The Freedom Trap [= The Mackintosh Man]

I

‘How did you get hold of him?’ Wheeler asked the skipper.

‘Mehmet found a hook on the stern rail and a rope leading to the water. He removed it and told me. I set up a watch.’

Wheeler nodded. ‘You didn’t know whether someone was going to come on board or leave,’ he commented.

The skipper waved his hand at me and Slade. ‘We caught these two leaving. This idiot... ’ He stabbed his finger at Lynch... let them go.’

Wheeler regarded Lynch frostily. ‘I’ll talk to you later. Now get below.’

Lynch looked as though he was about to expostulate but he caught the cold glare from Wheeler’s eye and promptly turned on his heel and went away, giving me a look of dislike as he went. I was beginning to improve physically; my shoulders no longer felt totally dislocated and although my belly was one massive ache I could now breathe more or less normally.

Wheeler said, ‘Well, Mr Stannard; how did you expect to take Slade ashore? By boat? Where is it?’

‘I swam out,’ I said.

‘And you were going to swim back,’ he said incredulously. With Slade a cripple? I don’t believe you.’ He swung around to the skipper. ‘Make a search for the boat.’

The skipper didn’t move. ‘It’s being done.’

Wheeler nodded approvingly and crossed to Slade who had now sagged into a chair. ‘My dear chap,’ he said anxiously. ‘What possessed you to leave with this man? Do you know who he is? If you had left the ship he would have put you in the hands of the police. And you know what that would mean — forty years in a British gaol. What sort of tale could he have told you?’

Slade wearily lifted up his head. ‘I know you,’ he said, ‘we’ve met before.’

‘Yes — in happier circumstances,’ said Wheeler. ‘Once at an EFTA conference and again, if my memory is correct, at a dinner given by some industrial organization or other — I forget which.’

‘Your name is Wheeler, you’re a member of Parliament. Why should you want to help me?‘

‘A good question,’ I said. ‘Answer him, Wheeler. Tell Slade why you are willing to commit treason.’ I rubbed my sore stomach tentatively. ‘As far as I know treason still carries the death penalty — it isn’t covered by the Act of Parliament which abolished hanging for murder.’ I grinned at him. ‘But who should know that better than you?’

Wheeler didn’t rile easily. He smiled, and said coolly, ‘I am helping you because I don’t recognize British law; because, like you, I’m fighting for a better world.’ He put his hand on Slade’s shoulder. ‘Because, also like you, I’m a good communist.’

‘Then why didn’t I know about you?’ asked Slade. ‘I should have known.’

‘Why should you have known? You didn’t need to know, and therefore you weren’t told. It was safer that way.’ Wheeler smiled. ‘You might have been important, Slade, but you were never as important as I am.’

I corrected him. ‘As important as you were. You’re finished, Wheeler.’

Apart from gently shaking his head he ignored me. With his eyes fixed on Slade, he said, ‘What nonsense has Stannard been filling you up with? You’re a fool if you believe the enemy.’

Slade said, ‘What are we doing here in Malta?’

Wheeler straightened and laughed. ‘So that’s the maggot he’s put in your mind. I’m taking you home, of course. I spend my annual holiday in the Mediterranean; it would have looked damned suspicious if I’d gone to the Baltic this year. Even for you I wouldn’t risk that.’

I said to Slade, ‘Ask him if he’s read any good thoughts lately — from the Little Red Book.’

‘You’re an Albanian,’ said Slade flatly. ‘I don’t trust you.’

‘So that’s it,’ said Wheeler softly. ‘Does it make any difference?’

Slade nodded towards the silent Chinese who stood behind Wheeler. ‘He does.’

I chipped in again. ‘He makes a hell of a difference. Wheeler says he’s taking you home. Home is where the heart is, and his heart is in Peking.’

That got to Wheeler. He said venomously, ‘I think I’ll have to shut you up — permanently.’ He relaxed again and struck his hands lightly together. ‘Not that it makes much difference whether you know or not, Slade. It made things easier as long as you believed you were going to Moscow — a willing prisoner is easier to handle. But we’ve got you and you’ll still get to your destination intact.’

