High Water (1959) (11 page)

Without answering, Cooper jumped down into the stern, breathing heavily.

As he shoved off from the yacht, Vivian called out to Morrie: ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right? If I flash my torch quickly, get the engines started and get the anchor up.’

The dark figure raised a hand, and then, as if dismissing them from his mind, he sat down on the deck.

The oars creaked, and the little dinghy bounced unevenly in the choppy water, as Vivian pulled to the pale blur of the small beach. Cooper, clutching at the boat’s sides, seemed to rise and fall in front of him, like a puppet.

‘Ah, there he is,’ hissed Cooper, and leaned forward, his eyes gleaming.

Vivian stopped rowing, and craned round, in time to see a black shape wading through water, to take the boat safely to the beach. In silence they pulled the boat up the sand, out of reach of the clutching surf, and then, in single file, followed the other man towards the short cliff beyond, their boots crunching noisily. Once, Vivian stopped to look back, but of
Seafox
there was no sign. This place had been carefully chosen, he thought. He nudged Cooper from behind with the parcel.

‘Why can’t we give him the stuff here and now?’ he whispered.

Cooper chuckled mirthlessly. ‘’Cause he wants to be sure, I guess, and anyway, he’s got a parcel for me too.’

They lapsed into silence again, until they saw in the distance, behind some tall trees, the humped walls of a house.

‘This is the joint,’ muttered Cooper.

And joint it was. As they shut the front door behind them, their guide switched on a light, flooding the entrance hall with sudden brightness from a naked bulb. Vivian blinked. The walls were dirty, bare, and cracked, and the floor merely uncovered boards, and when they entered a large room at one side, that too was empty, but for an old table, and a few empty packing cases. He was relieved to see that the windows at least were carefully covered, with old blackout curtains, he guessed. His gaze eventually fell, and was riveted upon a garish, chromium-plated portable radio, which stood on one of the packing cases. Its obvious
newness,
and brassy appearance, clashed so much with the general atmosphere of complete desolation, that he gasped aloud.

Cooper crossed quickly to it, and ran his hands over its shining dials.

‘Gee, this is the McCoy, all right!’ he grinned.

‘You mean it’s for you?’

‘Sure, I told you we had to collect something,’ answered Cooper innocently.

‘And you mean we came up here just for that, that monstrosity?’ exploded Vivian angrily.

Cooper’s eyes clouded. ‘Aw, shucks, we couldn’t do business down on that bloody beach,’ he complained. ‘Besides which, I wanted to collect this. You can’t get ’em in England like this, you know.’

‘I should hope not!’ And he turned to the other man, who had stood patiently in silence, his eyes fixed on the parcel under Vivian’s arm.

Although he, too, was dirty, and roughly dressed, his smooth, clean hands dispelled the lie. He too, was obviously part of a well-laid plan.

He was a thickset, little man, with quick, sharp eyes, and a small, black moustache.

When he eventually spoke, his voice was sharp and brittle, and his English slow and careful, as if he was unaccustomed to it.

‘Now that we all know each other, perhaps we can get on with the business?’ He darted a nervous glance at the walls. ‘It ’as been getting very hot lately ’ere.’

‘Sure, sure, give him the stuff,’ snapped Cooper disinterestedly. ‘We don’t think much of this joint either, do we, Skip?’

The little Frenchman ripped off the waterproof cover, and placed the parcel tenderly on the rickety table. And
as
he sorted over the masses of little bundles of dollar bills, Copper watched him with a pitying grin.

‘Makes you sick, doesn’t it?’ he smirked.

In his tight, woollen skull cap, he looked rather like a chimpanzee, Vivian thought.

The other man had apparently satisfied himself that all was well with his parcel, and began stuffing the packets into a special lining of his old overcoat. Eventually, when he had finished, he looked plumper, but not enough to suggest that he was carrying a fortune in forged notes.

Cooper whistled admiringly. ‘I guess you learnt that one in the Resistance, eh?’

The man looked at him thoughtfully, his eyes dark.

‘Yes, my friend,’ he said at length. ‘During the war I was always hiding from someone. Now,’ he shrugged, ‘I am still running, but there is a little more profit in it.’ He permitted himself a wintry smile.

‘What’s all this trouble you’ve been having lately?’ Vivian forced himself to sound casual.

