Bagley, Desmond - The Golden Keel Read online

  He shivered suddenly. "I want to stay as far from Coertze is I can. There's a thousand miles between Cape Town and Johannesburg -- that ought to be enough." He stood up suddenly. "Let's go and have a drink, for God's sake."

  So we went and had a drink -- several drinks.

  V

  During the next few weeks I could see that Walker was on the verge of making me a proposition. He said he had some money due to him and that he would need a good friend. At last he came out with it.

  "Look," he said. "My old man died last year and I've got two thousand pounds coming when I can get it out of the lawyer's hands. I could go to Italy on two thousand pounds."

  "So you could," I said.

  He bit his lip. "Hal, I want you to come with me."

  "For the gold?"

  "That's right; for the gold. Share and share alike."

  "What about Coertze?"

  "To hell with Coertze," said Walker violently. "I don't want to have anything to do with him."

  I thought about it. I was young and full of vinegar in those days, and this sounded just the ticket -- if Walker was telling the truth. And if he wasn't telling.the truth, why would he finance me to a trip to Italy? It seemed a pleasantly adventurous thing to do, but I hesitated. "Why me?" I asked.

  "I can't do it myself," he said. "I wouldn't trust Coertze, and you're the only other chap who knows anything about it. And I trust you, Hal, I really do."

  I made up my mind. "All right, it's a deal. But there are conditions."

  "Trot them out."

  "This drinking of yours has to stop," I said. "You're all right when you're sober, but when you've got a load on you're bloody awful. Besides, you know you spill things when you're cut." He rearranged his eager face into a firm expression. "I'll do it, Hal; I won't touch a drop," he promised.

  "All right," I said. "When do we start?"

  I can see now that we were a couple of naive young fools. We expected to be able to lift several tons of gold from a hole in the ground without too much trouble. We had no conception of the brains and organisation that would be needed -- and were needed in the end.

  Walker said, "The lawyer tells me that the estate will be settled finally in about six weeks. We can leave any time after that."

  We discussed the trip often. Walker was not too much concerned with the practical difficulties of getting the gold, nor with what we were going to do with it once we had it. He was mesmerised by the millions involved.

  He said once, "Coertze estimated that there were four tons of gold. At the present price that's well over & million pounds. Then there's the lire -- packing cases full of the stuff. You can get a hell of a lot of lire into a big packing case."

  "You can forget the paper money," I said. "Just pass one of those notes and you'll have the Italian police jumping all over you."

  "We can pass them outside Italy," he said sulkily.

  "Then you'll have to cope with Interpol."

  "All right," he said impatiently. "We'll forget the lire. But there's still the jewellery -- rings and necklaces, diamonds and emeralds." His eyes glowed. "I'll bet the jewels are worth more than the gold."

  "But not as easily disposed of," I said.

  I was getting more and more worried about the sheer physical factors involved. To make it worse, Walker wouldn't tell me the position of the lead mine, so I couldn't do any active planning at all.

  He was behaving like a child at the approach of Christmas, eager to open his Christmas stocking. I couldn't get him to face facts and I seriously contemplated pulling out of this mad scheme. I could see nothing ahead but a botched job with a probably lengthy spell in an Italian jail.

  The night before he was to go to the lawyer's office to sign the final papers and receive his inheritance I went to see him at his hotel. He was half-drunk, lying on his bed with a bottle conveniently near.

  "You promised you wouldn't drink," I said coldly.

  "Aw, Hal, this isn't drinking; not wha t I'm doing. It's just a little taste to celebrate."

  I said, "You'd better cut your celebration until you've read the paper."

  "What paper?"

  "This one," I said, and took it from my pocket. "That little bit at the bottom of the page."

  He took the paper and looked at it stupidly. "What must I read?"

  "That paragraph headed: 'Italians Sentenced.'"

  It was only a small item, a filler for the bottom of a page.

  Walker was suddenly sober. "But they were innocent," he whispered.

  "That didn't prevent them from getting it in the neck," I said brutally.

  "God!" he said. "They're still looking for it."

  "Of course they are," I said impatiently. "They'll keep looking until they find it." I wondered if the Italians were more concerned about the gold or the documents.

  I could see that Walker had been shocked out of his euphoric dreams of sudden wealth. He now had to face the fact that pulling gold out of an Italian hole had its dangers.

  "This makes a difference," he said slowly. "We can't go now. We'll have to wait until this dies down."

  "Will it die down -- ever?" I asked.

  He looked up at me. "I'm not going now," he said with the firmness of fear. "The thing's off -- it's off for a long time." , In a way I was relieved. There was a weakness in Walker that was disturbing and which had been troubling me. I had been uneasy for a long time and had been very uncertain of the wisdom of going to Italy with him. Now it was decided.

