Seawitch

Chapter 7

COMMANDER Larsen and Scoffield observed the approach of the North Hudson helicopter with surprise but without undue concern. Lord Worth customarily gave advance warning of his arrival but could occasionally be forgetful on this point. In any event it was his helicopter and just about his expected time of arrival. They sauntered across the platform and arrived at the northeast helipad just as the helicopter touched down.

Surprisingly, no one emerged immediately from the machine. Larsen and Scoffield looked at each other in some perplexity, a perplexity that was considerably deepened when the disembarkation door slid back and Durand appeared in the doorway with a machine pistol cradled in his hands. Just behind him stood a similarly equipped henchman. From their shadowed position it was impossible for them to be observed by any of the rig duty crew.

Durand said: «Larsen and Scoffield? If you are carrying weapons, please don't be so foolish as to try to use them.» The boarding steps swung down. «Come and join us.»

The two men had no option. Once aboard, without taking his eyes off them, Durand said: «Kowenski, Rindler—see if they're armed.»

Both Larsen and Scoffield carried automatics but seemed quite indifferent to being deprived of them: their attention was directed exclusively to the presence of Lord Worth's daughters.

Marina smiled, albeit a trifle wanly. «We could have met under happier circumstances, Commander.»

Larsen nodded. «Your kidnapers. This can carry a death sentence.» He looked at Campbell. «Why did you fly those criminals out here?»

«Because I get very cowardly when I have a pistol barrel stuck in the back of my neck all the way from takeoff to touchdown.» Campbell spoke with a certain justifiable bitterness.

Larsen looked at Melinda. «Have you been mistreated in any way?»

«No.»

«And they won't be,» Durand said. «Unless, of course, you refuse to do as we tell you.»

«What does that mean?»

«You close down the Christmas tree.» This meant closing off all the oil supplies from the ocean floor.

«I'll be damned if I do.» Larsen's dark piratical face was suffused with fury. Here, Durand realized, was a man who, even without arms, could be highly dangerous. He glanced briefly at Rindler, who struck Larsen on the back of the neck with his machine pistol, a blow calculated to daze but not knock out. When Larsen's head had cleared he found that he had handcuffs and shackles around wrists and ankles. His attention then focused on a pair of gleaming stainless-steel medical cutters of the type favored by the surgical fraternity for snipping through ribs. The handles were in Durand's firm grip: the unpleasant operating end was closed lightly round the little finger of Melinda's right hand.

Durand said: «Lord Worth isn't going to like you too much for this, Larsen.»

Larsen, apparently, was of the same opinion. «All right, take those damned pliers away and get these bracelets off. I'll close down your damned Christmas tree.»

«And Fll come with you just to see that you really do turn it off. Not that I would recognize one if I saw it, but I do know that there are such things as flow gauges. Til be carrying a walkie talkie with me. Rindler here has another. FU keep in constant contact with him. If anything should happen to me—» Durand looked consideringly at the medical cutters, then handed them to Heffer, the fifth man in his team. He told Campbell to put his arms behind his seat back and handcuffed his wrists.

«Don't miss much, do you?» Larsen's voice was sour.

«You know how it is. So many villains around these days. Come on.»

The two men walked across the platform in the direction of the drilling rig. After only a few paces Durand stopped and looked around him admiringly.

«Well, well, now. Dual-purpose antiaircraft guns. Piles of depth charges. You'd almost think you're prepared to withstand a siege. Dear me, dear me. Federal offense you know. Lord Worth, even with the millions he can pay for lawyers, can get at least ten years in the pen for this.»

«What're you talking about?»

«Hardly standard equipment aboard an oil rig. Ill bet it wasn't here twenty-four hours ago. Fll bet it was inside the Mississippi naval arsenal that was broken into last night. The Government takes a dim view of people who steal military equipment. And, of course, you got to have specialists aboard who're skilled at handling stuff like that, and that's hardly part of the basic training of oil-rig crews. I wonder if those crews are also carrying special equipment—like, for instance, what was stolen from a Florida arsenal last night. I mean, two unrelated arsenal break-ins in the same night is too much coincidence. Twenty years in prison, with no chance of parole for you too, for aiding and abetting. And people call us criminals.»

