Santorini

8

Talbot stirred, half sat up in his bunk and blinked at the overhead light that had suddenly come on in his day cabin. Van Gelder was standing in the doorway.

‘Two-thirty. An unChristian hour, Vincent. Something is afoot. Weather moderated and Captain Montgomery hauling in the plane?’

‘Yes, sir. But there’s something more immediately urgent. Jenkins is missing.’

Talbot swung his feet to the deck. ‘Jenkins? I won’t say, “Missing?” or “How can he be missing?” If you say he is, he is. You’ve had a search carried out, of course?’

‘Of course. Forty volunteers. You know how popular Jenkins is.’ Talbot knew. Jenkins, their mess steward and a Marine of fifteen years’ standing, a man whose calmness, efficiency and resource were matched only by his sense of humour, was highly regarded by everyone who knew him.

‘Can Brown cast any light on this?’ Marine Sergeant Brown, a man as rock-like and solid as Chief McKenzie, was Jenkins’s closest friend on the ship. Both men were in the habit of having a tipple in the pantry when the day’s work was done, an illicit practice which Talbot tacitly and readily condoned. Their tipple invariably stopped at that, just one: even in the élite Royal Marines it would have been difficult to find two men like them.

‘Nothing, sir. They went down to their mess together. Brown turned in while Jenkins started on a letter to his wife. That was the last Brown saw of him.’

‘Who discovered his absence?’

‘Carter. The Master-at-arms. You know how he likes to prowl around at odd hours of the day and night looking for non-existent crime. He went up to the wardroom and pantry, found nothing, returned to the Marine mess-deck and woke Brown. They carried out a brief search. Again nothing. Then they came to me.’

‘It would be pointless to ask you if you have any ideas?’

‘Pointless. Brown seems convinced he’s no longer aboard the ship. He says that Jenkins never sleep-walked, drank only sparingly and was devoted to his wife and two daughters. He had no problems – Brown is certain of that – and no enemies aboard the ship. Well, among the crew, that is. Brown is further convinced that Jenkins stumbled across something he shouldn’t have or saw something he shouldn’t have seen, although how he could do anything like that while sitting in the mess writing to his wife is difficult to imagine. His suspicions immediately centred on Andropulos and company – I gather he and Jenkins have talked quite a lot about them – and he was all for going down to Andropulos’s cabin and beating the living daylights out of him. I had some difficulty in restraining him, although privately, I must say, I found it rather an appealing prospect.’

‘An understandable reaction on his part.’ Talbot paused, ‘I can’t see how Andropulos or his friends could have any possible connection with this or have any conceivable reason for knocking him off. Do you think there’s a remote chance that he might have gone aboard the Kilcharran?’

‘No earthly reason why he should have but the thought did occur. I asked Danforth – he’s the Kilcharran’s chief officer – if he’d have a look around, so he collected some of his crew and carried out a search. There aren’t many places you can hide – or be hidden – on a diving ship. Took them less than ten minutes to be sure he wasn’t anywhere aboard.’

‘Nothing we can do at the moment. I have the uncomfortable feeling that there’s nothing we’re going to be able to do either. Let’s go and see how Captain Montgomery is getting on.’

The wind had dropped to Force 3, the sea was no more than choppy and the rain had eased, but only slightly, from torrential to heavy. Montgomery, clad in streaming oilskins, was at the winch: the plane, still bobbing rather uncomfortably, was slowly but steadily nearing the stern of the diving ship. The oxyacetylene crew, also in oilskins, were standing by the guard-rail, torches at the ready.

Talbot said: ‘Your men are going to be able to maintain their footing?’

‘It won’t be easy. The plane should steady up a bit when we secure it fore and aft and we’ll have ropes on the men, of course. And this confounded rain doesn’t help. I think we should be able to make some progress but it’ll be slow. Point is, this may be as good weather as we’re going to get. No point in your remaining, Commander, you’d be better off in your bunk. I’ll let you know when we’ve cut away the section and are ready to lift.’ He wiped rain away from his eyes. ‘I hear you’ve lost your chief steward. Bloody odd, isn’t it? Do you suspect foul play?’

‘I’m at the stage where I’m about ready to suspect anything or anybody. Van Gelder and I are agreed that it couldn’t have happened accidentally so it must have happened on purpose and not, of course, his purpose. Yes, foul play. As to what kind of foul play and the identity of the person or persons responsible, we don’t have a clue.’

It should have been dawn, but wasn’t, when Van Gelder roused Talbot shortly after six-thirty in the morning. The sky was still heavy and dark, and neither the wind nor the steadily drumming rain had improved in the past four hours.

‘So much for your breathless Aegean dawns,’ Talbot said, ‘I take it that Captain Montgomery has cut away that section of the plane’s fuselage?’

‘Forty minutes ago. He’s got the fuselage more than half way out of the water already.’

‘How are the winch and the derrick taking the strain?’

‘Very little strain, I believe. He’s secured four more flotation bags under the fuselage and wing and is letting compressed air do most of the work. He asks if you’d like to come along. Oh, and we’ve had a communication from Greek Intelligence about Andropulos.’

‘You don’t seem very excited about it.’

