South By Java Head (33 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE SOFT murmur of Van Effen's voice faded away and the silence in the council house was heavy and deep. For each man and woman there the others might not have existed. The great heap of diamonds at their feet, sparkling and flaming with a barbaric magnificence in the light of the flickering oil-lamps, had a weirdly hypnotic quality, held every eye in thrall. But by and by Nicolson stirred and looked up at Van Effen. Strangely enough, he could feel no bitterness, no hostility towards this man: they had come through too much together, and Van Effen had come through it better than most, unselfish, enduring and helpful all the way. The memory of that was much too recent to be washed away.
"Borneo stones, of course," he murmured. "From Banjer-masin by the Kerry Dancer -- couldn't have been any other way. Uncut, I suppose -- and you say they're worth two million?" ,
"Rough cut and uncut," Van Effen nodded. "And their market value is at least that -- a hundred fighter planes, a couple of destroyers, I don't know. In wartime they're worth infinitely more to any side that gets its hands on them." He smiled faintly. "None of these stones will ever grace milady's fingers. Industrial use only -- diamond-tipped cutting tools. A great pity, is it not?"
No one spoke, no one as much as glanced at the speaker. They heard the words, but the words failed to register, for that moment they all lived in their eyes alone. And then Van Effen had stepped quickly forward, his foot swinging, and the great pile of diamonds were tumbling over the earthen floor in a glittering cascade.
"Trash! Baubles!" His voice was harsh, contemptuous. "What matter all the diamonds, all the precious stones that ever were when the great nations of the world are at each other's throats and men are dying in their thousands and their hundreds of thousands? I wouldn't sacrifice a life, not even the life of an enemy, for all the diamonds in the Indies. But I have sacrificed many lives, and put many more I'm afraid, in deadly danger to secure another treasure, an infinitely more valuable treasure than these few paltry stones at our feet. What do a few lives matter, if losing them enables a man to save a thousand times more?"
"We can all see how fine and noble you are," Nicolson said bitterly. "Spare us the rest and get to the point."
"I have already arrived," Van Effen said equably. "That treasure is in this room, with us, now. I have no wish to prolong this unduly or seek after dramatic effect." He stretched out his hand. "Miss Plenderleith, if you please."
She stared at him, her eyes uncomprehending.
"Oh, now, come, come." He snapped his fingers and smiled at her. "I admire your performance, but I really can't wait all night."
"I don't know what you mean," she said blankly.
"Perhaps it may help you if I tell you that I know everything." There was neither gloating nor triumph in Van Effen's voice, only certainty and a curious overtone of weariness.
"Everything, Miss Plenderleith, even to that simple little ceremony in a Sussex village on 18th February, 1902."
"What the devil are you talking about?" Nicolson demanded.
"Miss Plenderleith knows, don't you, Miss Plenderleith?" There was almost compassion in Van Effen's voice: for the first time the life had faded from her lined old face and her shoulders were sagging wearily.
"I know." She nodded in defeat and looked at Nicolson. "He is referring to the date of my marriage -- my marriage to Brigadiers-General Farnholme. We celebrated our fortieth wedding anniversary aboard the lifeboat." She tried to smile, but failed.
Nicolson stared at her, at the tired little face and empty eyes, and all at once he was convinced of the truth of it. Even as he looked at her, not really seeing her, memories came flooding in on him and many things that had baffled him gradually began to become clear... But Van Eft'en was speaking again.
"18th February, 1902. If I know that, Miss Plenderleith, I know everything."
"Yes, you know everything." Her voice was a distant murmur.
"Please." His hand was still outstretched. "You would not care for Captain Yamata's men to search you."
"No.". She fumbled under her salt-stained, bleached jacket, undid a belt and handed it to Van Effen. "I think this is what you want."
"Thank you." For a man who had secured what he had spoken of as a priceless treasure, Van Effen's face was strangely empty of all triumph and satisfaction. "This is indeed what I want."
He undid the pouches of the belt, lifted out the photostats and films that had lain inside and held them up to the light of the flickering oil-lamps. Almost a minute passed while he examined them in complete silence, then he nodded his head in satisfaction and returned papers and films to the belt.
"All intact," he murmured. "A long time and a long way -- but all intact."
"What the devil are you talking about?" Nicolson demanded irritably. "What is that?"
