The Spoilers

I

Dan Parker ran his hand lovingly along the smooth flank of the torpedo. It came away sticky with thin oil. ‘The old Mark XI,’ he said. ‘I never really expected to see one o’ these again.’

‘You’d better make it work,’ said Eastman. ‘These things cost a lot of dough.’

‘It’ll cost a lot more before I’m finished,’ said Parker equably. ‘I’ll be needin’ some equipment.’ He looked around the bare shed. ‘There’s room enough here.’

‘What will you need?’ asked Jeanette Delorme,

‘Some machine tools to start with; a lathe, a small milling machine — universal type for preference — an’ a drill press. An’ a hell of a lot o’ small tools, spanners an’ suchlike — I’ll make a list o’ those.’

‘Get it from him now, Jack,’ she said. ‘Give him everything he wants. I’m going home.’

‘What about me?’ asked Eastman.

‘Take a taxi,’ she said, and walked out.

Abbot smiled at Eastman. ‘She’s the boss all right. I can see that straight away.’

‘I can do without any cracks from you,’ said Eastman unsmilingly. He turned to Parker. ‘Anything else?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Parker, who was studying the business end of the torpedo. ‘This is a warhead; I hope there’s nothin’ in it.’

‘It was ordered empty.’

‘That’s a relief. Old TNT is bloody unreliable stuff. But this is no good anyway.’

‘What the hell...?’

‘Take it easy,’ said Parker. ‘No harm done. But if you want a practice run to prove the thing out I’ll need a practice head as well as this one. If you shot off this fish now it would sink at the end of the run, an’ you wouldn’t want that. A practice head has a flotation chamber to keep the torpedo from sinkin’ an’ a Holmes light so you can find it. You’ll be able to get a practice head from the same place you got this.’ He slapped the side of the torpedo. ‘Wherever that is.’

‘Okay, you’ll get your practice head. Anything else?’

‘The batteries, o’ course. They’re pretty important, aren’t they? I’ll put those on the list, too — types an’ quantities. They’ll set you back a packet.’ He studied the torpedo. ‘I’ll be wantin’ to run her in here, so we’d better have some way o’ clampin’ her down. Two concrete pillars wi’ proper clamps.’ He looked up. ‘These things develop a hell of a torque an’ we don’t want her jumpin’ all over the bloody shed.’ He slapped the side of his game leg. ‘That’s what busted me out o’ the Navy.’

Abbot paced out the length of the torpedo. ‘It’s bigger than I thought. I didn’t realize they were as big as this.’

‘Twenty-one-inch-diameter,’ said Parker. ‘Twenty-two-feet, five-an’-four-fifths-inches long. Weight in war trim — thirty-six-hundred an’ thirty-one pounds.’ He slapped the warhead. ‘An’ she packs a hell of a punch — seven hundred an’ eighteen pounds o’ TNT in here.’

‘We can pack over seven hundred pounds in there?’ asked Eastman alertly.

Parker shook his head. ‘Five hundred I said an’ five hundred I meant. I’m goin’ to put some batteries in the head. Have you thought how you’re goin’ to launch her?’

‘You’re the expert,’ said Eastman. ‘You tell me.’

‘There are three ways. From a tube underwater, like from a submarine; from a tube above water, like from a destroyer; from an aeroplane. I wouldn’t recommend the last — not if you’re carrying valuables. It’s apt to bugger the guidance system.’

‘Okay,’ said Eastman. ‘Airplanes are out. What about the other ways?’

‘I don’t suppose you can lay your hands on a destroyer,’ said Parker meditatively. ‘An’ torpedo tubes look a bit out o’ place anywhere else, if you get my meanin’. I think your best bet is underwater launchin’; it’s nice an’ inconspicuous. But that means a ship wi’ a bit o’ draught to it.’

Eastman nodded. ‘I like your thinking — it makes sense.’