‘I’m not. Interesting, but doesn’t really help us. It just confirms that our suspicions about Uncle Adam are far from groundless. They’ve passed on our messages to Interpol. It seems – the message, I must say, is couched in very guarded language – that both Greek Intelligence and Interpol have been taking a considerable interest in Andropulos for several years. Both are certain that our friend is engaged in highly illegal activities but if this was a trial in a Scottish court of law the verdict would be “not proven”. They have no hard evidence. Andropulos acts through intermediaries who operate through other intermediaries and so on until either the trail runs cold or, occasionally, ends up in shell companies in Panama and the Bahamas, where much of his money is stashed away. The banks there consistently refuse to acknowledge letters and cables, in fact they won’t even acknowledge his existence. No cooperation from the Swiss banks, either. They’ll only open up their books if the depositor has been convicted of what is also regarded as a crime in Switzerland. He hasn’t been convicted of anything.’

‘Illegal activities? What illegal activities?’

‘Drugs. Message ends with a request – sounds more like a demand the way they put it – that this information be treated in total secrecy, utter and absolute confidentiality. Words to that effect.’

‘What information? They haven’t given us any information that we didn’t already suspect or have. No mention of the one item of information we’d like to know. Who, either in the government, the civil service or the top echelons in the armed forces, is Andropulos’s powerful protector and friend? Possibly they don’t know, more probably they don’t want us to know. Nothing from Washington?’

‘Not a word. Maybe the FBI don’t work at night.’

‘More likely that other people don’t work at night. It’s eleven-thirty p.m., their time, the banks are shut and all the staffs to hell and gone until tomorrow morning. We may have to wait hours before we hear anything.’

‘We’re nearly there,’ Captain Montgomery said. ‘We’ll stop hoisting – in this case more lifting from below than hoisting – when the water-level drops below the floor of the cabin. That way we won’t get our feet wet when we go inside.’

Talbot looked over the side to where a man, torch in his hand pointing downwards, sat with his legs dangling through the rectangular hole that had been cut in the fuselage.

‘We’re going to get a lot more than our feet wet before we get there. We’ve got to pass first through the compartment under the flight deck and that will still have a great deal of water in it.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Montgomery said. ‘I mean we don’t have to. We just drop down through the hole we’ve made in the fuselage.’

‘That’s fine, if all we want to do is to confine ourselves to the cargo hold. But you can’t get into the flight deck from there. There’s a heavy steel door in the bulkhead and the clamps are secured on the for’ard side. So if we want to get at those clamps you have to do it from the flight-deck side, and to do that you must pass through the flooded compartment first.’

‘Why should we want to open that door at all?’

‘Because the clamps holding the atom bomb in place have padlocks. Where is one of the first places you’d look if you were searching for a key to the padlocks?’

‘Ah! Of course. The pockets of the dead men.’

‘Enough, Captain,’ the man on the fuselage called out. ‘Deck’s clear.’

Montgomery centred the winch and applied the brake, then checked the fore and aft securing ropes. When he had them adjusted to his satisfaction he said: ‘Won’t be long, gentlemen. Just going to have a first-hand look.’

‘Van Gelder and I are coming with you. We’ve brought our suits.’ Talbot checked the level of the top of the jagged hole in the nose cone relative to the surface of the sea. ‘I don’t think we’ll be needing our helmets.’

They did not, as it proved, require their helmets, the compartment under the flight-deck was no more than two-thirds full. They moved along to the opened hatch and hauled themselves up into the space behind the pilots’ seats. Montgomery looked at the two dead men and screwed his eyes momentarily shut.

‘What a bloody awful mess. And to think that the fiend responsible is still walking around free as air.’

‘I don’t think he will be for much longer.’

‘But you’ve said yourself you don’t have the evidence to convict him.’

‘Andropulos will never come to trial. Vincent, would you bang open that door and show Captain Montgomery where our friend is.’

‘No banging. Maybe our friend doesn’t like banging.’ Van Gelder produced a large stilson wrench. ‘Persuasion. Aren’t you coming, sir?’

‘In a moment.’ They left and Talbot addressed himself to the highly distasteful task of searching through the dead men’s pockets. He found nothing. He searched through every shelf, locker and compartment in the cockpit. Again, nothing. He moved aft and joined Montgomery and Van Gelder.

‘Nothing, sir?’

‘Nothing. And nothing I can find anywhere in the flight-deck.’

Montgomery grimaced. ‘You were, of course, looking through the pockets of the dead men. Sooner you than me. This is a very big plane, the key – if there ever was a key – could have been tucked away anywhere. I don’t give much for our chances of recovering it. So, other methods. Your Number One suggests a corrosive to cut through those clamps. Wouldn’t it be easier just to use an old-fashioned hacksaw?’

‘I wouldn’t recommend it, sir,’ Van Gelder said. ‘If you were to try I’d rather be a couple of hundred miles away at the time. I don’t know how intelligent this armed listening device is, but I would question whether it’s clever enough to tell the difference between the rhythmic rasping of a hacksaw and the pulse of an engine.’

‘I agree with Vincent,’ Talbot said. ‘Even if it were only a one in ten thousand chance – and for all we know it might be a one in one chance – the risk still isn’t worth taking. Lady Luck has been riding with us so far but she might take a poor view of our pushing her too far.’

