Circus

  ‘I’ve seen him. Your steward?’

  ‘Mr Wrinfield’s.’

  Bruno was momentarily thoughtful, then appeared to lose interest. He raised his glass. ‘I’d like to see you after dinner. Your cabin, if you please.’

  She raised her glass and smiled. ‘And your good health, too.’

  Dinner over, Bruno and Maria made no secret of the fact that they were leaving together. This was commonplace, now, and no longer called for the raised eyebrow. Some twenty seconds after the departure Henry rose and sauntered from the dining saloon, leaving by the opposite door. Once outside he quickened his pace, crossed over to the other side, moved aft, descended a companionway and reached the passenger accommodation. Bruno and Maria were about fifty feet ahead of him. Henry moved in behind the companionway and stood in shadow.

  Almost at once a figure emerged, or partially emerged from a side passage about twenty feet away on the left. He peered along the main passageway, saw Bruno and Maria and quickly withdrew into cover again but not so quickly that Henry couldn’t recognize him. It was, unmistakably, Wherry. Henry experienced a very considerable degree of self-satisfaction.

  Wherry ventured another look. Bruno and Maria were just disappearing round a corner to their left. Wherry moved out and followed them. Henry waited until he, too, had disappeared from sight, then moved out in stealthy pursuit. He reached the left-hand corner on soundless tip-toes, glanced round with one eye then immediately moved back into cover again. Wherry was less than six paces away, looking down a right-hand corridor. Henry didn’t have to be told what Wherry was looking at – Maria’s cabin was the fourth door down. When he looked again Wherry had vanished. Henry moved, took up the position Wherry had so recently occupied and did some more head-poking. Wherry was engaged in the undignified occupation of pressing his right ear hard against a cabin door. Maria’s cabin. Henry drew back and waited. He was in no hurry.

  Henry let thirty seconds pass then risked another look. The passageway was empty. Without haste Henry walked along the corridor, passed Maria’s cabin – he could hear the soft murmur of voices – reached the end and dropped down another companionway. He hadn’t spent two days so zealously – and, as he imagined, so unobtrusively – trailing Wherry without discovering where Wherry’s quarters were. That that was where he had gone Henry did not for a moment doubt.

  Henry was right. Wherry had indeed gone to his cabin and was apparently so confident of himself that he had even left the door ajar. That there may have been some other reason for this apparent carelessness did not occur to Henry. Wherry was sitting with his back three-quarters turned to him, a pair of earphones, the lead of which led to a radio, clamped over his head. There was nothing unusual in this; Wherry, as did all stewards, doubled up with one of his mates, and as they were frequently on different shifts and slept at different times, the earphones insured that one could listen to the radio without disturbing the other’s sleep: it was standard practice on this and most passenger ships.

  Maria sat on her cabin bed and stared at Bruno in shocked disbelief. Her face was drained of colour, leaving the eyes preternaturally huge. She said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper: ‘This is mad! It’s crazy! It’s suicidal!’

  ‘It’s all of that and a good deal else besides. But you have to appreciate that Dr Harper is in an impossible spot. As ideas go, it was an ingenious one, a desperate ingenuity, mind you, but there were no other options open to him, at least none that he could see.’

  ‘Bruno!’ She’d slipped off the bed and was on her knees beside his armchair, his left hand in both of hers; there was fear in her face and Bruno was uncomfortably aware that it wasn’t fear for herself. ‘You’ll be killed, you know you’ll be killed. Don’t. Please, don’t! No, Bruno. Nothing’s worth your life, nothing! Oh, God, there isn’t even a chance.’

  He looked at her in mild surprise. ‘And all the time I thought you were a tough young CIA agent.’

  ‘Well, I’m not. Tough I mean.’ There was a sheen of tears in her eyes.

  Almost absently, he stroked her hair. Her face was averted. ‘There might be another way, Maria.’

  ‘There can’t be another way.’

