The Spoilers

I

Two days later they landed at Khaldeh International Airport in the Lebanon and drove into Beirut by taxi. The Land-Rovers had been left in Mosul in the care of one of Metcalfe’s disreputable friends; they had outlived their usefulness and were no longer needed. ‘Beirut’s the place,’ Tozier had said. ‘It’s our last chance.’

They registered at a hotel, and Warren said, ‘I’m going to ring London; Hellier should be able to bring us up to date with what’s been going on here. He’ll know where to find Mike and Dan. Then we can figure out the next step.’

‘The next step is that I get my hands around Jeanette’s beautiful neck,’ said Metcalfe savagely.

Warren looked at Tozier and raised his eyebrows. Tozier said softly, ‘Are you still with us, Tom?’

‘I’m with you. I told you I don’t like being used. I can be bought — like you — but on my terms; and my terms have always meant no dope.’

‘Then I suggest you leave Delorme strictly alone,’ said Tozier. ‘She’s not important now — it’s the heroin we want. Once that is destroyed, then you can have her.’

‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ said Metcalfe.

‘All right,’ said Tozier. ‘Johnny, hire a car — no, better make it two cars; we must be mobile. After Nick has talked to Hellier then we get down to it.’

But when Warren telephoned London he was told by Miss Walden that Hellier was in Beirut. All it took was a quick call to the Saint Georges and half an hour later they were all sitting in Hellier’s suite and he was introducing Metcalfe. ‘He joined us at just the right time.’

Hellier looked around. ‘Where’s Bryan?’

‘I’ll tell you later — if you really want to know,’ said Warren. He was beginning to resent Hellier. Hellier had said he wanted blood but so far he had not risked his valuable skin to get it, and things looked a lot different in the Middle East than they had in London.

Hellier pulled papers from a briefcase. ‘Abbot doesn’t make sense. He got word to me that the Delorme woman is smuggling two thousand pounds of heroin. I think it’s ridiculous, but I can’t find Abbot to confirm it or otherwise.’

‘I confirm it,’ said Warren. ‘If it weren’t for Andy and Johnny it would have been two tons instead of one.’

‘You’d better tell me about that,’ said Hellier.

Warren did so, not leaving anything out. When he came to what had happened to Ben Bryan he said bitterly, ‘It was a damn’ silly thing to do. I blame myself; I should never have let him go back.’

‘Nuts!’ said Follet. ‘It was his own choice.’

Warren completed the tale of their adventures and when he stopped Hellier was pale. ‘That’s about the lot,’ said Warren dispiritedly. ‘We missed all along the line.’

Hellier drummed his fingers on the table. ‘I don’t think we can go any further with this. It’s a police matter from now on — let them handle it. We have more than enough evidence for them now.’

Tozier’s voice was hard. ‘You can’t bring the police into this — not the way the evidence was collected.’ He swung around on Warren. ‘How many men have you killed, Nick?’

‘None that I’m aware of,’ said Warren, but he knew what Tozier meant.

‘No? What about coming through Fahrwaz’s place in Iran, the night we blew hell out of the laboratory? Johnny is pretty certain you ran down a man.’

Follet said, ‘The way we hit him he wouldn’t have a chance. Anyway, I saw him lying in the road when we went back in.’

‘The man was shooting at us,’ said Warren angrily.

‘Tell that to the Iranian police,’ said Tozier scornfully. ‘As for me, I’m not pussyfooting around the truth. I’ve killed men on this jaunt. Ahmed was killed with my bomb, which Warren helped to make; we mortared hell out of another group — I think that between us we killed a dozen, all in all.’ He leaned forward. ‘Normally I’m covered — I’m employed by a government which gives me a killing licence. But this time I’m not and I can hang as high as Haman under the civil law, and so can the rest of us.’ He jabbed a stiff finger towards Hellier. ‘Including you. You’re just as guilty — an accomplice before the act, so think of that before shouting copper.’

Hellier snorted. ‘Do you really think we’d be prosecuted because of the death of scum?’ he said contemptuously.

‘You don’t understand, do you?’ said Tozier. ‘Tell the silly bastard, Tom.’

Metcalfe grinned. ‘It’s like this. People around here are touchy about their national pride. Take the Iraqis, for instance; I don’t suppose President Bakr is going to shed any tears over a few dead Kurds — he’s been trying to polish off the lot himself — but no government is going to stand for a crowd of foreigners bursting into their country and shooting the place up, no matter how high the motives. Andy’s dead right — you shout copper now and you’ll start a diplomatic incident so big that there’s no knowing where it will end. Before you know it the Russkies would be accusing Johnny of being a CIA agent and casting you as the secret head of British Intelligence. And, by God, it would take a hell of a lot of explaining away.’