‘So corrosives, you think? I have my doubts.’ Montgomery stopped to examine the clamps more closely. ‘I should have carried out some preliminary test aboard, I suppose, but I never thought those clamps would be so thick nor made, as I suspect they are, of hardened steel. The only corrosive I have aboard is sulphuric acid. Neat sulphuric, H2SO4 at specific gravity 1800 – vitriol, if you like – is a highly corrosive agent when applied to most substances, which is why it is usually carried in glass carboys which are immune to the corrosive action of acids. But I think it would find this a very tough meal to digest. Patience and diligence, of course, and I’m sure it would do the trick, but it might take hours.’

Talbot said: ‘What do you think, Vincent?’

‘I’m no expert. I should imagine Captain Montgomery is quite correct. So, no corrosives, no hacksaws, no oxyacetylene torches.’ Van Gelder hoisted the big stilson in his hand. ‘This.’

Talbot looked at the clamps and their mountings, then nodded. ‘Of course. That. We’re not very bright, are we? At least I’m not.’ He looked at the way the clamps were secured to the side of the fuselage and the floor: each of the bases of the four retaining arms of the clamps was fitted over two bolts and were held in place by heavy inch-and-a-half nuts. ‘We leave the clamps in situ and free the bases instead. See how stiff those nuts are, will you?’

Van Gelder applied the stilson to one of the nuts, adjusted the grip and heaved. The nut was big and tightly jammed in position but a stilson wrench affords great leverage: the nut turned easily.

‘Simple,’ Van Gelder said.

‘Indeed.’ Talbot looked at the length of the retaining arms, which projected at ninety degrees from each other, then gauged the width of the hole that had been cut overhead. ‘What’s not so simple is getting the bomb up through the hole. With those arms in position there’s just not enough clearance for it to go through. We’ll have to widen the hole. You can do that, Captain?’

‘No bother. Just means that we’ll have to lower the fuselage down to its previous position. I’m coming around to Van Gelder’s view about taking zero chances. I want as much water as possible in this compartment to dissipate the heat of the torches. It’ll take a couple of hours, maybe longer, to do the job, but better two or three hours late down here than twenty years early you-know-where.’

Van Gelder said: ‘Do I undo those nuts now?’

‘No. We’re stable enough at the moment. But if the fuselage returns to its previous position of being almost submerged and then the weather blows up – well, I don’t think it would be a very clever idea to have an armed atomic mine rolling about all over the shop.’

‘I don’t think so, either.’

Talbot and Van Gelder were back aboard the Ariadne and having coffee in the deserted wardroom when a seaman from the radio-room entered and handed Talbot a message. Talbot read it and handed it to Van Gelder, who read it twice, then looked at his captain with a certain thoughtful surprise.

‘Looks as if I have been casting unjust aspersions on the FBI, sir. It further looks as if they do work at night.’

‘Even better, it seems as if they have no compunction about waking others, such as bank managers, in the middle of the night and making them work also. One gathers from the message that Andropulos’s mysterious friend George Skepertzis, does know the even more mysterious Kyriakos Katzanevakis and Thomas Thompson.’

‘If GS deposits one million dollars each in the accounts of KK and TT and has given them smaller sums on previous occasions one gathers that they are more than passing acquaintances. Unfortunately, it seems that the one person who could identify them, the bank clerk who handled the accounts of all three men, had been transferred elsewhere. They say that they are pursuing enquiries, whatever that means.’

‘It means, I’m certain, that the FBI are going to drag this unfortunate bank clerk from his bed and have him conduct an identity parade.’

‘I find it hard, somehow, to visualize generals and admirals voluntarily consenting to line up for inspection.’

‘They won’t have to. The FBI or the Pentagon itself is bound to have pictures of them.’ Talbot looked out of the window. ‘Dawn is definitely in the sky and the rain has eased off to no more than a drizzle – I suggest we contact Heraklion Air Base and ask them if they’ll kindly go and have a look for the diving ship Taormina.’

Together with the Admiral and the two scientists, Talbot and Van Gelder were just finishing breakfast when a messenger arrived from the Kilcharran. Captain Montgomery, he informed them, had just finished enlarging the opening on the top of the bomber’s fuselage, was now about to raise the plane again. Would they care to come across? He had made especial mention of Lieutenant-Commander Van Gelder.

‘It’s not me he wants,’ Van Gelder said. ‘It’s my trusty stilson wrench. As if he doesn’t have a dozen aboard.’

‘I wouldn’t miss this,’ Hawkins said. He looked at Benson and Wickram. ‘I’m sure you gentlemen wouldn’t want to miss this either. It will, after all, be a historic moment when, for the first time in history, they drop a live atomic mine on the deck of a ship.’

‘You have a problem, Captain Montgomery?’ the Admiral asked. Montgomery, winch stopped, was leaning over the guard-rail and looking down at the fuselage which had been raised to its previous position with its cargo deck just above the level of the sea. ‘You look a mite despondent.’

‘I am not looking despondent, Admiral. I am looking thoughtful. The next step is to hoist the bomb from the plane. After that, we have to load it aboard the Angelina. And then the Angelina sails away. Correct?’ Hawkins nodded and Montgomery wet his forefinger and held it up. ‘To sail away you require wind. Unfortunately and most inconveniently, the Meltemi has died completely.’

