Santorini

2

‘You are unhappy, Vincent?’ Vincent was Van Gelder’s first name. There were three of them seated in the wardroom, Talbot, Van Gelder and Grierson.

‘Puzzled, you might say, sir. I don’t understand why Andropulos and the others didn’t abandon ship earlier. I saw two inflatable dinghies aboard. Rolled up, admittedly, but those things can be opened and inflated from their gas cylinders in seconds. There were also life-belts and life-jackets. There was no need for this the-boy-stood-on-the-burning-deck act. They could have left at any time. I’m not saying they’d have been sucked down with the yacht but they might have had a rather uncomfortable time.’

‘Same thought had occurred to me. Mentioned it to Andrew here. Odd. Maybe Andropulos had a reason. Anything else?’

‘The owner tried to stop me from boarding the yacht. Maybe he was concerned with my health. I have the feeling he wasn’t. Then I would much like to know what caused that explosion in the engine-room. A luxurious yacht like that must have carried an engineer – we can find that out easily enough – and it’s a fair guess that the engines would have been maintained in an immaculate condition. I don’t see how they could have caused an explosion. We’ll have to ask McCafferty about that one.’

‘That, of course, is why you were so anxious that we pinpoint the spot where the Delos went down. You think an expert on the effects of explosives could identify and locate the cause of the explosion? I’m sure he could, especially if he were an expert at determining the causes of aircraft lost through explosions – those people are much better at that sort of thing than the Navy is. Explosives experts we have aboard but no experts on the effects of explosives. Even if we did, we have no divers aboard – well, you and myself apart – trained to work at levels below a hundred feet. We could borrow one easily enough from a lifting vessel or salvage tug but the chances are high that he’d know nothing about explosives. But there’s really no problem. It would be a simple matter for any lifting vessel to raise an aircraft fuselage to the surface.’ Talbot regarded Van Gelder thoughtfully. ‘But there’s something else worrying you, isn’t there?’

‘Yes, sir. The three dead men aboard the Delos – well, to be specific, just one of them. That’s why I asked the doctor here to come along. The three of them were so smoke begrimed and blackened that it was difficult to tell what they were wearing but two of them appeared to be dressed in white while the third was in a navy blue overall. An engineer wouldn’t wear whites. Well, I admit our engineer Lieutenant McCafferty is a dazzling exception; but he’s a one-off case, he never goes near his engines anyway. In any event I assumed the man in the overalls was the engineer and he was the one who caught my attention. He had a vicious gash on the back of his head as if he had been blown backwards against a very hard, very sharp object.’

Grierson said: ‘Or been struck by a very hard, sharp object?’

‘Either way, I suppose. I wouldn’t know. I’m afraid I’m a bit weak on the forensic side.’

‘Had his occiput been crushed?’

‘Back of his head? No. At least I’m reasonably certain it hadn’t been. I mean, it would have given, wouldn’t it, or been squashy. It wasn’t like that.’

‘A blow like that should have caused massive bruising. Did you see any?’

‘Difficult to say. He had fairly thick hair. But it was fair. No, I don’t think there was any.’

‘Had it bled a lot?’

‘He hadn’t bled at all. I’m quite sure of that.’

‘You didn’t notice any holes in his clothing?’

‘Not that I could see. He hadn’t been shot, if that is what you’re asking and that is what I think you are asking. Who would want to shoot a dead man? His neck was broken.’

‘Indeed?’ Grierson seemed unsurprised. ‘Poor man was through the wars, wasn’t he?’

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

‘I don’t know what to think. The inflicting of the wound on the head and the snapping of the vertebra could well have been simultaneous. If the two weren’t simultaneous, then it could equally well have been – as Vincent clearly seems to think – a case of murder.’

‘Would an examination of the corpse help at all?’

‘It might. I very much doubt it. But an examination of engine-room bulkheads would.’

