working party valiantly trying to drive them off. I saw the small figure of old Palmerini; he had a rope with a block on the end of it which he whirled round his head like a medieval ball and chain. He whirled it once again and the block caught the attacker under the jaw and he toppled from the ladder he was climbing and fell senseless to the ground.

Palmerini’s sons were battling desperately and I saw one go down. Then I saw Francesca wielding a boat-hook like a spear. She drove it at a boarder and the spike penetrated his thigh. He screamed shrilly and fell away, the boat-hook still sucking out of his leg. I saw the look of horror on Francesca’s face and then drove home my little attack.

It was futile. We managed to relieve the beleaguered garrison on Sanford, but then we were outnumbered three to one and had to retreat up the yard. The attackers did not press us; they were so exultant at the capture of Sanford that they stayed with her and didn’t follow us. We were lucky in their stupidity.

I looked around to see what was happening at the top of the yard. Coertze’s party was closer than I had hoped — he had been driven back, too, but he was not under attack and I wondered why. If both enemy groups now made a concerted effort we were lost.

I said to Francesca, ‘Duck under those sacks and stay quiet — you may get away with it.’ Then I ran over to Coertze. ‘What’s happening?’

He grinned and wiped some blood from his cheek. ‘Our outside boys concentrated and hit Torloni hard on the other side of the wall, all fifteen of them. He can’t retreat now — anyone who tries to go back over the wall gets clobbered. I’m just getting my breath back before I hit ‘em again.’

I said, ‘They’ve got Sanford. They came in from the sea — we’re boxed in, too.’

His chest heaved. ‘All right; we’ll hit ‘em down there.’

I looked up the yard. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Look, there’s Torloni.’

We could see him under the wall, yelling at his men, whipping them up for another attack. I said, ‘We attack up the yard — all of us — and we hope that the crowd at the back of us stay put for the time we need. We’re going to snatch Torloni himself. Where’s Piero?’

‘I am here.’

‘Good! Tell your boys to attack when I give the signal. You stay with Coertze and me, and the three of us will make for Torloni.’

I turned to find Francesca at my elbow. ‘I thought I told you to duck out of sight.’

She shook her head stubbornly. Old Palmerini was behind her, so I said, ‘See that she stays here, old friend.’

He nodded and put his arm round her. I said to Coertze, ‘Remember, we want Torloni — we don’t stop for anything else.’

Then we attacked up the yard. The three of us, Coertze, Piero and I, made a flying wedge, evading anyone who tried to stop us. We didn’t fight, we just ran. Coertze had grasped the idea and was running as though he was on a rugby field making an effort for the final try.

The goal line was Torloni and we were on him before he properly realized what was happening. He snarled and blue steel showed in his hand.

‘Spread out!’ I yelled, and we separated, coming at him from three sides. The gun in his hand flamed and Coertze staggered; then Piero and I jumped him. I raised my arm and hit him hard with the edge of my hand; I felt his collarbone break and he screamed and dropped the pistol.

With Torloni’s scream a curious hush came over the yard. There was an uncertainty in his men as they looked back to see what was happening. I picked up the gun and held it to Torloni’s head. ‘Call off your dogs or I’ll blow your brains out,’ I said harshly.

I was as close to murder then as I have ever been. Torloni saw the look in my eyes and whitened. ‘Stop,’ he croaked.

‘Louder,’ ordered Piero and squeezed his shoulder.

He screamed again, then he shouted, ‘Stop fighting — stop fighting. Torloni says so.’

His men were hirelings — they fought for pay and if the boss was captured they wouldn’t get paid. There is not much loyalty among mercenaries. There was an uncertain shuffling and a melting away of figures into the darkness.

Coertze was sitting on the ground, his hand to his shoulder. Blood was oozing between his fingers. He took his hand away and looked at it with stupefied amazement. ‘The bastard shot me,’ he said blankly.

I went over to him. ‘Are you all right?’

He held his shoulder again and got to his feet. ‘I’m O.K.’ He looked at Torloni sourly. ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’

‘Later,’ I said. ‘Let’s deal with the crowd at the bottom of the yard.’

We were being reinforced rapidly by men climbing over the wall. This was our mobile force which had taken Torloni’s men in the rear and had whipped them. In a compact mass we marched down the yard towards Sanford, Torloni being frog-marched in front.

As we came near Sanford I poked the pistol muzzle into Torloni’s fleshy neck. ‘Tell them,’ I commanded.

He shouted, ‘Leave the boat. Go away. Torloni says that.’

The men around Sanford looked at us expressionlessly and made no move. Piero squeezed Torloni’s shoulder again. ‘Aaah. Leave the boat, I tell you,’ he yelled.

They raised their eyes to the crowd behind us, realized they were outnumbered, and slowly began to drift towards the hard where their boats were drawn up. Piero said quietly, ‘These are the men from La Spezia. That man in the blue jersey is their leader; Morlaix; he is a Frenchman from Marseilles.’ He looked speculatively at their boats. ‘You may have trouble with him yet. He does not care if Torloni lives or dies.’

I watched Morlaix’s crowd push their boats into the water. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ I said. ‘We’ve got to get out of here. Somebody might have notified the police about the brawl — we made enough noise, and there was a gunshot. Did we have many casualties?’

