Read Online The Dark Crusader by Alistair MacLean - Free Book Online
Authors: Alistair MacLean
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on a higher elevation, the closed-in bridge. Beyond that again, I supposed, below deck level, would be the crew quarters. I spent almost five minutes gazing thoughtfully at the superstructure and fore part of the ship with the odd vague feeling that there was something wrong, that there was something as it shouldn't have been. Maybe Colonel Raine would have got it, but I couldn't. I felt I had done my duty to the Colonel, and keeping my eyes open any longer wouldn't help anyone, asleep or awake they could toss us over the side whenever they wished. I'd had three hours' sleep in the past forty-eight. I closed my eyes. I went to sleep.
When I awoke it was just on noon. The sun was almost directly overhead, but the chair shades were wide and the trade winds cool. Captain Fleck had just seated himself on the side of the hatchway. Apparently, whatever business he had had to attend to was over, and guessing the nature of that business was no trick at all, he'd just finished a long and difficult interview with a bottle of whisky. His eyes were slightly glazed and even at three feet to windward I'd no difficulty at all in smelling the Scotch. But conscience or maybe something else had got into him for he was carrying a tray with glasses, a bottle of sherry and a small stone jar.
"We'll send you a bit of food by-and-by." He sounded almost apologetic. "Thought you might like a snifter, first?"
"Uh-huh." I looked at the stone jar. "What's in it? Cyanide?"
"Scotch," he said shortly. He poured out two drinks, drained his own at a gulp and nodded at Marie who was lying facing us, her face almost completely hidden under her wind-blown hair. "How about Mrs. Bentall?"
"Let her sleep. She needs it. Who's giving you the orders for all of this, Fleck?"
"Eh?" He was off-balance, but only for a second, his tolerance to alcohol seemed pretty high. "Orders? What orders? Whose orders?"
"What are you going to do with us?"
"Impatient to find out, aren't you, Bentall?"
"I just love it here. Not very communicative, are you?"
"Have another drink."
"I haven't even started this one. How much longer do you intend keeping us here?"
He thought it over for a bit, then said slowly: "I don't know. Your guess isn't so far out, I'm not the principal in this. There was somebody very anxious indeed to see you." He gulped down some more whisky. "But he isn't so sure now."
"He might have told you that before you took us from the hotel."
"He didn't know then. Radio, not five minutes ago. He's coming through again at 1900 hours-seven o'clock sharp. You'll have your answer then. I hope you like it." There was something sombre in his voice that I didn't find very encouraging. He switched his glance to Marie, looked at her for a long time in silence, then stirred. "Kind of a nice girl you got there, Bentall."
"Sure. That's my wife, Fleck. Look the other way." He turned slowly and looked at me, his face hard and cold. But there was something else in it too, I just couldn't put my finger on it.
"If I were ten years younger or maybe even a half a bottle soberer," he said without animosity, "I'd have your front teeth for that, Bentall." He looked away across the green dazzle of the ocean, the glass of whisky forgotten in his hand. "I got a daughter just a year or two younger than her. Right now she's in the University of California. Liberal Arts. Thinks her old man's a captain in the Australian Navy." He swirled the drink around in his glass. "Maybe it's better she keeps on thinking just that, maybe it's better that she never sees me again. But if I knew I would never see her again…"
I got it. I'm no Einstein but I don't have to be beaten over the head more than a few times to make me see the obvious. The sun was hotter than ever, but I didn't feel warm any more. I didn't want him to realise that he had been talking to me, too, not just to himself, so I said: "You're no Australian, are you, Fleck?"
"No?"
"No. You talk like one, but it's an overlaid
When I awoke it was just on noon. The sun was almost directly overhead, but the chair shades were wide and the trade winds cool. Captain Fleck had just seated himself on the side of the hatchway. Apparently, whatever business he had had to attend to was over, and guessing the nature of that business was no trick at all, he'd just finished a long and difficult interview with a bottle of whisky. His eyes were slightly glazed and even at three feet to windward I'd no difficulty at all in smelling the Scotch. But conscience or maybe something else had got into him for he was carrying a tray with glasses, a bottle of sherry and a small stone jar.
"We'll send you a bit of food by-and-by." He sounded almost apologetic. "Thought you might like a snifter, first?"
"Uh-huh." I looked at the stone jar. "What's in it? Cyanide?"
"Scotch," he said shortly. He poured out two drinks, drained his own at a gulp and nodded at Marie who was lying facing us, her face almost completely hidden under her wind-blown hair. "How about Mrs. Bentall?"
"Let her sleep. She needs it. Who's giving you the orders for all of this, Fleck?"
"Eh?" He was off-balance, but only for a second, his tolerance to alcohol seemed pretty high. "Orders? What orders? Whose orders?"
"What are you going to do with us?"
"Impatient to find out, aren't you, Bentall?"
"I just love it here. Not very communicative, are you?"
"Have another drink."
"I haven't even started this one. How much longer do you intend keeping us here?"
He thought it over for a bit, then said slowly: "I don't know. Your guess isn't so far out, I'm not the principal in this. There was somebody very anxious indeed to see you." He gulped down some more whisky. "But he isn't so sure now."
"He might have told you that before you took us from the hotel."
"He didn't know then. Radio, not five minutes ago. He's coming through again at 1900 hours-seven o'clock sharp. You'll have your answer then. I hope you like it." There was something sombre in his voice that I didn't find very encouraging. He switched his glance to Marie, looked at her for a long time in silence, then stirred. "Kind of a nice girl you got there, Bentall."
"Sure. That's my wife, Fleck. Look the other way." He turned slowly and looked at me, his face hard and cold. But there was something else in it too, I just couldn't put my finger on it.
"If I were ten years younger or maybe even a half a bottle soberer," he said without animosity, "I'd have your front teeth for that, Bentall." He looked away across the green dazzle of the ocean, the glass of whisky forgotten in his hand. "I got a daughter just a year or two younger than her. Right now she's in the University of California. Liberal Arts. Thinks her old man's a captain in the Australian Navy." He swirled the drink around in his glass. "Maybe it's better she keeps on thinking just that, maybe it's better that she never sees me again. But if I knew I would never see her again…"
I got it. I'm no Einstein but I don't have to be beaten over the head more than a few times to make me see the obvious. The sun was hotter than ever, but I didn't feel warm any more. I didn't want him to realise that he had been talking to me, too, not just to himself, so I said: "You're no Australian, are you, Fleck?"
"No?"
"No. You talk like one, but it's an overlaid
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