'You told the doctor about Mark's wife her address and so on?'
Kane nodded. 'Mrs Trevelyan said she'd only just heard about it that's the Islands postal service for you. You know, he never gave us nothing for her, no personal stuff I mean. We wondered about that. But she said some gear of his is on the way that right?'
'It might be that,' I said. There's something at Heathrow now. I'll probably pick it up tomorrow. When did Mark die, by the way?'
He reflected. 'Must have been about four months ago. You don't go much for dates and calendars when you're cruising the Islands, not unless you're navigating and looking up the almanack all the time, and Jim's the expert on that. I reckon it was about the beginning of May. Jim dropped me at Panama in July and I had to wait a bit to get a ship across here.'
'Do you remember the doctor's name? Or where he came from?'
Kane frowned. 'I know he was a Dutchman; his name was Scoot-something. As near as I can remember it might have been Scooter. He runs a hospital on one of the Islands my word, I can't remember that either.'
'It's of no consequence; if it becomes important I can get it from the death certificate.' I finished my whisky. 'The last I heard of Mark he was working with a Swede called Norgaard. You didn't come across him?'
Kane shook his head. There was only your brother. We didn't stay around, you know. Not when old Scooter said he'd take care of everything. You think this Norgaard was supposed to pick your brother up when he'd finished his job?'
'Something like that,' I said. 'It's been very good of you to take the trouble to tell us about Mark's death.'
He waved my thanks aside. 'No trouble at all; anyone would have done the same. I didn't tell Mrs Trevelyan too much, you understand.'
'I'll edit it when I tell her,' I said. 'Anyway, thanks for looking after him. I wouldn't like to think he died alone.'
'Aw, look,' said Kane, embarrassed. 'We couldn't do anything else now, could we?'
I gave him my card. 'I'd like you to keep in touch,' I said. 'Perhaps when you're ready to go back I can help you with a passage. I have plenty of contacts with the shipping people.'
Too right,' he said. 'I'll keep in touch, Mr Trevelyan.'
I said goodbye and left the bar, ducking into the private bar in the same pub. I didn't think Kane would go in there and I wanted a few quiet thoughts over another drink.
I thought of Mark dying a rather gruesome death on that lonely Pacific atoll. God knows that Mark and I didn't see eye to eye but I wouldn't have wished that fate on my worst enemy. And yet there was something odd about the whole story; I wasn't surprised at him being in the Tuamotus it was his job to go poking about odd corners of the seven seas as it was mine but something struck a sour note.
For instance, what had happened to Norgaard? It certainly wasn't standard operating procedure for a man to be left entirely alone on a job. I wondered what Mark and Norgaard had been doing in the Tuamotus; they had published no papers so perhaps their investigation hadn't been completed. I made a mental note to ask old Jarvis about it; my boss kept his ear close to the grapevine and knew everything that went on in the profession.
But it wasn't that which worried me; it was something else, something niggling at the back of my mind that I couldn't resolve. I chased it around for a bit but nothing happened, so I finished my drink and went home to my flat for a late night session with some figures.* 2*
The next day I was at the office bright and early and managed to get my work finished just before lunch. I was attacking my neglected correspondence when one of the girls brought in a visitor, and a most welcome one. Geordie Wilkins had been my father's sergeant in the Commandos during the war and after my father had been killed he took an interest in the sons of the man he had so greatly respected. Mark, typically, had been a little contemptuous of him but I liked Geordie and we got on well together.
He had done well for himself after the war. He foresaw the yachting boom and bought himself a 25-ton cutter which he chartered and in which he gave sailing lessons. Later he gave up tuition and had worked up to a 200-ton brigantine which he chartered to rich Americans mostly, taking them anywhere they wanted to go at an exorbitant price. Whenever he put into England he looked me up, but it had been a while since last I'd seen him.
He came into the office bringing with him a breath of sea air. 'My God, Mike, but you're pallid,' he said. 'I'll have to take you back to sea.'
'Geordie! Where have you sprung from this time?'
The Caribbean,' he said. 'I brought the old girl over for a refit. I'm in between charters, thank God.'
'Where are you staying?'
'With you if you'll have me. Esmerelda's here.'
'Don't be an idiot,' I said happily. 'You know you're welcome. We seem to have struck it lucky this time; I have to do a bit of writing which will take a week, and then I've got three weeks spare.'
He rubbed his chin. 'I'm tied up for a week too, but I'm free after that. We'll push off somewhere.'
That's a great idea,' I said. 'I've been dying to get away. Wait while I check this post, would you?'
