He didn’t want Dexter to see the Sten gun Kerman was taking out of the suit-case he had
brought with him. Under cover of Mike’s thickset body, Kerman put the gun at the bottom of
the packing-case.
“You have plenty of room,” he told me. “Sure you wouldn’t like me to go instead?”
I climbed into the case.
“You come with Mike at nine. If there are more than one with Sherrill’s boat, and you don’t think you can handle them, you’ll have to come alone. They’ll think you’re me, anyway. If you hear shooting on board, get Mifflin and a bunch of cops and come out fighting. Okay?”
Kerman nodded. He looked very worried.
“Mike, you come along with Dexter,” I went on. “If he fluffs his lines, knock him on the head and chuck him overboard.”
Scowling ferociously, Mike said he would do just that thing.
When Kerman fitted on the lid there was room enough in the case for me to sit down with my knees drawn up to my chin. Air came through the joints in the case. I reckoned it wouldn’t take me more than a minute or so to get out.
Kerman nailed down the lid, and between the three of them they got the case on to a sack barrow. The journey down to the water-front was pretty rough, and I collected a few bruises by the time they got the case into Dexter’s boat.
The outboard motor started up and chugged us out to sea. The wind, coming through the cracks in the case was sharp, and the motion of the boat as it slapped its way through the rollers bothered me.
Minutes went by, then Mike whispered that we were running alongside the Dream Ship.
A voice yelled from somewhere, and there was some cross talk from the boat to the ship. Someone seemed to be objecting to handling the case at this time of night. Dexter played up well. He said he had to see a sick brother tomorrow, and if the case wasn’t taken on board now, they’d have to wait for the stuff until the following day.
The man on the ship cursed Dexter, and said to stand by while he slung a derrick.
Mike kept me informed of what was going on by whispering through one of the air holes in the case.
After more delay the case jerked violently and rose in the air. I braced myself for a rough landing. It was rough all right. The case crashed down somewhere inside the ship and jarred me to the heels.
The man who had cursed Dexter cursed him again. His voice sounded close, then a door slammed and I was left alone.
I waited, listening, but heard nothing. After a while I decided it would be safe to break out. I tapped the chisel into one of the plank joints, levered the plank back. It took me less than a minute to get out of the case. I found myself in inky darkness. There was a smell like the smell in Dexter’s warehouse, and I guessed I was in the ship’s hold.
I rook out my flashlight and shone the beam around the vast cellar. It was full of stores, liquor and harrels of beer, and empty silence. At the far end of the cellar was a door. I went to it, slid it hack a couple of inches and peered out into a narrow, well-lighted corridor.
I held the Sten gun by my side. I didn’t want to be bothered with it, but Kerman had insisted. He said with a Sten gun I could argue with half the crew. I doubted it, and took it along more for his peace of mind than mine.
I began to edge along the corridor to a perpendicular steel ladder I could see at the far end, and which. I guessed, led to the upper deck. Halfway down the corridor I came to an abrupt halt. A pair of feet, then legs in white drill trousers appeared on the ladder. A second later a sailor stood gaping at me.
He was a big guy: nearly as big as I was, and tough-looking. I pushed the Sten gun at him and showed him my teeth. His hands went up so fast he took the skin off his knuckles against the low ceiling.
“Open your trap and I’ll rip you in half,” I snarled at him.
He stood motionless, staring at the Sten gun, his jaw hanging loose.
“Turn around,” I said.
He turned and I hit him with the butt of the gun on the back of his head.
As he fell I grabbed hold of his shirt and lowered him gently to the floor.
I was sweating and worried. I had to get him out of sight before anyone else showed up.
Right by me was a door. I took a chance, turned the handle and looked into an empty cabin.
Probably it was his cabin, and he had been going to it.
I caught him up under his arm-pits and dragged him into the cabin, shut and bolted the door.
Working fast, I stripped him, took off my clothes and put on his.
His peaked yachting-cap was a little big for me, but it hid my face.
I gagged him, rolled him in a sheet and tied the sheet with his belt and a length of cord I found in a cabin. Then I hauled him on to the bunk, left the Sten gun beside him, shoved my .38 down the front of my pants and went to the door.
I listened, heard nothing, opened the door a crack and peered out. The corridor was as empty as a dead man’s mind, and as quiet. I turned off the light, slid out of the cabin and locked the door after me.
I looked at my watch. It was twenty-five minutes past eight. I had only thirty-five minutes before Kerman showed up.
Chapter VI
I
I stood in the shadow of a ventilator and looked along the boat-deck. Overhead a cream and red awning flapped in the stiff breeze. The whole length of the deck was covered with a heavy red pile carpet, and green and red lights make a string of glittering beads along the rail.
Beyond the bridge-deck I could see two immaculately dressed sailors standing under arc lights at the head of the gangway. A girl in evening-dress and two men in tuxedos had just come aboard. The sailors saluted them as they crossed the deck to disappear into the brilliantly-lit restaurant, built between the bridge and the fore-decks. Through the big, oblong-shaped windows I could see couples dancing to the strains of muted saxophones and the throb of drums.
Above me on the bridge-deck three white-clad figures hung over the rail, watching the steady flow of arrivals. It was dark up there, but I saw one of them was smoking.
No one paid me any attention, and after a quick look to right and left I slid from the shadow of the ventilator across the pile of the carpet to a lifeboat; paused, listened, looked to right and left again, and then made a silent dart to the shadows immediately beneath the bridge-deck.
“They keep coming,” a voice drawled above me. “Going to be another good night.”
“Yeah,” said another voice. “Look at that dame in the red dress. Look at the shape she’s wearing. I bet she…”
But I didn’t wait to hear what he bet. I was scared they might look down and see me. Right by me was a door. I slid it back a couple of inches and looked down a ladder to the lower deck. Not far off a girl laughed: a loud, harsh sound that made me glance over my shoulder.
“Tight as a tick,” one of the men on the bridge-deck said. “That’s how I like my women.”
Three girls and three men had just come aboard. One of the girls was so drunk she could scarcely walk. As they crossed to the restaurant I slid down the ladder to the lower deck.
It was dark and silent down there. I moved away from the ladder. The moonlight, coming from behind a thin haze of cloud, was just bright enough for me to see the deck was deserted.
One solitary light came from a distant porthole as conspicuous as a soup stain on a bridal gown.
