Читать книгу The Golden Keel - Desmond Bagley, Desmond Bagley - Страница 15

Air travel is wonderful. At noon the next day I was booking into a hotel in Johannesburg, a thousand miles from Cape Town.

On the plane I had thought a lot about Coertze. I had made up my mind that if he didn’t bite then the whole thing was off – I couldn’t see myself relying on Walker. And I had to decide how to handle him – from Walker’s account he was a pretty tough character. I didn’t mind that; I could be tough myself when the occasion arose, but I didn’t want to antagonize him. He would probably be as suspicious as hell, and I’d need kid gloves.

Then there was another thing – the financing of the expedition. I wanted to hang on to the boatyard as insurance in case this whole affair flopped, but I thought if I cut Harry Marshall in for a partnership in the yard, sold my house and my car and one or two other things, I might be able to raise about £25,000 – not too much for what I had in mind.

But it all depended on Coertze. I smiled when I considered where he was working. He had a job in Central Smelting Plant which refined gold from all the mines on the Reef. More gold had probably passed through his hands in the last few years than all the Axis war-lords put together had buried throughout the world.

It must have been tantalizing for him.

I phoned the smelting plant in the afternoon. There was a pause before he came on the line. ‘Coertze,’ he said briefly.

I came to the point. ‘My name’s Halloran,’ I said. ‘A mutual friend – Mr Walker of Cape Town – tells me you have been experiencing difficulty in arranging for the delivery of goods from Italy. I’m in the import-export business; I thought I might be able to help you.’

A deep silence bored into my ear.

I said, ‘My firm is fully equipped to do this sort of work. We never have much trouble with the Customs in cases like these.’

It was like dropping a stone into a very deep well and listening for the splash.

‘Why don’t you come to see me,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to take up your time now; I’m sure you’re a busy man. Come at seven this evening and we’ll discuss your difficulties over dinner. I’m staying at the Regency – it’s in Berea, in …’

‘I know where it is,’ said Coertze. His voice was deep and harsh with a guttural Afrikaans accent.

‘Good; I’ll be expecting you,’ I said, and put down the phone.

I was pleased with this first contact. Coertze was suspicious and properly so – he’d have been a fool not to be. But if he came to the hotel he’d be hooked, and all I had to do would be to jerk on the line and set the hook in firmly.

I was pretty certain he’d come; human curiosity would see to that. If he didn’t come, then he wouldn’t be human – or he’d be superhuman.

He came, but not at seven o’clock and I was beginning to doubt my judgement of the frailty of human nature. It was after eight when he knocked on the door, identified me, and said, ‘We’ll forget the dinner; I’ve eaten.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘But what about a drink?’ I crossed the room and put my hand on the brandy bottle. I was pretty certain it would be brandy – most South Africans drink it.

‘I’ll have a Scotch,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘Thanks,’ he added as an afterthought.

As I poured the drinks I glanced at him. He was a bulky man, broad of chest and heavy in the body. His hair was black and rather coarse and he had a shaggy look about him. I’d bet that when stripped he’d look like a grizzly bear. His eyebrows were black and straight over eyes of a snapping electric blue. He had looked after himself better than Walker; his belly was flat and there was a sheen of health about him.

I handed him a drink and we sat down facing each other. He was tense and wary, although he tried to disguise it by over-relaxing in his chair. We were like a couple of duellists who have just engaged blades.

‘I’ll come to the point,’ I said. ‘A long time ago Walker told me a very interesting story about some gold. That was ten years ago and we were going to do something about it, but it didn’t pan out. That might have been lucky because we’d have certainly made a botch of the job.’

I pointed my finger at him. ‘You’ve been keeping an eye on it. You’ve probably popped across to Italy from time to time just to keep your eye on things in general. You’ve been racking your brains trying to think of a way of getting that gold out of Italy, but you haven’t been able to do it. You’re stymied.’

His face had not changed expression; he would have made a good poker player. He said, ‘When did you see Walker?’

‘Yesterday – in Cape Town.’

The craggy face broke into a derisive grin. ‘And you flew up to Jo’burg to see me just because a dronkie like Walker told you a cock-and-bull story like that? Walker’s a no-good hobo; I see a dozen like him in the Library Gardens every day,’ he said contemptuously.

‘It’s not a cock-and-bull story, and I can prove it.’

Coertze just sat and looked at me like a stone gargoyle, the whisky glass almost lost in his huge fist.

I said, ‘What are you doing here – in this room? If there was no story, all you had to do was to ask me what the hell I was talking about when I spoke to you on the phone. The fact that you’re here proves there’s something in it.’

He made a fast decision. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘What’s your proposition?’

I said, ‘You still haven’t figured a way of moving four tons of gold out of Italy. Is that right?’

He smiled slowly. ‘Let’s assume so,’ he said ironically.

‘I’ve got a foolproof way.’

He put down his glass and produced a packet of cigarettes. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m not going to tell you – yet.’

