Cargo for the Styx (10 page)

C
LIFT HAD
told the truth. Vann was at the wheel on the flying bridge. He had an arsenal, all right. I could see the muzzle of a rifle propped against the railing in front of him. I didn’t have to guess to know that he’d have a gun or two on him.

He had something else to keep him company. Aggie Minos. He stood at the rail, his back to me, facing Vann. From my position on the deck, I could barely see the ropes that held Aggie to the rail.

I couldn’t see Irma at all.

I moved forward and into the lounge. It was lighted as if Vann was getting ready for a party. It was empty. I went on to the mess and through it to the galley. I found a long, thin-bladed knife. I put it in my belt.

I tried the door to Clift’s cabin. Vann was smart. He’d locked it. He’d locked the way to the bridge except for the outside approach. And that he had nicely covered.

I wondered if Irma was in the cabin.

I went out on deck again and stood in shadow against the cabin. Behind me I could see the faint glow that marked LaPlaya. We were making a good thirteen knots, I judged. And we were heading southwest. I wondered how much time Vann had left to get himself and Otho off the
Temoc
before she blew. My watch said that I had fifteen and a half minutes of the thirty minutes Jaspar had given me.

I could wait here until Vann came down and then try to take him. If he gave himself five minutes to get clear of the boat, then I would have that five minutes to try to pull Otho’s dynamite from the forward hold. If I took Vann without wasting time. And if Vann gave me five minutes.

It wasn’t enough leeway. And that left me with no choice. I had to get up on the bridge. I had to take Vann there.

I slid along the side of the cabin. I stopped directly under the spot where Aggie was tied. I tilted my head. I could see the cords around his wrists and the rope about his waist. Even in the dark, I could see Otho’s touch with knots. Aggie’s hands were working; he wasn’t getting any place.

I could see two hand holds above me. If I could get them both and find a spot for my foot, I could come almost within arm’s reach of Aggie. Almost but not quite. I’d need to move upward another two feet. And that would put my head where Vann could see it.

It was a risk I had to take. My watch showed me that I’d lost another three and a half minutes; I had twelve left.

I started upward. With my head. level with the deck of the bridge, I reached as high as I could go. I held the knife by the tip of the handle. The point of the blade flicked six inches from Aggie’s wrist ropes.

I pulled myself up one more notch. Now I could see Vann clearly. He had the wheel lashed. He leaned against it casually. He was smoking a cigarette. Now and then he held his watch under the binnacle light.

I put the edge of my knife against Aggie’s ropes. I sawed once, twice. Vann’s eyes came away from his watch. He looked at Aggie. He said, “It’s about time. You should have come in with me, Minos. You and that dizzy Wilson dame could have saved yourselves a lot of …” His voice folded up.

I felt a strand of rope part. I saw Vann’s eyes moving off Aggie. His hand moved. I opened my fingers and pushed backwards with my feet. The sound of Vann’s gun beat the sound of my hitting the deck by a fraction of a second.

I rolled up against the cabin wall. Vann leaned over above me. He shot straight down. I heard the bullet scour wood. I ran, twisting. He shot twice more. Then I was behind the starboard lifeboat.

He screamed at me, “Where’s Otho?”

I said, “Go aft and find him.” I took a deep breath. I yelled, “You’ve had it, Vann. You’ll never get off here, not in ten minutes.”

He didn’t answer me. I heard the diesels drop their beat as he cut the throttle back. Soon we were barely making way against the swells. Then I heard his feet coming down from the bridge.

I waited until they stopped clopping on metal and touched the wood of the deck. Then I ran. I sprinted aft and across the afterdeck to the portside of the main cabin. There was no shot this time. Vann was holding his fire, waiting for the good chance.

He stopped running. I let shadow beside the port lifeboat suck me into darkness. I peered back. Vann was standing in the open, his gun ready. He had the rifle now and he was waiting for me. He had a clear view forward and of the approach to the bridge.

I called, “You can’t wait this one out, Vann. Seven minutes. Count them.”

“You crazy fool!” he screamed at me. “You’ll blow us all up.”

I just laughed. There wasn’t anything left for me to do. If I tried to get forward, Vann’s rifle would stop me. If I waited this out, Otho’s dynamite would take care of everything.

I said, “Six minutes, Vann. What does your watch say?”

He snapped a shot in the direction of my voice. It splintered wood off the bow of the lifeboat.

