SLAPPING A MOSQUITO at his neck, Charley Katz flung open his cheap canvas suitcase and rapidly began emptying the contents of the chest of drawers. In a matter of minutes the suitcase was bulging as he forced it shut and fastened the clasps. Slipping on his fedora, he briskly walked to the telephone on the bedside table. On his two previous attempts to contact his employer he’d been curtly informed that Sir Harry was not to be disturbed. Well, it was almost noon, and if he couldn’t reach him on the phone, he’d drive over and demand to see him. He dialled the number, impatiently gave the operator his name, and to his surprise, she put him through.
‘Hello, Charley,’ said Oakes. ‘What’s up?’
‘Say, Harry. We need to talk. Not over the phone,’ said Katz in almost a whisper. ‘I’ve got somethin’ big.’
‘Maybe later. I’m busy—’
‘No, it won’t wait. This is serious, boss.’
‘Oh … Well, come on over. But it better be good.’
Hanging up, Katz wiped the sweat from his brow and lifted the heavy suitcase. With a final glance around the squalid room, he was out the door. After tossing the suitcase into the trunk of his car, he jumped in and sped out the road to Cable Beach. Within minutes he arrived at Westbourne and hurried inside, where the archly superior butler led him to the library. Rapping lightly, Jenkins swung open the door and announced, ‘Mr Katz.’
Katz stepped past him, nervously clutching his hat.
Glaring from behind his desk, Oakes leaned forward and said, ‘OK, Charley. What’s so important you can’t spill it over the phone?’
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure the door was shut, Katz said, ‘I was keeping a lookout at the Shawcross place last night, and this big British sedan pulls up.’ Katz began pacing. ‘And this heavy-set fellow gets out – an older guy with silver hair – and goes straight in. It’s getting dark, so I figure I might as well try to get a better look.’
‘Get to the point,’ said Oakes. ‘And stop that pacing.’
Halting abruptly, Katz stared for a moment. ‘Well,’ he said, awkwardly immobile, ‘I went around to the back. I could hear ’em talking on this upstairs balcony so I shinnied up a tree, just below where they was talking.’
‘They? Who?’
‘The Shawcross dame and this guy. Anyways, Harry, you’re not gonna believe this.’
‘Goddamn it, Charley, get to the point!’
‘The guy had an accent. He’s asking her about Hamilton, and she tells him Hamilton called her. Like she’s reporting it to him. He thinks Hamilton’s in the States, like we figured, but no, she says, he’s in the Bahamas, but not Nassau. Up at some little island.’
‘It had to be Ericsson,’ said Oakes thoughtfully.
‘Yeah, I guess so. So she tells him she can lead him to Hamilton’s hideout. Jeez, some friend, right? And the guy, Ericsson, is dying to get his hands on him.’
‘Let me get this straight,’ said Oakes, narrowing his eyes. ‘Evelyn Shawcross was offering to lead Ericsson to Hamilton, so Ericsson could—’
‘Kill him.’
‘What?’ Sir Harry’s eyes opened wide.
‘Said it just like that, like he was gonna pluck a chicken. But that’s not all.’
Taking a deep breath, Oakes sat up straight and said, ‘What else?’
‘He sort of bragged to her that he’d built the Germans a U-boat base at his marina.’ Oakes slumped in his chair. ‘Get this,’ said Katz, leaning on the desk. ‘He tells her the Germans are gonna take over the island and put the goddamn Duke of Windsor under arrest!’
‘Oh, my God,’ said Oakes. ‘Charley … are you sure? You hadn’t been drinking?’
‘Why, no. Not while I’m on duty. And I heard every word.’
‘So,’ muttered Oakes, ‘Ericsson’s working for the Germans….’
‘And the Shawcross woman is working for Ericsson,’ said Katz. ‘The way I got it.’
‘Hamilton must be on to them,’ said Oakes, his eyes growing even wider. ‘So Mrs Shawcross betrays him when she learns where he’s hiding out.’
