Back on the Rock, Rear-Admiral Forbes, Flag Officer Gibraltar, who, like Staunton, had been in his office since the crack of dawn, had been worried by that information from the Defence Security Officer that there was still no news of Shaw; and now he was getting certain plans advanced in consultation with the Queen’s Harbour Master and the Port Captain. Wilmott, the Q.H.M., was responsible for the naval side of the berthing and harbour movements while Chambers, the Port Captain, a former sea-going master mariner now employed under the Colonial Office, looked out for the commercial shipping angle.
Looking at his watch, Forbes said, “I’ve got to see H.E. at The Convent in ten minutes’ time, and I may have some more information after I’ve seen him. Anyway, as things are now I’ll want that berthing plan, and the anchorages detailed in the Bay, by 2200 hours to-night — and that’s at the very latest.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Commander Wilmott rubbed at his eyes, his head swimming — he’d been working on this stupendous berthing and anchorage plan with Chambers for the last few days solidly, without much sleep, and it wasn’t finalized yet. For one thing, the plans seemed to keep altering, and there was no really definite information as to exactly what shipping was going to come in — or when.
Forbes, a bar of the early sunlight slanting across his grey head, went on, “Now — the orders from The Convent are not to start any panic just yet — that is, not to start people talking too soon. But I want the moles clear and the inner harbour and Waterport closed to all extraneous traffic, including small boats, by first light to-morrow.” The small figure behind the desk was sparrow-like, perky, and the shrewd eyes were bright above a large nose as the Rear-Admiral asked briskly, “That clear, gentlemen?”
Wilmott stifled a yawn. “Yes, sir.”
Captain Chambers asked, “Is the big stuff coming in soon, then?” The deep voice was quiet, slow and composed.
Forbes, with a quick movement of his hand, jerked a drawer shut in his desk, got up and reached for his uniform cap, standing on tiptoe to lift it from the stand in a corner of the room. He said:
“The balloon’s due to go up — I can’t say exactly when, though every one seems to expect me to — soon, anyway. Things are moving at last. H.E. sent signals alerting Exercise Convoy twelve hours ago, I can tell you that now in confidence. The ships start to enter at dusk to-morrow evening as at present planned — mark that, gentlemen — as at present planned.” He added, the sharp eyes searching the officers’ faces through the overhang of thick greying brows, “Somehow we’ve got to beat that confounded machine— and to do so we may have to get the ships in earlier. Hence the rush!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“There’s a woman,” Shaw said carefully. And then he stopped. He didn’t look at Debonnair; his attention was on the San Pedro road rushing into his headlights, and he had to be watchful on those hairpin bends. A blackness lay to one side of him where the road fell sharply away to a sheer drop to the rocks below; the other side was closed in by the mountain walls. All the way along from Torremolinos Shaw — worrying about this and that — had scarcely spoken, and Debonnair, as usual, hadn’t pressed him. Now there was a glint of suppressed laughter in her eyes as they flickered sideways to scan the set face faintly illumined by the light from the dash.
She dimpled. “Darling, that much I have gathered!” She added mischievously, “Is that why you didn’t want me to come?”
“Don’t be an ass.”
She dimpled again. “Do go on if you want to. But you don’t have to tell me all your guilty secrets.”
Disregarding that, he said quietly, “You’re very likely going to meet her before this job ends.” He stopped talking as he took the car round the worst bend they’d met yet, gave a small sound of relief when they’d made it. The San Pedro road in daylight was no doubt fine; at night it was a little wearing on the nerves. He went on, “I’d better tell you now that I knew her pretty well before… oh, years ago, when she was working with our lot. I expect you’ve heard of her — Karina Czercov.”
“My God, of course I’ve heard of her.” Debonnair sat silent then, shifted her legs a little, and they moved against Shaw’s thigh. He felt a tightening in his throat, glanced down momentarily, caught the glint of light on tawny skin, and on the frock’s crisp “Terylene.” He could smell the perfume of her hair….
He said gruffly, “Well, we were pretty friendly at one time, old thing. I—”
Debonnair took the opportunity provided by a nice straight stretch to snuggle up a little. She said, “I’ve always heard she was damned good-looking. By pretty friendly, do I take it you mean — what I think you mean, Esmonde?”
He nodded.
“Well, hell!” she said determinedly. “What of it? I don’t want to feel the man I marry has never had a woman before — it wouldn’t really be much of a compliment, would it?”
Shaw didn’t say anything right away. A little farther on his right hand came off the steering-wheel, stole over and squeezed her hand. Then he asked, “When you said ‘marry’ just now, did you mean that?”
She said crisply, “No statements under duress — they don’t count. If you regard it as a threat for the near future— just relax and forget it.” Then she added, “But that’s not to say I’m never going to — but you always knew that, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Shaw rather savagely. “But it’s not going to be much of a honeymoon on the Old Age Pension.”
Some half hour later Shaw turned the car left out of the San Pedro road. They had come out near Ronda, and there was some way to go yet, southward for Vercín. They drove in silence mostly for the last lap, with Debonnair’s head down against Shaw’s shoulder, light and comforting. He felt her hair stirring in the wind against his cheek, and he was happy. But some while after they’d made that left-hand turn, he said:
“From now on we keep our eyes skinned… sit to attention!”
“Okay.” Debonnair sat up. “We keep our eyes skinned for the wreck of that car?”
“Uh-huh.”
The light was coming up now, the first faint streaks of dawn showing to the eastward, great shoots of green and mauve and crimson across the sky to their left as they went fast for Vercín. They also had to watch out for the turn off for the town, which Shaw knew would not be more than a rough track and a stiffish climb. Later, when under a mounting sun they were nearing their objective, the countryside could be seen clearly, clearly and wonderfully, a sea of mauve, the terrain deep with wild lavender and cistus.
Then suddenly they saw it — the wreckage, piled against that big cork-oak. Shaw braked; looking out at the mess, he didn’t see the cloud of dust coming for them with a streak of scarlet in its centre, coming down fast from the direction of Vercín, didn’t see it until the girl grabbed his arm and yelled:
“Look outl”
After that he reacted quickly. Yanking the wheel over, he scraped the car into the right-hand side of the road, cursing viciously. It was the kind of driving which one grew to expect on the Spanish roads, but still… The other car roared up to them, scarlet and silver with a long black bonnet. It was coming fast, looked for a moment, as the driver braked, as though the intention was to block the road; but there was too much impetus behind the big vehicle, and its driver wrenched the wheel over to keep hard to his own side of the road, still braking. And in the moment that the two cars were alongside Shaw caught a glimpse of a little man — a little man with a straggly moustache, with his head falling about slackly and his lips open, looking very much as though something was wrong with his mind, peering out of the window until he was snatched back. And very briefly, alongside the little man, Shaw could see Karina.