Follet said, ‘No cops.’ His voice was final.

Hellier was silent for a while, digesting this and finding it hard going. He said at last, ‘I see what you mean. Do you honestly think that your activities in Kurdistan could be construed as interfering in the internal affairs of another country?’

‘By Christ, I do!’ said Tozier forcefully. ‘What the hell would you call it?’

‘I must admit you’ve convinced me,’ said Hellier regretfully. ‘Although I still think we could plead justification.’ He stared at Metcalfe. ‘Some of us, that is. Smuggling arms is quite another thing.’

‘Your opinion of me doesn’t matter a fart in a thunderstorm,’ said Metcalfe calmly. ‘Anything I do I carry the can for myself. And if I’m going to stay with this crowd you’d better keep your fat-headed opinions to your fat self.’

Hellier flushed. ‘I don’t know that I like your attitude.’

‘I don’t give a stuff if you like it or not.’ Metcalfe turned to Tozier. ‘Is this chap real or has someone invented him?’

Warren said sharply, ‘That’s enough. Shut up, Hellier; you don’t know enough about it to criticize. If Metcalfe wanted to take arms to the Kurds that’s his business.’

Metcalfe shrugged. ‘So I picked the wrong bunch of Kurds — that was a mistake which doesn’t alter the principle. Those boys have been having a rough time at the hands of the Iraqis and someone has to help them out.’

‘While making money at it,’ Hellier sneered.

‘The labourer is worthy of his hire,’ said Metcalfe. ‘I risk my skin doing it.’

Tozier stood up and looked at Hellier with dislike. ‘I don’t think we can do much more here, Tom — not with this bag of wind around.’

‘Yeah,’ said Follet, pushing back his chair. ‘It’s a bit stuffy in here.’

Warren’s voice was cutting. ‘Sit down, everybody.’ He looked at Hellier. ‘I think an apology is in order, Sir Robert.’

Hellier subsided and mumbled, ‘No offence meant. I’m sorry, Mr Metcalfe.’

Metcalfe merely nodded, and Tozier sat down. Warren said, ‘Let’s stick to the real issue. How do you suppose we should go about finding Abbot and Parker, Andy?’

‘Find Delorme and she’ll lead you there,’ said Tozier promptly.

‘I’ve been thinking a lot about this woman,’ said Warren. ‘You know more about her than anyone, Tom. What can you tell us that we don’t know?’

‘I’ve been wondering a bit myself,’ admitted Metcalfe. ‘There are some things about this lark that don’t add up. Jeanette is pretty good, but she’s never been a smash success. Everything she’s pulled off has made money, but the overheads are crippling, and I doubt if she has accumulated a lot of capital. All the time I’ve known her she’s been a big spender.’

‘What’s the point?’ asked Hellier.

‘How much opium did Fahrwaz collect in Iran?’

‘Twenty tons or more,’ said Warren.

‘There you are,’ said Metcalfe. ‘That’s worth a hell of a lot of boodle. Where would she get it?’

‘She wouldn’t need it,’ said Tozier. ‘Not the way she’s been working the deal. It was a straight swap for arms. She didn’t have to put up the money for the opium — Fahrwaz would — and it wouldn’t cost him a lot on his home ground and with his connections.’

‘I agree it was a barter transaction,’ said Metcalfe exasperatedly. ‘But I delivered half a million quids’ worth to Fahrwaz. That wasn’t the first consignment I’d pushed into Kurdistan. Where would Jeanette get half a million?’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Hellier, and scrabbled in his briefcase.

‘One of Abbot’s early reports said something about a banker.’ He flipped pages. ‘Here it is. She had lunch with a man called Fuad who was traced back to the Inter-East Bank.’ He picked up the telephone. ‘I could bear to know something more about him. I have good financial connections here.’

‘Don’t make it too obvious,’ warned Warren.

Hellier favoured him with a superior smile. ‘Give me the credit for knowing my own job. This is a perfectly normal financial enquiry — it’s done all the time.’

He spoke briefly into the telephone and listened for a long time. Then he said, ‘Yes, I’d like that; anything to do with him would be welcome. Directorships and so on especially. Thank you very much. Yes, I think I’ll be coming in later this week — we’re making a film here. I’ll ring you as soon as I’m settled and we must have lunch. You’ll send the dossier on Fuad immediately? Good.’

He put down the telephone and smiled broadly. ‘I thought Fuad might be the manager of Inter-East, but he’s not — he owns it. That makes this interesting.’

‘How?’ asked Warren.

Hellier smiled jovially. ‘You bank with the Midland, don’t you? When did you last take the Chairman of the Midland Bank to lunch?’