From the look in Slade’s eyes I doubted it. It wouldn’t be beyond his capabilities to commit suicide somewhere along the way, and death would be far preferable to the information-extracting process awaiting him in China. Besides, under the circumstances it was his duty to commit suicide. Any man in his position knew that when it came to this sort of crunch he was expendable.

But Wheeler was ahead of us on that one. ‘Your confinement will be more rigorous, of course. We can’t have you hanging yourself by your braces.’

‘Do I get to go along?’ I asked.

Wheeler looked at me reflectively. ‘You?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t think my friends would be interested in you. You’ve been out of the game too long to know much about recent developments in British Intelligence. A South African sleeper is of no consequence.’ He half turned his head and said over his shoulder. ‘What do you think?’

The Chinese spoke for the first time. ‘He is of no use, but he is dangerous because of what he knows,’ he said dispassionately. ‘Kill him.’

I said something indescribably rude in Mandarin, and he opened his mouth in surprise. Orientals aren’t all that inscrutable.

‘Yes, Stannard; we must kill you. But how to do it?’ Wheeler asked himself pensively. ‘I have it. We discover a stowaway on board — an armed stowaway. There is a scuffle on his discovery and a shot is fired — the stowaway is killed with his own gun. We notify the police here and he turns out to be none other than Rearden, the British gaol-breaker.’ He smiled. ‘That would do a lot for my image; think of the headlines in the British press. What do you think of it?’

‘Not much,’ I said. ‘If you turn me in to the police they’ll want to know about Slade, too. He’s a hell of a sight more important than I am. They’ll want to search this ship, and they’ll take it apart. You wouldn’t want them to do that with Slade still aboard.’

Wheeler nodded. ‘True. I’m afraid I must forgo that charming theatricality; my image must do without it. Besides, before you die there are some questions to be answered, such as what accomplices you have. That reminds me.’ He turned to the skipper. ‘What result of the search for his boat?’

‘I’ll find out,’ said the skipper, and left the lounge.

I sighed. ‘I came aboard alone.’

Wheeler nodded. ‘You were alone at the beginning — I know that. But you might have picked up someone along the way. You realize that I must be certain.’ He indicated the Chinese. ‘My friend has ways of making sure, but you won’t want to hear about that.’

I looked about the lounge casually. The departure of the skipper had reduced the odds against me, but not by much. There were two seamen behind me, one covering me with my own gun, and Wheeler and the Chinese were in front. The Chinese held his hand in his pocket and I was certain he also had a gun. I looked at Slade and wondered if he’d join me if it came to putting up a fight.

I said, ‘I’d like to know how you got on to Mackintosh and me so fast. You seem to know all about me — including my South African history.’

Wheeler chuckled. ‘You British are a nation of amateurs — and that goes for your intelligence services. I was told about you, of course.’

I was genuinely bewildered. ‘Who could have told you? There was only Mackintosh and me.’

‘Precisely. And you didn’t tell me.’

My jaw dropped and I stared at Wheeler incredulously. ‘Mackintosh?’

‘Who else could — as you point out. He was a little drunk and very indiscreet. I had no difficulty in flattering the fool. Towards the end he realized he was saying too much and shut up, but I got enough out of him.’ He laughed. ‘We were having a discussion on prison reform at the time.’

I was bewildered. Wheeler’s description didn’t fit the Mackintosh I knew, who was not a fool and certainly not susceptible to flattery. What in hell had Mackintosh been doing to blow things like that?

‘He’s dead, of course,’ said Wheeler casually. ‘I saw to that immediately as soon as I was certain we had you safe in Ireland. But we didn’t have you safe, did we? Those IRA clowns are also amateurs. Never mind; here you are and all is well, after all.’

I felt chilled to my bones. Whether Mackintosh was dead or not — and that was a moot point because I had told Alison to spread the word of his impending demise — I felt betrayed and utterly alone. Like a man who treads on a stair that isn’t there. I felt jolted. I had to believe Wheeler because nothing else made sense, and yet Mackintosh’s betrayal didn’t make sense, either. Unless...

The skipper returned, breaking my chain of thought. ‘No boat found,’ he said.

Wheeler was fitting another cigarette into his holder. ‘You may have been telling the truth, after all,’ he said. He turned his head to the skipper. ‘I want safe places for these two separately. What do you suggest?’