‘You should be able to get a submarine-type tube from the same place you got this fish. I can jury-rig air bottles for the launchin’.’

‘You’ll get your tube,’ promised Eastman.

Parker yawned. ‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘I’ll make out your list tomorrow.’

‘The boss said now,’ Eastman pointed out.

‘She’ll have to bloody well wait,’ snapped Parker. ‘I’m too tired to think straight. This is not goin’ to be a quick job an’ another eight hours isn’t goin’ to make any difference.’

‘I’ll tell her that,’ said Eastman ironically.

‘You do that, mate,’ said Parker. ‘Let’s start as we mean to go on, shall we?’ He looked Eastman in the eye. ‘If you want a rush job you can have it — but I won’t guarantee the result. If I can do it my way you get my guarantee.’ He grinned. ‘You wouldn’t want to lose the fish when it’s carryin’ a full load of dope, would you?’

‘No, goddam it!’ Eastman flinched involuntarily at the thought.

‘There you are, then,’ said Parker with a wave of his hand. ‘You push off an’ come back in the morning at about ten o’clock an’ I’ll have your list all ready. We know where to bed down.’

‘Okay,’ said Eastman. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’ He walked away across the shed and up the wooden staircase. At the top he turned. ‘Just one thing: you don’t leave here — either of you. Ali is here to see you don’t. He’s a bad bastard when he’s aroused, so watch it.’

Abbot said, ‘We’ll watch him.’

Eastman grinned genially. ‘That’s not what I said, but you’ve got the idea.’ He opened the door and they heard him speak in a low voice. When he went out the Arab, Ali, came in. He did not descend the stairs but just stood leaning on the rail watching them.

Abbot glanced at Parker. ‘You were pushing him a bit, weren’t you?’

‘Just gettin’ meself a bit of elbow room,’ said Parker. He grinned. ‘I was a petty officer an’ I’ve met that type before. You meet plenty o’ snotty officers in the service who try to run you ragged. But a good craftsman has always got ‘em by the balls an’ the trick is to squeeze just hard enough to let ‘em know it. They get the message in no time at all.’

‘I hope you can make it stick,’ said Abbot. He looked at the torpedo. ‘They got hold of this thing in jig time — I wonder how they were able to lay their hands on it so fast. It strikes me that this is an efficient mob. I think we’ll have to watch how we go very carefully.’ He looked up at the Arab speculatively.

‘I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I was tired,’ said Parker. ‘An’

I want to get out o’ this bloody monkey suit — it’s killin’ me. Let’s go to bed, for God’s sake!’

II

Once provided with his list Eastman moved fast. Within two days most of the equipment needed was installed, and while this was being done the torpedo was removed so that no workman would see it. All that was being done, as far as they were concerned, was the establishment of a small machine-shop.

Then the work began on the torpedo itself. Abbot was astonished at the complexity of it and his respect for Parker increased. Any man who could master such a complicated instrument and treat it with the casual insouciance that Parker did was worthy of a great deal of respect.

They took out the lead-acid batteries — fifty-two of them — and piled them in a corner of the shed. ‘I’ll be needin’ those to test the motor later,’ said Parker. ‘There’s no point in usin’ the expensive ones. But then they’d better be taken out to sea an’ dumped. Any naval man who caught sight o’ those would know what they are, an’ that might give the game away.’

Eastman made a note of it and Abbot privately thought that Parker was entering into the spirit of things a little too wholeheartedly. He said as much when they were alone and Parker grinned. ‘We have to make it look good, don’t we? Every little helps. Eastman is gettin’ quite matey an’ that could be useful.’ Abbot had to agree.

Parker took out the motor for cleaning. ‘It’s in good nick,’ he said, and stroked it almost lovingly. ‘A beautiful job. Ninety-eight horsepower an’ only that big. A really lovely bit of work an’ designed to be blown to hell.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a bloody funny world we live in.’

