Night of Terror by Desmond Bagley

enough to condemn the lot of you, so think carefully about what you’re

planning, Ramirez.”

“Might one ask where he is?” “Where you won’t find him, and all ready

to sing like a bird.” He looked thoughtful and did not speak again for

a moment, and Campbell, sensing a faint opening, was quick to take

advantage.

“What were you planning to do with us? It won’t work now,” you

know.”

“You speak stupidly,” Ramirez said. Mark watched us fascinated, all

his boasting silenced. He’d shocked us but he’d failed to impress us,

and now things were taking a turn that he didn’t like. It was slowly

becoming obvious to me that in spite of Mark’s almost insane posturing,

it was Ramirez who was the more powerful of the two, and possibly the

more dangerous.

Campbell said, “You’ve decided that you can’t leave us alive, haven’t

you? That would be too much to expect. You’ve already killed some

seventeen people – another dozen or so won’t make any difference.

But you won’t get away with it.

We have covered our tracks, Ramirez, and for another thing your own

crew will talk about all this, sooner or later.” It was a bold try and

I had never admired Campbell more.

Ramirez threw back his head and laughed. “My crew -‘ those morons?”

He gestured to the stolid guards. “Those oafs?

They do what I tell them and nothing else. They have no mind of their

own – I am the only brain they have. And who would believe them if

they talked? They have never understood what it is all about, not one

of them. Besides, that can be taken care of too.” “A series of

unfortunate accidents?” asked Campbell sardonically.

“Regrettable, isn’t it? I listened to this ghastly conversation with a

feeling Of unreality. Ramirez was prepared to kill us without

compunction. What was more, he was equally prepared to kill his own

crew as well. I could just imagine how it would be arranged.

The men would be well paid, split up and dispersed and then there would

be, as Campbell foresaw, a series of accidents. A man found dead in a

harbour here, a fatal car smash there, until the whole crew was

disposed of.

“All right,” Campbell was saying. “You still won’t get away with it.

Quito, apart from Kane’s evidence, you don’t suppose I haven’t made my

own arrangements, do you? My agents have sealed letters which will be

handed to the police if I don’t turn up somewhere soon.

There’s going to be one hell of an investigation if I go missing.”

“You’re an old fool,”said Ramirez brutally, the gloves off at last.

“The barometer has dropped three points in the last hour, there’s a

storm coming up and that thing out there is going crazy. You’re going

to be lost at sea – the lot of you. We will not be anywhere near

here.

There will be no proof – no proof of anything.” Campbell shuddered and

Clare pulled a little closer to him.

Watching Ramirez, I was fascinated by a movement outside the port light

behind his head. Nobody else had seemed to see it, too appalled and

horror-stricken by the finality in Ramirez’s voice. I saw Taffy,

crouched at the end of the settee, fumble again with that curious

gesture at the back of his neck, but his eyes never left Ramirez.

Campbell said slowly, “Ramirez, you’re a bloody-minded butcher.”

Ramirez spread his hands. “I don’t like killing for killings’ sake.

I’m no Jim Hadley – he was stupid back on Tanakabu and I abhored that,

putting pleasure before business. I kill only from necessity. But

when I do, whether it’s seventeen or seventy lives doesn’t make much

difference. Lives are cheap, my friend, when there are large stakes.

I consider my measures necessary.” He was as cold as a snake. I

switched my gaze back to the port and caught my breath.

There was a face out there. An eye winked.

Bill Hunter was back on board.

He was a hidden ace that Ramirez must not become aware of. I

cautiously lifted my hand to my mouth, coughed, and then made a slow

downward movement, being careful not to jerk. I didn’t want to catch

anyone’s attention. The eye winked again and the face disappeared.

Campbell was still speaking, desperately searching for arguments to

persuade Ramirez not to go ahead with whatever plans he had for us.

Again there was that vibrancy in my ears, a curious beat in Campbell’s

voice as though there were some sort of aural interference, some note

so low as to be inaudible. Not far away there was a sound as though an

engine were letting off steam. Esmerelda shuddered and the noises on

deck increased suddenly.

Ramirez interrupted Campbell, turned and to my horror strode over to

look out of a porthole. I tensed but then he turned back and spoke

again, and I realised he’d not seen anything untoward.

“Whatever is going on out there will serve its purpose,” he said

coolly. “As soon as these idiots of mine have parted the two ships we

go our separate ways. You won’t have far to go a mile or so straight

down. We will tow you into deep water or point your nose into that

thing out there.”

He turned on Geordie. “We have borrowed an idea from you, Captain. We

will set an explosive charge against your hull, and that storm out

there will do the rest.” Geordie ground his teeth ttogether but said

nothing.

Somebody ran across the deck over our heads and a voice called out.

Ramirez cocked his head and glanced upwards. “It sounds as though they

are about ready.” I heard a clatter of heavy boots on the companion

steps and there was a thump on the door. At a gesture from Ramirez one

of the guards opened it and Hadley came in. He looked at us with an

oafish grin that didn’t reach his pale, cold eyes and bent to whisper

to Ramirez, who immediately turned to look out of the porthole again.

I thanked God that Bill had kept out of sight. Or had he?

Ramirez turned back. “Which would you choose? Deep water or Falcon

Island? There seems to be increased activity over there.” He smiled

and said to Mark, “This is lucky, you know. Where else should a survey

ship be wrecked but in investigating Falcon Island a little too closely

at the wrong time? Keep our friends happy for a little while.”

He turned on his heel and left the saloon, followed by Hadley.

Geordie watched them go and then transferred his attention to Mark.

“You’re a poor specimen of a man,”he said with contempt. “What makes

you think I’m going to sit back and let you wreck my ship and murder my

crew? If I’m going to be killed I might as well take you with me.” He

began to rise from his chair. With Ramirez’s departure a curious

change had come into the atmosphere. It was as if we could all

recognise that where Ramirez had real authority and total amorality,

Mark had only his ego and his self-seeking veneer of toughness over a

very insecure personality.

As Geordie started to rise Mark snapped out a command in Spanish and

the guards’ rifles lifted to the ready. “Be careful,” Mark said.

“They are trained killers.” “So am I,” said Geordie with menace. He

continued to rise slowly and Ian started to get up as well.

Mark spoke again in Spanish and one of the guards casually fired his

rifle, apparently without aim. The noise was appalling and we flinched

back as splinters flew from the bullet as it struck the cabin sole just

by Geordie’s foot. He hesitated and I spoke sharply. “Cut it, Geordie

– you haven’t a chance. You can’t move faster than a bullet.” Geordie

glared at me under his lowered brows but I made a quick slashing

gesture with my hand and, taking a chance, winked at him.His brow

smoothed and he sat down again, as did Ian. Both were watchful, and I

knew that I had succeeded in alerting them.

There was a sustained racket from overhead. Geordie said, “They’re

making a muck-up of it out there, aren’t they?” “Mind if I smoke,

Clare?” I put my hand into a pocket and stopped as a rifle barrel

turned and the muzzle pointed unwaveringly at me. “For God’s sake,

Mark, can’t I even have a cigarette?” He looked amused. “Smoking’s

bad for you, Mike.

Go ahead – but you’d better have nothing but cigarettes in your hand

when you pull it out.” Slowly I withdrew my hand as he spoke to the

guards again.

The rifle barrel drooped a little and I opened the packet and put a

cigarette in my mouth. And at that moment I saw Bill’s face at the

port once more. The sound of the rifle had brought him back, as I’d

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