‘Slade can go back to the cabin,’ said the skipper.

‘After what has just happened?’ Wheeler lifted his eyebrows.

The Chinese said, ‘He must be manacled to the bed, and a man must stay in the cabin all the time. He must not be permitted to make noise.’

Wheeler thought about it. ‘All right; what about Stannard?’

‘The forepeak; there’s a steel bulkhead with a watertight door. He won’t get out of there.’

Wheeler nodded curtly, then said to me, ‘I’m afraid your interrogation will have to be postponed until we’re away from land. The sound of a man screaming travels a long way.’ He waved his hand and I found my arm held. ‘By the way, were you responsible for what happened to our screws?’

‘What’s happened to your screws?’ I managed to grin. ‘Are they loose?’

‘Very stiff-upper-lipped,’ commented Wheeler. ‘A quip in the face of death — very British. Take him away.’

I was hustled out of the lounge, a man on each side of me. I passed Slade whose face was yellowy-grey and who looked absolutely defeated and then I was thrust out on to the stern deck. There were now lights aboard Artina and, as we went forward along the side-deck, I saw that the man on my right still carried my gun. I didn’t like the sound of that forepeak; from what I had seen of it on the plans of Artina’s sister ship it was only four feet high — a hermetically-sealed steel box. The odds were I’d die of heat-stroke or suffocation.

But relish the prospect or not, the man next to me had a gun. The fact that he wasn’t pointing it directly at me made not a ha’porth of difference — not while he gripped my arm and the man on the other side held me in a hammer-lock.

They pushed me along the deck until we were amidships and then there was a noise like a dud firecracker and the man with a gun gave a yelp and dropped it on to the deck. He stopped and looked at the blood oozing from the hole in the back of his hand, and let go of me. I’d heard that dud firecracker go off before.

I heard it go off again and saw a brief flash of light from the top of the deckhouse. The seaman who had me in the hammer-lock stumbled slightly and his grip loosened. He went down in apparent slow motion and I saw there was a dark red spot in the middle of his forehead.

‘Jump, you damned fool,’ yelled Alison, and I went over the side in an inelegant dive, arms and legs going every which way. I landed in the water with a hell of a splash and heard, two seconds later, another neater and more ladylike splash as Alison joined me.

I wasted no time in getting under the surface and swam in a circle searching for her. My hand touched her leg and she twisted in the water and grabbed my wrist. I pulled, leading her, and we swam deep and under Artina. It would be natural for anyone to look for us from the side of the ship from which we had jumped and I wanted to get away from there.

Matters were complicated by the fact that I was running out of air. Things had happened so fast that I hadn’t had time to prepare myself by taking a good lungful of air, and that wasn’t so good. I didn’t want to come up within shooting distance of the ship. I compromised by coming up for air under Artina’s stern, hanging on to her rudder with just my nose and mouth above water. Alison joined me.

I took a few deep breaths and then allowed an ear out of the water. Things were going pop on deck; men ran along the deck in a seemingly confused way and the deep rumble of the skipper’s voice held a note of menace. I prodded Alison under the chin so that her head came out of the water and whispered into her ear. ‘Swim to Ta’Xbiex — under water as far as possible. I’ll meet you at the place we left.’

She wasted no time in answering but sank under water and vanished. I took a last breath and followed her. Normally I like swimming but this was getting to be a bit too much; I like to swim in water I know to be clean. I took it easy, letting the air dribble from my mouth as the strain grew intolerable. When it finally became impossible to stay under any longer I surfaced face upwards, letting only my nose and mouth break the surface.

I cleared my lungs in four breaths and then risked a glance back at Artina. A searchlight was probing the water again but not in my direction. As I was about to go under again I heard a roar and ducked under just in time as a fast launch came hurtling in my direction. I struck out strongly to gain depth and the launch passed directly overhead, the disturbance of the wake buffeting me in the water.

Three times I had to surface before I came to the shore or, rather to the long line of yachts moored stern on to the wharf of the Lazzaretto Creek Marina. I came up under the bows of a floating gin palace, puffing and panting in an attempt to get my breath back, but I soon stopped that when I heard the pad of naked feet on the deck above.