‘And Ericsson plans to knock him off. To keep him from causing trouble.’
‘A U-boat base,’ said Oakes. ‘My, God, Charley, we’ve got to stop this!’
‘Yeah, but how?’ said Katz glumly. ‘We don’t have any proof. Just my word. And I might have a problem explaining what I was doing up in that tree.’
‘Yes. Yes, you might…’
‘Listen, boss, things are getting too hot around here. This guy’s not our only problem.’
Oakes gave Katz a curious look. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I got a call this morning from one of Lansky’s boys. He says, you don’t listen too good. You got concrete ears. He was really steamed.’
‘What? What for?’
‘For the goddamn article in the paper is what for. He says, “So Oakes is gonna open a casino in Nassau? We warned you,” he says, “but you didn’t think we was serious. If you know what’s good for you, clear out of town. We’re gonna have to teach Oakes a lesson.”’
‘He said that?’
‘That’s exactly what he said.’
‘Charley, this is no good. We’ve got to come up with a plan….’
‘Sorry, boss.’ Katz slipped on his fedora. ‘I’m leaving. It’s too dangerous, what with the Germans and the mob.’
‘I won’t allow it,’ said Oakes with a thump of his fist on the desk.
With a tight-lipped smile, Katz raised a finger to the brim of his hat. ‘Good luck, Harry,’ he said. ‘You’ll think of something. I’m on the next flight out.’
Carter knelt beside the gleaming bow of the Chris Craft, working polish into the grain with a chamois as a group of gulls floated overhead, almost motionless in the steady breeze. Carter rose to his feet as Hamilton started down the pier, lugging a wooden box. ‘Let me give you a hand,’ said Carter. The two men carefully lowered the box next to the stern.
‘Whew,’ said Hamilton, wiping sweat from his eyes. ‘That’s the last of it.’
‘Will these Navy frogmen have their own gear?’
Hamilton nodded. ‘We’ll just take what we’ll need, the 45s, ammo, and those knives.’
Carter reached into the box for one of the K-bar battle knives and inspected its twelve-inch blade. ‘Plus the extra fuel,’ he said, gesturing at the jerry cans lashed to the transom.
‘And my little secret weapon,’ said Hamilton.
‘Right,’ said Carter with a knowing smile. He looked up at the pale sky, noticing a faint ring of clouds that encircled the sun.
Hamilton’s eyes travelled upward after him. ‘What do you make of that?’
‘They say it means a storm’s coming.’
‘Have you heard a weather report?’ asked Hamilton.
‘Miami radio says a cold snap’s on the way. Warning about frost on the orange groves and heavy thunderstorms.’
‘When?’ A worried look crossed Hamilton’s sun-tanned face.
‘Later tonight.’
‘Well, we’d better shove off….’
‘Tom!’ called Marnie from the terrace. ‘You have a phone call.’
‘It must be Evelyn,’ he muttered. He trotted down the pier.
Taking the call in the study, Hamilton said, ‘Evelyn? Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Everything went just as you predicted.’
‘Hook, line, and sinker, as you Yanks would say. When I mentioned that you were staying on a small cay, and that I was planning to see you, he insisted on coming along.’
‘How did you handle that?’
‘Well … he acted the gentleman, offering to accompany me, to ensure my safety.’ God, she thought, how easily the lies came.
‘And naturally you accepted.’
‘Of course. Tom, how soon…?’
‘Tonight, if that’s possible.’
‘Yes, I think so. I told him I was planning to leave today.’
‘Great. We’re all set. We’re headed for Hope Town this afternoon. It’s just a tiny settlement, with a sheltered marina. There’s this one café, in the middle of town. That’s where we’ll be waiting. Tell Ericsson you’re meeting me there after dark, as late as midnight.’
‘When we get there, what should I do?’
‘Once Ericsson knows where to find me, you’ll have to think of an excuse to stay behind. He’ll buy it, because he won’t want you getting in the way. When they’ve gone, make your way to the lighthouse. You can’t miss it.’
