Over the High Side (25 page)

‘I don't do much yachting either,' said Van der Valk regretfully. ‘I'm vague. I suppose it's like everything else – they should be they don't.'

‘There's customs' declarations, and quarantine and stuff. You're supposed to hoist a yeller flag or something – feller in the office was trying to explain.'

‘Well of course nobody does.'

‘And the pleece is too busy sucking up to Greek millionaires I suppose. Well…'

‘But we'll find this,' said Van der Valk studying the photo. ‘Can't hide a thing that size. Forty feet, schooner rigged, steel hull, built in Ijmuiden, funny that.'

‘What's a schooner?' inquired Flynn: luckily at that moment the phone rang.

‘Flynn here. Yes … yes … yes … of course I'm holding
on but don't be all day about it … can't make out who it is,' he grumbled, ‘coastguard this and port authority that and police maritime the other and I can't tell them apart – yes, this is Inspector Flynn … what? Try and speak up … well, that's a little something, anyhow. All right, many thanks … Where's Vigo?' he asked Van der Valk.

‘Spain somewhere.'

‘I thought so. No idea whereabouts? – here, where's that map? Aha.'

‘They're there?' Like several of his phrases, it didn't sound like English.

‘Better still. He's there. Police checked the passports. Once they were told what was expected of them they got quite efficient. It was all those ones who might have seen something last week who didn't want to know.'

‘They've been pretty fast – the boat. I mean the boat went fast,' looking at Vigo on the map. It was still a long way from Ireland, but it was a long way from Rome too. ‘I suppose if there is a good wind, a thing like that can travel. How many on board?'

‘Assuming the Spaniards know how to count, six. Janey, it's about two thousand miles,' laboriously measuring with his ruler.

‘Depends if they go on up the coast or cut straight over. Depends on the wind – phone the weather bureau. Might end up absolutely anywhere along here,' with his thumb on Valencia and a finger on Kirkwall. ‘Not only the wind – a little mistake in the navigation at that distance would create a big variation.'

Flynn studied the atlas, muttering.

‘Need an atomic submarine or something. Sure if we was proper pleece we'd be organized. That countryside there's nothing for miles. One Guard and when he noticed something he'd have to get to the telephone, and first he'd have to find his bicycle clips and have a cup of tea. Just think, when the General came, for just a quiet little holiday, there was more radio vans and helicopters and whatnot. Janey what a situation. How do you make arrangements to meet someone what might turn up in the County Clare next month?' Flynn hit
himself accidentally with the ruler and looked at it with disgust – been so plainly activated by malice.

‘Couldn't get a helicopter I suppose – not by twisting someone's arm?' asked Van der Valk hopefully.

‘What a hope. Let's go and have a jar.'

Over the jar Flynn decided that the helicopter was a bad idea anyhow. Indiscreet, making a noise, setting the whole countryside buzzing. Be quite as bad as the General's visit, which had been God save the mark like nothing but the discovery of the abominable snowman living right there next door MacGillycuddy.

With the second jar he had made a simple flexible plan. He would get a radio car and a driver. He himself had no authority for any such thing outside the Dublin area, but he would use Senator Lynch. Then he would get on to the fishery protection service. They had routine air patrols to keep an eye on them saucy French lobster-poachers. They would not find this unusual, being frequently asked to look out for yachts blown off course or whatnot, and a plane flying over attracted no attention.

‘The plane gives us a rough fix, tells us how far off they are and what direction they're going. Then they have a sloop or a cutter or something, I don't know what it's called.' This had a radio-telephone which would tell him where to go. And if they were stuck in the wilderness and there were delays he would fix it with the customs-and-excise to hold the boat up.

‘Very severe is the customs-and-excise,' said Flynn happily, ‘and if there isn't any alcoholic beverages they can keep you there till kingdom come with the foot-and-mouth disease.'

Van der Valk was impressed with this simple programme.