Whoever it was seemed irritable. ‘More uproar — everyone rushin’ about in the middle of the night. What the hell do they think they’re doin’?’

A woman said, ‘I thought I heard fireworks earlier.’

‘Fireworks be damned — they’re tomorrow night. And who the hell lets off fireworks at this time in the mornin’?’

The launch came by again, going at a hell of a clip, and the boat I was holding on to rocked heavily in the swell of its passage. This provoked an outburst of rage from above. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doin’?’ the man screamed, and I pictured him as a peppery, curry-voiced retired colonel.

His wife said, ‘You’re making more noise than anyone else, George. Come back to bed!’

There was the slap of bare feet on the deck as they padded away. ‘All right; but a fat lot of sleep I’ll get,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ll see the manager tomorrow. We can’t have this happenin’ at night.’

I grinned and swam a couple of boats down the line before climbing ashore. Then I dog-trotted towards the place I’d assigned to meet Alison, hoping that she’d made it. I was worried about Alison for a number of reasons. Back in Ireland she had been distrustful of me and had wondered out loud if I hadn’t sold out to the Scarperers. Now I was distrustful of her.

If what Wheeler had said was true — that Mackintosh had blown the gaff — then I was really in trouble because Mackintosh wouldn’t do a thing like that unheedingly. But why should I believe Wheeler? What incentive did he have to tell me the truth? In that case there was only one other person who could have sold out — Alison!

What brought that line of thought up short with a jerk was the recent episode on Artina. If Alison had sold out then why did she rescue me? Why did she pop off with that natty pistol of hers to wound one man, kill another, and get Stannard off the hot spot? That made even less sense. But I determined to keep a careful eye on Mrs Alison Smith in the future — providing she hadn’t been run down by that launch.

II

I waited for fifteen minutes before she arrived. She was exhausted — so weary she couldn’t pull herself from the water. I hauled her out and waited for a while until she recovered sufficiently to speak. Her first words were, ‘That damned boat — nearly ran me down twice.’

‘Did they see you?’

She shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t think so — they were just lucky.’

‘They nearly got me,’ I said. ‘What happened to our boat?’

‘I saw a man find the grapnel,’ she said. ‘And I knew you’d be in trouble. I went to the bows and climbed the anchor cable, and just let the boat drift.’

‘Lucky for me you did. You’re pretty handy with that popgun.’

‘Six yards — no more. Anyone could do that.’

‘Anyone wasn’t there,’ I said. ‘You were.’

She looked about her. ‘We’d better move. We could be picked up if we stay here.’

I shook my head. ‘We’re pretty safe. This harbour has so many inlets and creeks that Wheeler and his boys would have to search ten miles of coastline. But you’re right — we’d better move on. It’s a long walk back to the hotel and I want to get there before it’s light. Do you feel fit?’

Alison got to her feet. ‘I’m ready.’

It would take us, I estimated, a good hour to walk back to the hotel. We walked silently; I don’t know what Alison was thinking but I was busy wondering what the hell to do next. At last I said, ‘Well, I’ve fallen down on this one — my instructions were to bring Slade back or to kill him. I’ve done neither.’

‘I can’t see that you could have done differently,’ said Alison.

‘Yes, I could — I could have killed Slade on that yacht but I tried to bring him out.’

‘It isn’t easy to kill a sleeping man,’ she said, and shivered. ‘It isn’t easy to kill anyone.’

I gave her a sideways glance and wondered about her. All that training must have produced something. ‘How many men have you killed?’

‘One,’ she said, and her voice caught. ‘To... night.’ She started to shake violently.

I put my arm around her. ‘Take it easy. It’s a bad reaction, but it wears off in time. I know.’ I damned Mackintosh for what he had done to his daughter. Yet at least he had made her into a professional and she would respond to the right stimulus just like one of Pavlov’s dogs. To take her mind off what she had just done I said, ‘We must leave the hotel.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But what then?’

‘I’m damned if I know,’ I admitted. ‘It all depends on how much damage we’ve done to Wheeler’s yacht. If she moves we’re finished.’

‘And if she doesn’t?’

‘We have another chance.’