"This?" Van Effen glanced down at the belt he was buckling round his waist. "This, Mr. Nicolson, is what makes everything worth while. This is the reason for all the action and suffering of the past days, the reason why the Kerry Dancer and the Viroma were sunk, why so many people have died, why my allies were prepared to go to any length to prevent your escape into the Timor Sea. This is why Captain Yamata is here now, although I doubt whether even he knows that -- but his commanding officer will. This is-----"
"Get to the point!" Nicolson snapped.
"Sorry." Van Effen tapped the belt. "This contains the complete, fully detailed plans, in code, of Japan's projected invasion of Northern Australia. Japanese codes are almost impossible to break, but our people know that there is one man in London who could do it. If anyone could have escaped with these and got them to London, it would have been worth a fortune to the allies."
"My God!" Nicolson felt dazed. "Where -- where did they come from?"
"I don't know." Van Effen shook his head. "If we had known that they would never have got into the wrong hands in the first place... The full-scale invasion plans, Mr. Nicolson -- forces employed, times, dates, places -- everything. In British or American hands, these would have meant three months' setback to the Japanese, perhaps even six. At this early stage of the war, such a delay could have been fatal to the Japanese: you can'understand their anxiety to recover these. What's a fortune in diamonds compared to these, Mr. Nicolson?"
"What, indeed," Nicolson muttered. He spoke automatically, a man with his mind far away.
"But now we have both -- the plans and the diamonds." There was still that strange, complete lack of any inflection of triumph in Van Effen's voice. He reached out a toe and touched the pile of diamonds. "Perhaps I was over hasty in expressing my contempt of these. They have their own beauty."
"Yes." The bitterness of defeat was sharp in Nicolson's mouth, but his face was impassive. "A fantastic sight, Van Effen."
"Admire them while you may, Mr. Nicolson." Captain Yamata's voice, cold and harsh, cut through the spell, brought them all tumbling back to reality. He touched the tip of the cone of diamonds with his sword-point and the white fire glittered and blazed as the stones spilled over on to the ground. "They are beautiful, but man must have eyes to see."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Nicolson demanded.
"Just that Colonel Kiseki has had orders only to recover the diamonds and deliver them intact to Japan. Nothing was said about prisoners. You killed his son. You will see what I mean."
"I can guess." Nicolson looked at him with contempt. "A shovel, a six by two hole and a shot in the back when I've finished digging. Oriental culture. We've heard all about it."
Yamata smiled emptily. "Nothing so quick and clean and easy, I assure you. We have, as you say, culture. Such crudities are not for us."
"Captain Yamata." Van Effen was looking at the Japanese officer, fractionally narrowed eyes the only sign of emotion in an expressionless face.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"You -- you can't do that. This man is not a spy, to be shot without trial. He's not even a member of the armed forces, Technically, he's a non-combatant."
"Of course, of course." Yamata was heavily ironic. "To date he has only been responsible for the deaths of fourteen of our sailors and an airman. I shudder to think of the carnage if he ever became a combatant. And he killed Kiseki's son."
"He didn't. Siran will bear that out."
"Let him explain that to the colonel," Yamata said indifferently. He sheathed his sword. "We quibble, and uselessly. Come, let us go. Our truck should be here shortly."
"Truck?" Van Effen queried.
"We left it almost a mile away." Yamata grinned. "We did not wish to disturb your sleep. What's the matter, Mr. Nicolson?" he finished sharply.
"Nothing," Nicolson answered shortly. He had been staring out through the open doorway and in spite of himself a flicker of excitement had crossed his face, but he knew that his eyes had been safely away before Yamata had caught his expression. "The truck isn't here yet. I would like to ask Van Effen one or two questions." He hoped his voice sounded casual.
"We have a minute or two," Yamata nodded. "It might amuse me. But be quick."
"Thank you." He looked at Van Effen. "As a matter of interest, who gave Miss Plenderleith the diamonds -- and the plans?"
"What does it matter now?" Van Effen's voice was heavy, remote. "It's all past and done with now."
"Please," Nicolson persisted. It had suddenly become essential to stall for time. "I really would like to know."
"Very well." Van Effen looked at him curiously. "I'll tell you. Farnholme had them both -- and he had them nearly all the time. That should have been obvious to you from the fact that Miss Plenderleith had them. Where the plans came from I've told you I don't know: the diamonds were given him by the Dutch authorities in Borneo."