‘If I wanted to do a thing like that in Holland I'd need about ten different government departments, and there'd be a long legal worry about misuse of official communication facilities, and at the end you'd get sabotaged along the road somewhere by little interdepartmental jealousies you didn't know existed.'

‘In Ireland,' said Flynn grandly, ‘you can do anything – bar that is getting the Pope to throw the ball in at the All
Ireland Hurling Final and even that they never give up the great expectations. Now we've nothing to do, isn't it wonderful?'

‘We could go to the Hurling Final.'

*

‘You're through to Dublin – speak up, please.'

‘Hallo. Hallo … hallo, that you, Stasie? This line's pretty poor.'

‘Who is that? I can hardly hear. Oh my God, it's you. Dear – you mustn't phone.'

‘What? I can't hear properly. Thought I'd ring to hear how you were.'

‘Oh dear – darling, listen – where are you? – no, don't say – are you in Italy?'

‘Italy nothing. Off the coast, but we're only just in range, that's why the line's bad.'

‘Where are you for God's sake tell me, where are you?'

‘Well you just said don't tell you. This is ship to shore, I just thought I'd ring to hear if everything was O.K. your way.'

‘Hush, listen to me, the police have been here. God – I don't know, I can't possibly explain. It's taking a frightful risk – listen, I'll try and contact you somehow. Let's hope that – no, tell me where you land, Cork is it? Try and understand, they're watching for you, the airports too, I'm sure of it.'

‘No no, we're on a sailing boat, you don't understand.'

‘Oh I see – well, maybe – but don't come here whatever you do, try and land as quietly as you can and lie low, and I'll try and get in touch somehow, where will you land?'

‘Don't know yet, we're too far out still. Know this evening, I should think.'

‘When you know – ring me back this evening or no, ring Agathe's number, that might be safer – have you understood?'

‘I don't know.'

‘I'll try and get a message to you – but ring off, this is a frightful risk, oh dear, I can't talk, bye.'

*

‘So far so good,' said Mr Flynn clanking his phone down. ‘That was the fishery people at Cork. Plane picked them up all right, I mean they haven't got lost, or decided to go the other way, or something.' He scrabbled on his desk among pieces of paper. ‘Weather bureau says gentle swell, good visibility, wind west to southwest force four. But they're still a long way off. Feller says course set for Fastnet but he don't know for sure. White hull, schooner rig, that's them all right. Now the Fastnet is here – Janey, all them little ports. Skibbereen maybe, or Castletownbere, won't know until this evening. We got plenty time, car's in the yard. You got no police authority here of course but I fixed it for you to come along as united nations observer. Whatever that may be.'

*

On the schooner there was a certain hilarity. The boys knew one another well – three in fact had been to school together. Running up against Denis had surprised nobody. He could make himself useful on a boat, too – wasn't sick all the time or something. True, he had been a bit moody and cranky, but this was put down to a troublesome girl-friend, a hypothesis confirmed after the phone call.

‘That Denis and his girl – what was all that panic about, then? Never a dull moment there. What's for grub – don't tell me it's beans again or I shall run amok.'

‘Take a sun sight I think. Too far to the west. Lot of current making with the tide – four knots and I wouldn't be surprised.'

‘Well the day you were cook we had beans too. Why didn't you think of something else, then?'

‘Watch the chronometer then and when I say stop.'

‘There was a whole goddam sack of them that's why and I wasn't the silly prat that bought them neither.'

‘Stop.'

‘Wait till I work it out. What did I tell you? Fastnet how are you? – Rockall, more likely. Gimme the protractor. And a half north to allow for drift. New course, helmsman.'

‘Made a good passage though; be in easy this evening.'

‘These beans are taking a hell of a time to cook.'

‘Sorry no tins left but those awful pomodori'

‘She's all right. Any more wind you'd have to take sail off because she'd start tripping a bit. Wake up, Denis; you're steering the way Leary's cow got home.'

‘What's the matter then, won't she be at the pier-head waving her hanky?'

‘Not pregnant, is she? Look, watch the pennant and then look at the sail – can't you see you're starving her of wind.'