Warren grimaced. ‘I never have. I doubt if he knows I exist. I don’t swing the financial weight to create interest in such rarefied circles.’

‘And neither does Delorme, according to Metcalfe — and yet she lunches with Fuad who owns Inter-East.’ Hellier tented his fingers. ‘Banking in the Lebanon is conducted along lines which would cause grey hairs in the City of London. Ever since the spectacular fall of Intrabank the Lebanese government has been trying to clean up its financial image, but this man, Fuad, has been playing fast and loose with the proposed Code of Conduct. The rules by which he works are considered normal in the relaxed atmosphere of the Middle East, but it means that anyone who shakes hands with him had better count his fingers afterwards. My friend on the other end of that telephone keeps a permanent dossier on Fuad’s doings — just for his own safety. He’s sending it up to us.’

‘So you think he’s financing the whole deal,’ said Warren.

‘I think it’s likely,’ said Hellier. ‘We’ll know better when I study the dossier. It’s surprising what a list of directorships tell about a man.’

‘That’s one angle to be worked on,’ said Tozier. ‘But there’s another. The morphine has still to be converted into heroin. What are your views on that, Nick?’

‘They have to do it somewhere. It’s my bet they’ll do it here in Beirut.’

‘Without Speering?’

‘There are other chemists, and it’s not too difficult — not nearly as difficult as the extraction of morphine from opium. You acetylate the morphine and convert the base to hydrochloride. All you need are a lot of plastic buckets, and it requires as much chemical knowledge as you get in a sixth-form stinks class.’

They discussed it for a while and came up with no positive solution. Heroin could be made practically anywhere, and it was impossible to search the whole of Beirut or, possibly, the entire Lebanon.

Warren brought up the disappearance of Abbot and Parker. ‘If Delorme fell for the torpedo scheme, then Parker will be busy. I think that’s why they’re not in plain sight.’

‘Getting torpedoes would be no trouble to Jeanette,’ observed Metcalfe. ‘She’s been running arms all over the Mediterranean for quite a few years. But that brings up something else — she’ll need a ship. That cuts down the search area to the coast and the ports.’

‘Not much help,’ said Follet. ‘There are a lot of ships.’

The telephone rang and Hellier picked it up. ‘Send him up,’ he said. Presently there was a discreet knock at the door which Hellier answered, and he returned with a fat envelope. ‘The Fuad dossier,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what we can find.’

He pulled out the sheaf of typescript and studied it. After a while he said in disgust, ‘This man has the ethics of a Byzantine bazaar trader — he’s making a lot of money. He even runs a yacht — the Stella del Mare.’ He flipped the pages. ‘According to this list of directorships he has a finger in a lot of pies — hotels, restaurants, vineyards, a couple of farms, a shipyard...’ He looked up. ‘That might bear investigation in view of what we’ve been discussing.’

He made a note and continued. ‘A condiment and pickle factory, a garage, a general engineering works, housing developments...’

Warren broke in. ‘Say that again.’

‘Housing developments?’

‘No — something about a pickle factory.’

Hellier checked back. ‘Yes, sauces and pickles. He bought it quite recently. What about it?’

‘I’ll tell you,’ said Warren deliberately. ‘The acetylation of morphine makes a hell of a stink, and it’s exactly the same stink you find in a pickle factory. It’s the acetic acid; it smells just like vinegar,’

‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ said Tozier with satisfaction. ‘I suggest we split this lot up. Nick investigates the pickle factory — he’s the expert there. Johnny keeps tabs on Delorme, and I’ll help him with that if necessary. Tom takes the shipyard angle.’ He turned to Metcalfe. ‘You’d better steer clear of the woman. Fahrwaz will have been screaming blue murder and she must know about it by now, and of your implication.’

‘All right,’ said Metcalfe. ‘But I’ll want her later.’

‘You’ll get her,’ said Tozier grimly. ‘Sir Robert can keep digging into Fuad because that’s already paying dividends and might pay more. He’s also HQ staff — he stays here and we telephone in; he correlates the operation.’

II

Parker hummed happily as he prepared to tackle the last torpedo. He had been working long hours, eating bad food, and had been confined to the shed and its immediate vicinity for a long time, but he was supremely happy because he was doing the work he liked best of all. He was sorry the job was coming to an end for two reasons — the pleasurable part would be over and the really dangerous part beginning. But right now he was not thinking of what would happen on the other side of the Atlantic, but concentrating on opening the warhead.

Abbot was becoming increasingly edgy. He had not been able to get out of Jeanette anything concerning the operation on the American side. He badly wanted to know the place and the time, but that valuable information she kept to herself. He did not think that Eastman knew, either. Delorme played her cards very close to her beautiful chest.

