Sherry was waiting for me outside the restaurant.
“What was that all about?” she demanded and I took her arm. As we walked back towards Berkeley Square, I told her.
“That man is probably the one who ordered Jimmy murdered, who was responsible for having half my chest shot away, who had them to roast your lovely pinkies, - in short, the big man.”
“You know him?”
“I did business with him a long time ago.” Nice friends you have.”
“I’m trying for a better class lately,” I said, and squeezed her arm. She ignored my gallantry.
“And the woman. Is she the one from St. Mary’s, the one who blew up your boat and the young girl?”
I experienced a violent return of the anger which had gripped me a few minutes earlier when I had seen that sleek, meticulously polished predator dressed in mink.
Beside me Sherry gasped, “Harry, you are hurting me!”
“Sorry.” I relaxed my grip on her arm.
“I guess that answers my question,” she muttered ruefully, and massaged her upper arm.
The private bar of the Windsor Arms was all dark oak panels and antique mirrors. It was crowded by the time Sherry and I returned. Outside darkness had fallen and there was an icy wind stirring the fallen leaves in the gutters.
The warmth of the pub was welcome. We found seats in a corner, but the crowd pushed us together, forcing me to place an arm around Sherry’s shoulders, and our heads were close so we could hold a very private conversation in this public place.
“I can guess where Manny Resnick and his friend are headed,” I said.
“Big Gull Island?” Sherry asked, and when I nodded she went on, “He’ll need a boat and divers.”
“Don’t worry, Manny will get them “And what will we do?” “We?” I asked.
“A form of speech,” she corrected herself primly. “What will you do?”
“I have a choice. I can forget about it all - or I can go back to Gunfire Reef and try to find out what the hell was in Colonel Goodchild’s five cases.”
“You’ll need equipment.”
“It might not be as elaborate as Manny Resnick’s will be, but I could get enough together.”
“How are you for money, or is that a rude question?”
“The answer is the same. I could get enough together.” “Blue water and white sand,“she murmured dreamily. ” - and the palm fronds clattering in the trade winds.”
“Stop it, Harry.”
“Fat crayfish grilling on the coals, and me beside you singing in the wilderness,” I went on remorselessly.
“Pig,” she said.
“If you stay here, you’ll never know if it was dirty socks I pressed her.
“You’d write and tell me,” she pleaded. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“I’ll have to come with you,“she said at last. “Good girl.” I squeezed her shoulder.
“But I insist on paying my own way, I refuse to become a kept woman.” She had guessed how hard pressed I was financially.
“I should hate to erode your principles,” I told her happily, and my wallet sighed with relief. It was going to be a near-run thing to mount an expedition to Gunfire Reef on what I had left.
There was much we had to discuss now that the decision had been made. It seemed only minutes later that the landlord was calling, “Time, gentlemen.”
“The streets are dangerous at night,” I warned Sherry. “I don’t think we should chance it. Upstairs I have a very comfortable room with a fine view—_2 “Come on, Fletcher.” Sherry stood up. “You had better walk me home, or I shall set my uncle on to you.”
As we walked the half block to her uncle’s apartment, we agreed to meet for lunch next day. I had a list of errands to perform in the morning including making the airline reservations, while Sherry had to have her passport renewed and pick up the photostat drawings of the Dawn Light.
At the door of the apartment we faced each other, suddenly both of us were shy. It was so terribly corny that I almost laughed. We were like a pair of old-fashioned teenagers at the end of our first date - but sometimes corny feels good.
“Good night, Harry,” she said, and with the age-old artistry of womankind she showed me in some indefinable manner that she was ready for kissing.
Her lips were soft and warm, and the kiss went on for a long time.
“My goodness,” she whispered throatily, and drew away at last.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind - it is a beautiful room, hot and cold water, carpets on the floor, TV__2 She laughed shakily and pushed me gently backwards. “Goodnight, dear Harry,” she repeated, and left me.
I went out into the street and strolled back towards my pub. The wind had dropped but I could smell the damp emanating from the river close by. The street was deserted but the kerb was lined with parked vehicles, bumper to bumper they reached to the corner.
I sauntered along the pavement, in no hurry for bed, even toying with the idea of a stroll down the Embankment first. My hands were thrust deep into the pockets of my car coat, and I was feeling relaxed and happy as I thought about this woman.
There was a lot to think about Sherry North, much that was unclear or not yet explained, but mainly I cherished the thought that perhaps here at last was something that might last longer than a night, a week, or a month something that was already strong and that would not be like the others, diminishing with the passage of time, but instead would grow ever stronger.
Suddenly a voice beside me said, “Harry!” It was a man’s voice, a strange voice, and I turned instinctively towards it. As I did so I knew that it was a mistake.
The speaker was sitting in the back seat of one of the parked cars. It was a black Rover. The window was open and his face was merely a pale blob in the darkness of the interior.
Desperately I tried to pull my hands out of my pockets and turn to face the direction from which I knew the attack would come. As I turned I ducked and twisted, and something whiffed past my ear and struck my shoulder a numbing blow.
I struck backwards with both elbows, connecting solidly and hearing the gasp of pain. Then my hands were clear and I was around, moving fast, weaving, for I knew they would use the cosh again.
They were just midnight shapes, menacing and huge, dressed in dark clothing. It seemed there were a legion of them, but there were only four - and one in the car. They were all big men, and the one had the cosh up to strike again. I hit him under the chin with the palm of my hand, snapping his head backwards and I thought I might have broken his neck, for he went down hard on the pavement.
A knee drove for my groin, but I turned and caught it on the thigh, using the impetus of the turn to counterpunch. It was a good one, jolting me to the shoulder, and the man took it in the chest, and was thrown backwards, but immediately one of them was hugging the arm, smothering it and a fist caught me in the cheek under the eye. I felt the skin tear open.
Another one was on my back, an arm around my throat throttling me, but I heaved and pushed. In a tight knot, locked together, we surged around the pavement.
“Hold him still,” another voice called, low and urgent. “Let me get a shot at him.”
“What the bloody hell do you think we are trying to do?” panted another, and we fell against the side of the Rover. I was pinned there, and I saw the one with the cosh was on his feet. He swung again, and I tried to roll my head, but it caught me in the temple. It did not put me out completely, but it knocked all the fight out of me. I was instantly weak as a child, hardly able to support my own weight.
“That’s it, get him into the back.” They hustled me into the centre seat of the back of the Rover and one of them crowded in on each side of me. The doors slammed, the engine whirred and caught and we pulled away swiftly.
My brain cleared, but the side of my head was numb and felt like a balloon. There were three of them in the front seat, one on each side of me in the back. All of them were breathing heavily, and the one next to the driver