‘You can’t go on board again — that won’t work twice.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I must think of something else.’ We fell into a dispirited silence as we trudged along. We were both wet and it was cold in the early hours of the morning. We were also tired, and none of this helped us to think straight.

The sun was rising as we came into Floriana and there were a few people stirring in the streets. During our long walk our clothes had pretty well dried out and we didn’t attract undue attention. Presently we passed workmen with ladders who were stringing up rows of gay bunting across the street. ‘Those boys have started early,’ I said. ‘What’s the celebration?’

‘There’s a festa today,’ said Alison. ‘They’re always having them here.’

I remembered the disgruntled man who had complained about noise in the harbour. ‘They’ll be having fireworks tonight, then.’

‘Inevitably. The two go together in Malta.’

Something prickled at the back of my mind — the first stirrings of an idea. I left it alone to grow in its own good time. ‘How much money have we got?’

‘About three thousand pounds — including the five hundred I gave you.’

At least we were well equipped with the sinews of war. The idea burgeoned a little more, but I’d have to study the plans of Artina’s sister ship a little more closely before I could bring it into the open.

A sleepy porter gave us our keys at the hotel and we went up to our rooms. At my door, I said, ‘Come in here for a minute.’ When we were inside I poured a big lump of scotch into a tooth-glass and gave it to Alison. ‘Put that inside you and you’ll feel better. Get yourself a hot shower and a change of clothing, but make it fast. We’re evacuating — I want us to be out of here within a half-hour.’

She gave a wan smile. ‘Where are we going?’

‘We’re going to ground — just where I don’t know. But Wheeler will have his men checking the hotels; he might have started already. Just bring essentials — the money, passport and aircraft documents.’

When she had gone I followed my own advice. I knocked back a fast scotch and took a three-minute hot shower which chased away some of the aches and put some warmth in my bones again. My stomach was black with bruises. I dressed quickly and began to assemble the things I needed, not that there was much.

Then I sat down and began to study the ship plan. Fortunately it was scaled and I was able to measure distances fairly accurately. Not only was the idea burgeoning but blossoms were appearing. It all depended on whether Wheeler was immobilized in Marsamxett Harbour for another night.

Alison came back carrying one of those big bags which magically hold about six times more than they appear to. We left the hotel by a rear entrance and five minutes later we were at Kingsgate boarding a bus for Senglea.

Alison seemed brighter and said, ‘Where are we going — and why?’

I paid the fare. ‘I’ll tell you when we get there.’ The bus was crowded and I didn’t want to talk about how I was going to kill Slade and Wheeler in public. The driver of the bus laboured under the misapprehension that his name was Jack Brabham, or perhaps he thought that the little shrine to the Virgin, so gaily decked in flowers, was a reasonable substitute for brakes. We got to Senglea in a remarkably short time.

Senglea is a peninsula jutting out into the Grand Harbour between Dockyard Creek and French Creek. Since the rundown of the Royal Navy and the demilitarization of the Naval Dockyard in Malta it seemed to be a reasonable place to find what I wanted — a boatshed, preferably with its own slipway.

It was still too early to do anything about that but the cafés were already open so we had breakfast, and very welcome it was. Over the bacon and eggs I said, ‘Were you seen last night — seen to be recognized again?’

Alison shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Wheeler appeared to be uncertain about whether I had assistance,’ I said. ‘Of course, he knows now — but he doesn’t know who. I think you’re elected to do the shopping; it might not be safe for me on the streets.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked concisely.

‘I want a boatshed. I only want it for twelve hours but we can’t say so — we’ll probably have to take it on three months’ lease. I’m a boat designer and I’m working on a new type of... er... hydrofoil. I don’t want anyone — my rivals, for instance — looking over my shoulder while I’m doing it, so I want discretion and security. That’s the story.’

‘Then what?’

‘Then you push off and buy us a boat. Something about twenty feet overall and hellish fast, with big engines.’

‘Outboard or inboard?’

‘Doesn’t matter. Outboards will be cheaper, but they must be powerful. You bring the boat round to the shed.’ I looked through the window of the café. ‘Over there is a scrap metal yard; I should be able to get most of what I want over there, including the hire of a welding outfit.’

