Read Online Johannes Cabal the Detective by Jonathan L. Howard - Free Book Online

went by. Both Hasso and his horse looked equally bereft of a clue.
    A hatchet-faced customs official, who looked as if he may have been turned down by the secret police at some point in an attempt to improve their image, strode up to Marechal, having instantly discriminated between the monkey and the organ-grinder. “One of my juniors became suspicious of the subject,” he said without preamble. “Passing himself off as an official. Didn’t look much like his passport photograph. Checked lists, called you.”
    Marechal waited for a moment; the words the official’s statement seemed to be missing might be turning up late. They did not. “Good,” said Marechal finally. “Excellent work. Where is the man now?”
    “Aboard. But the vessel will not get permission to leave until we are satisfied.”
    Marechal’s nostrils flared. The savoury aroma of hot vengeance was wafting through the air. The Italians might prefer it cold, but they had girlie sabres, too, so what the hell did they know? “Excellent,” he said again. “Hold it until I’ve had a chance to talk to this official .” He turned his head to one side and barked, “Hasso! Come on! We’ve got him! Bring up the guards.” He waited for the inevitable clip-clopping to begin before adding, “And do it on foot, you bloody moron.”
    C abal saw the uniforms and stopped. Then he took a studied moment to recover his breath and reached the top of the spiral stairway. He’d entered the Hortense in a corner of the salon and the uniforms belonged to officers of the crew—civilian officers, not military. Even so, they looked very military. A man in his late forties with a lot of gold braid on the epaulettes of his white uniform—Cabal guessed he was the captain—was talking to a subordinate. The subordinate listened attentively and, when he was dismissed, threw a salute and clicked his heels before leaving. Cabal sighed. What was it about this country that bred toy soldiers both inside and outside the army? The captain turned, and was surprised to see Cabal there. His brow darkened momentarily and then cleared as he walked over.
    “Forgive my astonishment, sir,” said the captain, thrusting out his hand. Cabal shook it politely and without grimacing as the captain ground his metacarpals together. “Passengers usually embark through the aft gangway. Those stairs you’ve just come up are intended for the crew, Herr … ?”
    “Meissner,” said Cabal without hesitation, producing his stolen travel documents.
    The captain smiled a little tautly and waved them away. “Not my job, sir. The purser deals with that end of things. If you were to go aft, I’m sure he’d be delighted to deal with you.”
    Cabal wasn’t a man given to apologising, but he could see that he’d got off on the wrong foot here and was drawing attention to himself. He leafed quickly through his memory until he found an image of somebody smiling apologetically, and then mimicked it. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said, being nothing of the sort. “I’m making a dreadful nuisance of myself. I went out onto the edge of the field to get a breath of fresh air and then, then I saw the Hortense was boarding. I really couldn’t face going all the way back through the departure lounge.” He balled his hands together in what he sincerely believed to be a contrite posture and simpered slightly. Facial muscles that had never been used previously for anything other than stony implacability and the occasional sneer screamed under the strain. “I saw the steps and just thought it wouldn’t be any bother. I can see, however, that I’ve broken your routine. I’m in the government, so I know how important order and procedure are. Why, my whole job is about order and procedure. I’m carrying the documents for the forthcoming agricultural land-remittance discussions and, believe you me, what a sad shambles they would be without a sense of order and procedure. For example, if we look at the first