‘It has, hasn’t it?’ Hawkins said. ‘Most inconsiderate, I must say. Well, if we manage to get the bomb aboard the Angelina without blowing ourselves to smithereens we’ll just tow it away.’

‘How will we do that, sir?’ Van Gelder said.

‘The Ariadne’s whaler. Not the engine, of course. We row.’

‘How do we know that the cunning little brain of this explosive device can differentiate between the repeated creaking of oars and the pulse of an engine? After all, sir, it is primarily an acoustic device.’

‘Then we’ll go back to the naval days of yore. Muffled oars.’

‘But the Angelina displaces between eighty and a hundred tons, sir. Even with the best will and the strongest backs in the world it wouldn’t be possible to make as much as one nautical mile in an hour. And that’s with men continuously pulling with all their strength. Even the strongest, fittest and most highly trained racing crews – Oxford, Cambridge, Thames Tideway – approach complete exhaustion after twenty minutes. Not being Oxbridge Blues, our limit would probably be nearer ten minutes. Half a nautical mile, if we’re lucky. And then, of course, the periods between successive onsets of exhaustion would become progressively shorter. Cumulative effects, if you follow me, sir. A quarter of a mile an hour. It’s close on a hundred miles to the Kásos Strait. Even assuming they can row night and day, which they can’t, and discounting the possibility of heart attacks, it’s going to take them at least a fortnight to get to the Kásos Strait.’

‘When it comes to comfort and encouragement,’ Hawkins said, ‘I couldn’t ask for a better man to have around. Bubbling over with optimism. Professor Wotherspoon, you live and sail in these parts. What’s your opinion?’

‘It’s been an unusual night, but this is a perfectly normal morning. Zero wind. The Etesian wind – the Meltemi as they call it in these parts – starts up around about noon. Comes from the north or north-west.’

‘What if the wind comes from the south or south-west instead?’ Van Gelder said. ‘It would be impossible for the rowers to make any headway against it. The reverse, rather. Can’t you just picture it, the Angelina being driven on to the rocks of Santorini?’

‘Job’s comforter,’ Hawkins said. ‘Would it be too much to ask you kindly to cease and desist?’

‘Not Job, sir, nor his comforter. I see myself more in the role of Cassandra.’

‘Why Cassandra?’

‘Beautiful daughter of Priam, King of Troy,’ Denholm said. ‘The prophecies of the princess, though always correct, were decreed by Apollo never to be believed.’

‘I’m not much of a one for Greek mythology,’ Montgomery said. ‘Had it been a leprechaun or a brownie, now, I might have listened. As it is, we have work to do. Mr Danforth–’ this to his chief officer ‘–detail half-a-dozen men, a dozen, to haul the Angelina round to our port quarter. Once the bomb has been removed we can pull the fuselage for’ard and the Angelina can then move for’ard in her turn to take its place.’

Under Montgomery’s instructions, the derrick hook was detached from the lifting ring and the derrick itself angled slightly aft until the hook dangled squarely over the centre of the rectangular opening that had been cut in the fuselage. Montgomery, Van Gelder and Carrington descended the companionway to the top of the fuselage, Van Gelder with his stilson, Carrington with two adjustable rope grommets to which were attached two slender lengths of line, one eight feet in length, the other perhaps four times as long. Van Gelder and Carrington lowered themselves into the cargo bay and slipped and secured the grommets over the tapered ends of the mine while Montgomery remained above guiding the winch driver until the lifting fork was located precisely over the centre of the mine. The hook was lowered until it was four feet above the mine.

None of the eight securing clamp nuts offered more than a token resistance to Van Gelder’s stilson and as each clamp came free Carrington tightened or loosened the pressure on the two shorter ropes which had been attached to the hook. Within three minutes the atomic mine was free of all restraints that had attached it to the bulkhead and floor of the cargo bay and in less than half that time it had been winched upwards, slowly and with painstaking care, until it was clear of the plane’s fuselage. The two longer ropes attached to the grommets were thrown up on to the deck of the Kilcharran, where they were firmly held to ensure that the mine was kept in a position precisely parallel to the hull of the ship.

Montgomery climbed aboard and took over the winch. The mine was hoisted until it was almost level with the ship’s deck and then, by elevating the angle of the derrick, carefully brought alongside until it was resting against the rubbercushioned sides of the Kilcharran, a manœuvre that was necessary to ensure that the mine did not snag against the port stays of the foremast of the Angelina when that vessel was brought alongside.

It took what seemed like an unconscionably long time – in fact, it took just over half an hour – to bring the Angelina alongside. Hauling the plane’s fuselage forward to leave space for the lugger had been a quick and simple task, but then, because of the supporting air bags the fuselage was in a state of neutral buoyancy and one man could have accomplished the task with ease. But the Angelina displaced upwards of eighty tons and even the dozen men assigned to the task of towing it found it a laborious task just to get it under way, a difficulty that amply confirmed Van Gelder’s assertion that towing it any distance at all by a whaler propelled only by oars was a virtual impossibility. But eventually, brought alongside it was, the mine gently lowered into its prepared cradle and clamped into position.