‘To see if there were any sharp edges or protrusions that could have caused such a head wound?’ Grierson nodded. ‘Well, when – and if – we ever raise that hull, we should be able to kill two birds with one stone: to determine the causes of both the explosions and this man’s death.’

‘Maybe three birds,’ Van Gelder said. ‘It would be interesting to know the number and layout of the fuel tanks in the engine-room. There are, I believe, two common layouts – in one case there is just one main fuel tank, athwartships and attached to the for’ard bulkhead, with a generator or generators on one side of the engine and batteries on the other, plus a water-tank to port and another to starboard: or there could be a fuel tank on either side with the water-tank up front. In that case the two fuel tanks are interconnected to keep the fuel levels equal and maintain equilibrium.’

‘A suspicious mind, Number One,’ Talbot said. ‘Very suspicious. What you would like to find, of course, is just one fuel tank because you think Andropulos is going to claim that he didn’t abandon ship because he thought another fuel tank was about to go and he didn’t want his precious passengers splashing about in a sea of blazing fuel oil which would, of course, also have destroyed the rubber dinghies.’

‘I’m grieved, sir. I thought I’d thought of that first.’

‘You did, in fact. When the passengers are cleaned up see if you can get this young lady, Irene Charial, alone and find out if she knows anything about the layout of the engine-room. The casual approach, Vincent, the innocent and cherubic expression, although I doubt the last is beyond you. Anyway it’s possible she’s never been there and may possibly know nothing about it.’

‘It’s equally possible, sir, that she knows all about it and may well choose to tell me something. Miss Charial is Andropulos’s niece.’

‘The thought had occurred. However, if Andropulos is not all he might be, then the chances are high that there is some other member of his ship’s company in his confidence and I would have thought that would be a man. I don’t say that that’s because you know what the Greeks are like because I don’t know what the Greeks are like. And we mustn’t forget that Andropulos may be as innocent as the driven snow and that there is a perfectly rational explanation for all that has happened. Anyway, it would do no harm to try and you never can tell, Vincent – she might turn out to be a classic Greek beauty.’

From the fact that the whaler was lying stopped in the water and that Cousteau, his hand resting idly on the tiller, appeared to be expressing no great degree of interest in anything, it was obvious that his wait had been a vain one, a fact he confirmed on his arrival on the bridge.

Talbot called the sonar room. ‘You have pinpointed the location of the plane?’

‘Yes, sir. We’re sitting exactly above it. Depth registered is eighteen fathoms. That’s the echo from the top of the fuselage. Probably lying in about twenty fathoms. It’s lying in the same direction as it was flying when it came down – northeast to south-west. Picking up some rather odd noises down here, sir. Would you care to come down?’

‘Yes, I will.’ For reasons best known to himself Halzman, the senior sonar operator, preferred not to discuss it over an open line. ‘A minute or two.’ He turned to Van Gelder. ‘Have McKenzie put down a marker buoy, about midships. Tell him to lower the weight gently. I don’t want to bump too hard against the plane’s fuselage in case we do actually come into contact with it. When that’s been done, I want to anchor. Two anchors. A stern anchor to the north-west, about a hundred yards distant from the buoy, then a bow anchor a similar distance to the south-east.’

‘Yes, sir. May I suggest the other way around?’

‘Of course, you’re right. I’d forgotten about our old friend. Taking a holiday today, isn’t it? The other way around, of course.’ The ‘old friend’ to which he referred and which Van Gelder clearly had in mind, was the Meltemi wind, referred to as the ‘Etesian’ in the British sailing directions. In the Cyclades, in the summer months – and indeed in most of the Aegean – it blew steadily, but usually only in the afternoon and early evening, from the north-west. If it did start up, the Ariadne would ride more comfortably if it were bows on to it.

