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him at least once a week, I did not press the question further.
    We turned south-west outside the mole and ran along the curve of the coal wharf, following Zakri Bey’s launch until it turned in towards the shore again. We lost it then for a bit, and had some difficulty in picking it up among the Armada of small craft that lay at anchor off a straggling line of short jetties. But Amin spotted it nosing its way along to a rickety landing-stage beyond which there were some dark sheds and a rabbit-warren of dilapidated hutments.
    We followed, shutting off our engine when we got to within thirty yards of the jetty. Peering forward I saw that O’Kieff, Zakri and Grünther had already landed and were just disappearing into the dark shadows cast by the wooden buildings, while Zakri’s men were still busy unloading the baggage. PullingAmin down beside me, we crouched in the stern of the boat until the men with the baggage had followed the others up the jetty. Next moment we were alongside. ‘Wait here for ten minutes and if I don’t return, meet me at Hotel Cecil,’ I said to Amin, and I climbed out on to the pier.
    As I padded softly up the wooden causeway I was praying that if there was a car waiting in the street beyond the hutments for O’Kieff and Zakri, I should have the good luck to pick up a taxi in which to follow them and learn where they took the all-important trunk.
    The jetty and its immediate neighbourhood were utterly deserted. The clanging of tram bells and the hoot of motor-horns came faintly from the street a few hundred yards away, but there was not a moving thing in sight as I entered a narrow passage at the top of the causeway where a mass of spars, anchors and other waterfront débris were littered about between two sheds.
    Without a hint of warning a tall figure suddenly stepped out from the shadows and a sharp voice said, ‘What the hell are you up to—following us?’
    It was O’Kieff, and he was holding an automatic which pointed at my middle.

5
Hell on the Waterfront
    Instead of having passed through the huddle of shacks to the street, as I had supposed, O’Kieff must have waited there at the top of the causeway to see the porters bring up his precious luggage and spotted me following them; all unsuspectingly I had walked right into his arms.
    â€˜What the hell d’you mean by poking your nose into my affairs?’ he snapped, and his eyes glinted angrily behind his pince-nez.
    â€˜Your affairs?’ I echoed in a tone that I hoped conveyed complete surprise. ‘I wasn’t following you. I don’t even know who you are.’
    â€˜That’s a lie! You’ve just come off the “Hampshire”. I saw your boat leave the ship a couple of minutes after ours.’
    â€˜Well, what about it?’ I bluffed. ‘Why should you consider yourself the only person who has a reason for wanting to get ashore at once?’
    â€˜Who is he?’ came a falsetto voice, and Zakri Bey emerged from the shadows. Evidently he had sent Grünther on with the baggage and returned to join O’Kieff.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ O’Kieff grunted, and signalling me with a jerk of his automatic to step out into the open space where the lights from the vessels in the basin would enable him to see me better, he added, ‘Come on, let’s have a look at you.’
    I had no alternative but to obey and, as I did so, I wondered with acute anxiety what would happen when they recognised me. There was not a soul about except the boatmen, who were now hidden from us by the angle of the sheds; the street was several hundred yards away and a feeling of absolute panic welled up in me as I saw that O’Kieff had a silencer on the end of his gun. The ‘plop’ of the silenced automatic would not be heard in the street or even down at the bottom of the jetty.
    When I failed to reappear Amin would not come up to investigate because