On the wharf he had been terrible in his anger, competent and deadly, and when he looked up suddenly his dark eyes stared through her like glass. For the first time that night genuine fear moved inside her and then his whole face creased into a smile of quite devastating charm, so great, that he seemed to undergo a complete personality change.,
“You look about ten years old in that sweater.”
She smiled warmly and held out her hand. “My name is Anne Grant and I’m very grateful to you.”
“Mallory,” he said. “Neil Mallory.”
He touched her hand briefly, opened the brandy, poured a generous measure into one of the glasses and passed it to her. “I got the barman to phone for a taxi. It might be some time before it gets here.
“I’d like to know why the driver who brought me didn’t wait,” she said. “I asked him to.”
“They’re not too keen on hanging around the dock area at night. It’sa rough place and taxi-drivers are obvious targets.” He grinned. “That goes double for good-looking young women, by the way.”
She smiled ruefully. “Don’t rub it in. I’d no idea what I was letting myself in for, but I was getting desperate. I’d been waiting in Lulworth for someone for most of the day. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to show up I decided to come looking for him.”
“Van Sondergard?” Mallory said. “I heard you ask the barman about him.”
“Did you know him?”
“He had a room along the corridor from here. I had a drink with him once when he came in the bar. Nothing more than that. Where did you meet him?”
“I didn’t,” she said. “The whole thing was arranged through the seamen’s pool. I told them I need someone to take a motor-cruiser across to the Channel Islands for me and captain her for a month or so until my sister-in-law and I were capable of looking after her ourselves. I also told them we’d prefer someone who’d done a little skin-diving. They put me in touch with Sondergard.” She sighed. “He seemed rather keen on the idea. I’d love to know what changed his mind.”
“It was very simple really. He was sitting in the bar half drunk, feeling rather sorry for himself, when one of his old captains walked in, due out on the morning tide for Suez and short of a quartermaster. Three drinks was all it took for Sondergard to pack his duffel and go off with him. Sailors have a habit of doing things like that.”
He swallowed his brandy, took out an old leather cigarette case and offered her one. “Are you a sailor, Mr. Mallory,” she asked as he struck a match and held it forward in cupped hands.
He shrugged. “Amongst other things. Why?”
“I wasn’t sure. If I’d been asked I’d have said you were a soldier.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I think you could say I know the breed. My father was one and so was my husband. He was killed in Korea.”
There didn’t seem anything to say and Mallory lit a ciga-rette and walked to the window. He peered outside, then turned.
“The motor-cruiser you mentioned, what kind is it?”
“A thirty-footer by Akerboon. Twin screw, steel hull.”
“Only the best?” He looked suitably impressed. “How’s she powered?”
“Penta petrol engine. She’ll do about twenty-two knots at full stretch.
“Depth-sounder, automatic steering, every latest refine-ment?” He grinned. “I’d say she must have cost you all of seven thousand pounds.”
“Not me,” she said. “My father-in-law. All I did was obey orders. He told me exactly what he wanted.”
“Sounds like a man who’s used to getting his own way.”
She smiled. “A habit he finds hard to break. He’s a major-general.”
“Grant?” Mallory frowned. “Are you talking about Iron Grant? The Western Desert man?”
She nodded. “That’s right. He’s been living in the Channel Islands since he left the army. I keep house for him.”
“What does the old boy do with himself these days?”
“He’s almost blind now,” she said, “but he’s still amazingly active and he’s made quite a reputation for himself as a war historian. He uses a tape-recorder and his daughter Fiona and I type up his notes for him.”