Talbot went to the sonar room which was only one deck down and slightly aft. The sonar room was heavily insulated against all outside noise and dimly lit by subdued yellow lighting. There were three display screens, two sets of control panels and, over and above all, a considerable number of heavily padded earphones. Halzman caught sight of him in an overhead mirror – there were a number of such mirrors around, speaking as well as any other kind of sound was kept to a minimum in the sonar room – removed his earphones and gestured to the seat beside him.

‘Those earphones, sir. I thought you might be interested in listening for a minute.’

Talbot sat and clamped the earphones on. After about fifteen seconds he removed them and turned to Halzman, who had also removed his.

‘I can’t hear a damned thing.’

‘With respect, sir, when I said a minute, I meant just that. A minute. First of all you have to listen until you hear the silence, then you’ll hear it.’

‘Whatever that means, I’ll try it.’ Talbot listened again, and just before the allotted minute was up, he leaned forward and creased his brow. After another thirty seconds he removed the head-set.

‘A ticking sound. Strange, Halzman, you were right. First you hear the silence and then you hear it. Tick… tick… tick, once every two to three seconds. Very regular. Very faint. You’re certain that comes from the plane?’

‘I have no doubt, sir.’

‘Have you ever heard anything like it before?’

‘No, sir. I’ve spent hundreds of hours, more likely thousands, listening to sonar, asdics, hydrophones, but this is something quite new on me.’

‘I’ve got pretty good hearing but I had to wait almost a moment before I could imagine I could hear anything. It’s very, very faint, isn’t it?’

‘It is. I had to turn the hearing capacity up to maximum before I stumbled on it – not a practice I would normally follow or recommend – in the wrong circumstances you can get your eardrums blasted off. Why is it so faint? Well, the source of the sound may be very faint to begin with. I’ve been thinking about this, sir – well, I’ve had nothing else to think about. It’s either a mechanical or electrical device. In either case it has to be inside a sealed or waterproof casing. A mechanical device could, of course, operate in water even if it was totally submerged, but operating in water would dampen out the sound almost completely. An electrical device would have to be totally sealed against sea-water. The plane’s own electrical system, of course, has ceased to function, so it would have to have its own supply system, almost certainly battery-powered. In either event, mechanical or electrical, the sound impulses would have to pass through the waterproof casing, after which they must pass through the fuselage of the plane.’

‘Have you any idea as to what it might be?’

‘None whatsoever. It’s a two and a half second sequence – I’ve timed it. I know of no watch or clock movement that follows that sequence. Do you, sir?’

‘No, I don’t. You think it could be some sort of timing device?’

‘I thought about that too, sir, but I put it out of my mind.’ Halzman smiled. ‘Maybe I’m prejudiced against that idea because of all those cheap and awful video film cassettes we have aboard, with all their special effects and pseudo science. All I know for sure, sir, is that we have a mysterious plane lying on the sea-bed there. Lord only knows what mysterious kind of cargo it was carrying.’

‘Agreed. I think we’d better leave it at that for the moment. Have one of your boys monitor it, once, say, in every fifteen minutes.’

When Talbot returned to the bridge he could see the marker buoy just astern, bobbing gently in the very small wake Van Gelder was creating as he edged the Ariadne gently to the north-west. Very soon he stopped, juggled the engines to and fro until he reckoned the bows were a hundred yards distant from the buoy, had the anchor dropped, then moved just as slowly astern, the anchor chain being paid out as he went. Soon the stern anchor had been paid out and the Ariadne was back to where she had started, the buoy nudging the midships port side.

‘Neatly done,’ Talbot said. ‘Tell me, Number One, how are you on puzzles?’

‘Useless. Even the simplest crossword baffles me.’

‘No matter. We’re picking up a strange noise on the sonar. Maybe you’d like to take a turn along there, perhaps even identify it. Baffles me.’

‘Consider it done. Back in two or three minutes.’

Twenty minutes elapsed before he returned to the bridge where Talbot was now alone: as the ship was no longer under way, Harrison had retired to his mess.