  ‘Look.’ With his free hand he swiftly sketched a diagram. ‘Let’s forget entrance via the power cable. The fact that those windows are barred may yet be the saving of us – well, me, anyway. I propose to get to this lane to the south of the research building. I’ll take with me a length of rope with a padded hook at one end. A couple of casts and I should catch a bar on a first-floor window. I haul myself up to the first floor, unhook the rope, repeat the process and reach the second floor. And so on until I get to the top.’

  ‘Yes?’ The scepticism now in her face hadn’t replaced the fear, merely redoubled it. ‘And then?’

  ‘I’ll find some way of silencing the guard or guards in the corner tower.’

  ‘What is it, Bruno? What drives you? You are a driven man, don’t you know that? You don’t work for the CIA and this damnable anti-matter can’t mean all the world to you. Yet I know – I don’t think – I know you’re willing to die to get inside that damnable prison. Why, Bruno, why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She couldn’t see his face but for a moment it was disturbed, almost wary. ‘Perhaps you’d best go and ask the shades of Pilgrim and Fawcett.’

  ‘What are they to you? You hardly knew them.’ He made no reply. She went on wearily: ‘So you’re going to silence the guards. How are you going to find a way of silencing two thousand volts of steel fencing?’

  ‘I’ll find a way, not by putting it out of action – that’s impossible – but by by-passing it. But I’m going to need your co-operation and you might end up in prison.’

  ‘What kind of co-operation?’ Her voice was toneless. ‘And what’s prison if you’re dead?’

  Henry heard those words. Wherry had taken off his earphones to find some cigarettes and the conversation from Maria’s cabin, faint and tinny and distorted though it was, was understandable and unmistakable. Henry craned his head a bit more and saw that the radio was not the only piece of electrical equipment in the cabin. There was a small tape recorder on the deck with both spools slowly turning.

  Wherry found his cigarettes, lit one, resumed his seat, picked up the phones and was about to replace them on his head when Henry pushed the door wide and stepped inside. Wherry swung round, his eyes wide.

  Henry said: ‘I’d like to have that recorder if you don’t mind, Wherry.’

  ‘Mr Wrinfield!’

  ‘Yes, Mr Wrinfield. Surprised? The recorder, Wherry.’ Involuntarily, as it seemed, Wherry switched his glance to a spot above Henry’s left shoulder and Henry laughed. ‘Sorry, Wherry, but that’s been done before.’

  Henry heard the last sound he was ever to hear, an almost soundless swish in the air behind him. His ears registered it for the fleeting fraction of a second but his body had no time to react. His legs crumpled and Wherry caught him just as he struck the deck.

  ‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Maria’s voice was still colourless, without expression. ‘What’s prison, what’s anything, if you’re dead? Can’t you think of me? All right, all right, so I’m being selfish, but can’t you think of me?’

  ‘Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!’ He’d intended his voice to be harsh or at least cold but it sounded neither harsh nor cold to him. ‘We arrive in Crau on a Thursday and leave on the following Wednesday – it’s the longest stop-over on the tour. We have shows Friday, Saturday, Monday and Tuesday. Sunday is free. So on Sunday we hire a car and have ourselves a little excursion into the country. I don’t know how far we’ll be allowed to go, I believe restrictions have been relaxed, but it doesn’t matter. We can always travel around in ever narrowing circles. What does matter – and this will have to be after dusk – is that on the way back we reconnoitre Lubylan and see if they have guards patrolling outside. If there are, I’ll need your help.’

  ‘Please give up this crazy idea, Bruno. Please.’


  ‘When I’m climbing up the south side of the research building you’ll be standing at the corner of the south lane and the main west street. This, I didn’t mention, will be after the last show on Tuesday night. The hired car, which I trust will be comprehensively insured, will be parked a few feet away in the main street. The windows will be open and you’ll have a small can of gasoline ready on the front seat. If you see a guard approaching, reach for the can, pour some fuel, not too much, on the front and rear upholstery, throw in a lighted match and stand smartly back. This will not only distract all attention but also the blaze will cast such a heavy shadow round the corner that I should be able to climb in almost complete darkness. I’m afraid you could be caught and questioned but the combination of Mr Wrinfield and Dr Harper should secure your release.’ He considered this for a moment. ‘On the other hand it may not.’