‘Yes, well, stop shrieking like that and stamping about like Genghiz Khan.'

‘Sorry, Denis, a boat's not run by a committee; only one skipper, you know.'

‘Sorry – I don't seem able to concentrate.'

‘All right – take the helm over, Tim. Mainsheet, Denis, ease her a scrap. You got a problem – spit it out. Tell Auntie Maeve, son, don't forget the stamped addressed envelope.'

‘I was wishing we were in, that's all.'

‘If he was in that much of a hurry he should have taken the plane.'

‘Shut up – stop thinking yourself witty. What would you do if you got a message saying the cops were after you.'

‘They are?'

‘Can't you see he's serious? Look, Denis, leave this to us. Get the coast chart, James, would you? Bantry Bay won't do – like the main road out of Bray. Heave her to – we'll run in after dark. Foresheet, James – ready? – shove her straight up into the wind. Right, down below all, we've got to work this out.'

*

The police were also having trouble with their navigation.

‘Those fish people seem to have lost all trace.'

‘No new plane sighting?'

‘Say they can't keep sweeping the area; they're using too much petrol.'

‘Look fishy anyway if they kept on going over.'

‘Feller says the wind will likely drop around nightfall and the tide will then be going that way.'

‘Wouldn't worry them – that boat's got an auxiliary diesel.'

‘But that if they turn that way – left – that's port isn't it?'

‘Could be South African sherry for all I know.'

‘Then it would be a harder beat in. Bantry, or Kenmare. But if they turn right …'

‘We'll hold on when we get around here. Currents and tides and things. Who does this boat belong to, anyhow?'

‘Feller called Bailey, Bill Bailey – that's not the won't-you-come-home feller, but an awful lot of money so he has.'

‘On second thoughts don't tell me,' said Van der Valk, ‘you've lost me already.'

‘Lost the ruddy boat, too.'

*

The boys were being very tactful. Nobody had asked what the police could possibly be after him for, nor would any of them dream of asking. The one idea they all agreed upon was to save old Denis getting pinched, and in this they were being alarmingly helpful. They saw he had gone a bit numb, sinking into a lethargic kind of passivity as though he didn't much care what happened, and they weren't having any of that!

‘I say turn around and run for France. This wind would serve. Concarneau or some place.'

‘I say just not – it's just what might draw attention to us – and him. Remember those nosy bastards in Vigo – I didn't think anything of it then.'

‘But they weren't after you in Italy, Denis, were they?'

‘I don't know, don't think so – everyone knew where I was.'

‘So there's a good chance they don't know where you are now. Near certainty, in fact.'

‘But if they're after him in Ireland … The girl-friend said they'd been out talking to her.'

‘Well, that's in Dublin. They watch airports, but they won't be watching for him in Dingle Bay for chrissake.'

‘Don't know for sure.'

‘Wait till dark, and bring up behind one of the islands …'

‘Land Denis with the dinghy, we go on to make port next morning and we've never even seen him.'

‘Slip in quiet without lights … like Roger Casement.'

‘But this is damn silly – put him on shore and then what does he do?'

‘Get into Waterville or somewhere he can catch a bus. He's got to find somewhere he can lay up.'

‘But in another country they can't get at him at all – unless it's extraditable or something.'

‘Maybe it is – and anyway what would he do for money?'

‘We ought never to have come north – if we'd stayed in the Med and dropped him there they'd never have found him in all winter.'

‘Don't talk so wet – you've never been in the Med in winter; that's obvious. We can't stop the police getting him, maybe. But we can delay them. What he needs is a damn good lawyer. How about your old man, Denis? No? Well, once we're in Dublin that's easy found. I say find somewhere he can lie up a day or so, while a lawyer finds out how tough it's likely to be, what they have on him – give him advice, help – what else are they for? Thing is, does anybody know a good place down in the country where he could rest up quiet for a couple of days?'

‘We've got the ship-to-shore. Couldn't we phone someone to come down to meet him? We've got a few hours to spare; it would be easy done.'