sensible about this. I’m sure we don’t have to get everybody out of bed at this time of night. I’m quite happy to sign something that says you’ve carried out the inspection, and then we can all get our kip.” He took a sip of his brandy, looking at Daphne over the rim of his glass.
“I’m terribly sorry, but that won’t be possible. Our instructions are …”
“Yes, yes, I know all about the instructions. Ray here told me. But you know how the world works: a favor here, a favor there-I’m a generous man, know what I mean?”
Daphne turned to Sam and unleashed a torrent of French. When she’d finished, Sam said nothing. His index finger, wagging violently back and forth, and the emphatic shaking of his head was reply enough.
Daphne’s voice was cold. “If there are any further attempts to obstruct this inspection, they will be reported to the appropriate authorities. And now, if you don’t mind, we’ll start with your cabin.”
“Bloody waste of time.” Wapping stalked back into the stateroom, followed by the others. Sam reached in his bag and put the light meter in his pocket.
Opening the door to Wapping’s large and ornate cabin, they were greeted by the sight of Annabel sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair. She was wearing a negligee of peach-colored silk, and at the sight of young Flo in his uniform she allowed one of the straps to slip a couple of inches down her suntanned shoulder. “What’s happening?” she said, batting her eyelashes. “I do hope I’m not going to be arrested.”
She seemed disappointed to be told that no arrest was imminent, and the team moved over to the double bed while Daphne explained the form the inspection would take. It was very simple. Dr. Ginoux would pass his detection device-a kind of Geiger counter for viral germs was how Daphne described it-over the pillows and the bathroom towels. If it indicated the signs of any infection, a reading would come up on the miniature screen; no signs of infection would be indicated by a different reading.
Watched by a glowering Lord Wapping and the pouting Annabel, Sam switched on his light meter and began to pass it across the surface of the pillows. The meter made impressive clicking noises, and tiny lights flashed on and off in a satisfying fashion each time the light density changed. Three minutes later, and the pillows were checked. Sam and Daphne moved into the bathroom, away from the view of spectators.
She was smiling as they came back into the cabin. “There,” she said brightly. “That didn’t hurt a bit, did it? And now perhaps we can get on with the other cabins.” Wapping stood in the cabin doorway nursing his brandy, watching them as they went down the main passageway toward the part of the boat where lesser mortals slept.
Their first stop was Ray Prendergast’s cabin, where a low table showed traces of two of his passions. Recent copies of
Prendergast, the picture of hostile suspicion, watched intently as Sam went through his routine, running the light meter up and down the bunk and across the pillows. When Sam moved into the tiny bathroom, Prendergast broke his silence. “You’re not going to do this nonsense all through the boat, surely?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Daphne, “all the cabins, of course. Then there’s the kitchen, laundry room, storage room, even the engine room. Dr. Ginoux is extremely thorough, particularly with serious cases like this. Actually, it would be a great help if you could let us have a plan of the boat, just to make sure we don’t miss anything.”
Prendergast didn’t reply. His mind was busy weighing the risks and possibilities, and as soon as the inspection team had left his cabin he started to make his way toward Lord Wapping’s suite, only to meet his lordship coming down the passageway.
“Billy, we’ve got to do something.”
“You’re bloody right we have.”
They went up to the sunbathing deck, where they could talk well away from any curious ears.
“She’s down the far end, right? In the spare cabin.”
Wapping nodded. “At the rate they’re going, we’ve got about fifteen minutes to get her out of there. If they find her, the jig’s up. Luckily, the boys gave her another jab this evening, so she won’t be any bother. But where the hell can we put her? Get hold of Brian and Dave.”
In Tiny de Salis’s cabin, Daphne and Sam once again came across clues to the occupant’s interests: the
Events in the passageway began to take on aspects of a French farce, with Brian and Dave ducking in and out of various doors until they came to the cabin being checked by Daphne and Sam. The door was ajar. Brian closed it gently and, using his passkey, locked it. They hurried down to the spare cabin.
It was a good five minutes before Brian came back and responded to the hammering on the cabin door. He was apologizing even as he unlocked it. “Sorry, miss,” he said to Daphne, “it sometimes does this when the self- locking mechanism goes on the blink. Bloody nuisance, must get it fixed.”
“What’s the problem?” asked Ray Prendergast, solicitous for the first time, as he joined them in the passageway. Brian explained what had happened, Prendergast apologized again, asked if there was anything he could do, and insisted on staying with them while they checked the rest of the boat, “Just in case there’s any more trouble with the doors.”
They were just about to start on the next cabin when Daphne’s phone rang.
“It’s Jo. Let me speak to Sam.” Daphne saw that Prendergast was hovering, his eyes fixed on the phone.
“You know how they are about the phone, the French,” she said to Prendergast. “Always want to be in their little private corner when they take a call.”
Before speaking, Sam turned on the shower to make sure his voice didn’t carry. “What is it, Jo?”
“Two men have been on deck here, right above me. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear their voices. I think they were loading something into the helicopter.”
Ray Prendergast would remember the next few seconds for a long time. The French doctor burst out of the shower room and started speaking fluent English to the police officer who was standing by the door. “Flo, you stay here with him.” He jerked his head at the startled Prendergast. “If he tries to use his phone, break his arm. And if he tries to leave the cabin, knock him out and tie him up, OK? Daphne, you stay here-you’ll be safe with Flo. I think they’re trying to get out with Elena.”
Sam ducked out of the cabin and raced up the passageway, through the main stateroom, and out onto the deck. The helicopter was a white mass at the far end of the boat. Much to his relief, he saw that the rotor blades were immobile. Moving more cautiously now and staying in the shadows as much as he could, he came to within a few yards of the helicopter. There was no sign of anybody. Now he was close enough to touch the helicopter. He reached up to open the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Sam turned to see Tiny de Salis, who had come around from the other side of the helicopter. He came closer. “Are you deaf? What are you doing?” He stood in front of Sam, legs braced apart, a big man ready to throw a punch.
Sam was not by nature a violent man, and it was with a twinge of genuine regret that he kicked de Salis in the testicles and pitched his writhing body overboard. Without waiting to hear the splash, he pulled open the door of the helicopter. And there, breathing easily, was the unconscious Elena in one of the back seats. Taking off his face mask, he climbed into the cockpit, stroked her face, held her tight. “You’re safe now, girl. We’ll have you home before you wake up.”
Sam heard footsteps on the deck, reached in his pocket for a syringe, then relaxed when he saw who it was. “She’s here, Jo. And she seems fine.”
Jo’s grin was a flicker of white in the shadows. “