‘Routine,’ Montgomery said to Hawkins. If he was experiencing any feelings of relief and satisfaction, and he would have been less than human not to have done, he showed no signs of them. ‘Nothing should have gone wrong and nothing did go wrong. All we need now is a tiny puff of wind, the lugger’s on her way and all our troubles are over.’

‘Maybe all our troubles are just beginning,’ Van Gelder said.

Hawkins looked at him suspiciously. ‘And what, may we ask, are we expected to gather from that cryptic remark?’

‘There is a tiny puff of wind, sir.’ Van Gelder wetted a forefinger and held it upwards. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not from the north-west, it’s from the south-east. The beginning, I’m afraid, of what is called the Euros.’ Van Gelder had assumed a conversational tone. ‘Reading about it last night. Rare in the summer months but not unknown. I’m sure Professor Wotherspoon will confirm this.’ Wotherspoon’s unsmiling nod did indeed confirm it. ‘Can turn very nasty, very stormy. Gusting up to Force 7 or 8. I can only assume that the radio operators on the Kilcharran and the Ariadne have – what shall I say? – relaxed their vigilance a bit. Understandable, after what they’ve been through. Must have been something about it in the weather forecasts. And if this wind increases, and according to the book there is no doubt it will, any attempt to sail or row the Angelina anywhere will end up in her banging not against the rocks of Santorini, as I suggested, but against those of Síphinos or Folégandros, which I believe are rather sparsely populated. But if the Euros backs more to the east, which I understand it occasionally does, then it would bang into Mílos. Five thousand people on Mílos. So it says in the book.’

‘I speak with restraint, Van Gelder,’ Hawkins said. ‘I don’t exactly see myself in the role of an ancient Roman Emperor but you do know what happened to messengers who brought bad news to them?’

‘They got their head chopped off. “Twas ever thus, sir. A prophet hath no honour in his own country.”’

Bearers of bad news were having a hard time of it on both sides of the Atlantic that morning.

The President of the United States was no longer a young man and at half past five on that morning in the Oval Office he was showing every year of his age. The lines of care and concern were deeply entrenched in his face and the skin, beneath the permanent tan, had a greyish tinge to it. But he was alert enough and his eyes were as clear as could be expected of an elderly man who had had no sleep whatsoever that night.

‘I am beginning, gentlemen, to feel almost as sorry for myself and ourselves as I am for those unfortunates in Santorini.’ The ‘gentlemen’ he was addressing were the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Richard Hollison of the FBI, John Heiman, the Defense Secretary, and Sir John Travers, the British Ambassador. ‘I suppose I should, in all decency, apologize for bringing you all together at this unearthly hour of the morning, but, frankly, I have no decency left in me. I’m right at the undisputed top of my self-pity list.’ He rifled some papers on his desk. ‘Admiral Hawkins and his men are sitting on top of a ticking timebomb and it seems that nature and circumstances are conspiring to thwart their every attempt to rid themselves of this canker in their midst. With his latest report I had thought that I had reached the ultimate nadir. Inevitably, I was wrong.’ He looked sorrowfully at the deputy head of the FBI. ‘You had no right to do this to me, Richard.’

‘I am sorry about that, Mr President.’ Hollison may well have meant what he said but the sorrow was completely masked by the expression and tone of bitter anger. ‘It’s not just bad news or damnably bad news, it’s shattering news. Shattering for you, shattering for me, most of all shattering for the General. I still can hardly bring myself to believe it.’

‘I might be prepared to believe it,’ Sir John Travers said, ‘and might well be prepared to be shattered along with the rest of you. If, that is, I had the slightest idea what you are talking about.’

‘And I am sorry about that,’ the President said. ‘We have not really been remiss, there just hasn’t been time yet. Richard, the Ambassador has not yet read the relevant documents. Could you put him in the picture, please?’

‘That shouldn’t take too long. It’s a most damnably ugly picture, Sir John, because it reflects badly – just how badly it’s only now beginning to dawn on me – on both Americans in general and the Pentagon in particular.

‘The central figure in the scenario, of whom you have of course heard, is a certain Adamantios Spyros Andropulos who is rapidly emerging as an international criminal of staggering proportions. As you know, he is at present being held aboard the frigate Ariadne. He is an exceptionally wealthy man – I’m talking merely of hundreds of millions of dollars, it could be billions for all I so far know – and he has money, laundered money under false names, hidden away in various deposit accounts all over the world. Marcos of the Philippines and Duvalier of Haiti are, or were, rather good at this sort of thing, but they’re being found out, they should have employed a real expert like Andropulos.’

‘He can’t be all that expert, Richard,’ Sir John said. ‘You’ve found out about him.’

‘A chance in a million, a break that comes to a law agency once in a lifetime. In any but the most exceptional and extraordinary circumstances he would have taken the secret to the grave with him. And I didn’t find out about him – there is no possible way I ever could have done – and no credit whatsoever attaches to us. That he was found out is due entirely to two things – an extraordinary stroke of luck and an extraordinary degree of astuteness by those aboard the Ariadne. I have, incidentally, have had cause to revise my earlier – and I must admit prejudiced and biased opinion of Admiral Hawkins. He insists that none of the credit belongs to him but to the captain and two of his officers aboard the Ariadne. It takes quite a man to insist on that sort of thing.

