Queen's Pawn Read online

  Before he left he went up to One Deck and, from the baggage or cargo lift which Sarling had mentioned in his notes, saw that one could move across to the starboard side. Here there was a door to the crew’s quarters which was open. He went through. Back to his right a couple of workmen were drinking tea at a long mess table. He turned left and went forward down an alleyway on the starboard side past a door that was marked Stewardesses’ Mess and another marked Stewardesses’ Recreation Room and then dead ahead of him was an open iron deck door that led straight out on to the foredeck. The route for the gold from the Specie Room—down on Eight Deck with the lift dead opposite it—was a straightforward one out to the foredeck.

  Back in his hotel room, lying on his bed, and thinking over the plan, he knew that it could be done. Knew that it had to be done because a few rumours or hints leaked by Mandel to the police would mean the end of him, of Berners and Belle. Knew, too, that Berners was right; that once you entered the world of crime there was no escape, and no freedom from fear. There was only the misshapen form of trust that men like Sarling, Mandel and Benson dealt in … but although it was distorted it had its own strength and he knew that it was all he could ever have if he wanted to return to Alverton. Complete peace of mind could only come if he were prepared to abandon his Alverton dreams and disappear—and this he knew he would never do.

  The next morning he went aboard again. Work was going on right through the weekend. He wandered around among the workmen, stopping to chat now and then, and finally went up on to the boatdeck landing and down a small alleyway to the left of the 736 Room entrance. He pushed open the door into the Officers’ Quarters and walked down a narrow passageway. An open door to his right showed him an officer’s cabin, bed unmade, a low table covered with magazines and a bookshelf full of paperbacks. To his left a stairway marked Senior Officers’ Quarters ran upwards. Dead ahead of him a glass door gave him a glimpse of what he knew from his study of one of the profile diagrams of the ship given out by Cunard was the Officers’ Restaurant and Lounge with big windows looking out forward. An officer with two gold rings on the sleeves of his navy blue jacket came out of the lounge into the corridor and saw him.

  Raikes gave him a nod and a smile and said, ‘My name’s Graham. I’ve just started working aboard in the Upper Clyde pay office. I’m supposed to meet one of our engineers up here, a Mr Farrar.’

  ‘There’s no one up here of that name.’

  ‘No? He said he knew one of your officers … forget his name now … He said he’d arranged for me to have a look round … see the wheelhouse and all that. I was to meet Farrar outside the 736 Room at half-past ten. Been waiting half an hour so I thought I might have got it wrong and he was in here waiting for me. Here’s my card.’

  Raikes handed the officer his identity card. The office looked at it briefly and handed it back, saying, ‘You don’t remember the name of the officer, do you?’

  ‘No. I suppose Farrar wouldn’t be somewhere around with him? Perhaps in the wheelhouse?’

  ‘We could go and see.’

  And that was that; everything springing from the simple magic of being aboard, of having an identity card, and of acting and talking with complete confidence, shaking his head and joking over Farrar who was never on time anywhere and had probably forgotten all about his promise. The officer, with hours of Sunday time on his hands and the Captain and Staff Captain ashore, not unwelcoming company and proud of his beautiful ship, offered only too willingly, since basically no security was being broken, to show her off. So, Raikes was taken on a conducted tour, into the splendid Officers’ Lounge, then up the stairs to the Senior Officers’ quarters. He was given a brief glimpse into the Captain’s sitting-room—his eyes sweeping over all details, the mind recording them fast and accurately … a desk facing the door, a standard lamp with an orange shade at its side, a low, round table away to the left with a silver grey cactus in a bowl on it, a red bloom in flower, settees around the walls and under the forward windows, green covered and strewn with red, yellow and orange cushions, and across on the far left a curtain exit that led up to the wheelhouse and forward of that the door into bedroom and bathroom … the eyes observing the brain recording … ajar of sharpened pencils and pens on the desk, telephone, a little pair of bookrests with pocket dictionaries wedged neatly between them … the whole room photographed and himself knowing that sometime in the future he would be standing in here again, facing the Captain … balancing himself on the brink of jeopardy but knowing that he would never go over the edge, and knowing that, while he would stand here putting the Captain under duress, the duress had first, so few days ago, been put upon him.

  The officer led him up to the wheelhouse, past the Chart Room outside its port entrance, and took him over to the wide run of windows under which spread the long console range of instruments and equipment for controlling the ship … radar, automatic whistles, bow thrusters, the compass strip and talk back systems to bow, stern, bridge wings and the turbine control room, the engine telegraphs and the table for the log books … the officer talking, Raikes the wondering tourist, and through the windows all of a Sunday morning Southampton spread out in roof and tower silhouette before them and away to the left the other docks, grey, debris-scummed water, stiff necked cranes and gantries, and the colour-banded funnels of other liners thrusting above sheds and warehouses, and Raikes knowing that he was being lucky, that the gods were moving for him, and seeing himself, too, at some point in the future up here at night when the whole console would give off a soft glow of light. The officer spared him nothing, for he was in love with his ship and he gladly displayed the beauties of his love … explaining every thing; the central wheel where the quartermaster stood and behind it the true motion radar and the Decca navigator, the huge panelled run at the back of the wheelhouse with its stabilizer panel, watertight doors panel, navigation lights panel, telephone panel and the panel from which would be switched on the foredeck lights when the helicopter came swinging, flying beetle-awkward in over the deck. He was even given a look into the Captain’s sea cabin on the starboard side of the bridge and, so far does love and pride go, not spared a glimpse of the officers’ bridge toilet and washroom on the left of the port side entrance.

