He looked up at the darkened hotel and shrugged mentally – he would soon find out what he had to do. He was about to lock the car when he paused in thought, then he opened up the engine and removed the rotor-arm of the distributor. At least the car would be there when he needed it.
The foyer of the Imperiale was in darkness, but he saw a faint glow from the American Bar. He walked across and halted as a chair clattered behind him. He whirled, and said, ‘Who’s that?’ There was a faint scrape of sound and a shadow flitted across a window; then a door banged and there was silence.
He waited a few seconds, then went on. A voice called from the American Bar, ‘Who’s that out there?’
‘Wyatt.’
Julie rushed into his arms as he stepped into the bar. ‘Oh, Dave, I’m glad you’re here. Have you brought transport from the Base?’
‘I’ve got transport,’ he said. ‘But I’ve not come directly from the Base. Someone was supposed to pick you up, I know that.’
‘They came,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t here – none of us were.’
He became aware he was in the centre of a small group. Dawson was there, and Papegaikos of the Maraca Club and a middle-aged woman whom he did not know. Behind, at the bar, the bar-tender clanged the cash register open.
‘I was here,’ said the woman. ‘I was asleep in my room and nobody came to wake me.’ She spoke aggressively in an affronted tone.
‘I don’t think you know Mrs Warmington,’ Julie said.
Wyatt nodded an acknowledgement, and said, ‘So you’re left stranded.’
‘Not exactly,’ said Julie. ‘When Mr Dawson and I came back and found everyone gone we sat around a bit wondering what to do, then the phone rang in the manager’s office. It was someone at the Base checking up; he said he’d send a truck for us – then the phone cut off in the middle of a sentence.’
‘Serrurier’s men probably cut the lines to the Base,’ said Wyatt. ‘It’s a bit dicey out there – they’re as nervous as cats. When was this?’
‘Nearly two hours ago.’
Wyatt did not like the sound of that but he made no comment – there was no point in scaring anybody. He smiled at Papegaikos. ‘Hello, Eumenides, I didn’t know you favoured the Imperiale.’
The sallow Greek smiled glumly. ‘I was tol’ to come ‘ere if I wan’ to go to the Base.’
Dawson said bluffly, ‘That truck should be here any time now and we’ll be out of here.’ He waved a glass at Wyatt. ‘I guess you could do with a drink.’
‘It would come in handy,’ said Wyatt. ‘I’ve had a hard day.’
Dawson turned. ‘Hey, you! Where d’you think you’re going?’ He bounded forward and seized the small man who was sidling out of the bar. The bartender wriggled frantically, but Dawson held him with one huge paw and pulled him back behind the bar. He looked over at Wyatt and grinned. ‘Whaddya know, he’s cleaned out the cash drawer, too.’
‘Let him go,’ said Wyatt tiredly. ‘It’s no business of ours. All the staff will leave – there was one sneaking out when I came in.’
Dawson shrugged and opened his fist and the bartender scuttled out. ‘What the hell! I like self-service bars better.’
Mrs Warmington said briskly, ‘Well, now that you’re here with a car we can leave for the Base.’
Wyatt sighed. ‘I don’t know if that’s wise. We may not get through. Serrurier’s crowd is trigger-happy; they’re likely to shoot first and ask questions afterwards – and even if they do ask questions we’re liable to get shot.’
Dawson thrust a drink into his hand. ‘Hell, we’re Americans; we’ve got no quarrel with Serrurier.’
‘We know that, and Commodore Brooks knows it – but Serrurier doesn’t. He’s convinced that the Americans have supplied the rebels with guns – the guns you can hear now – and he probably thinks that Brooks is just biding his time before he comes out of the Base to stab him in the back.’
He took a gulp of the drink and choked; Dawson had a heavy hand with the whisky. He swallowed hard, and said, ‘My guess is that Serrurier has a pretty strong detachment of the army surrounding the Base right now – that’s why your transport hasn’t turned up.’
Everyone looked at him in silence. At last Mrs Warmington said, ‘Why, I know Commodore Brooks wouldn’t leave us here, not even if he had to order the Marines to come and get us.’
‘Commodore Brooks has more to think of than the plight of a few Americans in St Pierre,’ said Wyatt coldly. ‘The safety of the Base comes first.’
Dawson said intently, ‘What makes you think the Base isn’t safe, anyway?’
‘There’s trouble coming,’ said Wyatt. ‘Not the war, but –’
‘Anyone home?’ someone shouted from the foyer, and Julie said, ‘That’s Mr Causton.’
Causton came into the bar. He was limping slightly, there was a large tear in his jacket and his face was very dirty with a cut and a smear of blood on the right cheek. ‘Damn’ silly of me,’ he said. ‘I ran out of recording tapes, so I came back to get some more.’ He surveyed the small group. ‘I thought you’d all be at the Base by now.’
‘Communications have been cut,’ said Wyatt, and explained what had happened.
‘You’ve lost your chance,’ said Causton grimly. ‘The Government has quarantined the Base – there’s a cordon round it.’ He knew them all except Mrs Warmington, and regarded Dawson with a sardonic gleam in his eye. ‘Ah, yes, Mr Dawson; this should be just up your street. Plenty of material here for a book, eh?’
Dawson said, ‘Sure, it’ll make a good book.’ He did not sound very enthusiastic.
‘I could do with a hefty drink,’ said Causton. He looked at Wyatt. ‘That your car outside? A copper was looking at it when I came in.’
‘It’s quite safe,’ said Wyatt. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘Doing my job,’ said Causton matter-of-factly. ‘All hell’s breaking loose out there. Ah, thank you,’ he said gratefully, as Papegaikos handed him a drink. He sank half of it in a gulp, then said to Wyatt, ‘You know this island. Supposing you were a rebel in the mountains and you had a large consignment of arms coming in a ship – quite a big ship. You’d want a nice quiet place to land it, wouldn’t you? With easy transport to the mountains, too. Where would such a spot be?’
Wyatt pondered. ‘Somewhere on the north coast, certainly; it’s pretty wild country over there. I’d go for the Campo de las Perlas – somewhere round there.’
‘Give the man a coconut,’ said Causton. ‘At least one shipload of arms was landed there within the last month – maybe more. Serrurier’s intelligence slipped up on that one – or maybe they were too late. Oh, and Favel is alive, after all.’ He patted his pockets helplessly. ‘Anyone got a cigarette?’
Julie offered her packet. ‘How did you get that blood on your face?’
Causton put his hand to his cheek, then looked with surprise at the blood on his fingertips. ‘I was trying to get in to see Serrurier,’ he said. ‘The guards were a bit rough – one of them didn’t take his ring off, or maybe it was a knuckleduster.’
‘I saw Serrurier,’