  ‘You’re quite mad. Quite.’

  ‘Too late to change my spots.’ He stood up and she with him. ‘Must get in touch with Dr Harper now.’

  She reached up and locked her fingers round the back of his neck. Her voice reflected the misery in her face.

  ‘Please. Please, Bruno. Just for me. Please.’

  He put his hands on her forearms but not to pull the fingers apart. He said: ‘Look, my ladylove, we’re only supposed to be falling in love.’ His voice was gentle. ‘This way there’s a chance.’

  She said dully: ‘Either way you’re a dead man.’

  Halfway to his stateroom Bruno found a phone and called Dr Harper. Harper was eventually located in the dining saloon. Bruno said: ‘My ankle’s acting up again.’

  ‘Ten minutes and I’ll be across.’

  And in ten minutes’ time Harper was in the stateroom as promised. He made free of Bruno’s liquor cabinet, made himself at armchair ease and heard out Bruno’s account of his conversation with Maria. At the end, and after due thought, he said: ‘I’d say it gives you at least a fighting chance. Better than mine, I must admit. When do you propose to carry this into effect?’

  ‘The final decision is, of course, yours. I’d thought of making the reconnaissance on Sunday and making the entry on Tuesday night. Late Tuesday night. That seems like the best plan, the best time, for we will be leaving the following day and that will give the police less time for ques tioning if questioning there will be.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘If we have to make a break for it – you have escape plans?’

  ‘We have. But they’re not finalized yet. I’ll let you know when they are.’

  ‘Coming via your little transceiver? Remember you promised to show me that some time.’

  ‘I shall. I’ve got to – I told you. I’ll do three things at one time, show you the transceiver, give you the guns and give you the escape plans. I’ll let you know when. What does Maria think of your idea?’

  ‘A marked lack of enthusiasm. But then she was hardly over the moon about yours either. But, however unwillingly, she’ll co-operate.’ Bruno stopped and looked around him in some puzzlement.

  Harper said: ‘Something’s wrong?’

  ‘Not necessarily wrong. But the ship’s slowing down. Can’t you hear it? Can’t you feel it? The engine revolutions have dropped right away. Why should a ship stop – well, anyway, slow down – in the middle of the Mediterranean? Well, I suppose we’ll find out in good enough time.’

  They found out immediately. The door was unceremoniously thrown open, with a force sufficient to send it juddering on its hinges. Tesco Wrinfield almost ran into the room.

  His face was grey, his breathing heavy and short at the same time. He said: ‘Henry’s missing. He’s missing! We can’t find him anywhere.’

  Bruno said: ‘Is that why the Carpentaria is slowing down?’

  ‘We’ve been searching everywhere.’ He gulped down the glass of brandy which Harper had handed to him. ‘The crew has searched, is still searching everywhere. There’s just no trace of him. Vanished, just vanished.’

  Harper was soothing. He glanced at his watch. ‘Come on, now, Mr Wrinfield, that couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes ago. And this is a very big ship.’

  ‘With a very big crew,’ Bruno said. ‘They have a standardized routine for this sort of thing – searching for a missing passenger, that is. From the lifeboats to the hold they can cover every conceivable area in less time than you would believe possible.’ He turned to the distraught Wrinfield. ‘Sorry I can’t offer you any comfort, sir – but is the captain slowing down so as not to get too far away from the place where your nephew may have fallen overboard?’

  ‘I think so.’ Wrinfield listened. ‘We’re picking up speed, aren’t we?’

  ‘And turning,’ Bruno said. ‘I’m afraid that means, sir, that the captain is pretty sure that Henry is not aboard. He’ll be taking the Carpentaria through a hundred and eighty degrees and tracking back the way we came. If Henry is overboard he may well be swimming or afloat. This sort of thing has happened before: there’s always a chance, Mr Wrinfield.’

  Wrinfield looked at him with distraught disbelief on his face and Bruno did not blame him: he didn’t believe it himself either.