  He had a mug of coffee with the officer and they chatted for half an hour, during which time he learnt to his relief that the mast on the foredeck was telescopic and was lowered when the ship put to sea. It was used to carry the anchor ball and lights when the ship was moored. The problem which had worried him so much a few days before had proved no problem at all. He also learned that the door to the Officers’ quarters was always kept locked when the ship was in service. He arrived back at the hotel before lunch, sat in the entrance lounge until he saw the head porter leave his desk, then went over and reached across and took Alfred Graham’s room key. He went up, put the identity card on Graham’s dressing table, where Graham would think that the chambermaid had laid it after finding it on the floor and then went down to the lounge and handed the key over to the porter saying he had taken it in mistake and claimed his own.

  At three o’clock he was on his way back to London.

  From the moment that Raikes had come back from his interview with Benson and Mandel and told Belle what he was being forced to do, she had felt sick with nervous apprehension. But the apprehension was not on her own account. Somewhere in the months since she had known Raikes and worked with him she had come to an almost placid resignation about herself. Life, she had told herself, was never going to hand her anything on a plate. Once this thing was over Raikes would be gone for good. All right, she would get used to it, learn to live with it, but it would never alter the fact that he was the only man she truly loved or ever would love. Others would get into bed with her, take her body and give her pleasure, but there would never be anyone to take his real place in her heart.

  She lit a cigarette, thinking, poor old Belle, you’ve got twenty thousand pounds—yes, let’s face it, from the murder
of your boss—and you’ll have more when this thing goes through—but there isn’t going to be a damn thing you can buy with it that you really want. Not a thing. One day he’s going to walk right out of your life and you won’t even get a card at Christmas.

  She heard his key in the lock and he came in carrying his case. She sprang up, going to him, crying, ‘Andy.’

  He dropped his case, put his arms around her and kissed her and, for the first time in all their relationship, even while she let herself go, sink into the comfort of his nearness, she wondered what lay behind the kiss … sampled it almost as though somewhere in its passion, somewhere in the feeling of his hands on her she might isolate the strangeness of his hate for her.

  He held her away from him at arm’s length, smiled and, brown skin crinkling round the blue eyes, said, ‘I’ve been lucky. Fix me a large drink while I telephone.’

  She went to the sideboard and, behind her, heard him dialling and then say, ‘It’s Tony Applegate here. I want an appointment tomorrow. Ring me here.’

  She turned as he put the receiver down.

  He took the glass from her and grinned. ‘I checked your cabin. 4004. It’s small, but comfortable.’ He sipped his drink and then went on, ‘You know—if the background were different and this had come up five or ten years ago, I really think I should have thoroughly enjoyed it. Yes, I really think I would.’

  It was Benson again, but this time not at the Ritz. They met in a suite at the Savoy overlooking the river, and the side table held a great bowl of scarlet and yellow gladioli that had certainly, since this was the beginning of March, not had their roots in English soil. Benson in a well-cut silky grey suit, a neat little butterfly of a striped bow tie and a loose gold chain around his left wrist, looked now far more foreign than he had ever looked to Raikes. And this time because there was Mandel behind Benson and a whole world of people and powers maybe beyond Mandel, Raikes without thought, instinctively promoted himself above this man and was commanding not commanded, undeterred, even though the smile on Benson’s lips was ironical, friendly still, marking that he had noticed the change.

  Raikes said, ‘We’ve got the plan worked out. But not in enough detail yet to give it to you. Before we go further there are certain things I’ve got to know.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Only myself and Miss Vickers will be aboard. I don’t need a cabin but she does. I want Cabin 4004 for her or one as near to it as possible. That’s on Deck Four forward on the port side.’

  ‘In what name?’

  ‘Hers. Belle Vickers. She’ll fix all the immigration stuff and visa from the American authorities.’

  ‘We shall get the cabin.’

  ‘I want the gold taken off the ship three or four hours after she leaves Le Havre. She’ll be doing about 27 to 28 knots. That’ll put her somewhere north of the Channel islands. I’ll let you have exact distances and timings later. But right now I want to know that you can provide a French-based helicopter. I don’t care what speed it does but it’s got to have a range of around two hundred and fifty miles. It’s got to have a winch so that it can hover above the foredeck and drop a net or a cargo hook to bring up the bullion boxes.’

  ‘While the ship’s doing 28 knots—and maybe in a strong wind?’

  ‘The ship will be slowed down and come up into the wind.’

  Benson smiled. ‘On your instructions?’

  ‘On the Captain’s.’

  ‘I shall be interested to know how you’re going to get the Captain on your side.’

  ‘You will in time. I want to know the maximum permissible wind in which a skilled helicopter pilot could carry out the manoeuvre. If the wind on the night in question is too strong—then the operation is off.’