Alison’s brow wrinkled. ‘So you have a fast boat and a welding outfit.’ She waited patiently.

‘Then you hire a truck. Can you drive a truck?’ She gave me a look of silent contempt, and I grinned. She had probably passed her driving test with flying colours — in a Chieftain tank. I said, ‘You take the truck and you buy enough fireworks to fill the boat.’

Now I had got her attention. ‘Fireworks!’

‘Big ones — especially the ones that go bang and throw out a shower of pretty lights. None of your paltry penny bangers; I want the big professional stuff. If they’re so keen on fireworks here there should be quite a stock somewhere in this island. Think you can do that?’

‘I can do it,’ she said. ‘Now tell me why the hell I should.’

I pulled out the ship plan and laid it on the table. ‘I’ve been on board Artina and everything I saw fitted in with this plan, so I think we can trust it.’ I tapped with my finger. ‘The engine room, containing two 350 hp Rolls-Royce diesels which gulp a hell of a lot of fuel. Under the engine room a supply of fresh water and the ready use fuel tank which holds 1,200 gallons.’

My finger moved on the plan. ‘Forward of the engine room is Wheeler’s cabin, and farther forward are the crew’s quarters. Under that, extending for twenty feet, is a double bottom containing the main fuel supply — 5,350 gallons of fuel oil. We know she’s just taken on fuel so the tanks are full.’

I did a bit of measuring with my finger nail. ‘To penetrate that tank we have to ram a hole at least three feet below the water line — preferably deeper. Her plating is mild steel, five-sixteenths of an inch thick — to punch a hole through that will need a hell of a lot of power.’

I looked up. ‘I’m going to build a ram on the boat you’re going to get me. At one time ramming was an orthodox naval tactic — all naval vessels had rams. But this is going to be a little different; it’s going to be a combination ram and fireship. The boat will be full of fireworks. When we ram the tank we let out the oil. It floats. The fireworks go off pop and set the oil on fire.’

‘So you’re going to smoke out Wheeler?’

I looked at her in silence for a moment, then I said, ‘Don’t be silly, I’m going to burn the bastard out.’

III

It all took time, and we had little enough of that. I was right in thinking that I could get a suitable boatshed in Senglea, but moving in quickly was something else again. A few enquiries made in the district soon turned up just what I wanted but the dickering promised to be protracted and it was ten-thirty that morning before the deal went through and only then because of the production of a hundred pounds in crisp, British fivers.

As time was getting short I sent Alison off to buy the boat, which I hoped wouldn’t prove to be as difficult and time-consuming as renting the shed. In the meantime I went to the scrap metal yard and rummaged about until I found what I wanted. I selected a few lengths of angle-iron, a lot of nuts and bolts and a steel bar, eight feet long and an inch and a half in diameter. I was also able to hire a welding outfit there, together with two full bottles of oxygen and acetylene and a pair of goggles.

As I paid out for this lot I reflected that the expense account for this lark was going to raise some Treasury official’s hair. I could imagine him querying the purchase of perhaps a quarter of a ton of fireworks and acidly scratching out a memo asking Mrs Smith for further verification. But perhaps Mrs Smith also had training in cooking the swindle sheet.

I got all my equipment to the shed and waited around for Alison. I stared across the Grand Harbour to Valletta and wished I could see through it and into Marsamxett Harbour where Artina was still anchored — I hoped. At one-thirty I was still waiting and coming to a slow boil. Time was wasting and I had a hell of a lot to do.

It was nearly two o’clock before she arrived and the steam was blowing out of my ears. I caught the painter she tossed, and said curtly, ‘What kept you?’

‘I had to go to Sliema. Is she what you wanted?’

I studied the boat. She was a sleek, Italian-built job with two 100 hp Kiekhaefer Mercury outboard motors. Her lines looked good and those big engines would push her along at a fair lick. Alison said, ‘I got more than thirty knots out of her on the way here.’

‘You brought her from Sliema? You must have passed Artina.’

‘She’s still there.’ I sagged a little in relief. ‘They’re doing a lot of work on her stern. When I passed they were hoisting out one of the propellers.’

‘Were they, by God?’ I laughed. ‘Then it will be an all day job.’ I jerked my thumb at the shed. ‘There’s a cradle in there. Help me get this thing up the slip and out of sight.’