Ever since the night he had taken her to the Paon Rouge he had been confined, like Parker, to the shed. He had seen a copy of the newspaper and knew that his advertisement trick had worked, but what good it would do he did not know. He frowned irritably and turned his head to see the Arab, Ali, leaning on the rail at the top of the stairs and watching him with unblinking brown eyes. That was another thing — this sense of being continually watched.

He became conscious of a sudden stillness in the workshop and looked at Parker who had his head down and was looking at the warhead. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Step over here,’ said Parker quietly.

He joined Parker and looked down at the warhead, and at Parker’s hands which trembled a little. Parker put down the tool he was holding. ‘Don’t make a scene,’ he said. ‘Don’t do anything that’ll attract the attention of that bloody Arab — but this thing is full.’

‘Full of what?’ asked Abbot stupidly.

‘TNT, you bloody fool. What do you suppose a warhead would be full of? There’s enough in here to blow this whole place a mile high.’

Abbot gulped. ‘But Eastman said they’d be delivered empty.’

‘Then this one got through by mistake,’ said Parker. ‘What’s more — it has a detonator in it which I’m hopin’ isn’t armed. It shouldn’t be armed, but then, it shouldn’t be there at all — an’ neither should the TNT. You’d better do your walkin’ around here very quietly until I take it out.’

Abbot looked at the warhead as though hypnotized, and Parker did the necessary operation very carefully. He laid the detonator on a bench. ‘That’s a bit better — but not much. I don’t know why this hasn’t blown before. To leave a detonator in a warhead is criminal, that’s what it is.’

‘Yes,’ said Abbot, and found himself sweating. ‘What do you mean — it’s not much better?’

‘TNT is right funny stuff,’ said Parker. ‘It goes sour with age. It’s not so stable any more. It becomes that sensitive it can explode on its own.’ He looked sideways at Abbot. ‘It’s best you don’t go near it, Mike.’

‘Don’t worry; I won’t.’ Automatically Abbot took a cigarette packet from his pocket, and then changed his mind at the unspoken look in Parker’s eyes. ‘No smoking, either, I suppose. What do we do about it?’

‘We get it out. In the service they’d steam it out an’ flush it away, but I want to hold on to this little lot — it could come in useful. I don’t want Ali to know about it, either.’

‘It’s hardly likely that he’d know,’ said Abbot. ‘He’s not a technical type. But Eastman might if he came in and saw what we were doing. What you want the stuff for, Dan?’

‘It’s in my mind that a torpedo ought to explode,’ said Parker. ‘That’s what it’s made for, an’ it don’t seem right it shouldn’t. When these fish are launched I want them to go off wi’ a bang. That this one is full o’ TNT is an act o’ providence to my way o’ thinkin’.’

Abbot thought of four torpedoes, each loaded with heroin worth $25,000,000 and each exploding on the American shore before the unbelieving eyes of the waiting reception committee. It would be a good ploy. ‘What about your weights? You’ve bitched about the difficulties often enough.’

Parker winked. ‘Never tell the whole truth. I’ve been keepin’ somethin’ in reserve.’

‘You have only one detonator.’

‘A good artificer can always make do,’ pronounced Parker. ‘But like as not I’ll probably blow us both to hell gettin’ the stuff out, so let’s leave that problem until later. It may never come up.’ He studied the warhead. ‘I’ll need some brass tools; I’ll start makin’ those up now.’

He went away, and Abbot, after looking at the warhead for some time, also left — walking very quietly.

Four days later Eastman surveyed the torpedoes with satisfaction. ‘So you reckon we’re ready to go, Dan,’

‘All ready,’ said Parker. ‘Bar loadin’ the warheads. Then you can stick the fish in the tubes an’ shoot.’

‘Putting that other tube in the Orestes improved her handling,’ said Eastman. ‘The skipper says she’s not as cranky.’

Parker smiled. ‘It equalized the turbulence. I’m ready to begin loadin’ if you’ve got the stuff.’

‘The boss is a bit worried about that,’ said Eastman. ‘She wants to do it herself — just to make sure.’

‘Well, she can’t — an’ that’s flat,’ said Parker abruptly. ‘It’s a tricky job. I have to see that the centre o’ gravity comes in the right place because if it doesn’t I can’t guarantee how the fish will behave. They have to be balanced just right.’

To have someone prying into the warheads was the last thing he wanted. ‘She can stand over me an’ watch while I do it,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t mind that.’

Abbot said, ‘Dan was telling me that if the balance isn’t right the torpedo might dive to the bottom.’

‘It would affect the steering, too,’ said Parker. ‘They’d be bloody erratic.’