‘The Sûreté have been very active. I have very good, er, informants dotted about, and they have told me that it is getting near time to change the tactics.’ He smiled, as if relieved to have got through the sentence.

Vivian glanced at his watch. ‘All right then, I think we’d better start making tracks for the beach. It’s a fair way in the dark.’

Cooper glanced round. ‘Yep, let’s go, back to dear old England.’ And he tested the weight of the radio.

Vivian began to zip up his jacket, when he realized that the little Frenchman had frozen, as if turned to solid rock. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were wide and anxious.

Suddenly he gestured frantically to Cooper. ‘Quiet, you fool!’ he hissed, and as Cooper looked up tensely, ‘Zere is someone coming!’

‘Where? How d’you know?’ snapped Vivian.

‘A car, I ’eard it turn off the road at the back of the house. I put a sheet of metal on the road for that purpose. I ’eard it bang!’ His face was white, and he had the look of a trapped animal.

In two strides, Vivian was at the door, and with a flick, plunged the room into darkness. In the silence which followed, and above their heavy breathing, he heard the sound of a car engine.

He wrenched open the door, and peered into the darkened hallway. As he watched, his heart pounding, the cracked front door was bathed in light, as a car pulled up in the driveway. Suddenly the lights were extinguished, and a car door slammed. His hopes sank, this was no accident. Someone had arrived for a purpose.

The Frenchman put his lips close to Vivian’s ear.

‘Zere is only one, I think!’

Vivian nodded, and eased the door until it was open only a couple of inches.

‘Maybe there are others at the other side of the house.’

He stiffened, as there was a metallic click behind him. He remembered it as the sound of a safety catch being released.

‘For Christ’s sake, no shooting!’ he whispered sharply. ‘Get over by the window, and get ready to bust out!’ And to the Frenchman: ‘Quick, get behind the door. I’ll keep here, and grab anyone who comes in!’

In the stillness of that dead house, he stared at the place where he imagined the front door lay, until his eyes ached, and spots danced before him. There was a scrape of feet on the step, and as he held his breath, the door creaked open. Then complete silence for a few moments. He must be feeling for a light switch, he thought. He remembered at that instant that the switch was not near the door. This, then, was a stranger to the house.

His racing thoughts were scattered, as the boards rang hollowly to careful, groping footsteps. With his nerves screaming, he listened, and counted them. A few steps away from him, and the creak of another door. A pause, then across the floor towards him, stopping once to get new bearings. He imagined he could hear breathing, or was it his own heart beating?

He heard the rustle of cloth on wood, as a black shape brushed the door post, and almost simultaneously, he felt the door swing inwards. The pale shape of a hand hung, disembodied, inches from his face, as it felt for the light switch. It was now, or never.

With a frantic lunge, he leapt forward, his arms sweeping together, like a rugby player. As they encircled the body, he heard a quick intake of breath, and at the same instant he yelled, ‘Lights, for God’s sake!’

There was a wild scramble in the darkness, and he heard Cooper’s curse, as he collided with the table, then they were blinded with light, and he found himself staring down into the face of Karen Jensen, her eyes wide with terror, and her mouth opened as if to scream.

Like a tableau in a theatre, they all stood transfixed, Vivian with amazement and horror, Cooper with stupefied tautness, and the Frenchman with an expression of blank watchfulness.

Vivian trembled, as he released her gently, but even when he stood back, she still remained in the position of one terrified, one hand clutching the front of her red ski-jacket, her lip trembling.

‘Karen!’ he gasped at length. ‘What are you doing here? How
can
you be here?’

She swallowed hard, her throat quivering.

‘It’s too difficult to explain,’ she began, her voice small and weak. ‘You have to leave here, now!’

‘Now, just a minute,’ began Cooper, and her eyes turned to him, taking in the pistol in his hand.

Vivian silenced him with a glare, and turned back to the girl. He was still quite sure he was dreaming, and that in a moment the real nightmare would begin.

‘Look,’ he said softly. ‘We don’t know how you got here, and I’m terribly sorry if I frightened you.’ He looked at her helplessly. Not that it matters now, he thought bitterly, she knows what I am now.

For a long moment, she just looked at him, as if trying to memorize every detail of his features, then with a burst of sobbing, she flung herself into his arms, her yellow hair enveloping his chin.