  ‘And you’ll be left aboard without a cabin. That’s presuming you intend to be taken off by the helicopter.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that for the moment. I shall be covered. I just want to know you can provide a helicopter and make your own security arrangements for take-off from France and then landing with the bullion.’

  ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult.’

  ‘I want Berners on the helicopter. There’s no role for him aboard. Then there’ll be the pilot and another man to help Berners swing the loaded nets into the helicopter. When the operation’s over I shall go aboard. I want to know the exact payload that the helicopter can carry with four men in her. That will govern how much gold we can take on board.’

  ‘If it’s the usual kind of shipment, which we can check on later, the gold will be in small wooden boxes. They’re made of wood fibre and sealed with metal strips. Anything from two to four “good delivery” bars to a box. A bar can weigh anything between 350 to 450 ounces. Usually 400 ounces. That’s 25 pounds. Say something like 40 bars to a half ton. Seems to me with four average-sized men aboard let’s say somewhere around 900 pounds the lot, then a helicopter could still reasonably lift a ton of gold. Maybe more. I will find out. But 80 bars of gold at around 14,000 dollars minimum a bar gives you …’ Benson’s head went back, eyes closing briefly against the calculation, and Raikes watched him, curiously not interested in values, thinking waywardly of the 25-pound bars and remembering walking a mile carrying a 20-pound salmon over his shoulder, sensing now in memory the exact feel and weight of it … remembering the bite of snow flurry and wind against his face.… ‘… that’s something just over the half a million pound mark. Nice, no? Actually since we’ll sell it miles above the official U.S. Treasury rate of 35 dollars an ounce, it will come out nearer three-quarters of a million.’

  ‘At the moment I’m more interested in other things. When we’ve decided on the helicopter I want some trials carried out with it. I want to know how many two- or four-bar boxes at a time can be winched up and handled easily by the two men aboard. And then I want to know the timings to lift half a ton, a ton or two tons. There’s a lift aboard the ship that runs right up from opposite the Specie Room. From what I’ve seen of the top end of the lift it can probably bring a half a ton up easily, but with four seamen, say, working on a ton—and they’ll be strong chaps who can easily carry two-bar boxes—it’ll mean ten trips for each of them for a ton. I’ll give you a layout of the distance they have to go and their timings can be worked out. That’s why I want Berners in touch with the helicopter end early on. He’ll do all the timings and checks. Can you arrange all this?’

  ‘Naturally. But since this is a business deal, a proportion of the costs will be set off against your share.’

  ‘The other thing I want is routeings—separate ones—for Berners and myself once we land in France with this stuff. Berners will tell you where he wants to go—but I want a flight back to England three days later from Nice or somewhere like that and I’ll want you to fix a Douane entry stamp in my passport for a week or so prior to my return.’

  ‘Simple. When can I tell Mr Mandel we can expect your complete plan?’

  ‘Let’s concentrate on the helicopter first. When I know you can get it and what it’s capable of doing … well, then we can get down to details. Once the balloon goes up on that ship time is the important thing. I’d like to get off within the hour. Two hours is the absolute limit. People get used fast to living in an emergency. They begin to think, they begin to be not quite so afraid and, after that point, they might begin to do something which isn’t in the book.’

  As Benson went to the door of the suite with him, the man said, ‘Tell me—are you looking forward now to doing this? It stirs something in you?’

  ‘No. I’m doing it because I’m being forced to do it. If I were my own master and the idea had been mine originally I could enjoy it. If that’s the word. But not now, Benson. Being somebody else’s man gives me a pain in the guts.’

  Benson shrugged. ‘Show me someone who isn’t somebody else’s man. There is no such animal.’

  From Benson, he took the train down to Brighton and saw Berners. In Berners’ elegant, sitting room they spent three hours going over their p
lan, and they worked as they had often worked before, taking the broad plan and then projecting themselves into it, living it, and moving through it small step by small step, each one throwing up objections, possibilities of errors or chance and not moving on to the next step until they had solved or covered all objections. If no solution could be found through lack of information they considered the sources or ways and means of acquiring the information. For instance when Belle went aboard as a passenger Raikes was going to accompany her on a visitor’s ticket—which she would get from the shipping authorities—to see her off. But once the robbery had taken place and Raikes had gone off in the helicopter a check would certainly be made to establish how he had come aboard.

  A check of listed passengers could be made and there would be no one missing. So he would be isolated as a stowaway or a visitor who had stayed aboard. If a list of visitors’ passes was kept and the passes were collected as visitors went ashore then the pass issued to Raikes—even though it would be under a false name—would be missed. This—if visitors’ passes were linked to the passengers who had requested them—would lead back to Belle and had to be avoided. Berners said that he would find out how the Cunard authorities dealt with the issue of passes and whether they were collected as visitors went off. Each step brought some small problem like this and to Berners it was bread and meat.

  He said, ‘The simplest way is the quickest more often than not. Tomorrow I’ll ring the Cunard offices in London and just ask them what their system is. Some girl on the desk will just tell me and forget it within the hour. People have innocent minds. They give information as a cow gives milk.’