Passage by Night (v5) (4 page)

He shivered, thinking of Jimmy Walker down there in the darkness with no one to help him, and Morrison said, 'What about the others?'

'Nothing left to find,' Joe Howard told him. 'Looked to me as if there'd been some sort of explosion.'

The American frowned. 'What was it? One of the engines?'

Joe Howard shook his head. 'Whatever it was, it was in the baggage compartment. Blew the tail clean off. She must have gone down like a stone.'

There was silence and Saunders drew in his breath. After a moment, Seth said slowly, 'You mean it wasn't no accident, Joe?'

Manning dropped his aqualung to the deck, picked up a towel and draped it over Jimmy Walker's face. When he straightened, he looked incredibly calm.

'That's exactly what he means,' he said.

4
A Man Called Garcia

When Manning opened the door the bed was still rumpled and unmade as he had left it and he moved across and gently touched the dent in the pillow where her head had lain. He shivered involuntarily and opened the French windows, allowing the early morning sun to come flooding in.

He searched the room thoroughly, starting with the wardrobe and going through every drawer and cupboard. He found plenty of his own things, but there was nothing of hers. Not even a handkerchief. It was as if she had never existed.

He stood there listening to the stillness for a moment and then stripped to the waist, went into the bathroom and washed the salt from his face and body. He was pulling a clean shirt over his head when the door opened and Joe Howard came in.

He sat on the end of the bed and took a slip of paper from the breast pocket of his tunic. 'I've got the passenger list here. There were only four of them: Maria, an American businessman called Fallon, Mrs Norah Hamilton, an English tourist, and a man called Perez.'

Manning turned slowly, a slight frown on his face. 'Cuban?'

'He was staying at the Old Ship Tavern. Been here for maybe two weeks. Small, middle-aged man with a walkingstick.

Manning nodded. 'I remember him. Limped badly on his right foot.'

'It wasn't surprising,' Howard said. 'He was lucky to have one. A Castro agent tossed a bomb at him in Vera Cruz a couple of months back. Real name was Dr Miguel de Rodriguez, a prominent Cuban refugee. He'd been having too much success in the Central American states whipping up opposition to the Castro regime.'

'What was he doing here?'

'Recuperating quietly, which explains the assumed name. Nassau informed me as a matter of course when he came in. I didn't know he was leaving last night. Obviously someone else did.'

'And planted a bomb in the baggage compartment?'

'Easily enough done. The Walrus was moored out there beyond the point on her own for several hours after dark. Hard luck on the other passengers, but then I suppose these people never give that side of it a thought.'

Manning found that his hands were trembling. He lit a cigarette and stood at the window. 'What happens now?'

'The Commissioner wants me in Nassau right away. With luck I should be back by this evening. I'll let you know if anything turns up.' He moved to the door and hesitated. 'She was a nice girl, Harry. I'm sorry! Damned sorry!'

The door closed softly behind him and Manning stayed there looking out across the harbour for a while, thinking about it all, and then he reached for his cap and went downstairs.

The bar was deserted and he went out on the terrace and found Viner having a late breakfast on his own. The German snapped his fingers for the waiter as Manning joined him.

'What about some breakfast, Harry?'

Manning shook his head. 'Just coffee.'

The waiter brought another cup, filled it and retired. Viner continued with his meal, obviously embarrassed, and Manning lit a cigarette and looked over the water at the dim bulk of Andros shimmering in the heat haze.

Viner finished eating and carefully fitted a cigarette into an elegant silver holder. 'Your coffee's getting cold.'

Manning emptied his cup and helped himself to some more. 'Where's Morrison? I was supposed to be taking him out at the crack of dawn.'

'Under the circumstances, he didn't think you'd be interested. Decided to take a run across to Nassau. Joe gave him a lift in the police launch.'

'Did he tell you about Rodriguez?'

The German nodded. 'It doesn't make sense, Harry. To kill a man they think their enemy is one thing, but this sort of affair can only do their cause harm.'

'Maybe they want to put a little fear into all of us,' Manning said. 'Show us they mean business. I think Joe was wrong about the way they planted the bomb, though.'

Viner looked surprised. 'I thought his theory seemed pretty sound.'

