The Golden Keel / The Vivero Letter

II

The next stop was Rapallo, which was first choice as our Italian base, provided we could get fixed up with a suitable place to do our work. We motored into the yacht basin and damned if I didn’t see a Falcon drawn up on the hard. I knew the firm had sold a few kits in Europe but I didn’t expect to see any of them.

As we had come from a foreign port there were the usual Customs and medical queries – a mere formality. Yachtsmen are very well treated in the Mediterranean. I chatted with the Customs men, discussing yachts and yachting and said that I was a boat designer and builder myself. I gave the standard talk and said that I was thinking of opening a yard in the Mediterranean, pointing to the Falcon as a sample of my work.

They were impressed at that. Anyone whose product was used six thousand miles from where it was made must obviously be someone to be reckoned with. They didn’t know much about local conditions but they gave me some useful addresses.

I was well satisfied. If I had to impress people with my integrity I might as well start with the Customs. That stray Falcon came in very handy.

I went ashore, leaving Walker and Coertze aboard by instruction. There was no real need for such an order but I wanted to test my new-found ascendancy over them. Coertze had returned to his old self, more or less. His mood was equable and he cracked as few jokes as usual – the point being that he cracked jokes at all. But I had no illusions that he had forgotten anything. The Afrikaner is notorious for his long memory for wrongs.

I went up to the Yacht Club and presented my credentials. One of the most pleasant things about yachting is that you are sure of a welcome in any part of the world. There is a camaraderie among yachtsmen which is very heartening in a world which is on the point of blowing itself to hell. This international brotherhood, together with the fact that the law of the sea doesn’t demand a licence to operate a small boat, makes deep-sea cruising one of the most enjoyable experiences in the world.

I chatted with the secretary of the club, who spoke very good English, and talked largely of my plans. He took me into the bar and bought me a drink and introduced me to several of the members and visiting yachtsmen. After we had chatted at some length about the voyage from South Africa I got down to finding out about the local boatyards.

On the way round the Mediterranean I had come to the conclusion that my cover story need not be a cover at all – it could be the real thing. I had become phlegmatic about the gold, especially after the antics of Walker and Coertze, and my interest in the commercial possibilities of the Mediterranean was deepening. I was nervous and uncertain as to whether the three of us could carry the main job through – the three-way pull of character was causing tensions which threatened to tear the entire fabric of the plan apart. So I was hedging my bet and looking into the business possibilities seriously.

The lust for gold, which I had felt briefly in Aristide’s vault, was still there but lying dormant. Still, it was enough to drive me on, enough to make me out-face Coertze and Walker and to try to circumvent Metcalfe.

But if I had known then that other interests were about to enter the field of battle I might have given up there and then, in the bar of the Rapallo Yacht Club.

During the afternoon I visited several boatyards. This was not all business prospecting – Sanford had come a long way and her bottom was foul. She needed taking out of the water and scraping, which would give her another halfknot. We had agreed that this would be the ostensible reason for pulling her out of the water, and a casual word dropped in the Yacht Club that I had found something wrong with her keel bolts would be enough excuse for making the exchange of keels. Therefore I was looking for a quiet place where we could cast our golden keel.

I was perturbed when I suddenly discovered that I could not spot Metcalfe’s man. If he had pulled off his watchdogs because he thought we were innocent, then that was all right. But it seemed highly unlikely now that Coertze had given the game away. What seemed very likely was that something was being cooked up – and whatever was going to happen would certainly involve Sanford. I dropped my explorations and hurried back to the yacht basin.

‘I wasn’t followed,’ I said to Coertze.

‘I told you my way was best,’ he said. ‘They’ve been frightened off.’

‘If you think that Metcalfe would be frightened off because a hired wharf rat was beaten up, you’d better think again,’ I said. I looked hard at him. ‘If you go ashore to stretch your legs can I trust you not to hammer anyone you might think is looking at you cross-eyed?’

He tried to hold my eye and then his gaze wavered. ‘O.K.,’ he said sullenly. ‘I’ll be careful. But you’ll find out that my way is best in the end.’