He grinned. ‘Walker hasn’t told you where the gold is, has he?’

‘No, he hasn’t,’ I admitted. ‘But he would if I put pressure on him. Walker can’t stand pressure; you know that.’

‘He drinks too much,’ said Coertze. ‘And when he drinks he talks; I’ll bet that’s how he came to spill his guts to you.’ He lit his cigarette. ‘What do you want out of it?’

‘Equal shares,’ I said firmly. ‘A three-way split after all expenses have been paid.’

‘And Walker comes with us on the job. Is that right?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

Coertze moved in his chair. ‘Man, it’s like this,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if you’ve got a foolproof way of getting the gold out or if you haven’t. I thought I had it licked a couple of times. But let’s assume your way is going to work. Why should we take Walker?’

He held up his hand. ‘I’m not suggesting we do him down or anything like that – although he’d think nothing of cheating us. Give him his share after it’s all over, but for God’s sake keep him out of Italy. He’ll make a balls-up for sure.’

I thought of Harrison and Parker and the two Italians. ‘You don’t seem to like him.’

Coertze absently fingered a scar on his forehead. ‘He’s unreliable,’ he said. ‘He almost got me killed a couple of times during the war.’

I said, ‘No, we take Walker. I don’t know for certain if three of us can pull it off, and with two it would be impossible. Unless you want to let someone else in?’

He smiled humourlessly. ‘That’s not on – not with you coming in. But Walker had better keep his big mouth shut from now on.’

‘Perhaps it would be better if he stopped drinking,’ I suggested.

‘That’s right,’ Coertze agreed. ‘Keep him off the pots. A few beers are all right, but keep him off the hard-tack. That’ll be your job; I don’t want to have anything to do with the rat.’

He blew smoke into the air, and said, ‘Now let’s hear your proposition. If it’s good, I’ll come in with you. If I don’t think it’ll work, I won’t touch it. In that case, you and Walker can do what you damn’ well like, but if you go for that gold you’ll have me to reckon with. I’m a bad bastard when I’m crossed.’

‘So am I,’ I said.

We grinned at each other. I liked this man, in a way. I wouldn’t trust him any more than I’d trust Walker, but I had the feeling that while Walker would stick a knife in your back, Coertze would at least shoot you down from the front.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s have it.’

‘I’m not going to tell you – not here in this room,’ I saw his expression and hurried on. ‘It isn’t that I don’t trust you, it’s simply that you wouldn’t believe it. You have to see it – and you have to see it in Cape Town.’

He looked at me for a long moment, then said, ‘All right, if that’s the way you want it, I’ll play along.’ He paused to think. ‘I’ve got a good job here, and I’m not going to give it up on your say-so. There’s a long week-end coming up – that gives me three days off. I’ll fly down to Cape Town to see what you have to show me. If it’s good, the job can go hang; if it isn’t, then I’ve still got the job.’

‘I’ll pay for your fare,’ I said.

‘I can afford it,’ he grunted.

‘If it doesn’t pan out, I’ll pay for your fare,’ I insisted. ‘I wouldn’t want you to be out of pocket.’

He looked up and grinned. ‘We’ll get along,’ he said. ‘Where’s that bottle?’

As I was pouring another couple of drinks, he said, ‘You said you were going to Italy with Walker. What stopped you?’

I took the clipping from my pocket and passed it to him. He read it and laughed. ‘That must have scared Walker. I was there at the time,’ he said unexpectedly.

‘In Italy?’

He sipped the Scotch and nodded. ‘Yes; I saved my army back-pay and my gratuity and went back in ’48. As soon as I got there all hell started popping about this trial. I read about it in the papers and you never heard such a lot of bull in your life. Still, I thought I’d better lie low, so I had a lekker holiday with the Count.’

‘With the Count?’ I said in surprise.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I stay with the Count every time I go to Italy. I’ve been there four times now.’

I said, ‘How did you reckon to dispose of the gold once you got it out of Italy?’

‘I’ve got all that planned,’ he said confidently. ‘They’re always wanting gold in India and you get a good price. You’d be surprised at the amount of gold smuggled out of this country in small packets that ends up in India.’

He was right – India is the gold sink of the world – but I said casually, ‘My idea is to go the other way – to Tangier. It’s an open port with an open gold market. You should be able to sell four tons of gold there quite easily – and it’s legal, too. No trouble with the police.’

He looked at me with respect. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. I don’t know much about this international finance.’

‘There’s a snag,’ I said. ‘Tangier is closing up shop next year; it’s being taken over by Morocco. Then it won’t be a free port any more and the gold market will close.’

‘When next year?’

‘April 19,’ I said. ‘Nine months from now. I think we’ll just about have enough time.’

He smiled. ‘I never thought about selling the gold legally; I didn’t think you could. I thought the governments had got all that tied up. Maybe I should have met you sooner.’

‘It wouldn’t have done you any good,’ I said. ‘I hadn’t the brains then that I have now.’

He laughed and we proceeded to kill the bottle.