Larsen had a few choice observations to make in return, none of which would have received the approval of even the most tolerant board of censors.

The Christmas tree was duly neutralized. The pressure gauges registered zero. Durand turned his attention to the Roomer, carrying out its short and wearisome patrol between the rig and the huge floating oil tank. «What's our friend up to?»

«Even a landlubber like you ought to be able to guess. He's patrolling the pipeline.»

«What the hell for? You could replace a cut line in a day. What would that get anybody? It's crazy.»

«You have to use crazy methods to deal with crazy people. From all accounts, Lord Worth's enemies should be locked up for their own good. For everybody's good.»

«Worth's band of cutthroats aboard this rig— who's their leader?»

«Giuseppe Palermo.”

«That mobster! So the noble Lord, along with his grand larceny, is an associate of convicted felons.»

«You know him, then?»

«Yeah.» Durand saw no point in elaborating upon the fact that he and Palermo had spent two prison terms together. «I want to talk to him.»

The talk was brief and one-sided. Durand said: «We've got Lord Worth's daughters prisoner. We're going to bring them toward the living quarters here, but we don't want you taking our two aces away from us. You'll stay inside in your quarters. If you don't you're gonna hear a lot of screaming and see pieces of fingers or ears dropped through your windows. I hope you believe me.»

Palermo believed him. Palermo had a reputation for ruthlessness that matched Durand's, but it couldn't begin to match Durand's unholy joy in sadism. Durand was perfectly capable of not only doing what he threatened but of deriving immense satisfaction in so doing.

Palermo returned to his Oriental quarters. Durand called up Rindler on the walkie-talkie and told them all to come across, including Campbell, the pilot. Campbell was tough and resourceful and it was just possible that, by standing up, he could slip his manacled arms over the back of his seat, step through them and take off. Whether he would have enough fuel for the return flight would be a problem for him, even though he would almost certainly head not for Florida but for the nearest spot on the mainland, which would be due south of New Orleans.

As the prisoners and guards disembarked from the helicopter Durand said: «Accommodations?»

«Plenty. There are spare rooms in the oriental quarters. There's Lord Worth's private suite.»

«Lockups?»

«What do you mean? This isn't a prison.»

«Storerooms? Ones that can be locked from the outside?»

«Yes.»

Durand looked at Larsen consideringly. «You're being very co-operative, Larsen. Your reputation says otherwise.»

«Two minutes' walk around and you could confirm all I'm saying for yourself.»

«You'd like to kill me, wouldn't you, Larsen?»

«When the time is ripe, yes. But it's not yet ripe.»

«Even so.» Durand produced a pistol. «Stay about ten feet away. You might be tempted to grab me and try to make the men let the girls go. A tempting thought, no?»

Larsen looked at him yearningly and said nothing.

The girls, the pilots and their four escorts arrived. Durand said: «Well, now, we gotta find some suitable overnight accommodation for you.» He led the way to the first of several storehouses and opened the door to reveal a room packed roof-high with canned goods. He shoved Campbell inside, locked the door and pocketed the key. The next storehouse contained coils of rope, a powerful smell of crude oil and an active, scuttling population of those indestructible creatures, cockroaches. Durand said to the two girls: «Inside.»

The girls took one shuddering look, then turned away. Marina said: «We will not go inside that disgusting place.»

Kowenski said in a gently chiding voice which accorded ill with the Colt he held in his hand: «Do you know what this is?» Rindler had a similar weapon trained on Melinda.

Both girls glanced briefly at each other and then, in what was obviously a prepared and rehearsed movement, walked toward the men with the guns, seized the barrels with their right hands and hooked their right thumbs behind their trigger forefingers, pulling the guns hard against themselves.

«Jesus Christ!» Durand was badly shaken; he had run up against many situations in his life, but this one lay far beyond his most remote conception. «You trying to commit suicide?»

Melinda said: «Precisely.» Her eyes never left Rindler's. «You're lower than those horrible cockroaches in there. You are vermin who are trying to destroy our father. With us dead, you won't have a single card left to play.»

«You're crazy! Simple plain crazy!”