‘That was a long couple of minutes, Vincent, and what are you looking so pleased about?’

‘I really don’t know how you do it, sir. Incredible. I don’t suppose you have any Scottish blood?’

‘Not a drop, as far as I’m aware. Am I supposed to be following you, Number One?’

‘I thought maybe the second sight. You were right. A classic Greek beauty. Irene. Miss Charial, that is. Odd, mind you, blonde as they come. I thought all those warm-blooded young Latin ladies had hair as black as a raven’s wing.’

‘It’s the sheltered life you lead, Vincent. You should go to Andalucia some day. Seville. On one street corner a dusky Moorish maiden, the next a Nordic blonde. We’ll discuss pigmentation some other time. What did you learn?’

‘Enough, I hope. It’s an art, sir, this casual and inconsequential approach. The questioning, I mean. She seems honest and open enough, not ingenuous, if you know what I mean, but quite straightforward. Certainly didn’t give the impression of having anything to hide. Says she doesn’t know the engine-room well but has been there a couple of times. We came to the question of fuel oil – I was just wondering out loud, natural curiosity, I hope she thought – as to what could have caused the explosion. Seems I was wrong when I said there were just two common ways of arranging fuel and water tanks. Seems there’s a third. Two big tanks on either side of the engine, one fuel, one water. How big, I don’t know, she was a bit vague about that – no reason why she should know – but at least thousands of litres, she says. If there was a spare fuel tank she didn’t know about it. I look forward, sir, to hearing Mr Andropulos justifying his decision not to abandon ship.’

‘So do I. Should be interesting. Anyway, congratulations. A good job.’

‘No hardship, sir.’ Van Gelder scanned the sea around. ‘Odd, don’t you think, sir? I mean, are we the only ones who heard the SOS? I would have thought the horizon would have been black with converging vessels by this time.’

‘Not so strange, really. Nearly all the vessels around at this time of year are private yachts and fishermen. Lots of them don’t carry any radio at all and even those who do almost certainly wouldn’t be permanently tuned to the distress frequency.’

‘But we are.’

‘This time I’m ahead of you. The Delos – or at least Andropulos – knew that we would be permanently tuned to the distress frequency, that we are automatically alerted by bell or buzzer whenever the distress frequency is energized. This presupposes two things. He knew we were a naval vessel and he also knew that we were in the vicinity.’

‘You realize what you are saying, sir? Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound that way. But the implications, sir. I must say I really don’t like those at all.’

‘Neither do I. Opens up all sorts of avenues of interesting speculation, doesn’t it?’ He turned as McKenzie came on to the bridge: ‘And how are our oil-stained survivors, Chief?’

‘Clean, sir. And in dry clothes. I don’t think any of them will make the list of the ten bestdressed men.’ He looked at Van Gelder. ‘I gather you didn’t have too much time, sir, for the selection and careful matching up of clothes. They’re a bit of an odd sight, I must say, but respectable enough. I knew you would want to see them, Captain – Mr Andropulos seems very anxious to see you – and I know you don’t like unauthorized people on the bridge so I took the liberty of putting the four gentlemen and the two young ladies in the wardroom. I hope that’s all right, sir.’

‘Fine. You might ask the Surgeon Commander and Lieutenant Denholm to join us there. And send a couple of your boys up here to keep a lookout. Who knows, our radar might have a day off.’

The six survivors from the Delos were standing around rather awkwardly, not talking, when Talbot and Van Gelder reached the wardroom. The four men, as McKenzie had suggested, did present rather an odd spectacle. They looked rather as if they had just raided an old clothes shop, few of the items of their clothing being a match, and for the most part, fitting only where they touched. In striking contrast, both girls were immaculately clad: dressed in white blouses and white skirts, they could have stepped straight from the pages of Vogue.

