The Ends of the Earth (18 page)

It was not simply that they were dumbstruck and overjoyed to see him. It was the discovery that he too was moved, almost to tears, by the potency of the moment. They had thought him dead, believed him erased from the world. Now, on Yokohama pier, in the soft glow of the gas lamps, he saw their faces and they saw his.

‘Is it true, sir?’ Sam gasped. ‘Is it really you?’

‘Oh yes. It’s me.’

Sam hugged him, which was something Max could never have imagined him doing. And Malory kissed him. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘How can this be?’

‘I got the better of Dombreux in Marseilles. I agreed to let him tell Lemmer he’d killed me so Lemmer would believe I was dead.’

‘But Dombreux showed me a photograph, sir,’ said Sam. ‘He bragged about shooting you.’

‘The photograph was faked. I’m sorry it was so convincing, but it had to be. Dombreux wasn’t supposed to come to Japan. I don’t know how that came about. You were never intended to think I was dead. If everything had gone as I’d hoped, Lemmer would have had no cause to suspect you were even here.’

‘There was treachery in the camp, Max,’ said Malory. ‘We walked into a trap. Everything went wrong, terribly wrong.’ Then she smiled. ‘But now, at last, something’s gone right. So right I can hardly believe it.’

‘We don’t have long,’ said Max, noticing the gesticulations of the Dutch sailor by the gangway. ‘I think we should go aboard. I’ll get off with the pilot. That’ll give us time to talk.’

Malory looked at him in some amazement. ‘You surely don’t think we’re leaving now?’

‘You must. You’ll be safe from arrest in Shanghai.’

‘We were clearing out because we couldn’t think of anything we could do here to help Schools, sir,’ said Sam. ‘But you’ve thought of something, haven’t you? You’ve thought of a way we can beat the bastards.’

‘Maybe I have. But I told Schools I didn’t want you involved and you’ll recall I wasn’t happy about you coming either, Malory. You should both leave. While you have the chance.’

In the end, Max talked them into boarding on the understanding that, if he failed to convince them they should carry on to Shanghai, they could all leave the ship with the pilot at the mouth of the bay. Money had to change hands and the captain’s agreement be obtained before the matter was settled. The captain made a brief and exasperated appearance when they reached the deck. He objected, as far as Max could gather, to the alteration of a fixed arrangement. He also muttered ominously about ‘
het getij
’ – the tide, as an English-speaking crewman explained. It was the tide – and the extra money – that finally swung the argument. The
Star of Batavia
set sail.

They stood by the starboard rail as the lights of Yokohama slipped away behind them. Max listened as Sam and Malory related what had happened in the week since their arrival from San Francisco. The extent to which Lemmer had outmanoeuvred them was breathtaking. By seeking to delude Lemmer into believing him dead, Max had unwittingly handed their enemy a weapon to use against them. As for Dombreux, it was impossible to judge what kind of game he was playing, though his own well-funded survival was probably the sum of his ambition.

Max then revealed the move against Lemmer – and through him Tomura – that he and Appleby had prepared. It came close to matching their opponents’ ruthlessness. It was bold and it was drastic. It was the only way to win.

‘I never imagined we’d have to resort to kidnapping a fifteen-year-old boy,’ said Malory when she understood what was involved.

‘We can’t afford to be squeamish,’ said Max. ‘We have to strike where Lemmer’s weakest. And a son is any man’s greatest weakness.’

‘Will he realize Dombreux gave you this information?’

‘That’ll be Dombreux’s problem.’

‘And not his only problem once Lemmer knows you’re alive, sir,’ Sam pointed out.

‘It’s surely better if he continues to think you’re dead,’ said Malory. ‘No one will look for you in Tokyo if they think you were murdered in Marseilles.’

‘He’ll have to find out soon,’ said Max. ‘The minute I receive word from Appleby he has the boy, I’ll go to Lemmer and deliver our terms for his release.’

‘What if he rejects those terms?’

‘He won’t. His only son; his bloodline; his stake in the next generation: he’ll give us what we demand for that.’

‘Unless he thinks we’re bluffing.’

‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t.’

‘You should let me do it.’

Max stared at Malory, dismayed by what she appeared to be proposing. ‘It has to be me who faces him, Malory.’