«Maybe,» Marina said. «But for crazy people our logic is pretty good. With nothing to tie his hands you can imagine how our father will react—-especially since he and everyone else will believe that you murdered us. He won't have to go to the law, of course—you simply have no idea what power a few billion dollars can bring to bear. He'll destroy you and all your people to the last man.» She looked at Kowenski with contempt. «Why don't you press the trigger? No? Then let go your gun.» Kowenski released his gun and Rindler did the same, and the girls dropped them to the deck.

Melinda said: «My sister and I are taking a walk. We will return when you have quarters prepared fitting for Lord Worth's daughters.»

Durand's face had definitely lost color and his voice was hoarse and not quite steady as he tried to regain a measure of authority. «So take your walk. Heffer, go with them. Any trouble, shoot them in the legs.»

Marina stooped, picked up Kowenski's Colt, walked up to Heffer and rammed the muzzle into his left eye. Heffer recoiled, ho wring in agony. Marina said: «Fair deal. You shoot me through the leg—now, I mean—and Til blow your brains out.»

«God's sake!» Durand's voice was almost imploring. He was one step removed from wringing his hands. «Somebody's got to go with you. If you're out there on your own and in no danger, Palermo's men will cut us to pieces.»

«What a perfectly splendid idea.» Marina lowered the pistol and looked in distaste at Heffer, a rodent-faced creature of indeterminate age and nationality. «We see your point. But this—this animal is not to approach within ten yards of us at any time. That is understood?»

«Yes, yes, of course.» If they asked him for the moon, Durand would have somehow levitated himself and got it for them. Having overwhelmingly displayed what it was to have seventeen generations of highland aristocratic ancestry behind them, the two girls walked away toward one of the triangular perimeters. It was fully twenty yards before they both began, at the same instant, to tremble violently. Once started, they could not control the trembling and they prayed that the following Heffer could not notice it.

Marina-whispered shakily: «Would you do that again?»

«Never, never, never. Fd die.»

«I think we came pretty close to it. Do you think that Michael and John would be shaking like us after an experience like that?»

«No. If there's any truth in what Daddy hints, they'd already be planning what to do next. And Durand and his obnoxious friends wouldn't be shaking either. Dead men don't shake very much.»

Marina's trembling turned into a genuine shiver. «I only wish to God they were here right now.»

They stopped ten feet short of the platform perimeter. Neither girl had a head for heights. They turned and looked northeastward as the distant and muted roar of an aircraft engine came to their ears.

Durand and Larsen heard it at the same time. They could see nothing because dusk had already fallen, but neither man had any doubt as to the identity of the approaching helicopter and its occupants. With some satisfaction Durand said: «Company. This has to be Lord Worth. Where will they land?»

«The southeast helipad.»

Durand glanced across the platform to where the two girls were standing with Heffer, gun carried loosely in his right hand, less than the regulation ten yards away. Satisfied, Durand picked up his machine pistol and said: «Let's go and welcome his lordship aboard. Aaron, come with us.»

Larsen said: «You'd better hope Lord Worth proves more tractable than his daughters.»

«What do you mean?»

Larsen smiled in sardonic satisfaction. «You caught a couple of tigresses by the tails, didn't you?»

Durand scowled and walked away, followed by Larsen and Aaron, the latter armed similarly to Durand. They reached the southeast helipad just as the North Hudson helicopter touched down. Lord Worth himself was the first out. He stood at the foot of the steps and stared in disbelief at the armed men. He said to Larsen: «What in God's name goes on here?»

Durand said: «Welcome aboard the Seawitch, Lord Worth. You can regard me as your host and yourself as a guest—an honored guest, of course. There has been a slight change of ownership.»

Tm afraid that this man here—his name is Durand and I assume that he is one of Cronkite's lieutenants—»

«Cronkite!» Durand was jarred. «What do you know about Cronkite?»

«I can hardly congratulate him on his choice of lieutenants.» When Lord Worth poured on his icy contempt he used a king-sized trowel. «Do you think we are such fools as not to know who your employer is? Not that Cronkite has long to live. Nor you, either, for that matter.» Durand stirred uneasily—Lord Worth sounded far too much like his daughters for his peace of mind. Lord Worth directed his attention to Larsen. «One assumes that this ruffian arrived with accomplices. How many?»