‘The lighthouse.’
‘The lighthouse-keeper will be expecting you. Wait for me there. I’ll come just as soon as we’ve taken care of Ericsson.’
‘What will you do to him?’
‘Turn him over to our navy. I’ll have a destroyer waiting offshore. Evelyn, no matter what, stay with the lighthouse-keeper.’
‘When are you leaving?’
‘As soon as we can get underway.’
‘Oh, Tom, I don’t want to say goodbye.’
‘It’s just for a few hours. By tomorrow this will all be over.’
‘Goodbye, Tom. And good luck.’
As he hung up, he turned and saw Marnie in the doorway.
‘I wasn’t eavesdropping,’ she said. ‘I just happened to come in as you were telling her goodbye.’
‘I’m in love with her, Marnie.’
‘She’s divorcing him.’
‘I see,’ said Marnie sceptically.
Sir Philip managed to propel himself in his wheelchair all the way to the end of the long pier where Hamilton and Carter were preparing to cast off. Marnie stood beside him, the breeze furling her yellow cover-up. Standing at the wheel, Carter turned the ignition and listened with satisfaction to the deep thrum of the engine. ‘Bon chance,’ called Sir Philip.
Hamilton waved and said, ‘If we’re not back by noon tomorrow, you’ll know what to do.’
‘Be careful, Tom,’ said Marnie. ‘Carter,’ she added, ‘you look after him.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Carter slowly backed the boat away from the pier, turned north, and the sleek craft surged forward, knifing into the swells. Holding Marnie’s hand, Sir Philip shaded his eyes and watched until the boat was no more than a speck on the horizon.
Looking old and worn, Sir Harry Oakes walked slowly to the bookcase and bent down to examine a photograph in a tortoiseshell frame. He smiled wistfully at the family portrait: his handsome wife Eunice beside him, flanked by young Nancy, Sidney, and the other children on the front porch of their beautiful cottage on the rugged Maine coast. He felt a deep pang of yearning, like homesickness, for his beloved Maine and his family, even Nancy, who had gone away to boarding-school in Vermont, temporarily leaving the dreadful de Marigny behind. Pushing aside the unhappy ruminations, Oakes walked to the trolley and selected a bottle of aged Scotch. As he reached for several ice cubes from a silver bucket, he noticed the slightest tremor in his hand. With a sharp intake of breath, he dropped the ice into a glass and poured a drink.
He began pacing the faded Persian rug in front of his desk, pausing periodically to sip his drink, deep in concentration. In whom could he confide? He’d considered calling the duke, but the duke was a great admirer of Ericsson and terribly fond of Evelyn Shawcross – he would think him a raving lunatic. Contacting the authorities would be equally futile. What evidence did he have? Only Charley Katz’s improbable story, and besides, Katz was gone, on a plane to Miami. My God, he thought desperately, was he simply to wait until the Germans attacked? Every British subject would be treated as the enemy, subject to internment and confiscation of their assets. With a base for their U-boats, and the Spitfires at the airfield at their disposal, it could alter the strategic balance of the war! He had to do something, call someone … An idea suddenly flashed into his mind. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? It would be risky, no doubt about that.
Unsure what he hoped to achieve, Oakes lifted the telephone and instructed the Westbourne operator to place a call to Greycliff. When Evelyn’s Bahamian servant answered, Oakes calmly said, ‘Is Madam Shawcross in? You may tell her Sir Harry Oakes is calling.’
Evelyn had spent the afternoon sequestered in the house, trying, without success, to sleep; every nerve on edge with the awareness of the extreme danger of the mission that lay ahead and its promise to free her from an otherwise inescapable trap. Finally, she had gone for a walk, to Government House, where she gazed out to the distant sea, imagining she could see the boat with Tom speeding northward to their rendezvous. She had just returned home when the phone rang, causing a flutter in her chest. As Samuel approached her, she said, ‘Who is it?’
‘Mister Oakes, ma’am.’