‘Among his apparently countless worldwide deposits Andropulos had tucked away eighteen million dollars in a Washington bank through an intermediary or nominee by the name of George Skepertzis. This nominee had transferred over a million dollars apiece to the accounts of two men registered in the bank as Thomas Thompson and Kyriakos Katzanevakis. The names, inevitably, are fictitious – no such people exist. The only bank clerk who could identify all three men, inasmuch as he was the person who had handled all three accounts, had left the bank. We tracked him down – he was understandably a bit upset about being dragged out of his bed at midnight – and showed him a group of photographs. Two of them he recognized immediately but none of the photographs remotely resembled the man going by the name of George Skepertzis.

‘But he was able to give us some additional – and very valuable – information about Skepertzis, who seemed to have taken him into some limited degree of confidence. No reason why he shouldn’t, of course – Skepertzis has – had – every reason to believe that his tracks were completely covered. This was approximately two months ago. He wanted to know about the banking facilities in certain specified towns in the United States and Mexico. The bank clerk – his name is Bradshaw – gave him what information he could. It took Bradshaw about a week to find out the details Skepertzis wanted. I should imagine that he was well rewarded for his labours although, of course, Bradshaw didn’t say so. There were no criminal charges that we could have laid against him for that – not that we would, even if we could have.

‘Bradshaw provided our agent with the names and addresses of the banks concerned. We checked those against two lists regarding Andropulos’s banking activities that we had just received from the Ariadne and Greek Intelligence – a third, if you count Interpol. Skepertzis had made enquiries about banks in five cities and, lo and behold and to nobody’s surprise, all five also appeared on the lists concerning Andropulos.

‘We instituted immediate enquiries. Bankers – especially senior banking officials – have profound objections to being woken in the middle of the night but among our eight thousand FBI agents in those United States we have some very tough and persistent individuals who are also very good at putting the fear of God into even the most law-abiding citizens. And we have some very good friends in Mexico. It turns out that friend Skepertzis has bank accounts in all five cities. All under his own name.’

‘You’re ahead of me here,’ the President said. ‘This is news to me. When did you find this out?’

‘Just over half an hour ago. I’m sorry, Mr President, but there just hasn’t been the time to confirm everything and tell you until now. In two of those banks – in Mexico City and San Diego – we struck gold. In each of those banks close on three-quarters of a million dollars have been transferred to the accounts of a certain Thomas Thompson and a certain Kyriakos Katzanevakis. It’s a measure of those two gentlemen’s belief in their immunity to investigation that they hadn’t even bothered to change their names. Not that that would have mattered in the long run – not after we had got around to circulating photographs. One final point of interest. Two weeks ago the bank in Mexico City received a draft of two million dollars in favour of George Skepertzis from a reputable or supposedly reputable, bank in Damascus, Syria. A week later exactly the same amount was transferred to a certain Philip Trypanis in Greece. We have the name of the Athens bank and have asked Greek Intelligence to find out who or what Trypanis is or for whom he is fronting. A cent gets a hundred dollars that it is a pal of Andropulos.’

A silence ensued, a silence that was long and profound and more than a little gloomy. It was the President himself who finally broke it.

‘A stirring tale, is it not, Sir John?’

‘Stirring, indeed. Richard had the right term for it – shattering.’

‘But – well, have you no questions?’

‘No.’

The President looked at him in near disbelief. ‘Not even one little question?’

‘Not even one, Mr President.’

‘But surely you must want to know the identities of Thompson and Katzanevakis?’

‘I don’t want to know. If we must refer to them at all I’d rather just refer to them as the general and the admiral.’ He looked at Hollison. ‘That would be about right, Richard?’

‘I’m afraid so. A general and an admiral. Your Admiral Hawkins, Sir John, is smarter than your average bear.’

‘I would agree. But you have to be fair to yourselves. He had access to information that you hadn’t had until now. I, too, have an advantage that you people lack. You’re deep in the middle of the wood. I’m on the outside looking in.

‘Two things, gentlemen. As a representative of Her Majesty’s Government I am bound to report any developments of significance to the Foreign Office and Cabinet. But if I specifically lack certain information, such as specific names, then I can’t very well report them, can I? We ambassadors have the power to exercise a very wide range of discretion. In this particular instance, I choose to exercise that discretion.

‘The second point is that you all seem convinced – there appears to be a certain doomladen certainty about this – that this affair, this top-level treason, if you will, is bound to become public knowledge. I have one simple question. Why?’

‘Why? Why?’ The President shook his head as if bemused or stunned by the naïveté of the question. ‘God damn it, Sir John, it’s bound to come out. It’s inevitable. How else are we going to explain things away? If we are at fault, if we are the guilty party, we must in all honesty openly confess to that guilt. We must stand up and be counted.’

‘We have been friends for some years now, Mr President. Friends are allowed to speak openly?’

‘Of course, of course.’