«Four.»

«Four! But with Palermo and his men you have over twenty! How is it possible—»

Durand was back on balance. When he spoke it was with a slight, if logical, smugness. «We have something that Larsen hasn't. We have your daughters.»

What was apparently pure shock rendered Lord Worth temporarily speechless; then in a hoarse voice he said: «Great God almighty! My daughters!» Lord Worth could have had his Oscar just for the asking. «You—you are the kidnaper?»

«Fortunes of war, sir.» It said much for Lord Worth's aristocratic magnetism that even the most villainous eventually addressed him in respectful tones. «Now, if we could see the rest of the passengers.»

Mitchell and Roomer descended. In tan alpaca suits and horn-rimmed glasses they were innocu-ousness personified. Lord Worth said: «Mitchell and Roomer. Scientists—geologists and seismologists.» He turned to Mitchell and Roomer and said dully: «They're holding my daughters captive aboard the Seawitch.»

«Good God!» Mitchell was properly shocked. «But surely this is the last place—»

«Of course. The unexpected, keeping a couple of steps ahead of the opposition. What'd you come here for?»

«To find new sources of oil. We have a perfectly equipped laboratory here—»

«You could have saved your time. Can we search your bag and your friend's?»

«Have I any choice?»

«No.»

«Go ahead.»

«Aaron.»

Aaron carried out a quick examination of Mitchell's bag. «Clothes. Some scientific books and scientific instruments. Is all.»

Dr. Greenshaw clambered down the ladder, reached up and relieved the pilot of various bags and boxes. Durand looked at the door and said: «Who the hell is he?»

«Dr. Greenshaw,» Lord Worth said. «A highly respected doctor and surgeon. We did expect a certain amount of violence aboard the Seawitch. We came prepared. We do have a dispensary and small sick bay here.»

«Another wasted trip. We hold all the cards, and violence is the last thing we expect. We'll examine your equipment too, Doctor.»

«If you wish. As a doctor, I deal in life and not in death. I have no concealed weapons. The medical code forbids it.» Greenshaw sighed. «Please search but do not destroy.»

Durand pulled out his walkie-talkie. «Send one of Palermo's men across here with an electric truck—there's quite a bit of equipment to pick up.» He replaced his walkie-talkie and looked at Mitchell. «Your hands are shaking. Why?»

«I'm a man of peace,» Mitchell said. He crossed his hands behind his back to conceal the tremor.

Roomer, the only man to recognize the signals, licked his lips and looked at Mitchell in exaggerated nervous apprehension. Durand said: «Another hero. I hate cowards.»

Mitchell brought his hands in front of him. The tremor was still there. Durand stepped forward, his right hand swinging back as if to strike Mitchell open-handed, then let his hand fall in disgust, which was, unwittingly, the wisest thing he could have done. Durand's mind was incapable of picking up any psychic signals: had it been so attuned, he could not have failed to hear the black wings of the bird of death flapping above his head.

The only person who derived any satisfaction, carefully concealed, from this vignette, was Lar-sen. Although he had talked to Mitchell on the telephone he had never met him—but he had heard a great deal about him from Lord Worth, more than enough to make him realize that Mitchell would have reduced Durand to mincemeat sooner than back down before him. Mitchell had taken only seconds to establish the role he wished to establish—that of the cowardly nonentity who could be safely and contemptuously ignored. Larsen, who was no mean hand at taking care of people himself, felt strangely comforted.

Lord Worth said: «May I see my daughters?»

Durand considered, then nodded. «Search him, Aaron.»

Aaron, carefully avoiding Lord Worth's basilisk glare of icy outrage, duly searched. «He's clean, Mr. Durand.»

«Across there.» Durand pointed through the gathering gloom. «By the side of the platform.»

Lord Worth walked off without a word. The others made their way toward the accommodation quarters. As Lord Worth approached his daughters, Heffer barred his way.

«Where do you think you're going, mister?»

«Lord Worth to you, peasant.»