‘Okay, okay,’ said Eastman, holding up his hands. ‘You’ve convinced me — as usual. Jeanette will be here pretty soon with the load for one fish. See if you can convince her.’

Jeanette took a lot of convincing but at last she agreed, bowing to the superior weight of technical know-how which Parker dazzlingly deployed. ‘As long as I’m here when you do it and the warhead is sealed,’ she said.

Abbot grinned. ‘You don’t trust us very much.’

‘Correct,’ she said coolly. ‘Help Jack to get the stuff in here.’

Abbot helped Eastman to haul a big cardboard box into the shed and down the stairs, and then they went back for another. Jeanette delicately tapped the box with a neatly shod foot. ‘Open it.’

Parker took a knife and ripped open the top of the box. It was full of polyethylene bags, all holding a white powder. ‘Those bags hold half a kilogram each,’ she said. ‘There are five hundred of them — one torpedo load.’

Parker straightened. ‘That’s not on. I said five hundred pounds — not two hundred and fifty kilos. I don’t know if I can do it — it’s fifty pounds over the odds.’

‘Just put it in,’ she said.

‘You don’t understand,’ he said exasperatedly. ‘I’ve balanced these torpedoes for a five hundred pound load. If you stick an extra ten per cent right at the nose it’s goin’ to alter the leverage arm — alter the centre o’ balance.’ He rubbed the side of his nose. ‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ he said doubtfully.

‘For another hundred thousand dollars?’ she asked. ‘Just for you. I won’t tell Abbot.’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll give it a go.’ He did not want to leave any heroin behind if he could help it, and it did not really matter a damn about the balance as far as he was concerned. He would make a song and dance about it and go through the motions, baffling her with science, just to avoid suspicion. ‘For another hundred thou’, you’re on.’

‘I thought you could do it,’ she said, and smiled.

He thought she was getting it cheaply. A further two hundred pounds of heroin worth $10,000,000 for a mere $100,000 — if he was ever paid at all. God, the profits to be made in this business!

Eastman and Abbot came back bearing another load, and Parker began to stow the packets into the warhead very carefully. ‘It’s a matter o’ density, too,’ he said. ‘This stuff isn’t as solid as TNT. It takes up more room, especially in these plastic packets.’

‘You’re sure the warhead is waterproof?’ demanded Jeanette.

‘You needn’t worry about that,’ he assured her. ‘It’s as tight as a duck’s arse.’

She looked mystified and Eastman chuckled. He began to poke about on the bench which was littered with tools and bits of metal. He picked up something and began to examine it, and Abbot froze as he saw it was one of the detonators Parker had been making up. ‘What’s this?’

Parker looked at it, and said casually, ‘Contact breaker for the “B” circuit. That one wasn’t working very well, so I made up another.’

Eastman tossed it in the air, caught it, and replaced it on the bench. ‘You’re pretty good with your hands, Dan. I think I could find you a good job over in the States.’

‘I wouldn’t mind that,’ said Parker. ‘Not if it pays as well as this one.’ He worked in silence for a long time with Jeanette hovering over him and peering over his shoulder. At last he said, ‘That’s the last packet. I’m surprised — I really am. I didn’t think we’d get ‘em all in. I’ll screw it down tight an’ you can put your seal on if you want to.’

He checked the heavily greased gasket and clamped the small hatch down, then said, ‘Get the block an’ tackle ready, Mike. We’ll couple it to the torpedo body an’ then it’ll be ready to go to the Orestes.’

The warhead was swayed up on the block and tackle and run across to the body where Parker bolted it down firmly. ‘There, miss,’ he said. ‘Are you happy wi’ that? I feel I ought to ask for a receipt, but I doubt I’d get it.’

‘I’m satisfied,’ she said. ‘Have it taken to the Orestes tonight, Jack. There’ll be another load tomorrow, Parker. The Orestes sails the morning after.’ She smiled at Abbot. ‘A nice sea cruise for all of us.’

III

Warren felt dispirited when they met in Hellier’s suite to compare notes. He had had an unproductive day. ‘The pickle factory is closed up tight as a drum. There’s a sign outside saying it’s closed for alterations.’

‘How do you know that’s what it said?’ asked Metcalfe. ‘Wasn’t the sign in Arabic script?’

‘I found someone to translate it into French,’ said Warren tiredly. ‘There was a bit of a vinegary smell, but not much. I didn’t see anyone go in or come out. It was a wasted day.’

‘I saw somebody go in,’ said Follet unexpectedly. ‘I followed the Delorme dame and she went in the back way. There was a guy with her — an American, I think — they spent about an hour there.’

‘It’s all linking up nicely,’ said Hellier, regarding Follet with approval. ‘This definitely ties up Delorme with Fuad. What about the shipyard?’