'So did I at first, but I've been thinking about it. Jimmy Walker always supervised loading himself. He had a thing about it ever since one of his shipping clerks tried to run a little heroin into Vera Cruz and Jimmy nearly took the drop for it. And he always locked that luggage compartment. He'd have noticed if anyone had tampered with that door.'

'Then the bomb must have been taken on board in someone's luggage. Probably by Rodriguez himself.'

Manning nodded. 'Whoever it was wouldn't know a thing about it. Probably planted at their hotel. Lots of people would have the opportunity. Chambermaids, waiters and so on. I shouldn't have thought Rodriguez would have fallen for a thing like that, though. A man in his position only survives by being careful.'

'Obviously he wasn't careful enough,' Viner said dryly. 'But even if the bomb was planted in another passenger's luggage, it shouldn't be too difficult to find a culprit. We could start by checking on all staff taken on by the hotels in question during the past fortnight.'

'A good point,' Manning said. 'Was anyone on that list staying here?'

Viner shook his head. 'We know Rodriguez was at the Old Ship Tavern. We could make some enquiries there for a start. You know, the owner, Bill Lumley, as well as I do. He'll help in any way he can.'

Manning swallowed the rest of his coffee and stood up. 'I've got a better idea. You go see Bill. I'll call at the shipping office and ask them for another copy of that passenger list. That'll tell us where the other two were staying.'

Viner nodded. 'I'll meet you at the Old Ship then. What about the police?'

Manning shrugged. 'Joe won't get back till late this afternoon. Our bird could have flown the coop by then. I wouldn't like that to happen.'

'I don't think I should, either,' Viner said.

Manning left him there, went down the steps and turned along the waterfront. Seth was sitting on the sea wall talking to two sailors. He jumped down and crossed the dusty road.

'We going out today, Harry?'

Manning shook his head. 'I don't think so.'

He felt as if he were under deep water and everything seemed to move in slow motion. All sounds were muffled and far off. Even his own voice seemed to belong to a stranger and again he had that peculiar feeling that it was only a dream. That somehow he would wake up and that everything would be different.

The shipping office was dark and cool when he went inside. The black clerk was drinking a glass of ice water and he put it down hastily, his face sober.

'What can I do for you, Mr Manning?'

'I'd like a look at that passenger list,' Manning said. 'The one you showed Sergeant Howard.'

As the clerk started to search through a mass of papers, the door at the rear opened and a young black man entered. As he took off his jacket, the first man found what he was looking for.

'This is it, Mr Manning. This is the one Sergeant Howard took a copy of. 'Course I didn't make the original out. That was Bill here. He's the night man.'

Bill moved forward, glanced at the passenger list and nodded. 'That's it, Mr Manning. That's the final copy I made after Mr Walker left.'

'Final copy?' Manning said. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Well, sometimes people don't show up for the flight,' he explained. 'When that happens we miss them off the final copy.'

Manning felt a coldness inside him. In that single instant, everything jumped back into focus. He leaned across the counter and said carefully, 'Did someone fail to make the flight last night?'

The clerk nodded. 'A Mr Garcia. He booked his seat around noon, but didn't show up at flight time.'

'And what about his luggage?'

'Oh, that was on the plane. I told him it had to be here by seven. Mr Walker liked it stowed aboard early.'

'Did you tell Sergeant Howard about this?'

The young clerk shook his head. 'I ain't seen him yet. Been sleeping. Only just heard about the accident half an hour ago. That's why I came in.'

Manning turned slowly, found Seth standing at his shoulder. 'You know what this means?'

Seth nodded soberly. 'He'll have left the island by now, Harry. Probably all arranged beforehand.'

Manning shook his head. 'Never mind that. Get down to the harbour quick. See if you can find a boat that left last night, probably for Nassau. It shouldn't be too difficult. I'm going to see Viner. I'll meet you at the boat.'

Seth trotted away and Manning turned back along the waterfront. The Old Ship was a couple of hundred yards farther on, not far from the jetty. As he approached, he saw Viner standing by the main gate.

The German spread his hands in a vague Continental gesture. 'No luck, Harry. Bill Lumley hasn't taken on any new help since last season. All his present staff are islanders. Been with him for years.'

