A Twist of Sand

"So, both of us being scientists, we go into the case history of this Johann. A curious case, in fact. We find that Johann is, in fact, an orphan -- his life only begins after 1944-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

"I will be frank," continued Stein. "Johann has no past. He was found with a tribe of Bushmen on the Khowarib, near Zessfontein, by a missionary in 1944. He was brought to Winkhoek and spent two years in hospital. They never found out who he was. But one thing is clear -- he is a sailor, a U-boat man. He knows nothing of how he came to be wandering with a tribe of dirty little wild men. He lives in mortal fear of a hand."

I thought of the victory hand painted on Trout's conning-tower. The whisky I was drinking might have been water for all the stimulus it gave me.

"Johann improves daily, however, and he will soon be back at his old job again in Windhoek," smiled Stein. He rose as if to go. He turned back at the doorway. He was playing me as a cat does a mouse.

"I was interested in Lieutenant Garland," he said casually. "A friend of mine in Cape Town checked on a Navy List, and I was fascinated to know that he also once commanded H.M.S. Trout, a British submarine, with a most distinguished war record under her first captain, one Lieutenant-Commander Geoffrey Peace."

I had not heard my own name in years and it sent a cold shudder down my spine. So Stein was going to blackmail me with my past in order to force me to take him to the Skeleton Coast. It was impossible that he should know about Curva dos Dunas.

Stein came a pace back into the saloon.

"Lieutenant-Commander Peace was discharged from the Royal Navy after a court martial," said Stein in a harsh voice. "And the emblem of H.M.S. Trout was a hand painted on her conning-tower. Strange, I said to myself, a crazed U-boat sailor who sees the fear of death in a hand, and a British submarine whose victory emblem was a hand, and a South African skipper who carries a lucky charm around in his pocket in the shape of a hand."

It was Mac who precipitated the situation. His attack on Stein was as swift, unheralded and savage as a wolf's. Like a striking mamba he was behind Stein and had grabbed a handful of loose skin under his left ear and with his right  -- I never saw the movement, it was so swift, but only heard the tinkle of the broken bottle -- thrust the neck of the broken Haig bottle into the other side of his neck.

Involuntarily I struck at Mac's fearful weapon, even as it broke the skin. I saw the blood run, but it was not the death-spurt of an artery. Where Mac had learned that filthy trick, I do not know. As I grabbed his hand, Stein writhed loose and slipped from Mac's grasp.

The Luger never even trembled in his hand as he stood back against the padded locker by the porthole. He smiled mirthlessly.

"Two very desperate and dangerous men," he said, eyeing Mac and myself with respect almost. "I watched Captain ... ah ... Macdonald twist Hendriks's arm of! with the dirtiest hold I have ever seen. I myself nearly fall victim to an even worse trick from his engineer. You gentlemen must have been brought up very badly indeed."

Mac did not say a word. The dour mask remained un-penetrated. I measured the distance carefully to see whether I could jump Stein's gun. It seemed a slim chance. Mac would certainly provide the follow-up.

Stein spoke to Mac although his eyes were as wary as a lynx.

"I shall kill you in my own good time," he said quite dispassionately. "But not now. Now would not be the time, when we are having such an interesting discussion about Lieutenant Garland and his former skipper. Where is Lieutenant Garland, by the way?"

"He's ashore with friends," I said, looking for any chink in the man's vigilance.

"I have friends ashore too -- good friends," continued Stein conversationally as cool as though death had not all but touched his jugular vein. There was a faint runnel of blood down his collar, but that was all. The Luger covered us steadily.

The plan to murder Stein dropped into my mind then.

It was just too simple. All I would have to do was to agree to his plan -- and the Skeleton Coast would do the rest. I did not like the way he had been digging into my past. The merciless sands of Curva dos Dunas would be all that would hear his death-cries. I decided to play it softly, for he was a cunning devil.

"Are you going to threaten me at pistol-point to take you to the Skeleton Coast?" I asked sarcastically. "Beetle, my Aunt Fanny! Is it a packet of diamonds you are going to pick up?"

He eyed me blandly. "Strangely enough, Captain . . . ah ... Macdonald, it is a beetle. I want that beetle more than anything else in the world. I am prepared to force you to take me there -- at pistol-point if necessary -- but somehow I don't think it will be necessary."

I didn't like the way he said it, but I let it ride.