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Night of Terror by Desmond Bagley

police, and they were back again next morning, to recheck the premises

and to hear the whole tale yet again. The Inspector wasn’t satisfied

but neither he nor any of his colleagues could pin down what was

wrong.

Come to that – neither could I. It was a great way to start my leave.

His last word to me that morning was, “There’s been a fatality here, Mr

Trevelyan, and that’s a very serious matter. I shall expect both of

you to hold yourselves in readiness for the inquest. You are not under

arrest,” he added in such a way as to make me feel that I was.

He strode out of the flat with his minions trailing behind.

“In other words – don’t leave town,” I said. “There goes a very

unhappy policeman.” Geordie said, “He’ll be burning up the wires

looking for an expert on manganese nodules. He think there’s something

fishy there.” “By God, so do I! But he won’t find much. He’ll phone

the Institute of course, and speak to Jarvis or some other big noise

and get exactly the same story I told him.” I got up, went into the

kitchen and got a couple of bottles of beer from the refrigerator and

took them back into the living room. Geordie eye d them and said, “You

have some good ideas, sometimes. Tell me, these nodules – are they

really valueless?” “I told the coppers the plain truth,” I said.

“But

Mark seemed to have some curious ideas about nodule formation still,

the notebooks are, gone and I can’t check up on, his theories without

them.” Then suddenly I remembered something.”Wait a minute,”I said and

went into the bedroom. Sure enough, there it was the little

leather-bound diary, still lying on my dressing-table.

The police would have had no reason to think it wasn’t mine, and hadn’t

touched it.

I went back and tossed it to Geordie. “They didn’t get that. I meant

to tell you – I found it in a pocket of one of Mark’s suits.

What do you make of it? He opened the book with interest but I watched

the enthusiasm seep out of him as he scanned the pages. “What the

hell!” “That’s Mark’s patent Pitman variation,” I said.” I doubt if

old Isaac himself could make anything of it “What are all the

drawings?” “Mark was an inveterate doodler,” I said. “You’d have to

apply psychological theory to make anything of those.” I sat mulling

over the events of the previous day, trying to piece them together.

“Geordie, listen to this,” I said. “Mark dies, and Norgaard, his

colleague, disappears. Jarvis keeps his ear close to the ground and

knows all the gossip of the profession, and if he says he hasn’t heard

anything of Norgaard then it’s unlikely that anyone else has either.”

I held up a finger. “That’s one thing.” “Do you know anything about

Norgaard?” “Only that he’s one- of us oceanographers. He’s a Swede,

but he was on an American survey ship during the I.G.Y. I lost sight of

him after that; a lot of comradeship went for a bust when the operation

closed down.”

“What’s his speciality?” “Ocean currents. He’s one of those geniuses

who can dredge up a bit of water and tell you which way it was flowing

a million years ago last Wednesday. I don’t think there’s a name for

his line yet, so I’ll call it paleoaquaology – there’s a mouthful for

you.” Geordie raised his eyebrows. “Can they really do that kind of

thing?” I grinned. “They’d like you to believe so, and I’ve no reason

to doubt it. But to my mind there’s a hell of a lot of theorbalancing

uneasily on too few facts.

My fine is different – I analyse what I’m given and if anyone wants to

build any whacky theories on what I tell ’em, that’s their affair.”

“And Mark was like yourself – an analytical chemist. Why would he team

up with Norgaard? They don’t seem to have anything in common.” I said

slowly, “I don’t know; I really don’t know.” I was thinking of the

highly unlikely theory indicated in Mark’s missing notebooks.

‘all right,” Geordie said. “Norgaard’s disappeared – you think.

What else have you got?” “The next thing is Kane. The whole thing is

too damn pat.

Kane turns up and we have a burglary. He knew the stuff was coming – I

told him.” Geordie chuckled. “And how do you tie in the four Spanish

burglars with Kane? Speaking as a non-theoreticist, that is?” “I’m

damned if I know. There’s something odd about that too. I couldn’t

place the accent; it was one I’ve never heard before.” “You don’t know

them all,”said Geordie. “You’d have to be born Spanish to be that

good.” “True.” There was a long silence while I marshalled my

thoughts.

“I wish I could get hold of Kane.” “You think there’s something odd

about him, don’t you?” “I do. But I don’t know what it is. I’ve been

trying to bring it to the surface ever since I saw him.”

“Mike, I think this is all a lot of nonsense,” Geordie said

decisively.

“I think your imagination is working overtime.

You’ve had a shock about Mark’s death and another over the burglary -so

have I, come to that. But I don’t think Norgaard has mysteriously

disappeared; I think he’s probably sitting somewhere writing a thesis

on prehistoric water. As for Kane, you’ve got nothing but a blind

hunch. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If Kane is a seaman he’ll

probably be down somewhere in dockland, and if you want him that bad

I’ll put my boys on to nosing around a bit. It’s a pretty hopeless

chance but it’s all I can do.” “Thanks, Geordie,” I said.

“Meantime, I’d better ring Helen and tell her I’ve been burgled. She’s

not going to like hearing that Mark’ stuff is gone but there’s no hope

for it. I can only play it down, tell her it was all worthless

anyway.” “Are you going to pass on the notebook to her?” I shook my

head thoughtfully.

“What notebook? As far as she’s concerned, it was all stolen. She

could never make anything of that stuff of Mark’s but maybe I can.” I

had nightmares that night.

I dreamed of a lovely Pacific island with white beaches and waving palm

fronds where I wandered quite happily until I became aware that the sky

was darkening and a cold, icy wind had arisen. I started to run but my

feet slipped in the soft sand and I made no progress. And I knew what

I was running from.

He caught me at last with my back to a palm trunk, and came nearer and

nearer, brandishing a rusty kitchen knife. I knew it was the Dutch

doctor, although he was screaming in Spanish, “Empled cuchilo cuchillo

– cuchillo!” He was drunk and sweaty-faced and as he came nearer I

felt powerless to move and I knew he was going to stick me with the

knife. At last his face was close to mine and I could see the

individual beads of sweat on his shiny forehead and his lean dark

face.

It was the face of Kane. He drew back his arm and struck with the

knife right into my guts.

I woke with a yell I was breathing deeply, taking in great gulps of

air, and I could feel a slick film of sweat all over my body. The

knifescratch in my arm was aching. And I knew at last what was wrong

with Kane’s story.

The bedroom door opened and Geordie said in a low voice, “What the

devil’s going on?” I said, “Come in, Geordie; I’m all right – just a

nightmare.” I switched on the bedside light and Geordie said me a hell

of a fright, Mike.” “I gave myself a hell of a fright,” I said and

“But I discovered something – or remembered sc “What?” I tapped

Geordie emphatically on the chest with a finger. “Mark had his

appendix out years ago.” Geordie looked startled. “But the death

certificate “I don’t know anything about the death certificate. I

haven’t seen it yet, so I don’t know if it’s a fake. But I know that

Mr. Bloody Kane is a fake.” “Are you sure about this?” “I still know

the doctor who operated on Mark. I’ll give him a ring and check on it

– but I’m sure.”

“Perhaps this Dutch doctor made a mistake,” offered Geordie.

“He’d be a damned good doctor who could take out an appendix that

wasn’t there,”I said acidly.”Doctors can’t make mistakes like that.”

“Not unless he was covering up. Lots of doctors bury their

mistakes.”

“You mean he was incompetent?” I thought about that, then shook my

head decisively. “No, Geordie, that won’t wash, He’d see the old

operation scar the moment he made his examination, and he’d know the

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