torpedoing it or anything of that dramatic sort. Apart from the fact that you wouldn't like to be responsible for triggering off a nuclear war, you couldn't catch it anyway. You won't even be able to see the ship, Commander — and if you did, it wouldn't matter, anyway. It has no nationality markings.'
'Where are the films?' I asked.
'They're already aboard that naval vessel.'
'They're «what?»' Swanson demanded. 'How in hell's name can they be?'
'Sorry and all that, old boy. I repeat that, unlike Carpenter here, I don't go around shooting off my mouth. A professional, my dear captain, «never» gives information about his methods.'
'So you get off with it,' I said bitterly. My mouth felt thick and swollen.
'Don't see what's to stop us. Crimes don't always come home to roost, you know.'
'Eight men murdered,' I said wonderingly. 'Eight men. You can stand there and cheerfully admit that you are responsible for the deaths of eight men.'
'Cheerfully?' he said consideringly. 'No, not cheerfully. Fm a professional, and a professional never kills unnecessarily. But this time it was necessary. That's all.'
'That's the second time you've used the word 'professional,'' I said slowly. 'I was wrong on one theory. You weren't just suborned after the Zebra team had been picked. You've been at this game a long time — you're. too good not to have been.'
'Fifteen years, old lad,' Jolly said calmly. 'Kinnaird and I — we were the best team in Britain. Our usefulness in that country,, unfortunately, is over. I should imagine that our — uh — exceptional talents can be employed elsewhere.'
'You admit to all those murders?' I asked.
He looked at me in sudden cold speculation. 'A damned funny question, Carpenter. Of course. I've told you. Why?'
'And do you, Kinnaird?'
He looked at me in bleak suspicion. 'Why ask?'
'You answer my question and I'll answer yours.' At the corner of my range of vision I could see Jolly looking at me with narrowed eyes. He was very sensitive to atmosphere, he knew there was something off-key.
'You know damn well what I did, mate,' Kinnaird said coldly.
'So there we have it. In the presence of no less than twelve witnesses, you both confess to murder. You shouldn't have done that, you know. I'll answer your question, Kinnaird. I wanted to have an oral confession from you because, apart from the sheet of aluminum foil and something I'll mention in a minute, we have no actual proof at all against either of you. But now we have your confessions. Your great talents are not going to be used in any other sphere, I'm afraid. You'll never see that helicopter or that naval vessel. You'll both die jerking on the end of a rope.'
'What rubbish is this?' Jolly asked contemptuously. But there was worry under the contempt. 'What last- minute despairing bluff are you trying to pull, Carpenter?'
I ignored his question. I said: 'I've been on to Kinnaird for some sixty hours also, Jolly. But I had to play it this way. Without letting you gain what appeared to be the upper hand you would never have admitted to the crimes. But now you have.'
'Don't fall for it, old lad,' Jolly said to Kinnaird. 'It's just some desperate bluff. He never had any idea that you were in on this.'
'When I knew you were one of the killers,' I said to Jolly, I was almost certain Kinnaird had to be another. You shared the same cabin and unless Kinnaird had been sapped or drugged he had to be in on it. He was neither. He was in on it. That door wasn't jammed when Naseby ran to the radio room to warn you — the two of you were leaning all your weight against it to give the impression that it had been closed for hours and that ice had formed.
'By the same token, young Grant, the assistant radio operator, was in cahoots with you — or he wasn't. If he wasn't, he would have.to be silenced. He wasn't. So you silenced him. After I'd caught on to the two of you, I had a good look at Grant. I went out and dug him up from where we'd buried him. Rawlings and I. I found a great big bruise at the base of his neck. He surprised you in something, or he woke when you knifed or shot one of Major Halliwell's men, and you laid him out. You didn't bother killing him: you were about to set the hut on fire and incinerate him, so killing would have been pointless. But you didn't reckon on Captain Folsom here going in and bringing him out — alive.
'That was most damnably awkward for you, wasn't it, Jolly? He was unconscious, but when and if he recovered consciousness, he could blow the whole works on you. But you couldn't get at him to finish him off, could you? The bunkhouse was full of people, most of them suffering so severely that sleep was impossible for them. When we arrived on the scene you got desperate. Grant was showing signs of regaining consciousness. You took a chance, but not all that much of a chance. Remember how surprised I was to find that you had used up all my morphine? Well, I «was» surprised then. But not now. I know now where it went. You gave him an injection of morphine — and you made damn sure the hypodermic held a lethal dose. Am I correct?'
'You're cleverer than I thought you were,' he said calmly. 'Maybe I have misjudged you a little. But it still makes no difference, old boy.'
'I wonder. If I'd known about Kinnaird so long, why do you think I allowed a situation to develop where you could apparently turn the tables?'
''Apparently' is not the word you want. And the answer to your question is easy. You didn't know Kinnaird «had» a gun.'
'No?' I looked at Kinnaird. 'Are you sure that thing works?'
'Don't come that old stuff with me, mate,' Kinnaird said in contempt.
'I just wondered,' I said mildly. 'I thought perhaps the petrol in the tractor's tank might have removed all the lubricating oil.'
Jolly came close to me, his face tight and cold. 'You «knew» about this? What goes on, Carpenter?'
'It was actually Commander Swanson here who found the gun in the tank,' I said. 'You had to leave it there because you knew you'd all be getting a good clean-up and medical examination when we got you on board, and it would have been bound to be discovered. But a murderer — a professional, Jolly — will never part with his gun unless he is compelled to. I knew if you got the slightest chance you would go back for it. So I put it back in the tank.'
'The hell you did!' Swanson was as nearly angry as I'd ever seen him. 'Forgot to tell me, didn't you7'
'I must have. That was after I'd cottoned on to you, Jolly. I wasn't «absolutely» sure you had a partner, but I knew if you had, it must be Kinnaird. So I put the gun back there in the middle of the night and I made good and certain that you, Jolly, didn't get the chance to go anywhere near the tractor shed at any time. But the gun vanished that following morning when everyone was out sampling the fresh air. So then I knew you had an accomplice. But the real reason for planting that gun, of course, is that without it you'd never have talked. But now you have talked and it's all finished. Put up that gun, Kinnaird.'
'I'm afraid your bluff's run out, mate.' The gun was pointing directly at my face.
'Your last chance, Kinnaird. Please pay attention to what I am saying. Put up that gun or you will be requiring the services of a doctor within twenty seconds.'
He said something, short and unprintable. I said, 'It's on your own head. Rawlings, you know what to do.'
Every head turned toward Rawlings, who was standing leaning negligently against a bulkhead, his hands crossed lightly in front of him. Kinnaird looked too, the Mauser following the direction of his eyes. A gun barked, the sharp, flat crack of a Mannlicher-Schoenauer. Kinnaird screamed and his gun spun from his smashed hand. Zabrinski, holding my automatic in one hand and his copy of the «Dolphin Daze» — now with a neat charred hole through the middle — in the other, regarded his handiwork admiringly, then turned to me. 'Was that how you wanted it done, Doc?'
'That was exactly how I wanted it done, Zabrinski. Thank you very much. A first-class job.'
'A first-class job,' Rawlings sniffed. He retrieved the fallen Mauser and pointed it in Jolly's general direction. 'At four feet, even Zabrinski couldn't miss.' He dug into a pocket, pulled out a roll of bandage, and tossed it to Jolly. 'We kinda thought we might be having to use this, so we came prepared. Dr. Carpenter said your pal here would be requiring the services of a doctor. He is. You're a doctor. Get busy.'