‘Well, I’ll be!’ choked Cooper in amazement, while the Frenchman began unhurriedly to button up his coat.

‘All right, Karen, all right,’ he murmured softly, while her body shook uncontrollably. ‘I’m afraid this is the end of me. You see what I’m really like!’

She turned up her tear-stained face, struggling with the words. ‘That’s just it, Philip, I
do
know! I know everything!’

He tensed. ‘How did it happen?’

She shook her head violently. ‘There is no time, you must get away, now!’

He nodded quickly to Cooper. ‘Right! Down to the beach, hurry!’

‘Please take me with you, I cannot go any further alone.’ Her voice was near to breaking point.

There was a sudden roar of a car engine, and then silence, and he realized the other man had gone.

‘He’s taken your car, I’m afraid.’

‘It doesn’t matter. It belongs to the travel bureau in Calais.’

‘Good heavens! D’you mean you’ve just driven all the way from Calais, to warn us?’ He was shouting.

‘To warn
you
, Philip,’ she answered, suddenly quiet.

He pulled her roughly to him, feeling her slim body close to his. Then he looked quickly at the tiny sandals on her feet.

‘Here, I’ll carry you, you can’t get down to the beach like that!’ And he swept her up into his arms, his heart suddenly singing with reckless excitement.

He brushed out the light with his elbow, and then, with careful steps, he strode down the stairs, and away from the deserted house. She was so light, that he cradled her in his arms with ease, and as she clung quietly to him, her arms about his neck, he still could not believe this was happening to him.

As he hurried through the rough, stubble strewn ground, towards the cliff, she began to talk again, in a quick, urgent voice.

‘David Muir, you remember him? Yesterday I found out that he is a Customs officer, looking for smugglers.’ She dropped her voice, until he could hardly hear her. ‘I heard him talking on the telephone to his chief.’ She gripped him tighter, as he stumbled over a rock. ‘He said that you were using your boat for smuggling drugs, and that they will catch you this time on the way back!’ She sobbed again. ‘And he said many other things. Many things!’

He forced himself to think clearly, but there seemed to be too much to understand.

‘How did you get here so quickly?’ He swerved to avoid a rotting tree stump. ‘And how d’you know there’s going to be trouble? I mean now, at this place?’

He felt her head shake, as if words would be insufficient.

‘In Calais, when I was trying to get the car, my uncle telephoned to say that there had been a …’ she faltered ‘… a leak, I think he called it. The police are watching the ports, and all the main roads.’

‘Bit of luck he chose this little place for me to land!’ Vivian spoke with forced cheerfulness.

‘Oh, he has been very careful,’ she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. ‘To think that all these years I thought he was making money honestly. I do not mind so much what he does, or what he has done in the past. It is what he has done to you that I care about!’

She spoke with such vehemence, that he felt a surge of shame running through him.

‘It’s as much my fault as anybody’s,’ he muttered.

‘That is untrue, Philip. When I heard David Muir on the telephone, I went straight back to the house, but you had gone. I confronted him with the things I had heard, and he admitted everything.’ Her voice trembled again, and for a moment he feared she would break down, but when she continued, her voice was firm and clear, and he could feel her breath warm on his cheek. ‘I told him it must stop, that we must warn you, and finally he agreed. We knew that it might be dangerous if I came to Chelsea, or even tried to contact you at Ramsgate. They might have been watching for something like that, so I flew straight to Calais. You know the rest,’ she ended simply.

He hugged her to him. ‘You’re wonderful, and that’s all I can say!’ he said, and there was a lump in his throat.

She felt him go suddenly tense and stiff.

‘What’s the matter, Philip? Why have you stopped?

He glared round in the darkness, trying to recognize the black clumps of bushes, and the sudden, uneven furrows of torn earth. His heart began to pound again, and his shirt felt damp with sweat. This was not the right path as he had remembered it. In a rising panic, he strained his eyes in every direction, but there was nothing to guide him to the cliff path, and even the house had been swallowed up by the night.

‘Just a minute,’ he panted, and lowered her gently to the ground, where she swayed uncertainly on the rough earth and stones. As she watched him, he sniffed the air, trying to get the scent of the sea, and then standing quite motionless, he endeavoured to pick up the sounds of surf. She saw his teeth bared in a grin, white against the shadow of his face.