I shouted, “Which boat were you going to lower, Vann? This one? Well, come on. It takes time to get a boat in the water.”

He shot again. He began to curse me but stopped. He had sense enough to know that he couldn’t swear and think at the same time.

I said, “Five minutes, Vann.”

He said, “I’ll make a deal, Zane. We’ll put that boat in the water and get out of here. We’ll split the take.”

I said, “I know a better deal. You go forward and pull that dynamite. Then you can take the boat and make a run for it.”

He yelled at me, “There isn’t time.”

I said, “You’ve got four minutes.”

I lifted my wrist and squinted at my watch. My mouth was dry. I read six and a half minutes. I was counting on Vann not checking the time. I was counting on breaking him with two minutes and a half to spare.

I wondered if I could get into the forward hold and find Otho’s dynamite in a hundred and fifty seconds.

I said, “Three minutes, Vann.”

“What do you want, Zane? Name it and it’s yours.”

I said, “I want your rifle, your guns. I’ll toss out my knife. The winner takes the boat.”

I counted off ten precious seconds while he thought about that. Vann was a boxer; he was proud of his way of using his fists. He just might buy. I said, “Two and a half minutes, Vann.”

The rifle clattered onto the deck. It slid to where I could see it. The boat heeled a little and the rifle slid to the scuppers.

I said, “Your gun.”

A gun followed the rifle. I said, “The other gun.”

“You’re crazy. I haven’t got—”

I said, “Two minutes, Vann.”

A second gun clattered to the deck. I tossed my knife at it. The blade hit the gun. They slid together after the rifle. I stepped out of shadow.

Vann was almost on me. He’d slipped off his shoes so I couldn’t hear him. I tried to turn. My leather sole scraped on the deck, started to slip. Vann’s left caught me in the throat. I went backward, against the lifeboat.

He had his lips pulled back over his teeth. His eyes caught moonlight and reflected back madness at me. He rushed as if he could beat away the ticking seconds with his fists.

I let him hit me twice, once over the heart, once on the forearm. He was in close. My head was wobbling. He had me set up. He pulled back his left for the climax punch.

He straightened up. I reached out and got my hands on him. I had thirty pounds to give away. I used them to rush him back against the cabin wall. I had my hands around his waist. His fists kept drumming on top of my head. After his back hit the wall, after I heard the snap of his spine, his hands still moved.

I dropped him. I ran forward. I tripped over the hatch cover. I could hear my own breath rattling in my throat. I forced myself to stop clawing at the hatch. I got the cover loose and jerked it free. I squinted down into the dimly lighted hold. The ladder lay on the deck.

I slid over the side of the hatch. I hung by my hands and dropped. I felt an ankle turn. I went to my knees. I stayed there, looking around. I remembered where Otho had planted dynamite aft. I tried to think where the best spot would be to blow a hole in the hull here, forward.

I tried to stand. My ankle gave and I went to my knees again. I walked that way, like a man without feet. I tunneled my way forward to the bow. There was no light here. Stacks of crates loosely piled cut it away from me.

I could hear the soft ticking of Otho’s timer. I sucked in air filled with dust and with the stench of my own sweat. I reached out a hand and touched the bulkhead.

I got matches from my pocket. I dropped them. I ran my fingers on the deck. I felt them touch the matches. I took a deep breath. I made my hands stop shaking. The sweat popped out all over me.

I struck a match. It gutted and then flared up. I saw the fuse. I saw the dynamite placed against the bulkhead. I saw the clockwork that ticked so gently.

I put my hand down softly, lightly. I had no idea whether Otho’s gadget was the kind that blew if disconnected or not. I had no time to find out.

The match died. I dropped it and put my other hand on the mechanism. I ran my fingers into it. I felt the beat of a small wheel against my fingertip. The sharp metal cogs of the wheel gnawed at my flesh. I jammed my finger tighter against them.

The ticking stopped.

My breathing stopped.

My breathing started again.

Nothing else happened.

I jerked the fuse wires loose from the mechanism. I struck another match. Off to my right something went, “Ggah.” I moved the match in that direction. There was Blimey, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He was gagged and roped but not blindfolded.

I got him by the shirt collar and dragged him toward the middle of the hold. I went the same way as before—on my knees. When we were under the open hatch, I pulled off his gag. I lifted my wrist and squinted at my watch.