We ran the cradle down the slip, floated the boat into it, and then winched the lot into the shed. Alison looked at her watch. ‘I’ve arranged for the fireworks, too. They’ll be ready to be picked up at three.’

‘Then you’d better push off.’

She hesitated. ‘Can you manage alone?’

‘I should be able to. There’s a block and tackle up there — I can use that to take the engines out.’

‘There’s a flask of coffee and a packet of sandwiches in the boat. And a bottle of whisky. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

She turned to go, and I said, ‘Alison, there’s just one more thing; see if you can get a big axe. A felling axe used for cutting down trees.’

She looked puzzled and then doubtful. ‘I’m not sure they use those on Malta — there are not too many trees.’

‘Do your best.’ She left and I rescued the victuals before the bottle got broken, and then I uncoupled the steering cables on the boat and hoisted out the engines. I also used the block and tackle to turn the boat out of the cradle so that it lay upside down on trestles. I ate the sandwiches and drank the coffee while studying the problem; the whisky I left strictly alone because there was a job to be done, although I’d probably be glad of a stiff jolt before I set out.

I proceeded to get my hands dirty. The hull was of glass fibre and I began to ruin it by drilling holes in carefully selected places. The idea was to position the ram so that it was at least three feet below the water line when the boat was planing at speed, and it had to be fixed to the hull firmly enough so that it wouldn’t come adrift on impact. If that happened then the momentum given by those big engines would be lost and the ram wouldn’t penetrate Artina’s steel shell.

I cut up lengths of angle-iron and bolted them to the hull and through to steel cross-members which ran athwartship. Then I started to weld it up. It wasn’t pretty welding and would have won no prizes at a craft school but, by God, it was strong — I made sure of that. When I had got that far there were two steel triangles built into the hull, the apexes of which were a little over three feet below the bottom. I took the long steel bar and welded it to the apexes of my steel triangles so that it was parallel to the bottom of the hull and projecting two feet in front.

Alison was back long before I had got that far and gave me a hand. It was hot and sweaty work and it took time. It was seven in the evening when I put the finishing touch to it. ‘Did you get the axe?’

She produced just what I needed — a long-handled felling axe. I didn’t need the handle and wasted no time in fiddling but cut it off with the welding torch. Then I took the blade and welded it vertically to the end of the steel bar — that was the cutting edge of my ram.

I stood back and looked at what I had done. Oddly enough it did look like a weird kind of hydrofoil, but I didn’t like to think of what all that heavy ironmongery hung under the boat would do to her planing characteristics. I began to worry about the speed I was going to lose and if I could get her to plane at all.

‘I could use a drink,’ I said.

Alison poured some whisky into the cup from the vacuum flask and gave it to me. She looked at the boat, and said. ‘It’s going to be dangerous. I was wondering... ’

‘Wondering what?’

She turned to face me. ‘I was wondering if this can’t be done more simply — by the police.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ I said sardonically. ‘Can you imagine the local coppers believing us? Christ, Wheeler comes here every year and he’s a respected figure, a British MP and an eminent capitalist. He’s probably given prizes to the yacht club and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the sole support of a local orphanage. By the time we managed to convince anyone both he and Slade would have flown the coop.’

‘There’s still a body on Artina,’ said Alison. ‘That would take a lot of explaining away.’

‘Same objection,’ I said. ‘Forget it. Let’s have a look at the fireworks.’

There were a lot of them and they were big; rockets that would go up under their own power and maroons designed to be fired from mortars. ‘This lot should add to the festivities,’ I said in satisfaction. ‘We must get the boat on to the cradle,’

I had to cut bits away from the cradle to accommodate our strange craft and it was forever ruined for handling normal boats. More expense for the Treasury. I installed the engines and hooked up the steering cables and tested them. When I jumped to the ground the boat, now right way up, looked a bit more practicable.

‘How much did you pay for her?’ I asked curiously.

‘Fifteen hundred pounds,’ said Alison.

I grinned. ‘Guided missiles always are expensive. Let’s put the cargo aboard.’

