"_Pero no! Por supuesto no!_" protested Horta. "But it is said that you
have new and definite plans."
"What do you know about them?" demanded Terry.
Police Captain Horta said pleasantly, "Officially, nothing. Privately,
that you will aid some _ricos americanos_ to do experiments
in--_oceanografía_? Some study of oceanic things. That you regret having
agreed to do so. That you consider changing your mind. That you are
angry."
The girl, of course, could have inferred all this from his angry charge
out of the shop with the money in his hand, too late to stop her
taxicab. But Terry snapped, "Now, who the devil told you that?"
Police Captain Horta shrugged.
"One hears. I hope it is not true."
"That what's not true? That I leave? Or that I don't?"
"I hope," said Horta benignly, "that you do as you please. I am not on
duty at the moment. I have my car. I offer myself to chauffeur you if
there is any place you wish to go--to a steamer or anywhere else. If
you do not wish to go anywhere, I will take my leave. With no pre ...
prejudice," he finished. "We have been friendly. I hope we remain so."
Terry stared at him estimatingly. Police Captain Horta was a reasonable
and honest man. He knew that Terry had contributed to matters giving the
police some trouble, but he knew it was accidental on Terry's part. He
would hold no grudge.
"Just why," asked Terry measuredly, "did you come here to offer to drive
me somewhere? Is there any special reason to want me to get out of
town?"
"That is not it," said Horta. "It could be wished that you would--take a
certain course of action. Yes. But not because you would be absent from
here. It is because you would be present at a special other place. The
matter connects with _La Rubia_, but in a manner you could not possibly
guess. Yet you are wholly a free agent. You will do as you please. I
would like to make it--convenient. That is all."
He paused. Terry stared at him, frowning. Horta tried again.
"Let us say that I have much interest in _oceanografía_. I would like to
see certain research carried on."
"Being, I'm sure, especially interested in fish-driving," said Terry
skeptically. "You sound as if you were acting unofficially to get
something done that officially you can't talk about."
Horta smiled warmly at him.
"That," he pronounced, "is a logical conclusion."
"What's the object of the--research, if that's what it is? And why pick
me?"
Horta shrugged and did not answer.
"Why not tell me?"
"_Amigo_," said Horta, "I would like nothing better than to tell you. I
would be interested to see your reception of the idea. But it would be
fatal. You would think me cr-azy. And also more important persons. But
especially me."
It was Terry's turn to shrug his shoulders. He hesitated for a long
moment. If Horta had tried to apply pressure, he'd have turned obstinate
on the instant. But there was no pressure. First the girl and now Horta
tried to lure him with mystery and assurance of interest in high places.
"And _La Rubia's_ involved in the secret?" demanded Terry.
"Innocently," said Horta promptly. "As you are."
"Thank you for faith in my innocence," said Terry with irony. "All
right. If I'm involved, I'm involved. I'll try to devolve out of being
involved by playing along."
He turned to the workshop space at the back of the store. He found boxes
to pack his working tools and the considerable stock of small parts
needed to make such things as burglar alarms, submarine ears and the
assorted electronic devices modern business finds increasingly
necessary. He began to pack them. Surprisingly, Horta helped. Any man of
Spanish blood is apt to be sensitive about manual labor. If he has an
official position his sensitiveness is apt to be extreme. But Horta not
only helped pack the boxes with Terry's stock of parts; he helped carry
them to his car outside. He helped to load them.
Terry turned the key in the door and handed it to him, with the nearly
complete inventory of the shop's contents.
"Jimenez having run away, I leave the shop in your hands," he observed.
Horta put the key and document away. He started the motor of his car and
drove along the Calle Enero. He drove with surprising moderation for a
police officer authorized to ignore traffic rules on occasion. Presently
the dock-area of Manila was left behind, and then the rest of the
commercial district, and then for a time the car tooled along wide
streets past the impressive residences of the wealthy. Some of the
architecture was remarkable. A little further, and the harbor--the
bay--appeared again. The car entered the grounds of Manila's swankiest
yacht club. The design of the clubhouse was astounding. The car stopped
by the small-boat pier. There were two men waiting there. Without being
given any orders, they accepted the parcels Horta handed out. Also
without orders, they carried them out to the float. They loaded them
into the brass-trimmed motor tender which waited there.
"They knew we were coming," said Terry shortly. "Would I have been
brought anyhow?"
"_Pero no_," said Horta. "But there are telephones. When we left the
shop, one was used."
The men who'd carried out the parcels vanished. Terry and Horta stepped
aboard. The tender cast off and headed out into the harbor. There was a
Philippine gunboat and a mine-layer and an American flattop in plain
view. There were tankers and tramp steamers and a vast array of smaller
craft at anchor. A seemingly top-heavy steamer ploughed across oily
water two miles distant. The tender headed for a trim sixty-five-foot
schooner anchored a mile from shore. It grew larger and seemed more trim
as the tender approached it.
