[The Girl From UNCLE 03] - The Golden Boats of Taradata Affair - Latter Simon (читать бесплатно полные книги .TXT) 📗

"It had to be something like that — mate." Mark grinned. "There was no money in it for you in changing sides — or ceasing to be neutral. You've built yourself a way-out reputation among the islands. Probably it was you who revived an ancient religion, using your power of hypnosis to add colour. I guess it grew faster and bigger than you expected."

"You can say that again!" said Chas. "It went like a bomb. All a giggle at first. Made me feel secure and important — and wanted. S'funny, ain't it? Even my old Daddy believes in me. Who was that bloke who created another bloke what did him up?"

"Frankenstein?"

"That's him. That's me too. But it's not all fake — not by a long way. To me, perhaps — or it was — but not to them. I really can cure people. I really can 'see' things — sense 'em — always have been able to. But they expect me to do ruddy miracles!" Chas sighed deeply. "Oh, mate, wotta mess! And a relief too. You're the only man I've ever told."

"Are your 'wives' your followers?"

Chas nodded. "All except the Palaga one. They all visited the island and fell in love with me — or me flippin' image."

"And subscribed heavily to your funds?"

"S'right."

"But the Palaga one did it on a strictly business basis?"

"Well, y'know them Palagas — hard-faced lot, they are. Her papa owns the ruddy wharf, she owns the warehouses with her brother. What you might call a marriage of convenience, like."

Mark chuckled. "Oh, brother! I never met a man who could lose his head in so many places! Why don't you just pocket your cash and fly out into the deep blue yonder?"

"Me?" Chas yelped. "Why should I? I love it around here. Besides — I got fifteen children. I loves kids. And I likes me freedom."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Freedom, he calls it! Okay, mate — here's where you earn it. From you I want cooperation plus, else there's going to be fifteen orphans, five widows, and a leaderless army of the faithful. Got it?"

Chas nodded. "I not only got it — looks like I'm stuck with it!"

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE TARA

APRIL DANCER digested Mark Slate's latest information, linking it with Sama Paru's report and her own observations.

"Randy Kovac is right," she said. "The maps are not accurate. We don't want to enter the harbour yet — can't, anyway, they've swung two harbour craft side-on across the entry channel. Island Traveller is standing off."

Mr. Waverly said: "You've checked the beaches?"

"Yes, sir. Our way was barred by a bevy of beautiful pearl divers — or that's what they claimed to be. We couldn't get the launch past them. They were trailing a steel-cable net. We went back to the cave below Taramao Point and found the coracles which Mr. Paru and Randy Kovac saw being towed out to moorings during the night."

"Then they must have been brought down the rock- face?"

"Yes, sir. The sound of a motor-driven hoist was heard. They appear to be lowered four at a time. Native swimmers tow them to mooring rings in the rocks. The boats cannot be seen from the sea."

Mr. Waverly said: "Come in, Mr. Slate. Why?"

"The man Chas says he was told these were ex-invoice exports."

"Meaning someone on the island was fiddling the export quota? How many have been removed in this way?"

"At a rough guess — over a period — about six thousand. They're easily stowed, and very light."

"Does he know their worth?"

"No, sir."

"Then I will tell you. Within the last twenty-four hours we have received information that these craft are bought in the States for not more than three hundred dollars. They are all — repeat all — sold to the coracle clubs. THRUSH agents in those clubs take personal delivery. The local island lining is replaced by plastic to make them more seaworthy in the hands of learners, the original lining being some sort of leaf or bark which is not obtainable at home. Simple and cheap, Mr. Slate. Hours of innocent pleasure for three hundred dollars. Why should anyone want, or need, to swindle the exporters? You tell me that special hatches were cut in the ship's hull, special lifting gear installed, special bulk heads and panelling. That is a colossal outlay for such a comparatively low-priced article."

"Yes, sir, and Chas received ten dollars commission for each one — on top of freight charges."

"Absurd," said Mr. Waverly. "It doesn't make sense."

April cut in: "But it does, sir, if the actual exporter wanted to cover up the number he was sending out from the island."

"Good gracious, Miss Dancer — you would think they were made of gold!"

"They've made a lot of gold for certain people out here," said Mark. "All the seamen receive a cash bonus for handling that cargo. They'll work it at any hour of the day or night. In fact, they call them their little golden boats of Taradata.

"And they pay the same rate for sending the repaired boats from Palaga. These come all the way from the States. They rip out the broken plastic, re-weave the hull, then ship them back here to be re-lined — and re-exported." Mark laughed. "I still can't see who makes the profit. The Palaganians charge at least a hundred dollars to repair them. It's a handcraft job. Freight and commission swallows another fifty. Then they have to be lined, and shipped all the way back — for only three hundred dollars. Even THRUSH isn't that crazy."

"That's it!" April exclaimed. "That's the one thing that stands out. The boats are woven in Taradata, but they also can be woven — as when they are repaired — in Palaga. Does THRUSH build up to control of an island just to make little boats that can also be made somewhere else?"

"Yes," said Mark. "Because they have. So what's 'it', Lady Brain?"

"'It' is the lining, you dope!"

"Charming," said Mark. "A few pressed leaves or malleable bark..." He broke off, then added softly: "Containing a new drug?"

April said tensely: "Which grows only on Taradata?" Mark continued: "And is not known in its original state, and li'l ol' toy boat is so cute with its li'l ol' lining." He paused. "If Chas knew this, I'll hang him from the mast arm, so help me!"

"Go to it," said Mr. Waverly. "S.F.D. is still operative. I shall expect to hear from you by midnight."

Free from the continual presence of his blackmailer, his roughneck auxiliary crew, and other pressures aboard his ship, Captain Sidano assumed a new stature. Chas helped in this transformation. Previously, he had maintained a neutral role. Although the owner, he liked working around Island Traveller. He could observe everything, especially those things which gave him massive profits, and was able to check on others which might increase costs. But he hadn't actively concerned himself with the running of the ship. He'd been content to follow a policy of them-as-pays-most-has-most-say. Now, he cooperated with Mark and supported his captain.

The THRUSH-recruited thugs were manacled in the for'ard hold under charges of murder, mutiny, and breaking of parole. Several of them talked freely, declaring that their orders, after landing on Taradata, were to report to a man named Tom-Tom, who would issue them with weapons and uniforms. They would then be enrolled as guards. A large cash bonus had been offered, half to be paid on landing, half at the end of their work. Whatever work that was to be, they didn't know, but it didn't take much guessing to class it as some form of brutality. They were those sort of men.