Capital Crimes

34

CARPENTER LEANED BACK in the navigator’s seat and sipped her Bovril. She had been sitting in the saloon of the forty-five-foot yacht, next to the Royal Marine sergeant with the blowpipe, but he had been too attentive, so she had moved to the navigation station, which she preferred anyway, since it held the charts, the radar repeater, and the chart plotter that combined all the inputs onto one screen, including the Global Positioning System readout.

On the display the yacht was a little boat-shaped wedge, and Sealand was just appearing on the edge of the twenty-mile range screen. There were other dots here and there- fishing boats and buoys, the odd merchant ship or foreign naval vessel. It was a little after 11 p.m., and the GPS gave their time en route to Sealand as 3.2 hours. They were averaging about six knots.

She polished off the Bovril, then poured a mug of steaming tea and added a large dollop of brandy to it. She slid back the hatch and stood on the companionway ladder. “Permission to come on deck?” she asked.

“Permission granted,” Sir Ewan called back. He gave the wheel a slight turn to take a wave, then got back on course.

Carpenter climbed the ladder, stepped into the cockpit, and closed the hatch behind her. She handed Sir Ewan the tea.

“Many thanks,” he said, sipping from the mug. “Ah, that’s a fine recipe.”

“Like me to take her for a while?” Carpenter asked.

“Good idea,” he said, stepping aside and letting her take the wheel. “I need to concentrate on this tea.” He gave her the course.

“We’re three point two hours out,” she said.

“That should put you ashore at the right moment, I should think.”

A dark form slithered from the foredeck into the cockpit. “All made fast, sir,” the marine said.

“Good man. Go below and get something hot in you.”

The man went below and closed the hatch.

Carpenter let the yacht settle onto her course, then looked ahead, waiting to acquire some night vision after the shaft of light from the hatch. She could see the navigation lights of a large merchantman a couple of miles off their port bow, a ship that had already crossed their course and that was of no further danger to them. She couldn’t see anything else nearby.

The night was pitch black, and all she could see around them was the foam from the short seas, illuminated by the nav lights. The North Sea was shallow and made short, steep waves. The anemometer was showing thirty to thirty-five knots, and the seas were a good five feet, making for an uncomfortable ride below. She was glad Roofer had taken the seasick pills; she didn’t want him lying useless in a bunk.

“She’s a nice boat,” Carpenter said. “The coal stove below is a good thing for a night like this.”

“Makes for a snug passage,” he replied. “You said it had been a while since you’d done a job like this. What was the last one?”

“It was hardly like this. I had, with two others, to break into a building in the middle of the Arabian desert and photograph the unmanned radar installation inside. The installation turned out not to be unmanned, and we had a bit of a tussle, had to kill a man, and one of ours took a bullet in the foot during the struggle. It was a long walk back to our Land Rover, taking turns carrying him.”

“Odd business for a woman,” he said.

“Well, you’ve got women in the Royal Marines these days, though I don’t see any on this little jaunt.”

“We’ve got some very good women. Pure accident that none came along. Best, ah, person for the job, and all that.”

Whatever you say, she thought. “Just out of curiosity, who ordered you not to go ashore tonight?”

“My wife,” he said. “Well, not really, it was more like the PM, who obviously thinks I’m too old for this sort of thing. He was happy for me to use my own yacht, though. If something should go wrong, he won’t lose a vessel, or have it identified as belonging to the government.”

“You’re going ashore anyway, aren’t you?” she asked.

Sir Ewan grinned. “I thought about it, but if anything should go wrong, my presence would greatly increase the embarrassment level for the government. I suppose I’ll stay aboard and let you and the men have all the fun!”

A large wave slid under them with a hiss as it passed.

Sir Ewan seemed to doze, with the mug held in both hands, so Carpenter stopped talking. She glanced at her watch. Three hours to go.

BOB KINNEY SAT at his desk while various members of his team came and went.

“What time are they going ashore?” Kerry Smith asked.

“Dead of night,” Kinney replied. “I don’t have an hour.”

“Dead of night is pretty soon,” Kinney said. “They’re five hours ahead of us.”

“I know.”

“I wish I were with them.” Smith sighed.

“God, I don’t. There’s half a gale in the North Sea tonight, which makes it good for the operation, but I wouldn’t want to be out there in a small boat.”

“You must be getting old, Bob,” Smith said, the first time he had ever been so familiar with his superior.

Kinney looked at him sharply, then nodded. “Too old for that,” he said. “Not too old to kick your ass.”

Smith held up his hands in surrender. “No argument there, boss.”

“That’s better,” Kinney said.

“I still can’t believe that we’re going to crack this thing because the president went to the prime minister, and the prime minister sent in the marines. Does this sort of thing happen often?”

“Not often, but it happens.”

“I wish we were following this thing by satellite,” the young agent said.

“It’s a dark and stormy night. We’ll know soon enough, just relax.”

“You’re not relaxed,” Smith said.

“Oh, shut up, Kerry. Go get me some coffee and one of those awful doughnuts.”

Smith got up and left the office.

WILL ENTERED the situation room, and everyone present stood. “Be seated, please.” He looked around the room at the collection of military and National Security Council faces. “Any word about anything?”

General Moore spoke up. “They’re due to go ashore any time now. Nobody knows how long this is going to take, but they’ll have to be off the island well before dawn.”

“Well, unless you people actually want to stay up and wait for news, I suggest you leave a skeleton crew here and get some sleep. That’s what I’m going to do, and I don’t want to know what happened until I wake up in the morning. If they get a name and address, fax it directly to Kinney at the FBI. Good night.”

They stood again as he left the room.

Will got on the elevator, yawning.