“No, its nothing. just that we should try to forgive each other - if anything does happen.” That was all she would say, and at the airport barrier she kissed me briefly and clung for a second with both arms about my neck then she turned and walked quickly to the waiting aircraft She did not look back or wave as she climbed the boarding ladder.
I watched the aircraft climb swiftly and head out across the inshore channel for the mainland, then I drove slowly back to Turtle Bay.
It was a lonely place without her, and that night as I lay alone under the mosquito net on the wide bed, I knew that the risk I was about to take was necessary. Highly dangerous, but necessary. I knew I must have her back here. Without her, it would all be tasteless. I must gamble on the pull I would be able to exert over her outweighing the other forces that governed her. I must let her make the choice herself, but I must try to influence it with every play in my power.
In the morning I drove into St. Mary’s and after Fred Coker and I had argued and consulted and passed money and promises back and forth, he opened the double doors to his warehouse and I drove the pick-up in beside the hearse. We loaded one of his best coffins, teak with silvergilt handles, and red velvet-lined interior, into the back of the truck. I covered it with a sheet of canvas and drove back to Turtle Bay. When I had packed the coffin and screwed down the lid it weighed almost five hundred pounds.
When it was dark, I drove back into town and it was almost closing time at the Lord Nelson before I had completed my arrangements. I had just time for a quick drink and then I drove back to Turtle Bay to pack my battered old canvas campaign bag.
At the noon of the next day, twenty-four hours earlier than I had arranged with Sherry North, I boarded the aircraft for the mainland and that evening caught the BOAC connection onwards from Nairobi.
There was no one to meet me at Zarich airport, for I was a full day early, and I passed quickly through customs and immigration and went out into the vast arrivals hall.
I checked my luggage before I went about tidying up the final loose threads of my plan. I found a flight outwards leaving at 1.20 the following day which suited my timing admirably. I made a single reservation, then I drifted over to the inquiries desk and waited until the pretty little blonde girl in the Swissair uniform was not busy, before engaging her in a long explanation. At first she was adamant, but I gave her the old crinkled eyes and smiled that way, until at last she became intrigued with it all - and giggled in anticipation.
“You sure you’ll be on duty tomorrow?” I asked anxiously. “Yes, Monsieur, don’t worry, I will be here.”
We parted as friends and I retrieved my bag and caught a cab to the Zorich Holiday Inn just down the road. The same hotel where I had sweated out the survival of the Dutch policeman so long ago. I ordered a drink, took a bath and then settled down in front of the television set. It brought back memories.
A little before noon the following day I sat at the airport cafe pretending to read a copy of the Frmilqarw AUgmiene Zeitung and watching the arrivals hall over the top of the page. I had already checked my baggage and my ticket. All I had to do was to go through into the final departure lounge.
I was wearing a new suit purchased that morning of such a bizarre cut and mousy shade of grey, that no one who knew him could believe that Harry Fletcher would be seen in public wearing it. It was two sizes too large for me, and I had padded myself with hotel towels to alter my shape entirely. I had also self-barbered my hair into a short and ragged style and dusted it with talcum powder to put fifteen years on my age. When I peered at my image through goldrimmed spectacles in the mirror of the men’s room, I did not even recognize myself. At seven minutes past one, Sherry North walked in through the main doors of the terminal. She wore a suit of grey checked wool, a full length black leather coat and a small matching leather hat with a narrow businesslike brim. Her eyes were screened by a pair of dark glasses, but her expression was set and determined as she strode through the crowd of tourists.
I felt the sick slide and turn of my guts as I saw all my suspicions and fears confirmed and the newspaper shook in my hands. Following a pace behind and to her side, was the small neatly dressed figure of the man she had introduced to me as Uncle Dan. He wore a tweed cap and carried an overcoat across his arm. More than ever he exuded an air of awareness, the hunter’s alert and confident tread as he followed the girl.
He had four of his men with him. They moved quietly after him, quiet, soberly dressed men with closed watchful faces.
“Oh, you little bitch,” I whispered, but I wondered why I should feel so bitter. I had known for long enough now.
The group of girl and five men stopped in the centre of the hall and I watched dear Uncle Dan issuing his orders. He was a professional, you could see that in the way he staked out the hall for me. He placed his men to cover the arrivals gate and every exit.
Sherry North stood listening quietly, her face neutral and her eyes hidden by the glasses. Once Uncle Dan spoke to her and she nodded abruptly, then when the four strongarm men had been placed, the two of them stood together facing the arrivals gate. Get out now, Harry,” the little warning voice urged me. “Don’t play fancy games. This is the wolf pack all over again. Run, Harry, run.”
Just then the public address-system called the outward flight on which I had made a reservation the previous day. I stood up from the table in my cheap baggy suit and shuffled across to the Inquiries Desk. The little blonde Swissair hostess did not recognize me at first, then her mouth dropped open and her eyes flew wide. She covered her mouth with her. hand and her eyes sparkled with conspiratory glee.
“The end booth,” she whispered, “the end nearest the departures gate.” I winked at her and shuffled away. In the telephone booth I lifted the receiver and pretended to be speaking, but I broke the connection with a finger on the bar and I watched the hall through the glass door.
I heard my accomplice paging.
“Miss. Sherry North, will Miss. North please report to the inquiries desk.”
Through the glass I saw Sherry approach the desk and speak with the hostess. The blonde girl pointed to the booth beside mine and Sherry turned and walked directly towards me. She was screened from Uncle Dan and his merry men by the row of booths.
The leather coat swung gracefully about her long legs, and her hair was glossy black and bouncing on her shoulders at each stride. I saw she wore black leather gloves to hide her injured hand, and I thought she had never looked so beautiful as in this moment of my betrayal.
She entered the booth beside me and lifted the receiver. Swiftly I replaced my own telephone and stepped out of the booth. As I opened her door she looked around with impatient annoyance.
“Okay, you dumb cop - give me a good reason why I shouldn’t break your head,” I said.
“You!” Her expression crumpled, and her hand flew to her mouth.
We stared at each other.
“What happened to the real Sherry North?” I demanded, and the question seemed to steady her.
“She was killed. We found her body - almost unrecognizable - in a quarry outside Ascot.” “Manny Resnick told me he had killed her-_2 I said. “I didn’t believe him. He also laughed at me when I went on board to do a deal with him and Suleiman Dada for your life. I called you Sherry North and he laughed at me and called me a fool.” I grinned at her lopsidedly. “He was right - wasn’t he? I was a fool.”
She was silent then, unable to meet my eyes. I went on talking, confirming what I had guessed.
“So after Sherry North was killed, they decided not to announce her identity - but to stake out the North cottage. Hoping that the killers would return to investigate the new arrival - or that some other patsy would be sucked in and lead them home. They chose you for the stake-out, because you were a trained police diver. That’s right, isn’t it?”
She nodded, still not looking at me.
They should have made sure you knew something about conchology as well. “then you wouldn’t have grabbed that piece of fire coral - and saved me a lot of trouble.”
She was over the first shock of my appearance. Now was the time to whistle for Uncle Dan and his men, if she was going to. She remained silent, her face half-turned away, her cheek flushed with bright blood beneath the dark golden tan.
That first night, you telephoned when you thought I was asleep.
You were reporting to your superior officer that a sucker had walked in. “They told you to play me along. And - oh baby - how you played me.”
She looked at me at last, dark blue eyes snapping with defiance, words seemed to hod behind her closed lips,