‘Please,’ Talbot said. ‘All of you be seated. Before we talk, I suggest we get our priorities right. First things first. You’ve had a harrowing experience and a lucky escape. I suggest you will not take amiss the suggestion of a suitable restorative.’ He pressed a bell and a steward entered. ‘Jenkins. Refreshments. Find out what they would like.’ Jenkins did so and left.

‘I’m the captain,’ Talbot said. ‘Talbot. This is Lieutenant-Commander Van Gelder. Ah!’ The door had opened. ‘And this is Surgeon-Commander Grierson, whom you have met and whose services you fortunately didn’t require, and Lieutenant Denholm.’ He looked at the short stocky man seated before him. ‘I take it that you, sir, are Mr Andropulos, the owner.’

‘I am, Commander, I am.’ Andropulos had black hair, black eyes, white teeth and a deeply tanned complexion. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved that morning but then, he would always look as if he hadn’t shaved that morning. He leapt to his feet, took Talbot’s hand, and shook it vigorously. He positively radiated a combined aura of benevolence and bonhomie. ‘Words cannot express our gratitude. A close-run thing, Commander, a very close-run thing. We owe you our lives.’

‘I wouldn’t go as far as to say that but I’ll admit you were in a rather nasty pickle.’

‘Pickle? Pickle?’

‘Dangerous circumstances. I deeply regret both your loss of the members of your crew and your yacht.’

‘The yacht is nothing. I can always buy another. Well, Lloyd’s of London can buy it for me. Still sadder to lose an old friend like the Delos but sadder still, much sadder, to lose the three members of my crew. Been with me for many years. I treasured them all.’

‘Who were they, sir?’

‘My engineer, chef and steward. With me for many years.’ Andropulos shook his head. ‘They will be sadly missed.’

‘Wasn’t it odd for a chef and steward to be in the engine-room?’

Andropulos smiled sadly. ‘Not aboard the Delos, Commander. It was not exactly run along the lines of a ship of the Royal Navy. They were in the habit of having an after-lunch drink there with the engineer. They had my permission, of course, but they preferred to be discreet about it – and what more discreet place than the engine-room? Alas, their discretion cost them their lives.’

‘That is ironic. May I be introduced to the others?’

‘Of course, of course. This is my very dear friend Alexander.’ Alexander was a tall man with a thin, unsmiling face and black, cold eyes who didn’t look as if he could possibly be anybody’s very dear friend. ‘This is Aristotle, my captain.’ Andropulos didn’t say whether Aristotle was the first or last name: he had watchful eyes and a serious expression but looked as if he might, unlike Alexander, be capable of smiling occasionally. ‘And this is Achmed.’ He didn’t say what occupation Achmed held. He was young, pleasant-faced and smiled readily. Talbot couldn’t even begin to guess at his nationality except that he wasn’t Greek.

‘But I forget myself. Deplorable, deplorable. I forget myself. Such manners. Should have been ladies first, of course. This is my niece, Irene.’ Van Gelder hadn’t made any mistakes about her, Talbot thought, except that he’d missed out on the wide green eyes and a rather bewitching smile. ‘And this is Eugenia.’ This one, Talbot reflected, was much closer to Van Gelder’s concept of a warm-blooded young Latin lady. She had a slightly dusky skin, black hair and warm brown eyes. And she also, no doubt, was quite beautiful. It seemed to Talbot that Van Gelder was going to find himself in something of a quandary.

‘I congratulate you, Mr Andropulos,’ Talbot said gallantly, ‘and ourselves. Certainly the loveliest passengers we’ve ever had aboard the Ariadne. Ah. The steward.’

Andropulos took his glass – a scotch and not a small one, and disposed of half the contents in one gulp.

‘My goodness, I needed that. Thank you, Commander, thank you. Not as young as I was nor as tough, either. Age cometh to us all.’ He quaffed the rest of his drink and sighed.

Talbot said: ‘Jenkins, another for Mr Andropulos. A slightly larger measure this time.’ Jenkins looked at him expressionlessly, closed his eyes momentarily and left.