‘All right; you and Walker can go ashore to get a bite to eat.’ I turned to Walker. ‘No booze, remember. Not even wine.’

Coertze said, ‘I’ll see to that. We’ll stick close together, won’t we?’ He clapped Walker on the back.

They climbed on to the dockside and I watched them go, Coertze striding out and Walker hurrying to keep pace. I wondered what Metcalfe was up to, but finding that profitless, I went below to review our needs for the next few days. I stretched on the port settee and must have been very tired, because when I woke it was dark except for the lights of the town glimmering through the ports.

And it was a movement on deck that had wakened me!

I lay there for a moment until I heard another sound, then I rose cautiously, went to the companionway very quietly and raised my head to deck level. ‘Coertze?’ I called softly.

A voice said, ‘Is that Signor Halloran?’ The voice was very feminine.

I came up to the cockpit fast. ‘Who is that?’

A dark shape moved towards me. ‘Mr Halloran, I want to talk to you.’ She spoke good English with but a trace of Italian accent and her voice was pleasantly low and even.

I said, ‘Who are you?’

‘Surely introductions would be more in order if we could see each other.’ There was a hint of command in her voice as though she was accustomed to getting her own way.

‘O.K.,’ I said. ‘Let’s go below.’

She slipped past me and went down the companionway and I followed, switching on the main cabin lights. She turned so that I could see her, and she was something worth looking at. Her hair was raven black and swept up into smooth wings on each side of her head as though to match the winged eyebrows which were dark over cool, hazel eyes. Her cheekbones were high, giving a trace of hollow in the cheeks, but she didn’t look like one of the fashionably emaciated models one sees in Vogue.

She was dressed in a simple woollen sheath which showed off a good figure to perfection. It might have been bought at a local department store or it might have come from a Parisian fashion house; I judged the latter – you can’t be married to a woman for long without becoming aware of the price of feminine fripperies.

She carried her shoes in her hand and stood in her stockinged feet, that was a point in her favour. A hundred-pound girl in a spike heel comes down with a force of two tons, and that’s hell on deck planking. She either knew something about yachts or …

I pointed to the shoes and said, ‘You’re a pretty inexperienced burglar. You ought to have those slung round your neck to leave your hands free.’

She laughed. ‘I’m not a burglar, Mr Halloran, I just don’t like shoes very much; and I have been on yachts before.’

I moved towards her. She was tall, almost as tall as myself. I judged her to be in her late twenties or possibly, but improbably, her early thirties. Her lips were pale and she wore very little make-up. She was a very beautiful woman.

‘You have the advantage of me,’ I said.

‘I am the Contessa di Estrenoli.’

I gestured at the settee. ‘Well, sit down, Contessa.’

‘Not Contessa – Madame,’ she said, and sat down, pulling the dress over her knees with one hand and placing the shoes at her side. ‘In our association together you will call me Madame.’

I sat down slowly on the opposite settee. Metcalfe certainly came up with some surprises. I said carefully, ‘So we are going to be associated together? I couldn’t think of a better person to be associated with. When do we start?’

There was frost in her voice. ‘Not the kind of association you are obviously thinking of, Mr Halloran.’ She went off at a tangent. ‘I saw your … er … companions ashore. They didn’t see me – I wanted to talk to you alone.’

‘We’re alone,’ I said briefly.

She gathered her thoughts, then said precisely, ‘Mr Halloran, you have come to Italy with Mr Coertze and Mr Walker to remove something valuable from the country. You intend to do this illicitly and illegally, therefore your whole plan depends on secrecy; you cannot – shall we say ‘operate’ – if someone is looking over your shoulder. I intend to look over your shoulder.’

I groaned mentally. Metcalfe had the whole story. Apparently the only thing he didn’t know was where the treasure was hidden. This girl was quite right when she said that it couldn’t be lifted if we were under observation, so he was coming right out and asking for a cut. Walker really must have talked in Tangier if Metcalfe could pinpoint it as close as Rapallo.

I said, ‘O.K., Contessa; how much does Metcalfe want?’