‘Your sentiments, Mr President, do you the greatest possible credit but hardly reflect what, fortunately or unfortunately, goes on in the more rarefied strata of international diplomacy. I am not speaking of deception and deviousness, I am referring to what is practical and politic. It’s bound to come out, you say. Certainly it will – but only if the President of the United States decides that it must. How, you ask, are we going to explain things away? Simple. We don’t. You give me one valid reason why we should move this matter into the realm of the public domain or, as you appear to suggest, make a clean breast of things, and I’ll give you half a dozen reasons – reasons equally valid if not more so – why we shouldn’t.’ Sir John paused as if to marshal his facts but was, in fact, merely waiting for one of the four intent listeners to voice an objection: he had already marshalled his facts.

‘I think, Mr President, that it might do us no harm to hear what Sir John as to say.’ Hollison smiled. ‘Who knows, we might even learn something. As the senior ambassador of a vastly experienced Foreign Office, it seems likely that Sir John must have gained some little expertise along the way.’

‘Thank you, Richard. Bluntly and undiplomatically, Mr President, you have a duty not to speak out. There is nothing whatsoever to be gained, and a very great deal to be lost. At best you will be hanging out a great deal of dirty washing in public and all to no avail, to no purpose: at worst, you will be providing invaluable ammunition for your enemies. Such open and, if I may say so, ill-advised confession will achieve at best an absolute zero and at worst a big black minus for you, the Pentagon and the citizens of America. The Pentagon, I am sure, is composed of honourable men. Sure, it may have its quota of the misguided, the incompetent, even the downright stupid: name me any large and powerful bureaucratic élite that has never had such a quota. All that matters, finally and basically, is that they are honourable men and I see no earthly justification for dragging the reputations of honourable men through the dust because we have discovered two rotten apples at the bottom of the barrel.

‘You yourself, Mr President, are in an even worse position. You have devoted a considerable deal of your presidential time to combating terrorism in every shape and form. How will it look to the world if it comes out that two senior members of your armed forces have been actively engaged in promoting terrorism for material gain? You may hardly know the two gentlemen concerned but they will, of course, be elevated to the status of highly trusted aides, and that’s just looking on the bright side. On the dark side, you will not only be accused of harbouring men who are engaged in terrorism but of aiding, abetting and inciting them to new levels of terrorism. Can’t you just see the headlines smeared across the front pages of the tabloids and yellow press throughout the world? By the time they have finished with you, you will be remembered in history for one thing and one thing only, the ultimate byword for hypocrisy, the allegedly noble and high-principled president who had spent his life in encouraging and promoting the one evil he had sworn to destroy. Throughout the countries of the world that dislike or fear America because of its power, authority and wealth – and that, like it or not, means most countries – your reputation would lie in tatters. Because of your exceptionally high level of popularity in your own country you will survive but I hardly think that that consideration would affect you: what would and should affect you is that your campaign against terrorism would be irrevocably destroyed. No phoenix would arise from those particular ashes. As a world force for justice and decency you would be a spent man. To put it in the most undiplomatic terms, sir, to go ahead as you propose to do you’d have to be more than slightly off your rocker.’

The President stared into the middle distance for quite some time, then said in a voice that was almost plaintive: ‘Does anyone else think I’m off my rocker?’

‘Nobody thinks you’re off your rocker, Mr President,’ the General said. ‘Least of all, I would say, Sir John here. He is merely saying what our unfortunately absent Secretary of State would advocate if he were here. Both gentlemen are high on pragmatism and cold logic and low on unconsidered and precipitate action. Maybe I’m not the ideal person to be passing judgement on this issue. I would obviously be delighted if whatever reputation the Pentagon has survives intact, but I do feel most strongly that, before jumping off the top of the Empire State or whatever one should give some thought to the fatal and irrevocable consequences.’

‘I can only nod emphatic agreement,’ John Heiman, the Defense Secretary said. ‘If I may mix up two metaphors – if I am mixing them – we have only two options. We can let sleeping dogs lie or let slip the dogs of war. Sleeping dogs never harmed anyone but the dogs of war are an unpredictable bunch. Instead of biting the enemy they may well turn, in this case almost certainly would turn, and savage us.’

The President looked at Hollison. ‘Richard?’

‘You’re in the card-game of your life, Mr President. You’ve got only one trump and it’s marked “Silence”.’

‘So it’s four to one, is it?’

‘No, Mr President,’ Heiman said, ‘it’s not and you know it. It’s five to zero.’

‘I suppose, I suppose.’ The President ran a weary hand across his face. ‘And how do we propose to mount this massive display of silence, Sir John?’

‘Sorry, Mr President, but not me. If I am asked for my opinions I am not, as you have seen, slow to give them. But I know the rules and one of them is that I cannot be a party to formulating the policy of a sovereign state. Decisions are for you and for what is, in effect, your war cabinet here.’

A messenger entered and handed a slip of paper to the president. ‘Dispatch from the Ariadne, Mr President.’

‘I don’t have to brace myself for this,’ the President said. ‘As far as dispatches from the Ariadne are concerned, I am permanently braced. Some day I’ll get some good news from that ship.’ He read the message. ‘But not, of course, this time. “Atomic mine removed from cargo bay of bomber and safely transferred to sailing vessel Angelina.” Excellent news as far as it goes, but then: “Unexpected 180 degree change in wind course makes sailing departure impossible. Anticipated delay three to six hours. Hydrogen weapons from plane’s cargo bay being transferred to diving ship Kilcharran. Expect to complete transfer by nightfall.” End of message. Well, where does that leave us?’