‘It’s not very big,’ said Metcalfe. ‘Impossible to get into, if you want to be unobtrusive about it. I didn’t see Jeanette at all. I hired a boat and had a look at the yard from the sea. Fuad’s yacht is anchored there, and there’s a scrubby old coaster flying the Panamanian flag — the Orestes, she’s called. That’s all. The yard itself looks run down; not many working types about, but plenty of toughs at the main gate.’

‘Perhaps it’s closed for alterations, too,’ said Tozier ironically. ‘If they’re ferrying millions of dollars’ worth of heroin about Beirut they’re going to be damned sure there’ll be no prying eyes at the staging points. It’s quite possible the Orestes is the ship we’re looking for. Could she make the Atlantic crossing?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Metcalfe. ‘She’s about three thousand tons. But there’s more. This afternoon a truck pitched up hauling a very long trailer. I couldn’t see what the trailer carried because it was covered with a tarpaulin, but it could very well have been a torpedo.’

‘I’m not so sure of this torpedo bit,’ said Warren. ‘Parker told me a torpedo can only carry about five hundred pounds, and we know there’s a ton to be smuggled.’ He frowned. ‘Even if Abbot and Parker scupper the first consignment that still leaves another three-quarters of a ton of heroin around. If the torpedo is sabotaged Delorme and her gang will go to ground and we’ll be worse off than we are now.’

‘If Jeanette can get one torpedo — which she can — then she can get four,’ said Metcalfe. ‘I know Jeanette — she’s a go-for-broke type, and if she’s convinced that a torpedo will do the trick she’ll go for it wholeheartedly.’

‘That’s all very well,’ said Warren. ‘But we don’t even know if Parker sold her on the idea.’

‘Ah, but I have more,’ said Metcalfe. ‘When the truck and trailer came out of the shipyard I followed it. It went to another place on the coast which was also locked up tight and the very devil to observe. But I paid a lot of money for the use of an attic from which I could see about a quarter of what’s on the other side of the wall. There was an Arab who is apparently some kind of caretaker; there’s a shortish man with broad shoulders — very muscular — and who walks with a slight limp...’

‘Parker!’ said Warren.

‘...and there’s a tall young chap with fair hair. Would that be Abbot?’

Warren nodded. ‘It matches him.’

‘A car came in once, stayed a few minutes and drove away again. It brought a tall man with a beaky nose and hair receding at the temples.’

‘That sounds like the guy who was with the Delorme dame,’ said Follet. ‘Was it a black Mercedes?’

Metcalfe nodded, and Hellier said, ‘I think it’s quite clear we’re all moving in the right direction. The point is — what do we do now?’

‘I think Parker and Abbot are in a very dangerous position,’ said Warren.

‘And that’s an understatement.’ Metcalfe snorted. ‘Suppose the ship sails and the torpedoes don’t work because Parker has sabotaged them. Jeanette is going to be as mad as a hornet. Nobody loses that much money and stays civilized, and she’s a touchy girl at the best of times. Parker and Abbot will get the chop — they’ll go over the side of the Orestes and no one will ever hear of them again.’ He brooded. ‘Come to that, they might get the chop even if the torpedoes are successful. Jeanette has a passion for covering up her tracks.’

Tozier said, ‘Nick, I’m very much afraid you’ve boobed. This torpedo trick is all right as far as it goes, but you didn’t think it through. It’s all very well being in a position to dump the heroin, but what about Abbot and Parker?’

‘I think the point at issue here is very simple,’ said Hellier. ‘Do we attack the pickle factory or the ship?’

‘Not the pickle factory,’ said Warren instantly. ‘Supposing they’ve moved some of the heroin out already? Even if we attack the factory there’ll still be some of the stuff on the loose. I favour the ship where we’ll have a chance of scooping the pool and getting the lot.’

‘And of rescuing Parker and Abbot,’ pointed out Hellier.

‘That means attacking just before she sails,’ said Tozier meditatively. ‘And we don’t know when that will be.’

‘Or whether she’ll be carrying the whole consignment,’ said Metcalfe. ‘We still don’t know enough.’

‘If only I could talk to Abbot for just five minutes,’ said Warren.

Metcalfe snapped his fingers. ‘You say Parker was in the Navy. Is there any chance he’d understand Morse?’

‘It’s possible,’ said Warren. ‘It may even be probable.’

‘That attic I was in faces the setting sun,’ said Metcalfe, ‘I had the devil of a job because the sun got in my eyes. But it opens up possibilities and all I need is a mirror. I could heliograph.’

Warren’s lips tightened. ‘Unobtrusively, I hope.’

‘I’ll watch it,’ said Metcalfe seriously.

