back to the liquor, and the fragrant steaming platters of golden-brown meat that were coming from the barbecue pits.
Tracey broke the long friendly silence at last. She spoke hesitantly, as though reluctant to bring up a painful subject.
“How long has Ruby been back now - ten days?”
“About that,” Johnny agreed, glancing at her quickly. “I haven’t seen much of her, he admitted. “But she seems to be a lot more relaxed - and at least she’s kept off my back.”
“She and Benedict seem to have become very pally.” Tracey glanced across to where the other couple were now included in a boisterous circle of revellers.
“She bumped into him in London,” Johnny agreed, sounding offhand. “She tells me they had lunch a couple of times.” She waited for him to continue, to express some suspicion or reservation, but he seemed to have no further interest in the subject; instead he began running over the day’s further arrangements with her.
“I’m relying on you to take charge of the wives when we go aboard.
Keep an eye on Mrs. Larsen particularly - she’s up to her gills in bubbly.” For the next two hours that it took Kingfisher to make her approach and enter the channel of Cartridge Bay, Johnny hardly took his eyes from her unusual silhouette.
She was not a pretty vessel but the white lightning insignia of
Van Der Byl Diamonds on her funnel gave her a special beauty in his eyes. As she passed below them and entered the bay, Larsen proposed a toast to her successful career, then they all descended the dune and climbed into the waiting Land-Rovers and drove round the bay to meet her.
By the time they arrived Kingfisher had made fast alongside the jetty, and Captain Sergio Caporetti was waiting to welcome them aboard.
He stood at the head of the gangway, and sensible to the importance of the moment he was decked in his finest and best; a double-breasted suit with a cream and lilac pinstripe set off the tomato-red silk tie, but his two- tone black and white crocodile skin shoes drew attention to his large feet and his gait was that of an emperor penguin. A liberal application of a hair pomade with a penetrating smell of violets had flattened his black hair into a shiny slick, bisected by the ruler-straight line of white scalp which was his parting. However, the aroma of the pomade was at odds with the particularly stinky cheroot of a brand which Sergio reserved for weddings, funerals and other special occasions.
His beautiful gazelle eyes became passionate and dark as they lit on Fifi Larsen. Mrs. Larsen’s tight-fitting slacks moved as though they were full of live rabbits and her pink sweater was straining its seams.
Her eyes were sparkling with champagne and she giggled without apparent reason, flushing under Sergio’s scrutiny.
The tour of Kingfisher began, Sergio Caporetti taking up an escort position directly behind Mrs. Larsen. They had hardly descended the first ladder when Mrs. Larsen let out a small squeak and shot about eighteen inches into the air, before coming back to earth with all her plentiful womanhood aquiver.
“My dear Fifi, whatever is wrong?” Her husband was all solicitude, while behind her Sergio Caporetti wore an expression of cherubic innocence. Johnny felt dizzy with alarm, for he had seen Sergio’s great hairy paw settling comfortably on to those majestic buttocks.
Mrs. Fifi Larsen had been thoroughly goosed.
In relieved disbelief Johnny heard her reply, which was preceded by another giggle.
“I seem to have twisted my ankle. Perhaps there is somewhere I
could sit down.” Johnny looked around frantically for Tracey to get Mrs. Larsen out of Sergio’s clutching range, but before he could signal her, Fifi was limping away on Sergio Caporetti’s arm, bravely declining all offers of help.
“Please don’t let me spoil your fun. I’ll just sit in the
Captain’s cabin for a few minutes.” Quickly Johnny moved up beside the silver-haired Larsen and resolved to stay close beside him. Even if he could not prevent Fifi visiting Sergio’s quarters, he was going to make good and sure that the husband didn’t join the party.
“This is the explosives locker.” Johnny took Larsen’s arm and led him away. “We keep a store of plastic explosives for underwater blasting-” Larsen’s concern at his wife’s injury dissolved and he became immersed in the tour of Kingfisher. Johnny followed the line of production for him from the moment the gravel was sucked in through the dredge.
As they left the cyclone room Johnny preceded him, holding the steel door open for Larsen.
“From the cyclone the concentrates pass through here into-” He stopped with surprise as they entered the narrow compartment beyond the cyclone.
“What’s wrong, Lance?” Larsen demanded.
“No. It’s nothing,” Johnny assured him. After the surprise of finding that the inspection plate in the conveyor tunnel had been moved he realized that it was as well from a security angle. Probably the marine architects had ordered the modification. “The concentrates are carried through into the next compartment to the X-ray room. This way, please.” As Johnny led the way to the next door he resolved to check with the architects. Larsen asked a question and he replied and the conveyor tunnel was forgotten. They went through into the X-ray room.
He noticed it.” Benedict puffed quickly and nervously at the cigarette cupped in his hand. “He doesn’t miss a thing. The bastard.”
“He noticed it, yes. But he accepted it.” Ruby was definite.
“I know him. I was watching him. He was disturbed for a second then he rationalized it. I could almost see his mind work. He accepted it.” They stood together on the exposed angle of Kingfisher’s bridge. Suddenly Ruby laughed.
“Don’t look so worried,” she warned him merrily. “We are being watched by your sister again. She’s down on the foredeck. Come.”
Still smiling she led him around the angle of the bridge house, and out of sight she was immediately deadly serious again.
“That sister of yours is getting suspicious. We must keep away from each other until you tell Johnny.” Benedict nodded.
“When are you going to tell him?” she demanded.
“Soon.”
“How soon?” Ruby would not be able to rest until it was out in the open, until Benedict had committed himself, yet she must not push him too hard.
“As soon as Kingfisher runs the Company under. I will pick the moment that he is beaten financially, then I will tell him. I want it to be the coup de grace.”
“When will it be, Benedict darling? I am so anxious to be with you - without all this subterfuge.” Benedict opened his mouth to reply and froze like that, his expression changing slowly into that of a man who doubts the evidence of his own eyes. He was staring over Ruby’s shoulder.
Ruby turned quickly. The curtain across the Captain’s porthole behind her was open a chink. She looked in upon a spectacle of such whole-hearted rubicund magnitude that it should have occurred only to
Olympus between Jupiter and Juno.
In the cabin Fifi Larsen was receiving treatment for her sprained ankle.
Well, you’ve got your toy now. Let’s hope for all our sakes you can do something with it,” Benedict smiled pleasantly as he came across to where Johnny stood with Larsen under the great gallowsshaped gantry on the foredeck of Kingfisher that would raise and lower the dredging head.
“Toy, Mr. van der Byl?” Larsen’s white eyebrows bristled.
“Surely you have no doubts? I mean, now that you’ve got this
Thunderbolt and Suicide concession?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say doubts, Mr. Larsen. Reservations perhaps, but not really doubts. Mr. Lance has been the champion of this venture. His enthusiasm has carried it in the face of all opposition. Even that of my late father.” Benedict turned to Larsen smoothly.
“Your father opposed the scheme? I didn’t know thad” Larsen was perturbed.
“Not opposed it, Mr. Larsen.” Benedict smiled reassuringly. “Not really opposed it. But you will notice that he was prepared to risk your money - not his own. That will give you some idea of how he felt.” There was a chilled