Sir John Travers said: ‘It leaves you, Mr President, with a few hours’ breathing space.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Masterly inactivity. Nothing that can be profitably done at the moment. I am merely thinking out loud.’ He looked at the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. ‘Tell me, General, do those two gentlemen in the Pentagon know they are under suspicion? Correction. Do they know that you have proof of their treason?’

‘No. And I agree with what you are about to say. No point will be served by acquainting them with that fact at the present moment.’

‘None. With the President’s permission, I would like to retire and ponder the problems of state and international diplomacy. With the aid of a pillow.’

The President smiled one of his increasingly rare smiles.

‘What a splendid suggestion. I also shall do exactly that. It’s close on six now, gentlemen. May I suggest that we foregather again at ten-thirty a.m.?’

At 2.30 that afternoon Van Gelder, message sheet in hand, joined Talbot on the bridge of the Ariadne.

‘Radio from Heraklion, sir. Seems that a Phantom of the Greek Air Force located the diving ship Taormina less than ten minutes after taking off from base. It was just east of Avgó Island, which the chart tells me is about forty miles north-east of Heraklion. Very conveniently positioned to break through the Kásos Strait.’

‘What direction was it headed?’

‘No direction. Having no wish to raise any suspicion the Greek pilot didn’t hang around but he reports that the Taormina was stopped in the water.’

‘Lurking. Lurking, one wonders, for what. Speaking of lurking, what’s Jimmy doing at the moment?’

‘Last seen, he was lurking with two young ladies in the wardroom. No dereliction of duty, I assure you. The three A’s have retired, to their cabins, presumably for the afternoon. The girls report a far from subtle change in their behaviour. They have stopped discussing the predicament they find themselves in, in fact they have stopped discussing anything. They appear unusually calm, relaxed and not very concerned about anything, which may mean that they have philosophically resigned themselves to whatever fate may hold in store or they may have made up their minds about some plan of action, although what that could be I couldn’t even begin to imagine.’

‘What would your guess be, Vincent?’

‘A plan of action. I know it’s only the slenderest of clues but it’s just possible that they may be resting up this afternoon because they don’t expect to be doing much resting during the coming night.’

‘I have the oddest feeling that we won’t be doing much resting ourselves tonight.’

‘Aha! The second sight, sir? Your non-existent Scottish blood clamouring for recognition.’

‘When it clamours a bit more, I’ll let you know. I just keep wondering about Jenkins’s disappearance.’ A phone rang and Talbot picked it up. ‘A message for the Admiral from the Pentagon? Bring it here.’ Talbot hung up and gazed out through the for’ard screens of the bridge. The Angelina, to protect it from the buffeting of the four-foot-high waves generated by the now very brisk Euros wind from the south-east, had been moved to a position where it lay snugly in the still waters between the bows of the Ariadne and the stern of the Kilcharran.

‘Speaking of the Pentagon, it’s only an hour since we told them that we expected the unloading of the hydrogen missiles to be completed by nightfall. And what do we have? A Force 6 and the plane’s fuselage streamed out a cable length to the north-west. Lord only knows when the unloading will be finished now. Do you think we should so inform them?’

‘I should think not, sir. The President of the United States is a much older man than we are and the kind of cheery communications he has been receiving from the Ariadne of late can’t be doing his heart any good.’

‘I suppose you’re right. Ah, thank you, Myers.’

‘Bloody funny signal if you ask me, sir. Can’t make head nor tail of it.’

‘These things are sent to try us.’ Talbot waited till Myers had left, then read out the signal.

‘“Identity of cuckoos in the nest established. Irrefutable proof that they are linked to your generous benefactor friend. Sincerest congratulations to Admiral Hawkins and the officers of the Ariadne.”’

‘Recognition at last,’ Van Gelder said.

‘You are the last to arrive, Sir John,’ the President said. ‘I have to advise you that we have already made up our minds what to do.’

‘A very difficult decision, I assume, Mr President. Probably the most difficult you have ever been called upon to make.’

‘It has been. Now that the decision is made and is irrevocable, you can no longer be accused of meddling with the affairs of a sovereign state. What would you have done, Sir John?’

‘Perfectly straightforward. Exactly what you have done. No one is to be informed except two people and those two people are to be informed that the President has suspended them indefinitely from duty, pending the investigation of allegations and statements that have been laid against them.’

‘Well, damn your eyes, Sir John.’ The President spoke without heat. ‘Instead of sleeping all the time I spent a couple of hours wrestling with my conscience to arrive at the same conclusion.’

‘It was inevitable, sir. You had no option. And I would point out that it’s easy enough for us to arrive at decisions. You, and only you, can give the executive order.’

‘I will not insult your intelligence by asking if you are aware what this executive order means.’

‘I am perfectly aware of what it means. Now that my opinion is no longer called for I have no hesitation in saying that I would have done exactly the same thing. It is a death sentence and it can be no consolation at all that you will not be called upon to carry out, or to order to be carried out, the execution of that death sentence.’