The conference broke up. Warren was to back up Metcalfe, and Tozier and Follet were to concentrate on the shipyard, looking for a weak spot. Hellier stayed behind to coordinate.

Warren discussed the plan with Metcalfe, then said, ‘I’d like to ask you a personal question.’

‘That’s all right, as long as you don’t expect an honest answer.’

‘You puzzle me, Metcalfe. You don’t believe much in law and order, do you? And yet you’re dead against dope. Why?’

Metcalfe stopped smiling. ‘That’s none of your business,’ he said stiffly.

‘Under the present circumstances I think it is,’ said Warren carefully.

‘Maybe you have a point,’ conceded Metcalfe. ‘You’re afraid I might run off with the loot and diddle you all.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I would, too, if it wasn’t dope; there’s a hell of a lot of money involved. Let’s just say that I once had a younger brother and leave it at that, shall we?’

‘I see,’ said Warren slowly.

‘Maybe you do — you’re in the business yourself, so Andy tells me. As for law and order, I believe in it as much as the next man, but if the poor bloody Kurds want to fight for the right to live like men then I’m prepared to transport their guns.’

‘You seem to have the same point of view as Andy Tozier.’

‘Andy and I get along with each other very well,’ said Metcalfe. ‘But let me give you a bit of advice, Nick; don’t go about asking people personal questions — not anywhere east of Marseilles. It’s an easy way to get seriously — and permanently — damaged.’

IV

Dan Parker sat on the stool by the bench and contemplated the one remaining torpedo. The late afternoon sun flooded the shed and his work was nearly done. Two torpedoes had been filled and taken away that morning, and this last one was to leave in a very few hours. He felt tired and a little depressed and he was acutely worried about the next stage of the adventure.

Back in London he had left his wife and his sons and he wondered if he would ever see them again. He had no illusions about what would happen on the other side of the Atlantic when four torpedoes exploded on a quiet shore and a major fortune went to destruction. He would, quite simply, be killed and he could see no way of avoiding it. His life had been at risk before, but in the random way of war; never in the cold-blooded manner which he now faced.

He blinked as a stray beam of light flickered across the bench, and pondered on possible ways out of the gruesome situation he and Abbot found themselves in. They could not attempt to escape in Beirut because that would be an immediate tip-off that there was something wrong with the torpedoes and the whole dangerous operation would have gone for nothing. Delorme would cut her losses and revert to whatever plans she had originally conceived. So there was nothing for it but to board the Orestes next day and hope for the best.

Something niggled at the back of his mind, something which was striving to express itself — something to do with himself, with his own... name? He frowned and tried to pin it down. What was it? What was it about the name of Parker that should be so important? He tensed as the light flickered again across the bench because he was suddenly aware that it was spelling his name out — over and over again.

He got up casually and walked over to Ali who was squatting at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Hey, Ali, you bloody scoundrel; go to the office an’ get me some cigarettes. Got that? Cigarettes.’ He mimed the action of lighting a cigarette and pointed up the stairs.

Abbot said, ‘I’ve got some here, Dan.’

Without turning, Parker said briefly, ‘They’re not my brand. Get crackin’, you damned heathen!’

Ali nodded and went up the stairs. As soon as he had left the shed Parker whirled around. ‘Get up there an’ stop him comin’ back — I don’t care how you do it but keep him out o’ this shed. Have an attack o’ bellyache in the yard — anythin’!’ Abbot nodded and ran up the stairs, prodded into unquestioning action by the authoritative rasp in Parker’s voice. He did not know why Parker wanted this but the tone of urgency was unmistakable. Parker returned to the bench Where the light still flickered and studied it for a moment. Then he traced an imaginary line to the window through which it struck. He bent down and the light struck him full in the face and steadied so that he was blinded. He brought up his hand before his face in the thumbs-up sign and then stepped aside.

The light remained steady on the bench for a moment and then began to flicker again and to spell out words in Morse rather slowly. Warren here... questions coming... flash light one for yes... two for no... got that...

Parker took the trouble-shooting lamp which was on a long lead and set it up facing the window. He flashed it once. The reflected light from outside steadied momentarily on the bench and began again... is torpedo working...

Parker paused. He took that to mean: Is the method of smuggling to be by torpedo? He flashed once.

...how many... one...

Two flashes.

...four...

One flash.

...by Orestes...

One flash.

...when... next week...

Two flashes.

...tomorrow...

One flash.

Metcalfe, up in the attic, checked his prepared question list into which he had put a great deal of thought. He had used Warren’s name because he himself was unknown to Parker, and he had to get the maximum information in the minimum time for Parker’s safety. It was rather like playing the game of Twenty Questions. He flashed the next question which was all important.

...is all dope going... repeat... all...

