The Saboteurs by Clive Cussler (top 10 best books of all time .TXT) 📗

The gangway was still down, but the docks were mostly deserted. The stevedores and truck drivers had moved down a couple berths to see to the unloading of another ship, a vessel that had made the long run around the cape.

Passengers lined the Spatminster’s railing, and when Marion alit from the Renault, a clutch of women at the top of the gangway shouted and waved. A pair of them came down to greet her, while Bell caught the attention of a porter to hustle Marion’s luggage aboard.

“You made it,” one of the women said. She no longer wore her nurse’s uniform, but Isaac recognized her from the hospital.

“Just, right? Jenny, you remember my husband, Isaac?”

She smiled warmly. “You look a lot better now than when I first saw you, Mr. Bell.”

“Thanks to the care I received at your hospital,” Bell said, tipping his hat.

“And Isaac, this is Ruth Buschman. She’s going to attend the medical school at UCSF in the fall.”

“Congratulations,” he said. His next words were drowned out by a throaty blast of the ship’s horn. The porter was already coming down the ramp with an empty hand truck, having delivered Marion’s luggage to a steward. It was time. “If you ladies will excuse us for one second . . .”

Isaac turned aside and took Marion’s hands. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

Her eyes were glassy wet. “You be careful. Lay as low as you can until your memory comes back. I mean it.”

“I’ll do my best.” It was as close to a promise as he could make. “Stay close with your new friends. I can’t imagine the Viboras have had time to plan anything aboard the ship, but be careful. I’ve made the line aware of your situation.”

“Isaac, there is no ‘situation.’ It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, sorry. You know me. Couldn’t care less about my own safety yet I hate the thought of you crossing a street unescorted.”

“My knight in shining armor.”

Bell picked at his damp, clinging shirt. “In these conditions, I’m afraid the armor’s all rusty.”

They kissed, and the horn trumpeted again. A ship’s officer ahemed to get their attention. “Ma’am, please.”

They parted reluctantly, but, as with so many of their partings, they just smiled, and then Marion turned and went up to the main deck with Ruth and Jenny in tow. At the top, she turned, her blond hair catching the light like a mirror, and waved one last time.

Bell scanned the docks, looking for anyone showing extra interest in him, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Workers bustled around pallets of cargo, horse teams with trailers conveyed crates and burlap sacks, laden trucks were driven off the docks to wherever their loads were needed. A few seagulls were perched atop some bollards.

The skies were threatening more rain.

He turned back to the ship and spotted Marion at the rail, a tiny figure three stories over his head, and waved his hat. She saw him and waved back. He could imagine the smile on her face. She blew him exaggerated kisses and he pretended to catch a few. But then the horn blew again, and heavy smoke coiled from the ship’s funnels, as her twin screws began to churn the water while a tug helped pull her from the dock. Bell waited a few minutes more, then returned to his car.

With rain threatening once again, Bell deployed some wooden braces and unfurled the leather top over the coupe’s open cockpit. He drove to the lookout atop Ancon Hill. There were a couple cars in the newly laid lime-shell parking lot and a scattering of tourists looking down into the yawning mouth of the Panama Canal. A canopy had been erected by the Authority to protect visitors from the sun or rain, depending, and a few benches to sit on and rest their feet.

Bell parked and walked over to where a man was sitting alone on one of the benches, Isaac’s shoes crunching the bed of crushed shells.

“Anything?” he asked.

“A quiet morning,” Jorge Nuñez said. “A couple cars with gringos, looking at the excavation, and a flock of parrots flew by. What’d you expect?”

“Just that, actually, but I needed to be sure.” Bell pulled some cash from his wallet.

“I feel guilty taking it from you.”

“Don’t. You’ve done me a huge service.”

“Is this how an investigation goes?”

“Typically.” Bell handed the money to Nuñez and indicated that he would give the guide a ride back into Panama City. “Hour upon hour of boredom and ten minutes of action.”

“Can you explain why you wanted me to watch this particular parking lot?”

“Because my wife and I had the day to play tourists, and this is where a tourist would typically come. Tats even suggested it. If the Viboras were going to pick up my trail, this would be a good place to start.”

“You’re a clever man, Mr. Bell. You were elsewhere yet would still know if someone is trying to follow you.”

“Exactly. Now that my wife is safely away, I can use myself as bait to draw them out.”

“Is that wise?”

“No, but at least I saved a few hours of boredom that were part of my job.”

Bell spotted the tail as soon as they drove out of the zone. The car was a Model T, and in it were three men. He would have picked up on them anyway, but they were so unprofessional that they actually pointed out Isaac’s car as he and Jorge passed. Traffic was moderate, but he slowed enough to give them time to merge onto the two-lane road.

It was time for those ten minutes of action.

23

As soon as the pursuing Ford had bulled its way into traffic three cars back, Bell said, “Jorge, we’ve picked up a tail. Don’t look back. It’s a Model T with three men in it. Its top is down. I suspect the men are armed. I wish I had time to drop you off before they tagged