'I've had a little more luck than that,' Manning told him. 'They missed someone off the passenger list. Man called Garcia. Apparently he never showed at flight time, but his luggage went aboard.'

'Do you think he'll still be here?'

'Not a chance. I've sent Seth along the waterfront to see what he can find out.'

At that moment there was a shout and they turned to see Seth running towards them. Sweat poured down the big man's face and his chest was heaving.

'You were right, Harry. Manny Johnson took someone over to Nassau and it sounds like our man. He was sitting in Flo's Bar around seven last night when this guy came in. Flo says they had a row. The trip had been fixed up two days before, but Manny wanted to call it off because of the weather. Flo says he only went because Garcia promised him another twenty quid.'

Manning slapped him on the shoulder. 'Good man. Go and cast off. We're getting out of here fast.'

Seth ran along the jetty and Manning said to Viner, 'You could check on the other two hotels in case we're on a wild goose chase, but I don't think so.'

He moved away and the German said sharply, 'Be careful, Harry. These people play rough.'

Manning turned, a slow, dangerous smile on his face like a fuse burning. 'I only hope they do.'

He ran along the jetty, jumped down to the deck and went into the wheelhouse as Seth cast off. He opened the throttle and as the
Grace Abounding
strained forward with a sudden surge, swung her out of harbour into the gulf.

5
Whistle Up the Duppies

They came into Nassau in the early afternoon. As the
Grace Abounding
skirted the green shoals of Athol Island, a great white liner moved out of the wide harbour, her rails lined with tourists taking a last look at New Providence.

The waterfront was crowded with work boats from the out-islands carrying everything from vegetables and fish to passengers and poultry. It was more like a marketplace than anything else and thronged with colorfully dressed natives talking endlessly amongst themselves, arguing good-humouredly as they bargained.

They tied up at an old jetty on the other side of the harbour and worked their way along Bay Street, looking for Manny Johnson's boat. They found it within half an hour and Manning dropped down to the deck and looked into the cabin. It was empty. As he climbed back onto the wharf, Seth turned from a couple of fishermen who sat on the wall baiting their lines.

'Seems Manny went on the town in a big way last night. Tossed his money around like it was going out of style.'

'Probably flat on his back in some flea-pit sleeping it off,' Manning said.

'Never knew him to save his money when he could be drinking. Maybe had his sleep and started over again?'

'Could be. Start at the other end of Bay Street. I'll take this side. Try every joint you see. Somebody must know where he is.' Manny glanced at his watch. 'I'll meet you back here in a couple of hours.'

Seth moved into the crowd at once and Manning started to work his way along the waterfront, calling in all the bars. He was wasting his time. Manny Johnson seemed to have covered most of them on the previous night, but no one had any idea where he was now.

It was just after four o'clock when he returned to the boat. He was hot and tired and there was a dull persistent ache somewhere at the back of his head. He lit a cigarette and leaned on the parapet, looking out over the harbour, wondering if Seth was having any better luck. After a while he turned to look along the waterfront and saw Morrison crossing the street towards him.

There was a wide grin on the American's face. 'Say, I'd no idea you were coming over today.'

'Didn't know myself,' Manning said. 'Something came up.'

'Sorry about breaking our date this morning, but under the circumstances I didn't think you'd be interested. When Joe Howard said he was coming to Nassau I thought I'd go along for the ride. Never really had the chance to look the place over on my way in.'

'It's quite a town,' Manning said. 'Plenty of night life and a first-rate casino.'

'Sounds interesting,' Morrison wiped sweat from his face with a handkerchief. 'Too hot for comfort. What about a drink?'

Out of the corner of his eye Manning saw Seth emerge from the crowd and hesitate. 'No thanks. Got some business to attend to. Maybe some other time.'

He left the American standing there and joined Seth. 'Any luck?'

The big man nodded. 'Took some doing, but I finally made it. He's got a room in an hotel not far from here. What was Morrison after?'

'Wanted me to have a drink with him. I had to chop him off pretty short, but it can't be helped.'

It took them about five minutes to reach their destination, a seedy tenement used as an hotel by seamen. It wasn't the sort of establishment that kept a receptionist. They entered a dark and gloomy hall and mounted a flight of wooden stairs. Seth opened a door at the far end of the corridor and led the way in.