‘I don’t know; I will find out.’

Palmerini came pushing through the crowd with Francesca at his side. ‘The boat is not harmed,’ he said. ‘We can put her into the water at any time.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. I looked at Francesca and made a quick decision. ‘Still want to come?’

‘Yes, I’m coming.’

‘O.K. You won’t have time to pack, though. We’re leaving within the hour.’

She smiled. ‘I have a small suitcase already packed. It has been ready for a week.’

Coertze was standing guard over Torloni. ‘What do we do with this one?’ he asked.

I said, ‘We take him with us a little way. We may need him yet. Francesca, Kobus was shot; will you strap him up?’

‘Oh, I didn’t know,’ she said. ‘Where is the wound?’

‘In the shoulder,’ said Coertze absently. He was watching Walker on the deck of Sanford. ‘Where was that kêrel when the trouble started?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I never saw him from start to finish.’

IV

We put Sanford into the water very easily; there were plenty of willing hands. I felt better with a living, moving deck under my feet than I had for a long time. Before I went aboard for the last time I took Piero on one side.

‘Tell the Count I’ve taken Francesca away,’ I said. ‘I think it’s better this way — Torloni might look for revenge. You men can look after yourselves, but I wouldn’t like to leave her here.’

‘That is the best thing,’ he said.

‘If Torloni wants to start any more funny tricks you know what to do now. Don’t go for his men — go for Torloni. He cracks easily under direct pressure. I’ll make it clear to him that if he starts any of his nonsense he’ll wind up floating somewhere in the bay. What did you find out about casualties?’

‘Nothing serious,’ said Piero. ‘One broken arm, three stab wounds, three or four concussions.’

‘I’m glad to see no one was killed,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t have liked that. I think Francesca would like to speak to you, so I’ll leave you to it.’

We shook hands warmly and I went aboard. Piero was a fine man — a good man to have beside you in a fight.

He and Francesca talked together for a while and then she came on board. She was crying a little and I put my arms about her to comfort her. It’s not very pleasant to leave one’s native land at the best of times, and leaving in these circumstances the unpleasantness was doubled. I sat in the cockpit with my hand on the tiller and Walker started the engine. As soon as I heard it throb I threw it into gear and we moved away slowly.

For a long time we could see the little patch of light in front of the shed speckled with the waving Italians. They waved although they could not see us in the darkness and I felt sad at leaving them. ‘We’ll come back sometime,’ I said to Francesca.

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘We’ll never be back.’

V

We pressed on into the darkness at a steady six knots making our way due south to clear the Portovento headland. I looked up at the mast dimly outlined against the stars and wondered how long it would take to fix the running rigging. The deck was a mess, making nonsense of the term ‘shipshape,’ but we couldn’t do anything about that until it was light. Walker was below and Coertze was on the foredeck keeping guard on Torloni. Francesca and I conversed in low tones in the cockpit, talking of when we would be able to get married.

Coertze called out suddenly, ‘When are we going to get rid of this garbage? He wants to know. He thinks we’re going to put him over the side and he says he can’t swim.’

‘We’ll slip inshore close to Portovento,’ I said. ‘We’ll put him ashore in the dinghy.’

Coertze grumbled something about it being better to get rid of Torloni there and then, and relapsed into silence. Francesca said, ‘Is there something wrong with the engine? It seems to be making a strange noise.’

I listened and there was a strange noise — but it wasn’t our engine. I throttled back and heard the puttering of an outboard motor quite close to starboard.

‘Get below quickly,’ I said, and called to Coertze in a low voice, ‘We’ve got visitors.’

He came aft swiftly. I pointed to starboard and, in the faint light of the newly risen moon, we could see the white feather of a bow wave coming closer. A voice came across the water. ‘Monsieur Englishman, can you hear me?’

‘It’s Morlaix,’ I said, and raised my voice. ‘Yes, I can hear you.’

‘We are coming aboard,’ he shouted. ‘It is useless to resist.’

‘You stay clear,’ I called. ‘Haven’t you had enough?’

Coertze got up with a grunt and went forward. I pulled Torloni’s gun from my pocket and cocked it.

‘There are only four of you,’ shouted Morlaix. ‘And many more of us.’

The bow wave of his boat was suddenly much closer and I could see the boat more clearly. It was full of men. Then it was alongside and, as it came close enough to bump gunwales, Morlaix jumped to the deck of Sanford. He was only four feet away from me so I shot him in the leg and he gave a shout and fell overboard.

Simultaneously Coertze rose, lifting in one hand the struggling figure of Torloni. ‘Take this rubbish,’ he shouted and hurled Torloni at the rush of men coming on deck. Torloni wailed and the flying body bowled them over and they fell back into their boat.

I took advantage of the confusion by suddenly bearing to port and the gap between the boats widened rapidly. Their boat seemed to be out of control — I imagine that the steersman had been knocked down.

They didn’t bother us again. We could hear them shouting in the distance as they fished Morlaix from the water, but they made no further attack. They had no stomach for guns.

Our wake broadened in the moonlight as we headed for the open sea. We had a deadline to meet in Tangier and time was short.