"They must have had a great deal of faith in him," Nicolson said dryly.
"They had. They had every reason to. Farnholme was utterly reliable. He was an infinitely resourceful and clever man, and knew the East -- especially the islands -- as well as any man alive. We know for a fact that he spoke at least fourteen Asiatic languages."
"You seem to have known a great deal about him." "We did. It was our business -- and very much to our interest -- to find out all we could. Farnholme was one of our archenemies. To the best of our knowledge he had been a member of your Secret Service for just over thirty years."
There were one or two stifled gasps of surprise and the sudden low murmur of voices. Even Yamata had sat down again and was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his keen dark face alight with interest.
"Secret Service!" Nicolson let his breath go in a long, soundless whistle of surprise, rubbed a hand across his forehead in a gesture of disbelief and wonderment. He had guessed as much five minutes ago. Under the protective cover of his hand his eyes flickered sideways for a split second, glanced through the open door of the council house, then looked at Van Effen. "But -- but Miss Plenderleith said he commanded a regiment in Malaya, some years ago."
"That's right, he did." Van Effen smiled. "At least, he appeared to."
"Go on, go on." It was Captain Findhorn who urged him. "Not much to go on with. The Japanese and myself knew of the missing plans, within hours of their being stolen. I was after them with official Japanese backing. We hadn't reckoned on Farnholme having made arrangements to take the diamonds with him also -- a stroke of genius on Farnholme's part. It served a double purpose. If anyone penetrated his disguise as an alcoholic beachcomber on the run, he could buy his way out of trouble. Or if anyone were still suspicious of him and discovered the diamonds they would be sure to think that that accounted for his disguise and odd behaviour and let it go at that. And, in the last resort, if the Japanese discovered on what ship he was, he hoped that cupidity or their natural desire to recover such a valuable wartime merchandise would make them think twice about sinking the ship, in the hope that they might get the plans and so recover the diamonds another way, killing two birds with one stone. I tell you, Farnholme was brilliant. He had the most diabolically ill luck."
"It didn't work out that way," Findhorn objected. "Why did they sink the Kerry Dancer!"
"The Japanese didn't know he was aboard at the time," Van Effen explained. "But Siran did -- he always did. He was after the diamonds, I suspect, because some renegade Dutch official double-crossed his own people and gave Siran the information in return for a promised share of the profits when Siran laid hands on the stones. He would never have seen a single guilder or stone. Neither would the Japanese."
"A clever attempt to discredit me." It was Siran speaking for the first time, his voice smooth and controlled. "The stones would have gone to our good friends and allies, the Japanese. That was our intention. My two men here will bear me out."
"It will be difficult to prove otherwise," Van Effen said indifferently. "Your betrayal this night is worth something. No doubt your masters will throw the jackal a bone." He paused, then went on: "Farnholme never suspected who I was -- not, at least, until after we had been several days in the lifeboat. But I had known him all along, cultivated him, drunk with him. Siran here saw us together several times and must have thought that Farnholme and I were more than friends, a mistake anyone might make. That, I think, is why he rescued me -- or rather didn't chuck me overboard when the Kerry Dancer went down. He thought I either knew where the diamonds were or would find out from Farnholme."
"Another mistake," Siran admitted coldly. "I should have let you drown."
"You should. Then you might have got the whole two million to yourself." Van Effen paused for a moment's recollection, then looked at the Japanese officer. "Tell me, Captain Yamata, has there been any unusual British naval activity in the neighbourhood recently?"
Captain Yamata looked at him in quick surprise. "How do you know?"
"Destroyers, possibly?" Van Effen had ignored the question. "Moving in close at night?"
"Exactly." Yamata was astonished. "They come close in to Java Head each night, not eighty miles from here, then retire before dawn, before our planes can come near. But how-----"
"It is easily explained. On the dawn of the day the Kerry Dancer was sunk, Farnholme spent over an hour in the radio room. Almost certainly he told them of his escape hopes -- south from the Java Sea. No allied ship dare move north of Indonesia -- it would be a quick form of suicide. So they're patrolling the south, moving close in at nights. My guess is that they'll have another vessel patrolling near Bali. You have made no effort to deal with this intruder, Captain Yamata?"