مرگ روی سوریه

CHAPTER TWELVE

Death on The Syria

‘Don’t move,’ said Peterson.

Peterson came into the cabin and shut the door. Salahadin stood still in front of the bed.

‘Who are you’ asked Peterson. ‘And what are you doing in my cabin?’

Salahadin thought quickly. He had to say something.

‘Borkman sent me,’ he said. ‘I have a message for you.’

‘You’re telling lies,’ said Peterson. ‘There’s something on the bed. Stand back.’

Salahadin moved back and Peterson saw the open box.

‘So, you’ve found the Black Cat,’ said Peterson. ‘You’re a member of the Red Hand Gang.’

Peterson opened the door and looked out into the corridor. It was empty.

‘Put your hands behind your back and come out of the cabin,’ said Peterson. ‘Then walk slowly up the stairs to the top deck.’

Salahadin came out of the cabin and Peterson followed him. Salahadin walked slowly up the stairs.

When they reached the top deck, Peterson spoke again.

‘Walk over to the rail.’

There was a rail round the side of the ship. Over the rail was the sea. The Syria had now passed through the Corinth Canal and the ship was rolling from side to side.

Salahadin walked slowly forward towards the funnel.

‘Stop,’ said Peterson. ‘Turn round.’

Salahadin turned and looked at Peterson. ‘Now, tell me the truth,’ said Peterson. ‘Who are you?’

Salahadin decided to tell some truth and some lies.

‘Borkman’s dead,’ said Salahadin. ‘And Jusef is caught. The Ba’albek Gang is finished. The police are waiting for you at Venice.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Peterson. ‘How do you know this? Who are you?’

‘I’m an inspector in the Egyptian police,’ replied Salahadin. ‘I’ve followed you from Beirut. The Italian police are waiting for you at Venice.’

‘You’re telling lies again,’ said Peterson. ‘Why didn’t you bring the police onto the boat at Athens?’

Salahadin did not reply and Peterson started to laugh.

‘You didn’t tell anyone at Athens,’ he said. ‘There’s no one waiting for this boat at Venice. Now I’m going to shoot you. I’ll throw your body into the sea and no one will ever know.’

Suddenly Peterson lifted his gun. At the same moment, a large wave shook the side of the ship. Peterson was thrown against the rail and the gun fell onto the deck. For a second, both men looked at the gun, then at each other. The wind pressed hard against them. Neither of them moved forward.

Peterson was the first to move. He tried to pick up the gun and Salahadin ran straight at him. He held Peterson round the neck and pushed him over the rail. Peterson fell backwards over the rail and disappeared into the angry sea below. There was a scream. Then there was silence.

Salahadin walked slowly away from the rail and sat down on the deck. No one came. Everyone was busy eating dinner. No one had heard the noise.