  I left him abruptly in the middle of a typical action -- pouring another drink.

  As I walked home one thought occurred to me. The newspaper report confirmed Walker's story pretty thoroughly. That was something.

  VI

  It was long past lunch-time when I finished the story. My throat was dry with talking and Jean's eyes had grown big and round.

  "It's like something from the Spanish Main," she said. "Or a Hammond Innes thriller. Is the gold still there?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't read anything about it in the papers. For all I know it's still there -- if Walker or Coertze haven't recovered it."

  "What happened to Walker?"

  "He got his two thousand quid," I said. "Then embarked on a career of trying to drink the distilleries dry. It wasn't long before he lost his job and then he dropped from sight. Someone told me he'd gone to Durban. Anyway, I haven't seen him since."

  Jean was fascinated by the story and after that we made a game of it, figuring ways and means of removing four tons of gold from Italy as unobtrusively as possible. Just as an academic exercise, of course. Jean had a fertile imagination and some of her ideas were very good.

  Because that was the problem -- the sheer physical difficulty of moving four tons of gold without anyone being aware that it was even there to be moved. .

  In 1959 we got clear of our indebtedness to the bank by dint of strict economy. The yard was ours now with no strings attached and we celebrated by laying the keel of a 15-tonner I had designed for Jean and myself. My old faithful King Penguin, one of the first of her class, was all right for coastal pottering, but we had the idea that one day we would do some ocean voyaging, and we wanted a bigger boat.

  A 15-tonner is just the right size for two people to handle and big enough to live in indefinitely. This boat was to be forty feet overall, thirty feet on the waterline with eleven feet beam. She would be moderately canvased for ocean voyaging and would have a big auxiliary diesel engine. We were going to call her Sanford in memory of old Tom.

  When she was built we would take a year's leave, sail north to spend some time in the Mediterranean, and come back by the east coast, thus making a complete circumnavigation of Africa. Jean had a mischievous glint in her eye. "Perhaps we'll bring that gold back with us," she said.

  But two months later the blow fell.

  I had designed a boat for Bill Meadows and had sent him the drawings for approval. By mishap the accommodation plans had been left out of the packet, so Je
an volunteered to take them to Fish Hoek where Bill lives.

  It's a nice drive to Fish Hoek along the Chapman's Peak road with views of sea and mountain, far better than anything I have since seen on the Riviera, Jean delivered the drawings and on the way back in the twilight a drunken oaf in a high-powered American car forced her off the road and she fell three hundred feet into the sea.

  The bottom dropped out of my life.

  It meant nothing to me that the driver of the other car got five years for manslaughter -- that wouldn't bring Jean back. I let things slide at the yard and if it hadn't been for Harry Marshall the business would have gone to pot.

  It was then that I tallied up my life and made a sort of mental balance sheet. I was thirty-six years old; I had a good business which I had liked but which now I didn't seem to like so much; I had my health and strength -- boat-building and sailing tend to keep one physically fit -- and I had no debts. I even had money in the bank with more rolling in all the time.

  On the other side of the balance sheet was the dreadful absence of Jean, which more than counter-balanced all the advantages.

  I felt I couldn't stay at the yard or even in Cape Town, where memories of Jean would haunt me at every corner. I wanted to get away. I was waiting for something to happen.

  I was ripe for mischief.

  VII

  A couple of weeks later I was in a bar on Adderley Street having a drink or three. It wasn't that I'd taken to drink, but I was certainly drinking more than I had been accustomed to. I had just started on my third brandy when I felt a touch at my elbow and a voice said, "Hallo, I haven't seen you for a long time."

  I turned and found Walker standing next to me.

  The years hadn't dealt kindly with Walker. He was thinner, his dark, good looks had gone to be replaced by a sharpness of feature, and his hairline had receded. His clothes were impressed and frayed at the edges, and there was an air of seediness about him which was depressing.

  "Hallo," I said. "Where did you spring from?" He was looking at my full glass of brandy, so I said, "Have a drink."

  "Thanks," he said quickly. "I'll have a double."

  That gave me a pretty firm clue as to what had happened to Walker, but I didn't mind being battened upon for a couple of drinks, so I paid for the double brandy.

  He raised the glass to his lips with a hand that trembled slightly, took a long lingering gulp, then put the glass down, having knocked back three-quarters of the contents. "You're looking prosperous," he said.

  "I'm not doing too badly."

