Night Of Error

'Mark,' I said abruptly, 'I have to talk to you.'

'I'll go,' Paula offered.

Mark took her arm and held it. 'Stay with me,' he said. She was the only one he could be sure was on his side, and he needed a friend at court. He turned to me and a hint of the old arrogance was back in his voice. 'What's it going to be? One of your little lectures on decency?'

I felt grim and tired. This wasn't going to work.

'For God's sake, Mark, ease off. I'm not going to lecture you – it was always too late to get you to listen to reason. But we have to work something out before we land, or before someone sights us.'

I wanted above all things to lie down, right there on the deck, and sleep for a week. I was physically beat up and exhausted, but the onus of Mark was a heavier burden. I wished I could have had Clare to stand by me, as he had Paula, but I wasn't going to bring her into it.

We stared at one another in stalemate.

My jumbled thoughts were interrupted by a bubbling scream. The sound came from below. Taffy and a couple of the others dived down the companionway, and Ian came past us at a run. I made a move to follow but then held back, leaving it to the professionals.

I said, 'I think it's one of the Spaniards. He must be hurt, poor devil.'

'What Spaniard?' Mark asked.

For answer there was a crash from below, and Hadley burst into view through the burnt-out galley and onto the deck where we were standing. He had a kitchen knife in his hand. I backed away from his red-rimmed crazy eyes as he came at me like a bull.

I booted him on the shin but it was like trying to stop a truck. He leapt on me in a bear hug that jarred excruciatingly on the knife-graze in my side. His knife hovered near my throat. Desperately I clawed at his face as we fell. Hadley landed on me with all his weight but thank God his knife-arm was pinned beneath us. I chopped viciously at his throat and he choked. His grip loosened. I jerked a knee up into his crotch and broke free.

But Hadley recovered fast and rolled over onto his feet. Agile for his bulk he leapt on me as I gasped for air. He pinned my arms and I felt the breath being squeezed from my lungs and a rib cracked agonizingly. Blackness surged in front of my eyes.

Suddenly he lost his balance and we both crashed to the deck. Nick, crawling up from behind, had seized Hadley's ankle and had yanked his foot out from under him. I rolled free and Hadley got the full force of a bullet from Ian's gun in his belly.

Astonishingly he regained his feet and swooped for the knife which lay on the deck. For a near-fatal instant we all stood paralysed. With an unearthly bubbling scream of rage and agony he plunged towards Mark and the knife flashed viciously in the sunlight.

Mark flung Paula aside and met the attack full on. The knife sank into his side and he collapsed without a sound.

The weapon fell to the deck. Hadley took two staggering paces backwards, clutching his stomach, and then in a full back arch he went over the railings into the sea.

Silence hung in the air after his fall.

I stood shakily clutching my ribs and breathing in short painful gasps. Clare and Bill Hunter were first at my side. When Campbell went to help Paula, she brushed him aside and ran to Mark, who was still lying on the deck. But he was conscious and trying to sit up.

Geordie arrived at a run and a babble of voices told him what had happened. Taffy said harshly, 'My fault, skipper. I let the bastard out. We heard a man screaming and I thought someone was in pain in the brig. I went in with Bill but Hadley went through us like an express train.'

Bill said, 'No wonder that poor devil was screaming. Hadley had near taken the arm out of his socket; to get us to open up.'

'He was quite mad,' said Ian soberly.

To dispel the air of gloom Geordie said briskly, 'Well, he tried and he failed. And that's the last of them. The others won't make any trouble. Now, lads, back to work. We're not home and dry yet.'

They dispersed slowly. Geordie turned to me and said softly, 'The last of them – bar Mark. What are you going to do about your brother, Mike?'

I looked at him bleakly.

'I don't know. First I must see how badly he's hurt. But I can't just hand him over to the police.'

'I don't think you've any choice, laddie.'

'I guess not. But it's a hell of a thing to have to do.'

Clare, her arm comfortingly firm around my rib cage, waited in silence for me to come to a decision. I said, 'Geordie, I have to talk to him alone. Take Paula with you, Clare. Look after her. God knows she's had enough to cope with. Keep everyone away from us for a while, would you?'

'I'll do that,' Geordie said.

Clare gave me a smile of compassion and warmth and then walked back to the deckhouse. Mark was sitting propped up against the railing with Paula as always by his side. I waited until Clare took her gently by the arm and the two girls went below to join Campbell. I wanted to speak to Mark, perhaps for the last time, with no one to act as a shield between us.

He looked stonily at me as I squatted beside him.

'How is it?' I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Not good,' he said breathlessly. He was sheet-white and his eyes were cloudy.

I said, 'Mark, thank you for saving Paula.'

'Don't thank me. That was my business.' He did not want to hear praise from me. 'I told you that man was off his rocker.'

'Well, he's out of it now. Ramirez too. Which leaves only you, Mark. And puts me in a devil of a fix.'

I expected his usual sneering retort, but instead he surprised me. He said, 'I know that, Mike. I've caused you a lot of grief, and I'm sorry. I'm likely to cause you a lot more as long as I live.'

'No, I'

'Which won't be long. I'm no doctor, but I know that much.'

'Mark, we'll be back in port pretty soon and you'll be in medical hands. We may even be sharing a ward,' I said, trying to speak lightly. Mark was sombre and less arrogant than I had ever known him, and I was dismayed.

'Don't be a fool, Mike,' he said with a touch of his old acerbity. 'You're going to have a million questions to answer as it is. It's not going to make things easier for you if you suddenly turn up with your long-lost, murdered, murderer brother, is it?'

I knew that he was right. I foresaw nothing but trouble for both of us. I shrank from the thought of turning him over to justice, but I could see no other way. Mark let me think about it for a while.

'Mike, I have one chance, just one, to make things easy for you. I've never done anything for you before. You have to give me this one chance.'

I said slowly, 'Dear God, what can I do?'

He pulled himself more upright and swayed a little. Then he said, 'Mike, I'm going to die.'

'Mark, you don't know'

'Hear me out.' His voice shook. 'Remember, Mike, I'm already a dead man. Without me you have every chance of coming clean out of this. There will be nobody to contradict your story. You were sailing to meet up with Ramirez on a survey expedition, and got caught up in the shambles of Falcon. By now the world will know it's blown. There'll be scientists overflying, ships coming to look, the lot. You know that. Your stalwart fellows can wipe out all traces of a gunfight. And you can persuade those Spaniards you've got on board to shut up.'

He drew in a harsh breath. He was drenching in his own sweat.

'Christ, do I have to spell it out for you? I'm not going to recover. I can do one thing for you, if you'll help me now.'

I asked, knowing the answer, 'Help you to do what?'

'Help me to die.'

I had known. 'Mark, I can't kill you.'

'You won't need to.'

Something glittered in front of my eyes. It was the kitchen knife Hadley had used on Mark, bloody at the tip but winking in the sunlight. I swallowed, a hard lump in my throat.