‘What on earth,’ she said softly as she walked across the room and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’ she said warily.
‘Ah, Mrs Shawcross,’ said Oakes pleasantly. ‘Good afternoon.’
‘Good afternoon,’ repeated Evelyn, sitting down at the desk.
‘Mrs Shawcross, there’s some information that’s come to my attention I’d like to discuss with you. About your friend Nils Ericsson.’
Oh, my God, thought Evelyn, her heart beating wildly.
‘And his project on Hog Island,’ Oakes continued coolly. ‘Hurricane Hole.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Evelyn firmly, ‘I can’t imagine what this has to do with me.’
‘I have it on good authority,’ said Oakes, ‘that Ericsson’s co-operating with the Germans. That he’s built them a U-boat base, and they’re planning an attack on Nassau.’
‘An attack on Nassau?’ said Evelyn with a weak attempt at a laugh. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, or why you’re telling me—’
‘Because,’ said Oakes, ‘I know you’re in on it, helping Ericsson keep an eye on that American fellow, Hamilton.’
Her mind racing, Evelyn raised a hand to her mouth. Stay calm, she implored herself, and find out exactly how much he knows. ‘That’s utter nonsense,’ she declared. ‘You’ve obviously been listening to some absurd rumour.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Oakes paused to take a swallow of whisky. ‘I’m on to your game. I know you’re planning to lead Ericsson to the place where Hamilton’s holed up.’
‘What in heaven’s name are you talking about?’
‘Don’t think I’m gonna stand by and let it happen. Not after everything I’ve done for this Colony. Oh, no, Mrs Shawcross.’
‘No one would possibly believe you!’ blurted Evelyn. In the ensuing silence, she perceived she’d struck a nerve. ‘If you’re so certain of this ridiculous tale, why don’t you tell it to the police? Or better yet, to the Governor?’
‘Maybe not,’ said Oakes. ‘But I’m not gonna just sit back and let the Germans take this island. I’ll think of something. Such as getting word to Hamilton, to tip him off.’
‘Hamilton? I hate to disappoint you, but he’s safely at home in Texas.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Oakes sarcastically. ‘Well, maybe I’ll just pass the word to his friend Sir Philip Sassoon. Something tells me he’d know where to find him. And Sassoon would find it very interesting to learn you’ve been working for the Nazis!’
‘It’s a lie,’ said Evelyn in a voice just above a whisper. ‘Goodbye.’ Gently hanging up, she slumped down on the desk, cradling her head on her arm. After a minute the panic subsided and her rational mind took command. Anyone might have heard the rumours about the U-boat base at Hurricane Hole, but the only way Oakes could possibly know she was planning to lead Ericsson to Tom’s hideaway was if someone had overheard their conversation. Someone working for Oakes, skulking about her house. There was no other explanation. But if that were the case, he didn’t have any proof … And what difference would it make after tonight, after Ericsson was in American custody? For a moment, she felt enormously relieved. And then it struck her: if Oakes told Sir Philip that she was co-operating with Ericcson and the Germans … that she’d betrayed Tom….
Startled by another phone call, she sat up and brushed back her hair. Was it Oakes calling back, with some new threat? She impulsively reached for the phone and said, ‘Hello?’
‘Ah, Evelyn,’ said Nils Ericsson. ‘I trust you’re ready for this evening’s expedition?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’
‘Here are the particulars. If we’re to arrive at the rendezvous by midnight, we should be underway at ten o’clock. Meet me at the public dock. Be there no later than nine forty-five.’
‘All right,’ murmured Evelyn. ‘At nine forty-five.’
‘Very well,’ said Ericsson. ‘Until then, goodbye.’
‘Goodbye.’ As she hung up, the kernel of an idea began to form. Opening the desk drawer, she searched among the odd papers and objects that had accumulated there. Finally, she found what she was looking for: a single-shot derringer, so small it could be easily concealed in the palm of her hand, and a box of cartridges. With a heavy sigh, she took them from the drawer and pushed back from the desk.