  He said, "I was sorry to hear of what happened to your wife." He hurried on as he saw my look of inquiry. "I read about it in the paper. I thought it must have been your wife -- the name was the same and all that."

  I thought he had spent some time hunting me up. Old friends and acquaintances are precious to an alcoholic; they can be touched for the odd drink and the odd fiver.

  "That's finished and best forgotten," I said shortly. Unwittingly, perhaps, he had touched me on the raw -- he had brought Jean back. "What are you doing now?"

  He shrugged. "This and that."

  "You haven't picked up any gold lately?" I said cruelly. I wanted to pay him back for putting Jean in my mind.

  "Do I look as though I have?" he asked bitterly. Unexpectedly, he said, "I saw Coertze last week."

  "Here -- in Cape Town?"

  "Yes. He'd just come back from Italy. He's back in Jo'burg now, I expect."

  I smiled. "Did he have any gold with him?"

  Walker shook his head. "He said that nothing's changed." He suddenly gripped me by the arm. "The gold's still there -- nobody's found it. It's still there -- four tons of gold in that tunnel -- and all the jewels." He had a frantic urgency about him.

  "Well, why doesn't he do something about it?" I said. "Why doesn't he go and get it out? Why don't you both go?"

  ' "He doesn't like me," said Walker sulkily. "He'll hardly speak to me. He took one of my cigarettes from the packet on the counter, and I lit it for him, amusedly. "It isn't easy to get it out of the country," he said. "Even Sergeant High-and-Mighty Coertze hasn't found a way."

  He grinned tightly. "Imagine that," he said, almost gaily. "Even the brainy Coertze can't do it. He put the gold in a hole in the ground and he's too scared to get it out." He began to laugh hysterically.

  I took his arm. "Take it easy."

  His laughter choked off suddenly. "All right," he said. "Buy me another drink; I left my wallet at home."

  I crooked my finger at the bartender and Walker ordered another double. I was beginning to understand the reason for his degradation. For fourteen years the knowledge that a fortune in gold was lying in Italy waiting to be picked up had been eating at him like a cancer. Even when I knew him ten years earlier I was aware of the fatal weakness in him, and now one could see that the bitterness of defeat had been too much. I wondered how Coertze was standing up to the strain. At least he seemed to be doing something about it, even if only keeping an eye on the situation.

  I said carefully, "If Coertze was willing to take you, would you be prepared to go to Italy to get the stuff out?"

  He was suddenly very still. "What d'you mean?" he demanded. "Have you been talking to Coertze?"

  "I've never laid eyes on the man."

  Walker's glance shifted nervously about the bar, then he straightened. "Well, if he ... wanted me; if he ... needed me -- I'd be prepared to go along." He' said this with bravado but the malice showed through when he said, "He needed me once, you know; he needed me when we buried the stuff."

  "You wouldn't be afraid of him?"

  "What do you mean -- afraid of him? Why should I be afraid of him? I'm afraid of nobody."

  "You were pretty certain he'd committed at least four murders."

  He seemed put out. "Oh, that! That was a long time ago. And I never said he'd murdered anybody. I never said it."

  "No, you never actually said it."

  He shifted nervously on the bar stool. "Oh, what's the use? He won't ask me to go with him. He said as much last week."

  "Oh, yes, he will," I said softly.

  Walker looked up quickly. "Why should he?"

  I said quietly, "Because I know a way of getting that gold out of Italy and of taking it anywhere in the world, quite simply and relatively safely."

  His eyes widened. "What is it? How can you do it?"

  "I'm not going to tell you," I said equably. "After all, you wouldn't tell me where the gold's hidden."

  "Well, let's do it," he said. "I'll tell you where it is, you get it out, and Bob's your uncle. Why bring Coertze into it?"

  "It's a job for more than two men," I said. "Besides, he deserves a share -- he's been keeping an eye on the gold for fourteen years, which is a damn' sight more than you've been doing." I failed to mention that I considered Walker the weakest of reeds. "Now, how will you get on with Coertze if this thing goes through?"

  He turned sulky. "All right, I suppose, if he lays off me. But I won't stand for any of his sarcasm." He looked at me in wonder as though what we were talking about had just sunk in. "You mean there's a chance we can get the stuff out -- a real chance?"

  I nodded and got off the bar stool. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

  "Where are you going?" he asked quickly.

  "To phone the airline office," I said. "I want a seat on to-morrow's Jo'burg plane. I'm going to see Coertze."

  The sign I had been waiting for had arrived.

  II. COERTZE

  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 antagonise him. He would probably be as suspiciou
s 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 the 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 wears than all the Axis war-lords put together had buried throughout the world.

  It must have been tantalising 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 this."

  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.