‘I’m sorry, but I disagree. I speak enough Japanese to talk my way into his presence. He’s never met me, so personal animosity won’t cloud the issue. Also, I’m a woman. He’ll believe the threat when I deliver it. And I’ll make it clear we’d be happy to take his son’s life to avenge the taking of yours. He won’t think we’re bluffing when I’ve finished with him.’

The force of Malory’s argument took Max aback. Capitalizing on the fiction of his death would undeniably give them a stronger hand in their dealings with Lemmer. And it was crucial Lemmer should believe they were willing to kill his son if necessary.

There was a silence. Then Sam said, ‘I think she’s got you there, sir.’

Max was not altogether sorry to lose the argument, even though he continued to urge them to stay on the ship. He took Malory’s point: she probably would handle the confrontation with Lemmer better than him. And if she stayed it was futile to suggest Sam should go. Besides, the reason Morahan had decided to bring Sam to Japan in the first place still held good. A swift escape, in circumstances that could not yet be foreseen, might well be needed. And there was nothing swifter than a plane. Max the pilot and Sam the engineer might yet be back in business together.

It was a much faster return journey across the bay in the pilot’s boat than the outward crawl in the freighter, but still there was ample time to ponder the difficult question of where Sam and Malory should go next. Back to Professor Nishikawa’s house was the obvious answer, but travelling there without the services of a chauffeur was hazardous. For them to be arrested now would be disastrous, especially if Max was arrested with them. Then Appleby would have no means of communication with Lemmer. For that reason alone, they had to go their separate ways as soon as they left the pier in Yokohama.

As it transpired, however, that moment never came. As they reached the top of the steps after leaving the pilot’s launch, a figure stepped into view from the shadow of a storage shed. It was Fujisaki.

Sam and Malory were momentarily alarmed, but Fujisaki set them at their ease once Max had introduced him.

‘I was sure you would not persuade your friends to leave, Maxted-san. And I worried about what would happen to them if they stayed. I followed their car from Tokyo. I watched the
Ster van Batavia
sail. But I was sure you would return soon, together with your friends. And here you are.’

‘It seems you’re a better judge of us than Max is, Commissioner,’ said Malory, with a sidelong glance in Max’s direction. ‘Despite never having met us before.’

‘A policeman becomes familiar with human nature, Miss Hollander. It would not be wise for you and Mr Twentyman to return to Professor Nishikawa’s house. Count Tomura may suspect you will have turned to Yamanaka Fumiko for help because of your association with his brother. And Yamanaka’s friendship with Professor Nishikawa may become known to him. Therefore I offer you shelter in a small house we use occasionally to lodge witnesses to crimes who are in danger. It is presently empty. I keep the keys and control its use. So, you will be safe there, I think, until your dealings with Herr Lemmer and Count Tomura … are determined.’

‘It won’t need to be long,’ said Max, ‘one way or the other.’

‘I hope it will not be the other way, Maxted-san. Oh, the house has a telephone. You will be able to speak to your friends whenever you wish to. The police are still looking for you, Miss Hollander, and you, Mr Twentyman. But I will ensure the search is ill-directed.’ Fujisaki looked at Max. ‘We should not travel together. You should return to Tokyo by train. I will drive Miss Hollander and Mr Twentyman to the house. It is close to the entertainment quarter of Shinjuku. They will not be noticed there. Now—’ He looked around. ‘We should stand here no longer.’

THE EVENING LIGHT
spread goldenly across the placid waters of Lake Geneva, furrowed only by the wake of a paddle-steamer heading westwards, towards the lowering sun. Appleby drew on his pipe, sparing the view of the lake and the rooftops of Rolle and the vineyards above the town no more than a glance before he returned his attention to the woodland path that crossed the track where he and Brigham stood.

They had pulled the Bugatti on to the verge, virtually blocking the path in the direction from which they confidently expected Eugen Hanckel to appear. The path followed the crest of the hills, with the lake on one side and fields and forests on the other. The track they had driven along led north from Rolle into the countryside.

The bonnet of the Bugatti was up and Brigham stood by it, as if pondering a mechanical mystery. This was all show, intended to persuade young Hanckel their car had broken down. He might stop and offer assistance, helpful boy that perhaps he was. Or he might not. In which case
they
would have to stop
him
.