Heffer pulled out his walkie-talkie. «Mr. Durand? There's a guy here—»

Durand's voice crackled over the receiver. «That's Lord Worth. He's been searched and he's got my permission to speak to his daughters.»

Lord Worth plucked the walkie-talkie from Heffer. «And would you please instruct this individual to remain outside listening range?»

«You heard, Heffer.» The walkie-talkie went dead.

The reunion between father and daughters was a tearful and impassioned one, at least on the daughters* side. Lord Worth was all that a doting parent reunited with his kidnaped children should have been, but his effusiveness was kept well under control. Marina was the first to notice this.

«Aren't you glad to see us again, Daddy?»

Lord Worth hugged them both and said simply: «You two are my whole life. If you don't know that by this time, you will never know it.»

«You've never said that before.» Even in the deepening dusk it was possible to see the sheen of tears in Melinda's eyes.

«I did not think it necessary. I thought you always knew. Perhaps I'm a remiss parent, perhaps still too much the reserved highlander. But all my billions aren't worth a lock of your black hair, Marina, or a lock of your red hair, Me-linda.»

«Titian, Daddy, titian. How often must I tell you?» Melinda was openly crying now.

It was Marina, always the more shrewd and perceptive of the two, who put her finger on it. «You aren't surprised to see us, Daddy, are you? You knew we were here.»

«Of course I knew.»

«How?»

«My agents,» Lord Worth said loftily, «lie thick upon the ground.»

«And what is going to happen now?»

Lord Worth was frank. «I'm damned if I know.»

«We saw three other men come off the helicopter. Didn't recognize them—getting too dark.»

«One was a Dr. Greenshaw. Excellent surgeon.»

Melinda said: «What do you want a surgeon for?»

«Don't be silly. What does anyone want a surgeon for? You think we're going to hand over the Seawitch on a platter?-»

«And the other two?»

«You don't know them. You've never heard of them. And if you do meet them you will give no indication that you recognize them or have ever seen them before.»

Marina said: «Michael and John.»

«Yes. Remember—you've never seen them before.»

«We'll remember,» the girls said almost in chorus. Their faces were transformed. Marina said: «But they'll be in great danger. Why are they here?»

«Something to do, I understand, with then-stated intent of taking you back home.»

«How-are they going to do that?»

Again Lord Worth was frank. «I don't know. H they know, they wouldn't tell me. They've become bossy, very bossy. Watch me like a hawk: Won't even let me near my own blasted phone.» The girls refrained from smiling, principally because Lord Worth didn't seem particularly perturbed. «Mitchell, especially, seems in a very tetchy mood.» Lord Worth spoke with some relish. «Near as a whisker killed Durand inside the first minute. Would have, too, if you weren't being held hostage. Well, let's go to my suite. I've been to Washington and back. Long tiring day. I need refreshment.»

Durand went into the radio room, told the regular operator that his services would not be required until further notice and that he was to return to his quarters and remain there. The operator left. Durand, himself an expert radio operator, raised the Georgia within a minute and was speaking to Cronkite thirty seconds later.

«Everything under control on the Seawitch. We have the two girls here and Lord Worth himself.»

«Excellent.» Cronkite was pleased. Everything was going his way, but, then, he had expected nothing else. «Lord Worth bring anyone with him?»

«The pilot and three other people. A doctor— surgeon, he says, and he seems on the level. Worth seems to have expected some blood to be spilled. I'll check his credentials in Florida in a few minutes. Also, two technicians—seismologists, or something like them. Genuine and harmless—the sight of a machine pistol gives them St. Virus's Dance. They're unarmed.»

«So no worries?»

«Well, three. Worth has a squad of about twenty men aboard. They look like trained killers and I'm pretty sure they're all ex-military. They have to be because of my second worry—Worth has eight dual-purpose antiaircraft guns bolted to the platform.»

«The hell he has!»

«Yeah—also piles of mines on the sides of the platform. Now we know who heisted the Mississippi naval arsenal last night. And the third problem is that we're far too thin on the ground. There's only me and four others to watch everybody. Some of us have to sleep sometimes. I need reinforcements and I need 'em fast.»

«You'll have over twenty arriving at dawn tomorrow morning. The relief rig crew are due in then. A man named Gregson—you'll recognize him by the biggest red beard you ever saw—will be in charge.»