One flash.

...are you and Abbot going...

One flash.

...do you want rescue...

The faint light in the shed flickered wildly and Metcalfe guessed that Parker was trying to send Morse. It was unreadable because the light was so faint and the sun in his eyes so strong. He let his light remain steady until Parker stopped, then hesitated as he saw the Arab come into view from the office. He was relieved to see Abbot step forward and waylay the Arab. Abbot pointed away from the shed and the two men went back into the office.

Metcalfe steadied the mirror again.

...check where I am... can you flash Morse up here at night...

One flash.

...will be here all night... good luck...

The light steadied on the bench once more and then abruptly vanished. Parker took his hand from the switch and sighed. He walked to the window and looked up at the faraway building from which the signals had come; the setting sun gleamed redly on a single pane of glass set in the roof. His depression was gone — he and Abbot were no longer alone.

He climbed the stairs and went to the door of the shed. ‘Where are those bloody cigarettes?’ he roared.

V

Hellier had chartered a fast cruiser which lay in the yacht harbour and they gathered there early in the morning for a conference. Follet helped Metcalfe lift aboard the heavy suitcase he carried, then they all sat around the table in the saloon. Tozier said, ‘Are you sure the Orestes is due to sail at nine, Tom?’

‘That’s what Parker signalled. We had quite a long chat.’

‘What are his views?’ asked Tozier.

‘He doesn’t want to be rescued from the shed. He and Abbot could get out themselves if they wanted to — just knock that Arab on the head and blow. But that would give the game away.’

Tozier consulted his watch. ‘It’s seven now. We don’t have much time to make up our minds. Do we hit her before she sails — in the shipyard — or when she’s at sea?’

‘It must be before she sails,’ said Metcalfe positively. ‘We’d never get aboard her at sea. The skipper isn’t going to heave to and roll out a red carpet for us — not with Eastman looking on.’

‘Let me get this straight,’ said Hellier. ‘Eastman is sailing in the Orestes with Parker and Abbot. The Delorme woman is staying in Beirut.’

‘Not for long,’ said Warren. ‘Parker says that she and Fuao are following in the yacht — going for a cruise in the Caribbean, that’s the story. He reckons they’ll scuttle the Orestes after getting rid of the torpedoes — those torpedo tubes are evidence and they daren’t let the Orestes put into port where she’ll be given a going over by Customs officers. The Stella del Mare will be standing by to take off the crew.’

‘Maybe,’ said Metcalfe cynically. ‘Some of the crew, perhaps. I told you that Jeanette likes to cover up her tracks.’

‘So it’s the shipyard,’ said Tozier. ‘I suggest we hit them just before the Orestes is due to sail. We take over the ship and get her out to sea where we can dump the torpedoes. After that we beach her somewhere and split up.’

‘We ought to surprise them,’ said Metcalfe. ‘We’ll be coming in from the sea. They’re typical landlubbers and their guards are on the landward side, at the gates. But it’s got to be slick and fast.’ He gestured to Follet. ‘Open the case, Johnny.’

Follet opened the suitcase and began to lay the contents on the table. ‘I contacted some of my pals,’ said Metcalfe, as the guns were laid out one by one. ‘I thought we’d need these. Jeanette isn’t the only one with access to weapons.’ He grinned at Hellier. ‘You’ll get the bills later.’

Tozier picked up a sub-machine-gun. ‘This is for me. What’s the ammo situation?’

‘There’ll be enough if you don’t pop off into the air, but it’ll be best if we don’t have to use them at all. Guns are noisy, and we don’t want the port police chasing us.’ He waved at the table. ‘What’s your fancy, Nick?’

Warren stared at the collection of pistols. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve never used a gun. I don’t think I could hit anything.’

Follet picked up a pistol and worked the action. ‘You’d better have one, even if it’s just to point; otherwise you might find your ass in a sling.’

Hellier reached over. ‘I think I’ll have this one. Not that I’ve had much practice. I was in the Artillery and that was too long ago.’

Metcalfe raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you coming?’

‘Of course,’ said Hellier calmly. ‘Is there any reason why not?’

Metcalfe shrugged. ‘None at all. But I thought you’d be one of the back-room boys.’

Hellier glanced at Warren. ‘It’s partly my fault that Abbot and Parker are where they are. A long time ago I told Warren I wanted blood; I’m quite prepared to pay for it myself.’

Warren looked at the single pistol on the table. ‘I’ll show you how to handle it, Nick,’ said Follet. ‘We’ll have time enough for a run-down.’

Slowly Warren stetched out his hand and picked up the pistol, feeling the unaccustomed weight of the blued metal. ‘All right, Johnny,’ he said. ‘Show me how,’