She raised her winged eyebrows. ‘Metcalfe?’

‘Yes, Metcalfe; your boss.’

She shook her head. ‘I know of no Metcalfe, whoever he is. And I am my own boss, I assure you of that.’

I think I kept my face straight. The surprises were certainly piling up. If this Estrenoli woman was mixed up with Metcalfe, then why would she deny it? If she wasn’t then who the devil was she – and how did she know of the treasure?’

I said, ‘Supposing I tell you to jump over the side?’

She smiled. ‘Then you will never get these valuables out of Italy.’

There seemed to be a concession there, so I said, ‘And if I don’t tell you to jump over the side, then we will get the stuff out of the country, is that it?’

‘Some of it,’ she compromised. ‘But without my cooperation you will spend a long time in an Italian prison.’

That was certainly something to think about and when I had time. I said, ‘All right; who are you, and what do you know?’

‘I knew that the news was out on the waterfront to watch for the yacht Sanford. I knew that the yacht was owned by Mr Halloran and that Mr Coertze and Mr Walker were his companions. That was enough for me.’

‘And what has the Contessa di Estrenoli got to do with waterfront rumours? What has an Italian aristocrat got to do with the jailbirds that news was intended for?’

She smiled and said, ‘I have strange friends, Mr Halloran. I learn all that is interesting on the waterfront. I realize now that perhaps your Mr Metcalfe was responsible for the circulation of those instructions.’

‘So you learned that a yacht and three men were coming to Rapallo, and you said to yourself, “Ah, these three men are coming to take something out of Italy illegally,”’ I said with heavy irony. ‘You’ll have to do better than that, Contessa.’

‘But you see, I know Mr Coertze and Mr Walker,’ she said. ‘The heavy and clumsy Mr Coertze has been to Italy quite often. I have always known about him and I always had him watched.’ She smiled. ‘He was like a dog at a rabbit hole who yelps because it is too small and he cannot get in. He always left Italy empty-handed.’

That did it. Coertze must have shown his hand on one of his periodic trips to Italy. But how the devil did she know Walker? He hadn’t been to Italy recently – or had he?

She continued. ‘So when I heard that Mr Coertze was returning with Mr Walker and the unknown Mr Halloran, then I knew that something big was going to happen. That you were ready to take away whatever was buried, Mr Halloran.’

‘So you don’t know exactly what we’re after?’

‘I know that it is very valuable,’ she said simply.

‘I might be an archaeologist,’ I said.

She laughed. ‘No, you are not an archaeologist, Mr Halloran; you are a boat-builder.’ She saw the surprise in my eyes, and added, ‘I know a lot about you.’

I said, ‘Let’s quit fencing; how do you know about whatever it is?’

She said slowly, ‘A man called Alberto Corso had been writing a letter to my father. He was killed before the letter was finished, so there was not all the information that could be desired. But there was enough for me to know that Mr Coertze must be watched.’

I snapped my fingers. ‘You’re the Count’s little daughter. You’re … er … Francesca.’

She inclined her head. ‘I am the daughter of a count.’

‘Not so little now,’ I said. ‘So the Count is after the loot.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, no. My father knows nothing about it. Nothing at all.’

I thought that could do with a bit of explanation and was just going to query the statement when someone jumped on deck. ‘Who is that?’ asked the Contessa.

‘Probably the others coming back,’ I said, and waited. Perhaps there were to be some more surprises before the evening was out.

Walker came down the companionway and stopped when he saw her. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I hope I’m not butting in.’

I said, ‘This is the Contessa di Estrenoli – Mr Walker.’ I watched him to see if he recognized her, but he didn’t. He looked at her as one looks at a beautiful woman and said, in Italian, ‘A pleasure, signora.’

She smiled at him and said, ‘Don’t you know me, Mr Walker? I bandaged your leg when you were brought into the hill camp during the war.’

He looked at her closely and said incredulously, ‘Francesca!’

‘That’s right; I’m Francesca.’

‘You’ve changed,’ he said. ‘You’ve grown up. I mean … er …’ he was confused.

