The Corners of the Globe by Robert Goddard Page A

eyes he read the realization that Max was marginally the stronger man.
    ‘Listen to me, Wylie,’ Max said, forcing out the words. ‘I’ve no quarrel . . . with you. I got . . . what I came for. Fontana’s dead . . . but there doesn’t have to be any more killing . . . We put him over the side, weighted to make sure he sinks . . . Then you take me back to Stromness, as agreed . . . and we go our separate ways. What d’you say?’
    Wylie gave no immediate answer as the gaff wobbled back and forth in their contesting grasps.
    ‘For God’s sake, man. See reason . . . Some dangerous people will come looking for what Commander Schmidt gave me . . . if I don’t leave with it. They’ll kill you without blinking . . . I’m your best chance of surviving this.’
    ‘You’ll never make it to shore without me,’ Wylie growled.
    ‘Probably not. So, you see? . . . We need each other.’
    Suddenly, Wylie broke away. But he did not lower the gaff. ‘The two guns, yours and Fontana’s, go over the side with him. I don’t want you double-crossing me when we reach Stromness.’
    ‘All right.’
    ‘You’re tougher than you look, Mr Hutton. You should know Fontana never told me he meant to kill you.’ As Wylie spoke, he slowly lowered the gaff to his side.
    What, Max wondered, did Wylie imagine Fontana had been intending to do? Offer Max his heartfelt congratulations on a job well done? ‘Where did he come aboard?’
    ‘Scapa Bay. It was easy for him to get there from Kirkwall.’
    ‘Was anyone with him at the pier?’
    ‘Not that I saw.’
    It had been a futile question. If Fontana had an accomplice, he would not have shown himself. But without an accomplice how had Fontana planned to get the Grey File to Lemmer? His posting with the US minesweeping fleet would have prevented him leaving Orkney – unless the importance of the Grey File meant it was worth him going absent without leave.
    In the end, the uncertainties were too many to anticipate. Max was committed to his course. The file stayed with him. And he would do his damnedest to take it where it would damage Lemmer and his spies the most. ‘Do we have an agreement, Wylie?’
    Wylie nodded. ‘Aye. We do.’

WYLIE WAS A practical man if he was nothing else. He managed the dumping of Fontana’s body with the grim efficiency he would have applied to the disposal of unwanted contraband. He yielded a little on the question of Max’s gun, agreeing to let him keep it so long as it was unloaded. The bullets went over the side. An empty gun was not a lot of use, but Max reckoned he might be able to buy some ammunition for it along the way.
    He went below during the journey back to Stromness through the hurdles and past the patrol ship. He joined Wylie in the wheelhouse as they closed in on the harbour.
    ‘If anyone asks, you’ve never heard of me, far less met me, OK?’ Max said as the frugal lights of the town gleamed ahead.
    ‘I’ll thank you to do the same for me, Mr Hutton. I want no reminders of this night’s work.’
    ‘You’ll get none from me.’
    ‘The Yanks’ll look high and low for Fontana. I’ll have to keep my head down. You’ve caused me a pile of problems.’
    ‘You’ve caused me a few yourself.’
    ‘Who was Fontana working for?’
    ‘All you need to know is that I’m working for the right side.’
    ‘You’d say that anyway.’
    ‘So I would. But it happens to be true.’
    Wylie did not linger at the quayside in Stromness. As soon as Max was on dry land, he cast off and pulled away. Max had not asked where he was going and Wylie had not said. The drifter vanished into the night.
    Since Fontana had presumably intended to have Wylie take him back to Scapa Bay, no one was likely to be waiting for Max in Stromness. The short walk to his hotel through the silent, empty streets was nonetheless a nervous one.
    ‘Well, well, sir,’ the night porter greeted him. ‘I’d given up on you.’
    ‘But here I am. Any messages? Any