Appleby consulted his watch and noted there was no cause for concern as yet. According to Brigham, Hanckel ran this way at least every other day and he had missed the previous day, so it was virtually certain they would not be disappointed. If they were, they would have to return the following evening. A delay of twenty-four hours would test everyone’s nerves, but Appleby was familiar with such contingencies. It was not a game played to precise rules.

‘Have you done this kind of thing often?’ Brigham asked between draws on his cigarette.

‘Often enough.’

‘But the victim’s been an adult, I imagine.’

‘And I’ve been assisted by a professional. No two operations are ever the same, Brigham. If you want me to tell you nothing can go wrong, I will. But it wouldn’t be true.’

‘What a comfort you are.’

‘The boy won’t get away. That’s all you need to know.’

‘What if he runs before you can grab him? Will you shoot him down?’

‘It won’t come to that.’

‘But if it does?’

‘Be quiet.’ Appleby frowned. ‘I think I can hear something.’

They both listened intently. There it was: a pattering of running feet some way off. It was Eugen Hanckel. Brigham tossed his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out. They both took a pace away from the car, further obstructing the path.

They waited as the sound of his running, joined now by his panting breaths, drew closer. Then he appeared. He was wearing what looked like football kit, with plimsolls in place of boots. His dark hair was slicked with sweat, his narrow face flushed. His appearance was not markedly different from that of innumerable other boys at Le Rosey, but his heavy eyebrows and broad shoulders singled him out as their target. He was readily identifiable. Appleby had seen his photograph in Dulière’s office and Brigham had heard him addressed as Hanckel by one of his classmates on the streets of Rolle. There was no mistake.

Appleby moved to one side, decanting what he judged was just enough chloroform from the small bottle he held on to a cloth. As he did so, Brigham stepped into Hanckel’s path, more or less forcing him to stop.

‘
Bonjour, mon garçon
,’ said Brigham, smiling.

‘Hello,’ said the boy, jogging on the spot for a moment.

‘Ah! You speak English. Know anything about car engines, young man? Ours has died on us.’

Hanckel frowned, no doubt puzzled to be asked such a question by an adult. But he did not remain puzzled for long. Appleby closed on him from behind, wrapped one arm round his chest and with the other clapped the chloroformed cloth to his mouth and nose.

Hanckel was no weakling. He struggled to throw Appleby off and Brigham had to envelop him in a bear-hug to ensure he did not escape. The two men reeled and fought with their victim in the still evening air, Appleby praying no passer-by would chance on the scene. Lemmer, he reflected grimly, would be proud of his son’s resistance.

But the older men’s weight and strength and the drug itself told in the end. Hanckel’s writhings subsided into muscular convulsions Appleby knew signalled he was going under. Eventually, he fell limp in their arms.

Appleby cautiously removed the cloth from the unconscious boy’s mouth and they manhandled him into the back of the car, where they covered him with a blanket.

‘My God,’ gasped Brigham, who looked pale with the shock of what they had done. ‘I thought it would be easier.’

‘Well, now you know. Start her up. I’ll put the bonnet down.’

Brigham climbed unsteadily into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Appleby lowered and secured the bonnet, then joined him in the car.

‘Let’s go,’ he declared gruffly.

It was a short drive to the village of Perroy and east from there along the shore of the lake to a patch of woodland at the edge of which André Marmier was waiting, a little too conspicuously for Appleby’s liking. He was tossing a knife into the bark of a tree from varying distances, while whistling through the gap in his front teeth.

‘Another amateur you have to work with,’ said Brigham as they slowed to a halt at the side of the narrow lane.

‘I’m paying him and his father too much to call them amateurs,’ Appleby growled. He looked ahead, then over his shoulder. Hanckel was not stirring. And there was no other traffic on the road. ‘The coast’s clear. We’d better get on with it.’

It was the work of a few seconds for the strapping André to lift Hanckel out of the car, still wrapped in the blanket, and carry him off into the cover of the wood. Appleby could not deny he had jumped to it when the time came.

‘We’ll cope from here,’ he said to Brigham before following. They exchanged a nod, then Brigham drove away. He looked heartily relieved his part in the abduction was over. Appleby had instructed him to stay in Lausanne until further notice and keep Dulière under observation, but, if all went well, he would have little else to do.