She looked at him. ‘Yes, we’ve all changed,’ she said. I thought I detected a note of regret. They chatted for a few minutes and then she picked up her shoes. ‘I must go,’ she said.

Walker said, ‘But you’ve only just got here.’

‘No, I have an appointment in twenty minutes.’ She rose and went to the companionway and I escorted her on deck.

She said, ‘I can understand Coertze, and now I can understand Walker; but I cannot understand you, Mr Halloran. Why are you doing this? You are a successful man, you have made a name in an honourable profession. Why should you do this?’

I sighed and said, ‘I had a reason in the beginning; maybe I still have it – I don’t know. But having come this far I must go on.’

She nodded, then said, ‘There is a café on the waterfront called the Three Fishes. Meet me there at nine tomorrow morning. Come alone; don’t bring Coertze or Walker. I never liked Coertze, and now I don’t think I like Walker any more. I would prefer not to talk to them.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll be there.’

She jumped lightly on to the jetty and swayed a little as she put her shoes on. I watched her go away, hearing the sharp click of her heels long after the darkness had swallowed her. Then I went below.

Walker said, ‘Where did she come from? How did she know we were here?’

‘The gaff has been blown with a loud trumpeting noise,’ I said. ‘She knows all – or practically all – and she’s putting the screws on.’

Walker’s jaw dropped. ‘She knows about the gold?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I’m not going to talk about it till Coertze comes. No point in going over it twice.’

Walker protested, but swallowed his impatience when I made it clear that I wasn’t going to talk, and sat wriggling on the settee. After half an hour we heard Coertze come on board.

He was affable – full of someone else’s cooking for a change, and he’d had a few drinks. ‘Man,’ he said, ‘these Italians can cook.’

‘Francesca was here,’ I said.

He looked at me, startled. ‘The Count’s daughter?’

‘Yes.’

Walker said, ‘I want to know how she found us.’

‘What did the stuck-up bitch want?’ asked Coertze.

I raised my eyebrows at that. Apparently the dislike between these two was mutual. ‘She wants a cut of the treasure,’ I said bluntly.

Coertze swore. ‘How the hell did she get to know about it?’

‘Alberto wrote a letter before he was killed.’

Coertze and Walker exchanged looks, and after a pregnant silence, Coertze said, ‘So Alberto was going to give us away, after all.’

I said, ‘He did give you away.’

‘Then why is the gold still there?’ demanded Coertze.

‘The letter was incomplete,’ I said. ‘It didn’t say exactly where the gold is.’

Coertze sighed windily. ‘Well, there’s not too much damage done.’

I fretted at his stupidity. ‘How do you suppose we’re going to get it out with half of Italy watching us?’ I asked. ‘She’s been on to you all the time – she’s watched you every time you’ve been in Italy and she’s been laughing at you. And she knows there’s something big under way now.’

‘That bitch would laugh at me,’ said Coertze viciously. ‘She always treated me like dirt. I suppose the Count has been laughing like hell, too.’

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. ‘She says the Count knows nothing about it. Tell me about him.’

‘The Count? Oh, he’s an old no-good now. He didn’t get his estates back after the war – I don’t know why – and he’s as poor as a church mouse. He lives in a poky flat in Milan with hardly enough room to swing a cat.’

‘Who supports him?’

Coertze shrugged. ‘I dunno. Maybe she does – she can afford it. She married a Roman count; I heard he was stinking rich, so I suppose she passes on some of the housekeeping money to the old boy.’

‘Why don’t you like her?’

‘Oh, she’s one of these stuck-up society bitches – I never did like that kind. We get plenty in Houghton, but they’re worse here. She wouldn’t give me the time of day. Not like her old man. I get on well with him.’

I thought perhaps that on one of his visits to Italy Coertze had made a pass at her and been well and truly slapped down. A pass from Coertze would be clumsy and graceless, like being propositioned by a gorilla.

I said, ‘Was she around often during the times you were in Italy?’

He thought about that, and said, ‘Sometimes. She turned up at least once on every trip.’