«I can't wait that long. I need reinforcements now. You have your chopper on the Georgia.»

«What do you think I carry on the Georgia, an army of reinforcements?» Cronkite paused, then went on reluctantly: «I can spare eight men, no more.»

«They have radar aboard.”

«So they have radar. What difference does it make? You're hi command.»

«Yeah, Mr. Cronkite. But your own golden rule—never take a chance.»

«When you hear our helicopter has taken off, neutralize it»

«Destroy the radar cabin?»

«No. We're going to want to use it when we've completely taken over. The scanner will be on top of the drilling derrick. Right?»

«Right.»

«It's a simple mechanical job to stop it from turning. All you need is someone with a wrench and a head for heights. Now tell me exactly where Worth's men are quartered. Gregson will need this information.»

Durand told him what he wanted to know and hung up.

The dispensary-sick bay and the laboratory were next to each other. Mitchell and Roomer were helping Dr. Greenshaw unpack his very considerable amount of medical equipment. They were, understandably, not unguarded, but Aaron and his Schmeisser were on watch on the two outside doors, and Aaron was hardly in an alert or trigger-ready state of mind. In fact, he regarded his vigil as being close to pointless. He had been present when the three men disembarked from the helicopter and had formed the same opinion of them as Durand.

In the sick bay Dr. Greenshaw up-ended and removed the false bottom of one of his medical supply boxes. With a gingerly and patently nervous apprehension, he took out two belt holsters, two Smith & Wesson .38s, two silencers and two spare magazines. Wordlessly, Mitchell and Roomer buckled on the weaponry. Dr. Greenshaw, a man, as they were discovering, of a genuinely devout turn of mind, said: «I only hope no one discovers you wearing those pistols.»

Roomer said: «We appreciate your concern, Doctor. But don't worry about us.»

«I wasn't worrying about you.» Dr. Greenshaw assumed his most somber expression. «A good Christian can also pray for the souls of the ungodly.»

A long distance away the meeting of ten was again assembled at Lake Tahoe. At the former meeting the atmosphere had been hopeful, forceful and determined, the participants confident that things would go their way, spuriously motivated by their expressed intent to avert a third world war. On this evening the spirit—if that was the word—of the meeting had changed about by 180 degrees. They were depressed, vacillating, uncertain and wholly lacking in confidence, especially in view of the fact that their allegedly humanitarian attempts to prevent the outbreak of war seemed to be having precisely the opposite effect.

Again, as it was his holiday home, Benson was hosting the meeting. But this time Benson was also undoubtedly the man in charge. Opening the discussion, he said: «Gentlemen, we are in trouble. Not just simple, plain trouble, but enormous trouble that could bring us all down. It stems from two facts—we underestimated Lord Worth's extraordinary power and we overestimated Cronkite's ability to handle the situation with a suitable degree of discretion and tact. I admit I was responsible for introducing Cronkite to you, but on the other hand, you were unanimous in your belief that Cronkite was the only man to handle the job. And we were not aware that Cronkite's detestation of Lord Worth ran to the extent of a virulent and irresponsible hatred.

«I have friends in the Pentagon, not important ones but ones that matter. The Pentagon, normally, like any other department of government, leaks secrets like a broken sieve. This time I had to pay twenty thousand dollars to a stenographer and the same to a cipher clerk which, for a pair of comparatively lowly paid government employees, represents a pretty fair return for a few hours' work.

«First, everything is known about our previous meeting here, every word and sentiment that was expressed and the identities of all of us.» Benson paused and looked round the room, partly to allow time for the damning enormity of this information to sink in, partly to make it clear that he expected to be recompensed for his very considerable outlay.

Mr. A, one of the vastly powerful Arabian Gulf potentates, said: «I thought our security was one hundred per cent. How could anyone have known of our presence?»

«No external agency was involved, I have good friends in California intelligence. Their interest in us is zero. Nor was the FBI involved. For that to have happened we'd have had to commit some crime and then cross state lines.

Neither of those have we done. And before we met last time I had an electronics expert in to check not only this room but the entire house for bugs. There were none.»