The stench was appalling and Manning stumbled across to the window and opened the shutters. For several moments he stood there enjoying the cool breeze from the harbour and then he turned and looked down at Manny Johnson.

He lay on his back, mouth opened and twisted to one side, the soiled and filthy sheets half covering him and draping down to the floor. Manning sat on the edge of the bed, pulled him upright and slapped him gently across the face.

When the old man opened his eyes, he gazed at him with a peculiar fixed stare, and then something seemed to click and a slow smile appeared on his face.

'Harry Manning. What the hell are you doing here?'

'No time to explain that now, Manny. I want information and I want it fast.' Manning gave him a cigarette and a light. 'You ran someone over from Spanish Cay last night. A man called Garcia.'

The old man rubbed a knuckle into his bloodshot eyes and nodded. 'That's right. What do you want him for? He owe you money?'

Manning ignored the question. 'Any idea where he went?'

'Search me. He paid up like a gent and hopped it.'

'Did he take a cab?'

Manny shook his head. 'He hired one of the kids who bum around the wharf to carry his bag.'

'Who was the kid?'

'You can't miss him. Hangs around the wharf all the time. Wears one of those American football jerseys some tourist gave him. Yellow thing with twenty-two in big letters on the back. Reaches to his knees.'

Manning turned enquiringly to Seth and he nodded. 'I know the boy.'

Manning got to his feet. 'Thanks Manny. At least you've given us something to go on.'

'My pleasure,' the old man said. 'Now if you'll kindly get to hell out of here, maybe I can get some sleep.'

They found the boy sitting on the wharf, a few yards away from Manny's boat, with a fishing line, a small black dog curled up beside him. He was perhaps twelve years old and the yellow football jersey he wore contrasted vividly with his ebony skin.

Seth grinned down at him. 'Doing any good?'

The boy shook his head. 'They looking the other way. This ain't my lucky day.'

'Maybe it could be.' Manning produced a pound note and folded it between his fingers.

The boy's eyes went very round. 'What you want, mister?'

'You know Mr Johnson from Spanish Cay?'

The boy nodded. 'That's his boat down there.'

'He brought in a passenger last night,' Manning said. 'He hired you to carry his bag. I want to know where he went.'

'For a pound?' Manning nodded and the boy grinned. 'Mister, that's easy.'

He handed his line and rod to another boy who sat on the edge of the wharf a few feet away. Then he got to his feet, nudged the dog with his toe and moved across Bay Street.

Manning and Seth had difficulty in keeping up with him as he trotted along the crowded pavement. He turned into a narrow alley and they followed him through a maze of back streets. Finally, he halted on the corner of a small square that was entirely surrounded by dilapitated clapboard houses.

He pointed to one in the far corner. 'That's it mister. That's where he went. He paid me off in the back yard. I think he must have been a Cuban. When the lady opened the door, she called him Juan.'

Manning gave him the pound and the boy spat on it and grinned. 'Anytime you want anything, just holler. I'm always down on the wharf there.'

He whistled to his dog and ran back the way they had come.

Manning turned to Seth. 'I want you to stay here. Give me ten minutes and then come looking.'

Seth frowned. 'Maybe it's time we called in the police, Harry. Let them handle it.'

Manning ignored him and moved across the square. The front door was boarded up and he followed a side passage that brought him into a back yard littered with empty tins and refuse of every description. He mounted four stone steps to the door and knocked.

Footsteps approached and it opened a few inches. A woman's voice said, 'Who is it?'

'I'm looking for Juan,' Manning said. 'Juan Garcia. I'm an old friend of his.'

There was the rattle of a chain and the door opened. 'You'd better come in,' she said and walked back along the corridor.

He closed the door and followed, wrinkling his nose at the stale smell compounded of cooking odours and urine. She opened the door, clicked on a light and led the way into a room. It was reasonably clean with a carpet on the floor and a double bed against the far wall.

She was a large, heavily built woman running dangerously to seed, the coffee-coloured skin and the thick lips an indication of her mixed blood. She was still handsome in a bold, coarse sort of way and a sudden smile of interest appeared on her face.