We filled up every spare inch of the hull with the big fireworks. Alison, as foreseeing as ever, had brought along a jerrican full of petrol and, after topping up the tanks, there was still half a gallon left, more than enough to start a fire to get things going. I now had a new worry; I had drilled a dozen holes in the hull to take bolts and had caulked them with putty, and I was wondering if I had sealed her tight. That couldn’t be tested until we put her in the water and that wouldn’t be until it was good and dark.

‘When do they start shooting off the fireworks for the festa?’ I asked.

‘Two hours after sunset.’

‘I’d like to ram Artina when the official fireworks are going full blast. It’ll help to confuse the issue.’ I sat down wearily and pulled out my ship plan; it was becoming worn and tatty and dirty at the creases, but it was still legible. ‘The trouble is that I might hit one of the main frames,’ I said. ‘In that case I doubt if I’ll get enough penetration.’

The frames were about two feet apart; statistically I had a good chance of missing — the odds were on my side.

Alison said, ‘If we’re going to do more underwater swimming we might as well do it comfortably.’ She got up and dragged some scuba gear from the corner. ‘I took the precaution of hiring this.’

‘That slipped my mind.’ I wondered what else I’d forgotten. I looked at the gear — there were two sets. ‘I’m going to do the swimming,’ I said. ‘Not you.’

‘But I’m coming with you,’ she expostulated.

‘For what? I don’t need you.’

She flinched as though I had slapped her face. I said, ‘You’re right — it’s a dangerous operation, and there’s no point in both of us going. Besides, I need you for something else.’ I thumped the side of the boat. ‘Whether this works or not there’s going to be ructions when these fireworks explode. If I don’t get back someone must be around to have another crack at Wheeler — and you’re elected.’

I reached out for the bottle and poured some more whisky. ‘You can try going to the police; they might be interested enough by then to take you seriously.’

She saw the point, but she didn’t like it. She set her face in a stubborn mould and prepared to argue. I forestalled her. ‘All right; this is what you do. You wait here until nightfall and help me to get the boat into the water. Then you hop over to Ta’Xbiex and hire another boat — if you can get anyone to trust you.’ I smiled. ‘Looking as you do now I wouldn’t trust you with a kid’s bath toy.’

She rubbed her smudged face and distastefully inspected her fingertips, ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll clean up.’

‘If you can’t hire a boat, steal one. There are plenty of loose boats at the Marina. Meet me at the seaward point of Manoel Island and then follow me in, but not too closely. When the balloon goes up watch out for Slade and Wheeler — they should be doing their best to jump overboard if all goes well. See they don’t get ashore.’

‘I lost the gun last night,’ she said.

‘Well, bat them over the head with an oar,’ I said. ‘I’ll be around somewhere so keep your oar away from me.’ I looked at my watch. ‘It’ll be dark enough for launching in about an hour.’

That hour seemed to stretch out interminably rather like I’m told it does in an LSD trip; I wouldn’t know about that — I haven’t tried it. We didn’t talk much and when we did it was of inconsequentialities. The sun set and the light slowly ebbed from the sky until at last it was dark enough to take the boat down the slip without anyone seeing it. Once it was in the water it wouldn’t appear too abnormal.

I patted the wickedly gleaming steel axe-head which formed the tip of the ram and went to open the big double doors of the shed, and we steered the cradle down the slip and into the water. I released the boat and we took the cradle away and I turned to see how my handiwork had turned out.

It wasn’t too bad; she was down by the head but not by too much considering the weight of iron under her bows, and she appeared quite normal apart from the bits of angle-iron which showed above water on each side of the hull. In another ten minutes it would be too dark to see even that, but even if I was picked up by a light in the harbour I doubt if anyone would notice anything particularly odd about her.

‘That’s it,’ I said wearily. I was bone-tired; no sleep, a beating-up and a hard day’s work did nothing to improve me.

‘I’ll go now,’ said Alison quietly. ‘Good luck, Owen.’ She didn’t kiss me, or even touch me. She just walked away, picking up her coat as she went.

I climbed into the boat and rearranged a few of the fireworks to make myself more comfortable. I put the scuba gear handy and checked my primitive system of fuses. Then there was nothing to do but wait another hour before I was due to move off.

Again it was a long wait.