Mr. A said: 'Terhaps he planted a bug?»

«Impossible. Apart from the fact that he's an old friend of immaculate reputation, I was with him all the time, a fact that did not prevent me from calling in a second expert.»

Patinos, the Venezuelan, said: «We give you full marks for security. That leaves only one possibility. One of us here is a traitor.»

«Yes.»

«Who?»

«I have no idea. We shall probably never know.»

Mr. A stroked his beard. «Mr. Corral here lives very close to Lord Worth, no?»

Corral said: «Thank you very much.»

Benson said: «Intelligent men don't make so obvious a link.»

«As you said at our previous meeting, Fm the only person who had no declared interest in being here.» Borosoff seemed quietly relaxed. «I could be your man.»

«It's a point, but one which I don't accept. Whether you are here to stir up trouble between the United States and Russia may or may not be the case. Again it comes down to the factor of intelligence.» Benson was being disarmingly frank. «You could be, and probably are, a Soviet agent But top agents are never caught in the role of agent provocateur. I am not complimenting you on your unquestioned intelligence. I prefer to rely on simple common sense.» Benson, who appeared to have developed a new maturity and authority, looked around the company. «Every word spoken here will doubtless be relayed to either Lord Worth or the State Department, It no longer matters. We are here to set right any wrongs for which we may have been—however unwittingly, I may say—responsible.

«We know that a Russian missile naval craft and a Russian-built Cuban submarine are closing in on the Seawitch. We also know that a Venezuelan destroyer is doing the same. What you don't know is that countermeasures are being taken. My information—and the source is impeccable—is that Lord Worth was today closeted with Benton, the Secretary of State, in Washington. My further information is that Benton was only partially convinced by Lord Worth's suspicions. He was, unfortunately, wholly convinced when the news came through of Cron-kite's irresponsible folly in kidnaping Lord Worth's two daughters. As a result, a United States cruiser and destroyer, both armed with the most sophisticated weaponry, have moved out into the Gulf of Mexico. An American nuclear submarine is already patrolling those waters. Another American vessel is already shadowing your destroyer, Mr. Patinos: your destroyer, with its vastly inferior detecting equipment, is wholly unaware of this. Additionally, at a Louisiana air base, a squadron of supersonic fighter-bombers is on instant alert.

«The Americans are no longer in any mood to play around. My information is that they are prepared for a showdown and are prepared for the eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation which John Kennedy had with Khrushchev over Cuba. The Russians, clearly, would never risk a local nuclear confrontation where the home-territory advantages are so overwhelmingly American. Neither side would dream of mounting a pre-emptive strike over the issue of a few pennies on a barrel of oil. But if the hot line between Washington and Moscow begins to burn, national prestige will make it difficult for either side to back down until they arrive at a face-saving formula, which could take quite some time and would, much worse, generate overwhelming worldwide publicity. This would inevitably involve us. So I would advise you, Mr. Borosoff and Mr. Patinos, to call off your dogs of war before that hot line starts burning. That way, and only in that way, can we survive with our good names left un-besmirched. I blame neither of you gentlemen. You may have given the nod to Cronkite, but you did not reckon on the possibility that Cronkite would carry matters to such ridiculous lengths. Please, please believe me that the Americans will not hesitate to blast your ships out of the water.»

Oil ministers do not become oil ministers because they are mentally retarded. Patinos smiled a smile of wry resignation. «I do not relish the thought of personal ruin. Nor do I relish the thought of becoming a scapegoat for my government.» He looked across at Borosoff. «We call off the dogs of war?»

Borosoff nodded. «Back to their kennels and no alas. I wish to return to my Russia and this will give me great face, for they will not have to lose face in the world.»

Mr. A leaned back in his chair. His relief was manifest. «Well, that would seem to cover that.»

«It covers most of it,» Benson said. «But not all. Another very unpleasant and potentially terrifying crime occurred this afternoon. I heard of it only an hour ago and it will be the hottest topic in the nation tonight. I only hope to God that, although we were in no way responsible for it, we won't be implicated in it A place called Netley Rowan Arsenal was broken into this afternoon. It's supposed to be just another arms depot insofar as the public is concerned— and so, mainly, it is. But it's also a TNW arsenal. TNW means 'tactical nuclear weapons.* Two of them were stolen in the break-in and appear to have vanished without trace.»