I said, “Hell!” I still had fifteen seconds left. I lay down and went to sleep.

I opened my eyes. I saw a glass of whiskey and the gray-blue eyes of Bonnie Minos. I got my hands on the glass and put it to my mouth. The eyes went away and the face of Lieutenant Nicolo took their place.

Nicolo said, “I can get you ten years, Zane.”

I said, “Where’s Irma? How’s Aggie? Did you find Blimey?”

A hand stroked mine. I knew Irma’s touch. Nicolo said, “Aggie’s resting up. So’s Blimey. Now let’s hear your side of it, Zane.”

I said, “Whatever you heard up to now is all lies, Lieutenant. Vann cooked the whole deal. And he almost pulled it off. He didn’t have any help but Otho.”

“What deal?”

I said, “The deal to substitute junk for the cargo so he could sell the cargo after the
Temoc
sank.”

“Vann couldn’t do that alone,” Nicolo said. “He needed help.”

Irma’s fingers were like butterflies, trembling against mine.

I said, “The hell he couldn’t. All he needed was himself and Otho. He got the run of the boat by getting hired as Clift’s crew. How was Clift to know what was happening to his cargo while he was away from the boat?” I took a deep breath. “How is Clift?”

“He’ll live,” Nicolo said. “He’ll limp, but he’ll live.” He made a snorting sound.”

He said, “You’ve got all the answers. Explain this Prebble guy to me.”

I said, “Sure. Prebble caught Vann and Otho swapping junk for cargo. He tried to get to me to tell me about it. Otho caught him and broke his neck.”

Nicolo said, “As I see it, Miss Wilson here had to help Vann swap cargoes. She’d be the one to know where he could sell the cargo, too.”

The
Temoc
, still in one piece, rocked gently under me. I said, “I checked her out, Lieutenant. She sent the cargo to the dock in good faith. How was she to know a guy like Vann was around to mess it up?”

The fingers squeezed lightly down on mine. I said, “She got taken in and so did Clift. Vann had big ears, Lieutenant. Remember, his position around the L.A. ports gave him a chance to hear a lot. He knew Clift was switching from fishing to freighting, and he knew Irma Wilson was coming to LaPlaya to start a shipping point for her firm. And he knew that Clift was acquainted with Aggie Minos.”

Nicolo grunted. I said, “Vann made his living playing the angles and the percentages. He saw a real fat percentage in this combination. He almost made it pay off.”

“There’s a hole in that story somewhere,” Nicolo said.

I closed my eyes. “Then go find it. I’m tired.”

Irma said, “Your poor ankle.”

I said, “Who needs an ankle?”

She moved a little on the bed. The soft skin of her leg rubbed against me. She said, “Aren’t you tired, Martin?”

“Not as tired as I’m going to be,” I assured her.

She said, “Those were awful lies you told that policeman.”

I said, “So you got involved. You let it ride too long before you tried to square yourself. But you did try.”

Her mouth was warm and moist. It ran around my ear and down my neck and up to my cheek and across to my mouth.

After a while, I said, “Everyone has a right to make a fool of himself once.”

She said, “Do you think the Lieutenant will believe what you said—about me?”

I said, “What else can he do? There aren’t any records. And Bonnie Minos went to bat for you. He has to believe her. After all, she was the one who got him in her catamaran and chased us out to sea.” I thought about that. “She’s quite a woman, swimming from that sloop after Vann rammed it. But she proved Aggie wasn’t involved. He’ll believe what she said about you.”

“She’s nice,” Irma said. “Aggie’s nice too.” She moved her hands. I didn’t take them away this time. “Doesn’t it bother you for her to be running around without anything on like she does?”

I could hear Bonnie splashing in her swimming pool. We were in the Minoses’ spare bedroom. I said, “It doesn’t bother me. But if it did, I wouldn’t let anybody know. Aggie may be nice, but he isn’t that nice.”

She giggled. “Do I bother you?”

I said, “Sometimes.”

“How?”

I said, “Like this.”

After a while, she said, “And you told the Lieutenant you were tired!”

I said, “That was sixteen hours ago. I’ve been fed. I’ve slept. I have a clear conscience.” I thought about that. “Almost clear, anyway.”

“Almost?”

I said, “I have a report to make to Ted Winters. By now, he’ll be sending troops down here to find me.”