Carre’s card in his hand, shouting in French for the telephone. A surprised attendant pointed to his right where the instrument was clamped to the wall. Deaken obtained the price of the call to the capital from the operator and then asked him to wait while he dashed to the cashier for change. He pumped the money in, repeated Carre’s number and then stood, shuffling his feet with growing frustration, while the ringing tone purred out at him. Through the cracked window out on the forecourt he saw the driver make sure that the fuel cap was fully tightened and then look inquiringly into the office. The tone purred on with no reply. Angrily Deaken slammed down the receiver and ran from the building without bothering to reclaim his unused coins. It was as difficult getting through Diourbel as it had been to leave Kaolack and Deaken was unable to sit still, impatiently tapping his hands against the front seat. He should have tried to call from Kaolack, he thought in bitter selfrecrimination. Obvious, downright bloody obvious and it hadn’t occurred to him until it was too late!
Under an hour to go, he saw. “Hurry,” he said. “Please hurry!”
There was more traffic as they approached the coast, most of it moving at the customary, sedate African pace, and so much coming the opposite way that overtaking was almost impossible. Several times the driver pulled out to risk head-on collision, blaring his horn, to be met by matching blasts as the oncoming vehicles had to swerve to avoid him. It was 11:45 when they reached Thies and almost noon by the time they got through it. The petrol tank was half empty again and the driver started to indicate pulling into a station, but Deaken urged him on, willing to take the risk rather than sacrifice any more time. They got to Rufisque by 12:20, the temperature needle already halfway through the amber colouring, the heat from the engine, combined with the scorching sun, making the atmosphere in the car almost unbearable.
They entered the outskirts of Dakar at 12:30. Deaken waved the man on in the signposted direction to the harbour, stopping only for directions to Carre’s office when they were among the dockyard warehouses. As they moved parallel to the water, Deaken strained to make out the Bellicose. There seemed to be a lot of freighters and coasters in port but none with the name he sought. Deaken had the money ready as soon as they reached Carre’s office, throwing it onto the seat beside the driver and dashing from the vehicle and up the stairs to the second floor, bursting into the agent’s office without knocking. Carre jumped at the intrusion, half rising from his seat and then settling again.
“Where have you been?” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Deaken urgently. “Where’s the Bellicose?”
“Sailed,” said Carre.
Deaken’s shoulders caved and he slumped into a chair. Trying to recover, he said, “Can I get a fast cutter to overtake it and board?”
Carre shook his head, “The pilot vessel has already come back. It’s been gone more than an hour now. It’ll have cleared our waters.”
“Why didn’t it wait?”
“I sent a car for you… even went to the hotel myself. No one knew where you were. There were no messages.”
“Did anyone know I was here… inquire about me?” Deaken asked.
Carre’s face remained expressionless. “No,” he said. “Should they have done?”
The Senegalese had been his only contact, the only person who could have guided the attackers to him. Intent on the man’s reaction, Deaken told him what had happened the previous night and of his desperate efforts to get back to Dakar before the Bellicose sailed. Carre managed a look of incredulity but Deaken guessed it was forced.
“We should tell the police,” said Carre. Makimber’s rehearsal had seemed to work perfectly well with the Bellicose captain so he saw no reason why it shouldn’t with this man.
“Who notifies Athens of the sailing, you or the Bellicose?” said Deaken.
“Both.” Carre wasn’t prepared for this question.
“When will there be a position report?”
“Probably in twenty-four hours.” Carre didn’t seem very sure.
Everything would be all right if Azziz had instructed Athens. He had twenty-four hours, decided Deaken; maybe thirty-six, if he included the remainder of this day. Thirty-six hours to do what he should have done before, instead of slavishly attempting to follow the kidnap directions. He accepted the decision that Karen might die. But that would happen anyway if he didn’t act. Deaken was surprised at his detachment.
Azziz snapped off the recording but didn’t speak. Grearson waited opposite, trying to conceal his apprehension.
“I wanted contact,” reminded the Arab. “You didn’t get it.”
“I got concessions.” Grearson fingered his spectacles like worry beads.
“What if he doesn’t believe you and maims my son?”
Azziz was a bastard, thought Grearson. When there was conciliatory acquiescence he demanded forcefulness and when there was forcefulness he wanted subservience. “You heard the tape,” insisted Grearson. “For the first time there was a balance, something from our side.”
“But what did it achieve?”
“Maybe proof that your son is still alive,” said Grearson, wishing he could disturb Azziz’s calmness. “It’s been more than a week now.”
Azziz nodded. “It’s something I suppose,” he said. “Thank you.”
Grearson’s concern subsided and he fitted the spectacles back into place.
“Don’t you have something else to do?”
Grearson stood up. “We’re meeting in two hours.”
“Make sure they know what to do.”
He wasn’t secure, decided Grearson, not secure at all. Before he left to meet the mercenaries, he would find Carole and let her know he would be back late that evening. Christ, she was exciting!
“You did well,” said Makimber, counting out Carre’s money. “Extremely well. Thank you.”
“It wasn’t easy,” lied Carre, wanting to give the impression that he had earned his bribe.
“I’m positive it wasn’t,” said Makimber. “Sure you don’t know the reason for his asking you about notification of sailing?” It was the only thing they were still uncertain about.
Carre shook his head.
“There’s no way he could intercept the ship, now it’s sailed from here?”
“It’s fully victualled and fuelled,” said Carre. “There’s no need to make land for at least two weeks, possibly three.”
“What about changed sailing instructions from the owners?”
“I’d be telexed a copy of that, automatically, from Athens. There’s been nothing.”
“You’d tell me at once?”
“Of course.”
Makimber added another $5000 to the pile of notes. “You’ll find me grateful in the future,” he said.
Carre smiled.
“You say he seemed anxious to get away, once he knew he’d missed the ship?” repeated Makimber.
“Extremely so. He didn’t stay more than about thirty minutes, forty-five at the outside.”
“I wonder what he’ll do,” said Makimber, more a question to himself than the other man.
24
Evans arrived first from Clermont Ferrand, having accepted Grearson’s suggestion to take a villa on the outskirts of Marseilles, on the Aubagne road. The rest travelled individually and booked into separate hotels in the town, except for Hinkler and Bartlett, who went everywhere together and registered at the same hotel. The meeting with the American lawyer at the villa was the first time they had assembled as a group since Mulhouse.
Grearson concentrated first on money. “Same terms as last time,” he said. “Payable in any currency; I presume that will be dollars.”