The letter I had just opened was from Helen; it contained a brief letter and the advisory note from British Airways. There was something to be collected from Heathrow which had to clear customs. I looked up at Geordie. 'Did you know that Mark is dead?'
He looked startled. 'Dead! When did that happen?'
I told him all about it and he said, 'A damned sticky end -even for Mark.' Then he immediately apologized. 'Sorry I shouldn't have said that.'
'Quit it, Geordie,' I said irritably. 'You know how I felt about Mark; there's no need to be mealy-mouthed with me.'
'Aye. He was a bit of a bastard, wasn't he? How's that wife of his taking it?'
'About average under the circumstances. She was pretty broken up but I seem to detect an underlying note of relief.'
'She's best remarry and forget him,' said Geordie bluntly. He shook his head slowly. 'It beats me what the women saw in Mark. He treated 'em like dirt and they sat up and begged for more.'
'Some people have it, some don't,' I said.
'If it means being like Mark I'd rather not have it. Sad to think one can't find a good word to say for the man.' He took the paper out of my hand. 'Got a car I can use? I haven't been in one for months and I'd like the drive. I'll get my gear from Esmerelda and go out and pick this stuff up for you.'
I tossed him my car keys. 'Thanks. It's the same old wreck -you'll find it in the car park.'
When he had gone I finished up my paperwork and then went to see the Prof, to pay my respects. Old Jarvis was quite cordial. 'You've done a good job, Mike,' he said. 'I've looked at your stuff briefly and if your correlations are correct I think we're on to something.'
'Thank you.'
He leaned back in his chair and started to fill his pipe. 'You'll be writing a paper, of course.'
'I'll do that while I'm on leave,' I said. 'It won't be a long one; just a preliminary. There's still a lot of sea time to put in.'
'Looking forward to getting back to it, are you?'
'I'll be glad to get away.'
He grunted suddenly. 'For every day you spend at sea you'll have three in the office digesting the data. And don't get into a job like mine; it's all office-work. Steer clear of administration, my boy; don't get chair-bound.'
'I won't,' I promised and then changed tack. 'Can you tell me anything about a fellow called Norgaard? I think he's a Swede working on ocean currents.'
Jarvis looked at me from under bushy eyebrows. 'Wasn't he the chap working with your brother when he died?'
That's the man.'
He pondered, then shook his head. 'I haven't heard anything of him lately; he certainly hasn't published. But I'll make a few enquiries and put you in touch.'
And that was that. I didn't know why I had taken the trouble to ask the Prof, about Norgaard unless it was still that uneasy itch at the back of my skull, the feeling that something was wrong somewhere. It probably didn't mean anything anyway, and I put it out of my mind as I walked back to my office.
It was getting late and I was about ready to leave when Geordie returned and heaved a battered, ancient suitcase onto my desk. There it is,' he said. They made me open it it was a wee bit difficult without a key, though.'
'What did you do?'
'Busted the lock,' he said cheerfully.
I looked at the case warily. 'What's in it?'
'Not much. Some clothes, a few books and a lot of pebbles. And there's a letter addressed to Mark's wife.' He untied the string holding the case together, skimmed the letter across the desk, and started to haul out the contents a couple of tropical suits, not very clean; two shirts; three pairs of socks; three textbooks on oceanography very up-to-date; a couple of notebooks in Mark's handwriting, and a miscellany of pens, toiletries and small odds and ends.
I looked at the letter, addressed to Helen in a neat cursive hand. 'I'd better open this,' I said. 'We don't know what's in it and I don't want Helen to get too much of a shock.'
Geordie nodded and I slit the envelope. The letter was short and rather abrupt:
Dear Mrs Trevelyan, I am sorry to tell you that your husband, Mark, is dead, although you may know this already by the time you get this. Mark was a good friend to me and left some of his things in my care. I am sending them all to you as I know you would like to have them.
Sincerely,
P. Nelson
I said, 'I thought this would be official, but it's not.'
Geordie scanned the short note. 'Do you know this chap, Nelson?'
'Never heard of him.'
Geordie put the letter on the desk and tipped up the suitcase. 'Then there are these.' A dozen or so potato-like objects rolled onto the desk. Some of them rolled further and thumped onto the carpet, and Geordie stooped and picked them up. 'You'll probably make more sense of these than I can.'
I turned one in my fingers. 'Manganese nodules,' I said. 'Very common in the Pacific.' '
'Are they valuable?'
I laughed. 'If you could get at them easily they might be -but you can't, so they aren't. They lie on the seabed at an average depth of about fourteen thousand feet.'