«God above!» The expression and tone of the man from Honduras accurately reflected the shocked feelings of all around the table. «Cron-kite?»

«I'd bet on it. No proof, naturally, but who the hell else?»

Henderson said: «No disrespect to Mr. Boro-soff here, but couldn't the Russians, say, have been seeking a prototype?»

Benson looked as weary as his voice sounded. «The Russians already have God knows how many of those things. It's public knowledge that they have thousands of them deployed along the border between the Warsaw pact and NATO countries—many of them, it is suspected, more sophisticated than ours. The Russians need our TNWs the way they need bows and arrows.» Borosoff, despite the anxiety he shared with the others, permitted himself the ghost of a smile of complacency, «Cronkite. The man's running wild.»

Mr. A said: «You think he's so totally crazy as to use a nuclear device against the Seawitch?»

«I do not profess to understand the workings of an obviously diseased mind,» Benson said. «He's capable of anything.»

Patinos said: «What's this weapon like?»

«I don't know. I phoned the Pentagon, a very senior official there, but although he's an old friend of mine, he refused to release highly classified information. All I know is that it can be used as a land-based time bomb—I suppose that ineludes the sea as well—or as an aircraft bomb. It can only be used in a limited number of supersonic fighter-bombers, which will already, I suppose, be under the heaviest security guard ever, which would strike me as a superfluous precaution as there is no chance that Cronkite, even with his obviously wide range of contacts, could know anyone who could fly one of those planes.»

«So what happens?»

«I think we'd better consult an astrologer on that one. All I know is that Cronkite has gone stark raving mad.»

Cronkite, aboard the Georgia, would have thought the same of them. He had a job to do and he was doing it to the best of his ability. Had he known of the possible withdrawal of the warships that had sailed from Cuba and Venezuela, he would not have been unduly concerned. He had had some vague idea that they might have been useful to him in some way, but he had primarily wished to have them as a cover and a smokescreen. Cronkite's vendetta against Lord Worth was a highly personal and extremely vindictive one and he wanted no other than himself to administer the coup de grace. Retribution exacted through the medium of other hands would not do at all.

Meantime, he was well content. He was convinced that the Seawitch was in his hands.

Come the dawn it would be doubly in his hands. He knew of their defenses and radar. The Starlight, under Easton, was waiting until full darkness before it moved hi for the initial attack, and as rain had been falling steadily for some time now and the lowering sky blotted out the quarter-moon, it promised to be as nearly dark as it ever becomes at sea.

A message was brought to him from the radio office. Cronkite glanced at it briefly, picked up the phone to the helipad and reached the pilot in his shelter. «Ready to go, Wilson?»

«Whenever you say, Mr. Cronkite.»

«Then, now.» Cronkite closed a rheostat switch and a dull glow of light outlined the helipad, just enough to let Wilson make a clean takeoff. The helicopter made a half-circle, switched on its landing light and made a smooth landing on the calm waters less than a hundred yards from the stationary Georgia. -

Cronkite called the radar1 room. «You have him on the screen?»

«Yes, sir. He's making an instrument approach on our radar.»

«Let me know when he's about three miles out.»

Less than a minute later the operator gave him the word. Cronkite turned the rheostat to full and the helipad became brilliantly illuminated.

A minute later a helicopter, landing lights on, appeared from the north through the driving rain. Just over another minute later it touched down as delicately as a moth, an understandable precaution by the pilot, in view of the cargo he was carrying. The fueling hoses were connected immediately. The door opened and three men descended—the alleged Colonel Farquharson, Lieutenant Colonel Dewings and Major Breck-ley, who had been responsible for the Netley Rowan Arsenal break-in. They helped unload two large, double-handed and obviously very heavy suitcases. Cronkite, with suitable admonitions as to delicacy in handling, showed crew members where to stow the cases in shelter.

Within ten minutes the helicopter was on its way back to the mainland. Five minutes after that, the Georgia's own helicopter had returned and ail the helipad lights were switched off.