‘The Ariadne,’ Andropulos said. ‘Rather odd, is it not. Greek name, British vessel.’

‘Courtesy gesture to your Government, sir. We are carrying out a hydrographic charting exercise with your people.’ Talbot saw no point in mentioning that the Ariadne had never carried out a hydrographic exercise in its life and that the ship had been called Ariadne to remind the Greeks that it was a multi-national vessel and to persuade a wavering Greek government that perhaps NATO wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

‘Hydrographic, you say. Is that why we’re moored fore and aft – a fixed platform for taking bearings.’

‘A fixed platform, yes, but in this instance the purpose is not hydrographic. We’ve had quite a busy afternoon, Mr Andropulos, and at the moment we’re anchored over a plane that crashed into the sea just about the time we were receiving your SOS.’

‘A plane? Crashed? Good God! What – what kind of plane?’

‘We have no idea. It was so wreathed in smoke that it was impossible to distinguish any important features.’

‘But surely – well, don’t you think it was a big plane?’

‘It may have been.’

‘But it could have been a big jet. Maybe hundreds of passengers.’ If Andropulos knew it wasn’t a jet carrying hundreds of passengers, his face wasn’t saying so.

‘It’s always possible.’ Talbot saw no point in telling Andropulos that it was almost certainly a bomber and equally certainly not carrying hundreds of passengers.

‘You – you mean to tell me that you left the area to come to our aid?’

‘A reasonable enough decision, I think. We were pretty certain that there were people alive aboard the Delos and we were also pretty certain that there was no one alive aboard that plane.’

‘There could have been survivors aboard that plane. I mean, you weren’t there to see.’

‘Mr Andropulos.’ Talbot allowed a certain coldness to creep into his voice. ‘We are, I hope, neither callous nor stupid. Before leaving, we lowered one of our motorboats to circle the area. There were no survivors.’

‘Oh dear,’ Irene Charial said, ‘Isn’t it awful? All those people dead and there we were, busy doing nothing except feeling sorry for ourselves. I’m not being inquisitive, Captain, and I know it’s none of my business, but why do you remain anchored here? I mean, there can’t possibly be any hope now that some survivors may surface.’

‘There is no hope, Miss Charial. We’re remaining here as a marker until the diving ship arrives.’ He didn’t like lying to her but thought it inadvisable to tell her that there was no rescue ship hurrying to the scene and that, as far as he knew, the only other people who knew of the disaster were the NATO HQ in Italy. More especially, he didn’t want any person or persons in her company to know.

‘But – but it will be too late to save anyone.’

‘It’s already too late, young lady. But they’ll send divers down to investigate, to find out whether it’s a passenger-carrying jet or not and to try to ascertain the cause of the accident.’ He was looking, without seeming to look, at Andropulos as he said the last words and felt almost certain that he saw a flicker of expression cross his face.

Andropulos’s captain, Aristotle, spoke for the first time. ‘How deep is this plane, Commander?’

‘Seventeen, eighteen fathoms. Just over thirty metres or so.’

‘Thirty metres,’ Andropulos said. ‘Even if they do get inside – and there’s no guarantee that they will be able to do so – won’t it be difficult to move around and see anything?’

‘I can guarantee they’ll get inside. There are such things as oxyacetylene torches, you know. And they’ll have powerful underwater torches. But they won’t bother with either of those things. The divers will carry down a couple of slings with them. A diving ship will have no difficulty at all in bringing the fuselage to the surface. Then they’ll be able to examine the plane at their leisure.’ This time there was no trace of expression in Andropulos’s face: Talbot wondered if he, Andropulos, had become aware that such changes in expression were being sought for.

Jenkins entered and handed Talbot a sealed envelope. ‘From the radio-room, sir. Myers said it was urgent.’

Talbot nodded, opened the envelope, extracted and read the slip of paper it had held. He slipped it in his pocket and stood.

‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I have to go to the bridge. Come along with me, Number One. I’ll join you at seven o’clock for dinner.’

Once outside, Van Gelder said: ‘You really are a fearful liar, sir. A fearfully good liar, I mean.’

‘Andropulos isn’t half bad, either.’

‘He’s had practice. Between the two of you – well, in his own phrase, it’s a close-run thing. Ah, thank you.’ He unfolded the slip of paper Talbot had handed him. ‘“Vitally urgent you remain in closest contact with downed plane Stop will join you earliest in the morning Stop Hawkins”. Isn’t that the Vice-Admiral, sir?’

‘None other. Vitally urgent and flying down to see us. What do you make of that?’

‘I make it that he knows something that we don’t.’

‘Indeed. Incidentally, you’ve kind of forgotten to tell me about your visit to sonar.’

‘Sorry about that, sir. I had something else on my mind.’

‘Somebody, not something. Having seen her I can understand. Well?’

‘The noise from the plane? Tick… tick… tick. Could be anything. Halzman half suggested it might be some sort of timing device. Could be that he’s right. I don’t want to sound alarmist, sir, but I don’t think I like it very much.’

‘I don’t particularly care for it myself. Well, then, the radio-room.’

‘I thought you said you were going to the bridge?’

‘That was for Andropulos’s benefit. The less that character knows about anything the better. I think he’s cunning, astute and alert for the slightest nuances.’

‘Is that why you didn’t make any reference to the engine-room explosion?’

‘Yes. I may, of course, be doing him a massive injustice. For all I know he may be as fresh and innocent as the dawn’s early dew.’

‘You don’t really believe that, sir.’

‘No.’

Myers was alone in the radio-room. ‘Another message to Rome,’ Talbot said. ‘Again Code B. To Vice-Admiral Hawkins. Message received. Strongly advise that you come soonest. Tonight. Report repeated two and a half second ticking sounds from plane. Could be timing device. Please phone immediately.’

‘A ticking sound, possibly a timing device, Talbot says.’ Vice-Admiral Hawkins was standing by Carson’s chair as the general read and reread the slip of paper Hawkins had just handed him.

‘A timing device. We don’t have to discuss the implications of this.’ From his high-rise office Carson looked out over the roofs of Rome, then at the colonel across the desk, then finally up at Hawkins. He pressed a button on his desk.

‘Get me the Pentagon.’

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was also standing as the man behind the desk read the slip of paper he had just been handed. He read it three times, laid it down carefully on the desk, smoothed it out and looked across at the Chairman. His face looked drawn and tired and old.

‘We know what this means, or what it could mean. If anything goes wrong the international repercussions will be enormous, General.’

‘I’m afraid I’m fully aware of that, sir. Apart from the universal condemnation, we will become the pariah dog, the outcasts of the world.’

‘And no hint of any Soviet involvement.’

‘None whatsoever. No proof, direct or indirect. As far as the world is concerned, they are blameless. My first reaction is that they are indeed blameless. My second thoughts are exactly the same. I can see no way they are linked with this. We bear the burden, sir.’

‘We bear the burden. And will stand condemned before the court of mankind.’ The General made no reply. ‘The Chiefs have no suggestions?’

‘None that I regard as very useful. In short, bluntly, none. We have to rely on our people out there. Carte blanche, sir?’

‘We have no option. How good are your men in the Mediterranean?’

‘The very best. No rhetoric, sir. I mean it.’

‘And this British vessel on the spot?’

‘The frigate Ariadne? A very special vessel indeed, I am given to understand. Whether or not it can cope with this, no one can say. There are too many imponderables.’

‘Do we pull it out?’

‘That’s not for my decision, sir.’

‘I know it’s not.’ He was silent for a long moment then said: ‘It may be our only hope. It stays.’

‘Yes, Mr President.’