  They went on deck. The Carpentaria, retracing the course it had come, was making perhaps ten knots, no more. A motorized lifeboat, already manned, was swung out on its davits. Two powerful searchlights, one on either wing of the bridge, shone straight ahead. In the bows two seamen directed the beams of their portable searchlights almost vertically downwards. A little farther aft two seamen on either side waited with rope-attached and illuminated lifebelts. Beyond them still, rope-ladders, picked out in the beams of torches, hung over the side.

  Twenty minutes of steadily mounting tension and dwindling hope passed. Wrinfield abruptly left his two companions and made his way to the bridge. He found the master on the starboard wing, binoculars to his eyes. He lowered them as Wrinfield came by his side and shook his head slowly.

  He said: ‘Your nephew is not on the ship, Mr Wrinfield. That is for certain.’ The captain looked at his watch. ‘It is now thirty-eight minutes since your nephew was last seen. We are now at the precise spot where we were thirty-eight minutes ago. If he is alive – I’m sorry to be so blunt, sir – he cannot be beyond this point.’

  ‘We could have missed him?’

  ‘Most unlikely. Calm sea, windless night, no currents hereabouts worth speaking of and the Mediterranean, as you know, is virtually tideless. He would have been on the line we have taken.’ He spoke to an officer by his side: the man disappeared inside the bridge.

  Wrinfield said: ‘And what now?’

  ‘We’ll take her round in a tight circle. Then in widening concentric circles, three, maybe four. Then, if we turn up nothing, we go back at the same speed to the spot where we turned.’

  ‘And that will be it?’

  ‘That, I’m afraid, will be it.’

  ‘You are not very hopeful, Captain.’

  ‘I am not very hopeful.’

  It took the Carpentaria forty minutes to complete the search pattern and return to the position where she had turned round. Maria, standing with Bruno in the shadow of a lifeboat, shivered as the throb of the engines deepened and the Carpentaria began to pick up speed.

  She said: ‘That’s it, then, isn’t it?’

  ‘The searchlights have gone out.’

  ‘And it’s my fault. It’s my fault.’ Her voice was husky.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ He put his arm round her. ‘There’s no way this could have been prevented.’

  ‘It could! It could! I didn’t take him seriously enough. I – well, I didn’t quite laugh at him – but, well, I didn’t listen to him either. I should have told you two days ago.’ She was openly weeping now. ‘Or Dr Harper. He was such a nice person.’

  Bruno heard the word ‘was’ and knew she had finally accepted what he himself had accepted an hour ago. He said gently: ‘It would be nice if you spoke to Mr Wrinfield.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course.
But – well, I don’t want to see people. Couldn’t we – I don’t like asking, but if he could come here – if you could bring him and – ’

  ‘Not on your sweet life, Maria. You’re not staying here alone.’

  He sensed her staring at him in the darkness. She whispered: ‘Do you think that someone – ’

  ‘I don’t know what to think because I don’t know how or why Henry died. All I’m certain of is it was no accident: he died because he found out that someone was too interested in you and because he must have made the mistake of finding out too much. I’ve been asking one or two questions. Apparently he left the dining saloon just after we did. He left by another door but I suppose he wanted to avoid any obvious connection. I’m sure he wasn’t directly following us – he may have taken a dim view of my association with you, but he was straight, honest and the last peeping Tom one could imagine. I think he was acting in his self-appointed guardian role. I think he was checking to see if anyone was following or watching us – Henry had a romantic streak and this sort of thing would have appealed to him. I can only assume that he did indeed find some such person, and that that person – or another person, God only knows how many unpleasant characters there may be aboard – found Henry in a highly compromising situation. Compromising to the villains, I mean. But that doesn’t alter the fact that the primary object of attention was you. Just bear in mind that you can’t swim very far if the back of your head has been knocked in in advance.’ He produced a handkerchief and carried out running repairs to the tear-stained face. ‘You come along with me.’

  As they walked along the boat-deck they passed and greeted Roebuck. Bruno made an unobtrusive follow-me gesture with his hand. Roebuck stopped, turned and sauntered along about ten paces behind them.