'I'm Juan's girl - Hannah. Anything I can do?'

There was an unmistakable invitation in her voice and Manning grinned. 'Not really.'

'Is it business?'

'You could call it that.'

'Well that's nice.' She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. 'Give me a cigarette and tell me all about it.'

She patted the bed beside her and Manning obliged. The gaudy housecoat she was wearing fell open when she crossed her knees revealing black stockings, the flesh bulging over the tops.

'I thought I knew most of Juan's friends. How come you've never been here before?'

'I move around a lot,' Manning said. 'Never in one place for long. Where did you say Juan has gone?'

She blew a cloud of smoke up towards the ceiling and leaned back against the pillow. 'I didn't. As a matter of fact, he's been out of town for a couple of weeks. He only arrived back last night.'

'What time did he go out this morning?'

'Around ten.' She shrugged. 'I went down to the market for food. When I returned, he'd gone. Left a message to say he'd be back this evening.'

Manning shook his head. 'I don't think so.'

She frowned. 'What are you trying to say, mister?'

'He's run out on you,' Manning said.

She sat up, her eyes sparkling angrily. 'You don't know what you're talking about!'

'Where did he go?'

'He didn't say.'

'But you've got a good idea?'

She stretched with a sigh of pleasure, arms extended, her breasts pushing hard against the thin material of her housecoat, and got to her feet. 'Care for a drink?'

He nodded and she crossed to a cupboard, took out a bottle of gin and two glasses and filled them. She came back to the bed and gave him one.

'He's been acting funny for about a month now. Kept hinting he had some big deal lined up that would put us on easy street for the rest of our lives, but he wouldn't tell me what it was all about.'

'Did you ever find out?'

She drank some of her gin and shook her head. 'No, but I followed him a couple of times. He always went to the same place.'

'And where was that?'

'Why should I tell you?'

He took out his wallet and produced a five pound note. She grabbed it quickly and pushed it down into the deep valley between her breasts, her face creasing into a smile.

'A fortune teller called Mother Diamond. Lives in a house in Grant Street down near the harbour.'

'And you never found out why he went there?'

She shook her head. 'I couldn't very well tell him I'd been following him. He'd have slit my ears.'

Manning finished his gin and stood up. 'Thanks for the drink, but I've got to be moving.'

She leaned back against the pillows and gazed at him fixedly. 'What's your hurry? Juan won't be back for a couple of hours.'

'If I were you, I shouldn't bank on that,' he said and closed the door gently as her mouth went slack with astonishment.

Dusk was beginning to fall as he went across the square. He turned into the side street and Seth moved out of a doorway.

'Do any good, Harry?'

Manning nodded. 'I think so. Ever hear of a fortune teller called Mother Diamond?'

Seth glanced at him sharply. 'Sure, everybody knows her. She mixed up in this?'

'I'm not sure, but it looks like it. Know where her place is?'

'Not far from the waterfront.' Seth appeared to hesitate and went on, 'She's bad trouble, that woman, Harry. Don't pay to meddle with her. Lots of people found that out.'

Manning lit a cigarette and grinned. 'Afraid she might put a hex on me?'

There was sweat on the man's face and all at once, his eyes seemed very white. 'They say she can whistle up the duppies, Harry. They say she can bring the drowned men out of the sea.'

Manning was aware of a sudden irrational coldness as if somewhere, someone had walked on his grave, but he managed to force a smile.

'Let's go and find out.'

It was almost dark when they reached Grant Street. The house was detached and surrounded by a six-foot board fence painted white. Manning opened the gate and they walked along a brick path and paused at the bottom of a flight of rickety wooden steps.

He turned to Seth. 'You stay here and keep out of sight. If you hear a disturbance, kick in the door.'

Seth merged into the darkness without a word and Manning mounted the steps and knocked on the door. After a few moments, steps shuffled along the corridor and he could see a shadowy figure through the cracked frosted glass window. The door clicked open and an old woman looked out at him.

A scarlet bandana was tied around her head like a turban and her wrinkled skin was the colour of leather, long jet earrings hanging on either side of her face. The eyes were the most disturbing feature, absolutely black and yet contained a weird luminosity.