The smaller boat passed under the larger one's stern, and the name
_Esperance_ showed plainly. On the starboard side a boat boom projected.
The tender ran deftly up and a man in a sweat shirt and duck trousers
snubbed the line. He said cheerfully, "How do you do, Mr. Holt?" Then he
nodded to Horta. "Good to see you, Captain." He offered his hand as
Terry straightened up on deck. "My name's Davis. We'll have your stuff
aboard right away."
Two young men in dungarees and with crew cuts appeared and took over the
motley lot of cartons that Terry and Horta had made ready.
"Have you everything you need?" asked Davis anxiously. "Would some extra
stuff be useful?"
"I could do with a few items," said Terry, stiffly.
He had quickly developed an acute dislike for the patent attempt to
induce him to join the _Esperance_. He had no reason for his objection,
save that he had not been informed about the task he was urged to
undertake.
"Also," he added abruptly, "Captain Horta didn't think to stop at my
hotel so I could get my baggage."
"Write a list of what you want," suggested Davis. "I'm sure something
can be done about your baggage. Make the list complete. If something's
left over, it won't matter. There's a desk in the cabin for you to write
at." He turned to Horta. "Captain, what's the news about _La Rubia_?"
"She sailed again yesterday," said Horta ruefully. "She was followed by
many other boats. And now there is a moon. It rises late, but it rises.
Many sailors will be watching her from mastheads. It is said that all
the night glasses in Manila have been bought by fishermen...."
His voice died away as Terry went down the companion ladder. Belowdecks
was attractive. There was no ostentation, but the décor was obviously
expensive. There were armchairs, electric lamps, a desk, and shelves
filled with books--two or three on electronics and a highly
controversial one on marine monsters and sea serpents. There were some
on anthropology. On skin diving. On astronomy. Two thick volumes on
abyssal fish. There was a shelf of fiction and other shelves of
reference books for navigation, radio and Diesel maintenance and repair.
There were obvious reasons for these last, but no reason that could be
imagined for two books on the solar planets.
Terry sat at the desk and compiled a list of electronic parts that he
was sure wouldn't be available in Manila. He was annoyed as he realized
afresh the smoothness of the operation that had brought him to the
_Esperance_. He found satisfaction in asking for some multi-element
vacuum tubes that simply couldn't be had except on special order from
the manufacturers back in the United States. But it took time to think
of them.
When he went abovedecks, half an hour later, he had listed just six
electronic components. The tender was gone, and Horta with it. Davis
greeted Terry as cordially as before.
"The tender's left," said Terry with restraint. "Here's my list."
Davis did not even glance at it, but beckoned to one of the crew-cut
young men who'd unloaded the tender.
"This is Nick Alden," he said to Terry. "He's one of the gang. See about
this list, Nick."
The crew-cut young man put out his hand and Terry shook it. It seemed
expected. He went forward with the list and vanished down the forecastle
ladder. Davis looked at his watch.
"Five-thirty," he observed. "A drink might not be a bad thing."
He went below, and Terry surveyed the _Esperance_. She had the look of a
pleasure craft, but was built along the lines of something more
reliable. There was an unusual power winch amidships, with an
extraordinarily large reel. Next to it there was a heavy spar by which
to swing something outboard. There were two boats, well stowed against
heavy weather, and a number of often-omitted bits of equipment, so that
the schooner was not convincing as the hobby of a mere yachtsman.
Then Terry saw the brass-trimmed tender heading out from the yacht-club
float again. Foam spread out from its bow. A figure in it waved. Terry
recognized the girl who'd come into the shop of Jimenez y Cía. She was
smiling, and as the launch came nearer it seemed to Terry that there was
triumph in her smile. He bristled. Then he saw some parcels in the bow
of the tender. Next to the parcels--and he unbelievingly suspected what
they were--he suddenly recognized something else: his suitcases and
steamer-trunk. In order to sail with the _Esperance_ he need not go
ashore to get his belongings. They were brought to him. He became
totally convinced that these people had assumed he'd do what they wanted
him to, without consulting him. He rebelled. Immediately. Any time other
people took for granted that they could make plans for him, he would
become obstinate. When he was in a fix--and now he was practically
stranded in Manila with a need to go elsewhere for a time and no money
with which to do it--he was especially touchy. He found himself scowling
and angry, and the more angry because what was required of him would
have been very convenient if there'd been no attempt to inveigle him
into it.
The launch came around the _Esperance's_ stern. Davis came from below
with two glasses. The girl said cheerfully, "Howdo! We've got your extra
items. All of them. And your baggage."