The Golden Keel / The Vivero Letter

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‘I don’t think so, but he was a young man and young men do foolish things like that.’

I smiled, thinking to myself; not only the very young are foolish; and tossed a pebble into the stream. ‘It sounds very like the song about the “Ten Little Niggers”. “And then there were Two.” Why did Walker leave?’

She looked up sharply. ‘Are you saying that these men should not have died? That someone from the camp killed them?’

I shrugged. ‘I’m not saying anything – but it was very convenient for someone. You see, six men hid this gold and four of them came to a sudden end shortly afterwards.’ I tossed another pebble into the water. ‘Who profits? There are only two – Walker and Coertze. Why did Walker leave?’

‘I don’t know. He left suddenly. I remember he told my father that he was going to try to join the Allied armies. They were quite close at that time.’

‘Was Coertze in the camp when Walker left?’

She thought for a long time, then said, ‘I don’t know; I can’t remember.’

‘Walker says he left because he was frightened of Coertze. He still is, for that matter. Our Kobus is a very frightening man, sometimes.’

Francesca said slowly, ‘There was Alberto on the cliff. Coertze could have …’

‘… pushed him off? Yes, he could. And Walker said that Parker was shot in the back of the head. By all accounts, including yours, Coertze is a natural-born killer. It all adds up.’

She said, ‘I always knew that Coertze was a violent man, but …’

‘But? Why don’t you like him, Francesca?’

She threw the stub of her cigarette into the water and watched it float downstream. ‘It was just one of those things that happen between a man and a woman. He was … too pressing.’

‘When was this?’

‘Three years ago. Just after I was married.’

I hesitated. I wanted to ask her about that marriage, but she suddenly stood up and said, ‘We must get the water.’

As we were going back to the caravan I said, ‘It looks as though I’ll have to be ready to jump Coertze – he could be dangerous. You’d better tell Piero the story so that he can be prepared if anything happens.’

She stopped. ‘I thought Coertze was your friend. I thought you were on his side.’

‘I’m on nobody’s side,’ I said shortly. ‘And I don’t condone murder.’

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

For the rest of the afternoon until it became dark Francesca was busy cooking in the caravan. As the light faded the rest of us began to make our preparations. We put the picks and shovels in the boot of the car, together with some torches. Piero had provided a Tilley pressure lamp together with half a gallon of paraffin – that would be a lot better than torches once we got into the tunnel. He also hauled a wheelbarrow out of the caravan, and said, ‘I thought we could use this for taking the rock away; we must not leave loose rock at the entrance of the tunnel.’

I was pleased about that; it was something I had forgotten.

Coertze examined the picks with a professional air, but found no fault. To me, a pick is a pick and a spade is a bloody shovel, but I suppose that even pick-and-shovelling has its more erudite technicalities. As I was helping Piero put the wheelbarrow into the boot my foot turned on a stone and I was thrown heavily against Coertze.

‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘Don’t be sorry, be more careful,’ he grunted.

We got the wheelbarrow settled – although the top of the boot wouldn’t close – and I said to Coertze in a low voice, ‘I’d like to talk to you … over there.’

We wandered a short distance from the rest of the party where we were hidden in the gathering darkness. ‘What is it?’ asked Coertze.

I tapped the hard bulge under the breast of his jacket, and said, ‘I think that’s a gun.’

‘It is a gun,’ he said.

‘Who are you thinking of shooting?’

‘Anyone who gets between me and the gold.’

‘Now listen carefully,’ I said in a hard voice. ‘You’re not going to shoot anyone, because you’re going to give that gun to me. If you don’t, you can get the gold yourself. I didn’t come to Italy to kill anybody; I’m not a murderer.’

Coertze said, ‘Klein man, if you want this gun you’ll have to take it from me.’

‘O.K. You can force us all up to the mine at pistol point. But it’s dark and you’ll get a rock thrown at your head as soon as you turn your back – and I’d just as soon be the one who throws it. And if you get the gold out – at pistol point – what are you going to do besides sit on it? You can’t get it to the coast without Francesca’s men and you can’t get it out of Italy without me.’

I had him cornered in the same old stalemate that had been griping him since we left South Africa. He was foxed and he knew it.

He said, ‘How do we know the Contessa’s partisans aren’t hiding in these damned hills waiting to jump us as soon as the tunnel is opened?’

‘Because they don’t know where we are,’ I said. ‘The only instruction that the truck drivers had was to go to Varsi. Anyway, they wouldn’t try to jump us; we have the Contessa as hostage.’

He hesitated, and I said, ‘Now, give me the gun.’

Slowly he put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out the gun. It was too dark to see his eyes but I knew they were filled with hate. He held the gun pointed at me and I am sure he was tempted to shoot – but he relaxed and put it into my outstretched hand.