‘That’s all she’d need. To locate you, I mean. She seems to have a circle of pretty useful friends and apparently they’re not the crowd you’d think a girl like that would mix with. She picked up Metcalfe’s signals to the Mediterranean ports and interpreted them correctly, so it looks as though she has brains as well as beauty.’

Coertze snorted. ‘Beauty! She’s a skinny bitch.’

She had got under his skin. I said, ‘That may be, but she’s got us cold. We can’t do a damn’ thing while she’s on our necks. To say nothing of Metcalfe, who’ll be on to us next. Funny that he hasn’t shown his hand in Rapallo yet.’

‘I tell you he’s scared off,’ growled Coertze.

I let that pass. ‘Anyway, we can’t do any heavy thinking about it until we find out exactly what she wants. I’m seeing her tomorrow morning, so perhaps I’ll be able to tell you more after that.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Coertze instantly.

‘She wants to see me, not you,’ I said. ‘That was something she specified.’

‘The bloody little bitch,’ exploded Coertze.

‘And for God’s sake, think up another word; I’m tired of that one,’ I said irritably.

He glowered at me. ‘You falling for her?’

I said wearily, ‘I don’t know the woman – I’ve seen her for just fifteen minutes. I’ll be better able to tell you about that tomorrow, too.’

‘Did she say anything about me?’ asked Walker.

‘No,’ I lied. There wasn’t any point in having both of them irritated at her – it was likely that we’d all have to work closely together, and the less friction the better. ‘But I’d better see her alone.’

Coertze growled under his breath, and I said, ‘Don’t worry; neither she nor I know where the gold is. We still need you – she and I and Metcalfe. We mustn’t forget Metcalfe.’

III

Early next morning I went to find the Three Fishes. It was just an ordinary dockside café, the kind of dump you find on any waterfront. Having marked it, I went for a stroll round the yacht basin, looking at the sleek sailing yachts and motor craft of the European rich. A lot were big boats needing a paid crew to handle them while the owner and his guests took it easy, but some were more to my taste – small, handy sailing cruisers run by their owners who weren’t afraid of a bit of work.

After a pleasant hour I began to feel hungry so I went back to the Three Fishes for a late breakfast and got there on the dot of nine. She wasn’t there, so I ordered breakfast and it turned out better than I expected. I had just started to eat when she slid into the seat opposite.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said.

‘That’s O.K.’

She was wearing slacks and sweater, the kind of clothes you see in the women’s magazines but seldom in real life. The sweater suited her.

She looked at my plate and said, ‘I had an early breakfast, but I think I’ll have another. Do you mind if I join you?’

‘It’s your party.’

‘The food is good here,’ she said, and called a waiter, ordering in rapid Italian. I continued to eat and said nothing. It was up to her to make the first move. As I had said – it was her party.

She didn’t say anything, either; but just watched me eat. When her own breakfast arrived she attacked it as though she hadn’t eaten for a week. She was a healthy girl with a healthy appetite. I finished my breakfast and produced a packet of cigarettes. ‘Do you mind?’ I asked.

I caught her with her mouth full and she shook her head, so I lit a cigarette. At last she pushed her plate aside with a sigh and took the cigarette I offered. ‘Do you know our Espresso?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I know it.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, yes, I forgot that it must have penetrated even your Darkest Africa. It is supposed to be for after dinner, but I drink it all the time. Would you like some?’

I said that I would, so she called out to the waiter, ‘Due Espressi,’ and turned back to me. ‘Well, Mr Halloran, have you thought about our conversation last night?’

I said I had thought about it.

‘And so?’

‘And so,’ I repeated. ‘Or more precisely – so what? I’ll need to know a lot more about you before I start confiding in you, Contessa.’

She seemed put out. ‘Don’t call me Contessa,’ she said pettishly. ‘What do you want to know?’

I flicked ash into the ashtray. ‘For one thing, how did you intercept Metcalfe’s message? It doesn’t seem a likely thing for a Contessa to come across – just like that.’

‘I told you I have friends,’ she said coldly.

‘Who are these friends?’