The Unlikely Spy(163)

"I disagree. If they find her she can tell them a great deal. And besides, if they know we have a hostage on board they'll think twice about what steps they take to stop us."

"If you're suggesting they'll hesitate to fire on us because we have a British civilian on board, you're mistaken. There's too much at stake for that. They'll kill us all if need be."

"So be it, then. She comes with us. When we get to the submarine, we'll leave her behind on the boat. The British will rescue her and she won't be harmed."

Neumann understood that to continue arguing would be a waste of time. Catherine turned around and, in English, said to Jenny, "No more heroics. If you make one move, I'll shoot you in the face."

Neumann shook his head. He started the motor, dropped the van into gear, and drove down to the quay.





The constable at quayside heard the sound of a motor, stopped pacing, and looked up. He spotted the police van driving toward him. Odd, he thought, since his relief was not due to arrive until eight o'clock. He watched the van draw to a halt and saw two people getting out. He struggled to make them out in the darkness, but after a few seconds he realized they were not police officers. It was a man and a woman, very probably the fugitives!

He then had a terrible sinking feeling. He was armed with only a prewar revolver that jammed frequently. The woman was walking toward him. Her arm swung up and there was a flash but almost no sound, just a muffled thump. He felt the bullet tear through his chest, was aware of losing his balance.

His last sight was the dirty water of the Humber rushing toward him.





Ian McMann was a fisherman who believed the pure Celtic blood flowing through his veins gave him powers mere mortals did not possess. During his sixty years living near the North Sea, he claimed to have heard distress calls before they went out. He claimed to see the ghosts of men lost at sea floating over the quays and the harbors. He claimed to know that some vessels were haunted and would never go near them. Everyone in Cleethorpes accepted all this as truth but in private suggested Ian McMann had spent far too many nights at sea.

McMann had risen as usual at five o'clock, even though the dismal forecast promised conditions that would keep all boats off the water that day. He was eating a breakfast of porridge at the kitchen table when he heard a noise outside on the quay.

The smack of the rain made it difficult to detect any other sound, but McMann could have sworn he heard someone or something falling into the water. He knew there was a constable outside--he had taken him tea and a wedge of cake before turning in last night--and he knew why he was there. The police were looking for a pair of murder suspects from London. McMann guessed these were not ordinary murder suspects. He had lived in Cleethorpes for twenty years, and never had he heard of the local police guarding the waterfront.

The kitchen window of McMann's cottage provided an excellent view of the quay and the mouth of the Humber beyond. McMann rose, parted the curtains, and looked out. There was no sign of the constable. McMann threw on an oilskin and sou'wester, took his torch from the table beside the door, and went out.

He switched on his torch and started walking. After a few steps he heard the sound of a boat's diesel motor firing and sputtering into life. He walked faster until he could see which boat it was: the Camilla, Jack Kincaid's boat.

McMann thought, Is he daft heading out in a storm like this?> He started running, yelling. "Jack, Jack! Stop! Where do you think you're going?"

Then he realized the man untying the Camilla from the quay and jumping onto the aft deck was not Jack Kincaid. Someone was stealing his boat. He looked around for the constable, but he was gone. The man stepped into the wheelhouse and opened the throttle, and the Camilla nosed away from the quay.

McMann ran forward and shouted, "Come back, you!"

Then a second person stepped from the wheelhouse. McMann saw a muzzle flash but heard no sound. He felt the round whiz past his head, dangerously close. He hit the ground behind a pair of empty drums. Two more shots struck the quay; then the gunfire ended.

He stood up and saw the stern of the Camilla, running out to sea.

Only then did McMann see something floating in the oily water off the quay.





"I think you need to hear this for yourself, Major Vicary."

Vicary took the telephone receiver Lockwood handed to him. Ian McMann was on the line from Cleethorpes.

Lockwood said, "Start from the beginning, Ian."

"Two people just stole Jack Kincaid's fishing boat and are making for open water."

Vicary snapped, "My God! Where are you calling from?"

"Cleethorpes."

Vicary squinted to see the map. "Cleethorpes? Didn't we have a man there?"

"You did," McMann said. "He's floating in the water right now with a bullet through his heart."

Vicary swore softly, then said, "How many were there?"

"At least two that I saw."

"A man and a woman?"

"Too far away and too dark. Besides, when they started shooting at me I hit the dirt."

"You didn't see a young girl with them?"

"No."

Vicary covered the mouthpiece with the palm of his hand. "Maybe she's still in that van. Get a man out there as quickly as you can."