Talbot was alone with Van Gelder on the bridge when the radio-room called.

‘I have voice contact with Rome, sir. Where will you take it?’

‘Here.’ He gestured to Van Gelder to take up a listening phone. ‘Talbot here.’

‘Hawkins. I’m leaving shortly with two civilians for Athens. You’ll have a phone call from there letting you know our estimated time of arrival. We’ll be landing on Thera Island. Have a launch standing by to meet us.’

‘Yes, sir. Take a taxi down to Athinio – there’s a new quay about two miles south of the Thira Village anchorage.’

‘My map shows that the Thira anchorage is nearer.’

‘What your map may not show is that the only way down to Thira anchorage is by mule-track down a precipitous cliff. A seven-hundred-foot cliff, to be precise.’

‘Thank you, Talbot. A life saved. You have not forgotten my twin bêtes noires, my fatal flaws. Till this evening, then.’

‘What bêtes noires?’ Van Gelder said. ‘What flaws?’

‘He hates horses. I would imagine the detestation extends to mules. And he suffers from acrophobia.’

‘That sounds a very nasty thing to suffer from. And what might that be?’

‘Vertigo. A fear of heights. Almost got him disbarred from entry to the Navy. He had a powerful aversion to climbing up rigging.’

‘You know him well, then?’

‘Pretty well. Now, this evening. I’d normally send young Henri to pick anybody up but Vice-Admiral Hawkins and the two no doubt equally distinguished civilians who are with him are not anybody. So we do it in style. A Lieutenant-Commander, I thought.’

‘My pleasure, sir.’

‘And tell them all you know about the plane, the Delos and the survivors. Also our suspicions about the survivors. Saves the time when they get here.’

‘I’ll do that. Speaking about the survivors, when I go ashore do you want me to take them along and dump them?’

‘You are unwell, Number One?’

‘I’m fine. Didn’t for a moment think you’d want them out of your sight. And we couldn’t very well abandon the two young ladies on that barren rock there.’

‘It’s as well the islanders can’t hear you. There’s fourteen hundred people in the Thira township and there’s a fair amount of tourist accommodation. And speaking again of the survivors, not to mention our three other visitors, we’ll have to find sleeping accommodation for them. The Admiral can have the admiral’s cabin – it’ll be the first time an admiral has slept there. There are three empty cabins. You can have mine, I’ll sleep here or in the chart-room. The rest, well, you fix it.’

‘Five minutes,’ said he confidently.

He was back in forty-five.

‘Took me a little longer than I thought. Ticklish problems.’

‘Who’s got my cabin?’

‘Irene. Eugenia has mine.’

‘It took you three-quarters of an hour to arrange that?’

‘Decisions, decisions. Calls for a little delicacy and a modicum of finesse.’

‘My word, you do do yourselves well, Commander,’ Andropulos said. He sipped some claret. ‘Or is this a special treat for us?’

‘Standard fare, I assure you.’ Andropulos, whom Grierson had reported as having a remarkable affinity for scotch, seemed relaxed to the point of garrulity. Talbot would have taken long odds that he was cold sober. He talked freely about quite a number of subjects, but had not once broached the question of being sent ashore. It was clear that he and Talbot had at least one thing in common – the wish that he remain aboard the Ariadne.

Jenkins came in and spoke softly to Van Gelder, who looked at Talbot.

‘Call from the radio-room. Shall I take it?’ Talbot nodded. Van Gelder left and returned within half a minute.

‘Call was delayed, sir. Difficulty in contacting us. They will be there in less than half an hour. I’d better go now.’

‘I’m expecting visitors later this evening,’ Talbot said, ‘I shall have to ask you not to come to the wardroom for some time after they come. Not for too long. Twenty minutes at the most.’

‘Visitors?’ Andropulos said. ‘At this time of the evening. Who on earth are they?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Andropulos. This is a naval vessel. There are certain things I can’t discuss with civilians.’