He stripped the torpedo meticulously while Abbot did the fetching and carrying and the cleaning of the less important pieces. He demanded — and got — special oils and greases to pack the glands, and expensive wiring for his redesigned circuits, while his new mercury batteries cost a small fortune in themselves. He preached like an evangelist, and the word he preached was ‘perfection.’ ‘Nothing is too good,’ he proclaimed flatly. ‘This is goin’ to be the best torpedo that ever took water.’

And it was very likely so. No service torpedo ever had such undivided and loving attention, and Abbot came to the conelusion that only a prototype fussed over by nervous boffins prior to service tests could be compared with this lone torpedo.

Eastman got the point very early in the game under Parker’s needling attitude. He saw that Parker was really putting up a magnificent effort and he co-operated wholeheartedly to give him everything he needed. And that was not really to be wondered at thought Abbot, when you considered that riding in the warhead would be dope worth $25,000,000.

Parker spent most time on the guidance system, clucking over it like a mother hen over an errant chick. ‘If this thing packs in you’ve lost the lot,’ he said to Eastman.

‘It had better not,’ said Eastman grimly.

‘It won’t,’ said Parker in a steady voice.

‘What does it do?’

‘It keeps her running straight — come what may,’ said Parker. ‘When I quoted you a figure for accuracy o’ three inches in a hundred yards I was allowin’ meself a bit o’ leeway. In the hands of a good mechanic a Mark XI is damned near as accurate as a rifle bullet — say, an inch in a hundred yards. O’ course, the ordinary Mark XI has a short range, so even at maximum the point o’ strike wouldn’t be more than six feet out if she ran well. But this beauty has to run a hell of a long way so I’m aimin’ to beat the record. I’m tryin’ for a half-inch error in a hundred yards. It’s damn’ near impossible but I’m tryin’ for it.’

Eastman went away very happy.

‘You’re putting in a lot of time and sweat on something that’s going to be sabotaged,’ observed Abbot.

Parker shrugged. ‘Every torpedoman gets that feelin’ from time to time. You take a lovely bit o’ mechanism like this an’ you work on it to get a performance that even the designer didn’t dream of. Then you slam it against the side of a ship an’ blow it to smithereens. That’s sabotage of a kind, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose it is if you look at it that way. But it’s what torpedoes are for.’

Parker nodded. ‘I know this one is goin’ to be sabotaged in the end but we still have sea trials to come an’ she’s got to work.’ He looked at Abbot and said seriously, ‘You know, I haven’t been so bloody happy for a long time. I came out o’ the Navy an’ got a job tinkerin’ wi’ other folk’s cars an’ all the time I missed somethin’, an’ I didn’t know what it was.’ He waved at the stripped-down torpedo. ‘Now I know — I missed these beauties.’

‘Don’t get too carried away,’ advised Abbot. ‘Remember that when it comes to the final push this thing must fail.’

‘It’ll fail,’ said Parker glumly. His face tightened. ‘But it’s goin’ to have one bloody good run first.’ He tapped Abbot on the chest. ‘If you think this thing is easy, Mike, you’re dead wrong. I’m working on the edge o’ the impossible all the time. A Mark XI was never designed to go fifteen miles an’ to get it to travel the distance is goin’ to be tricky. But I’ll do it an’ I’ll enjoy doin’ it because this is the last chance I’ll ever have of handlin’ a torpedo. Now, let’s get down to it.’

Every two bits of metal that could be separated were taken apart, scrutinized carefully and put back together with meticulous care. Piece by piece the whole torpedo was reassembled until the time came when it was clamped down for a bench test and Abbot saw the reason for the clamps. Even running at a quarter power it was evident that it would have run wild in the shed had it not been secured.

Parker professed satisfaction and said to Eastman, ‘What about the tube? I’ve done all I can wi’ the fish.’

‘Okay,’ said Eastman. ‘Come with me.’

He took them a little way up the coast to a small shipyard, and pointed to a worn-out coaster of about 3,000 tons. ‘That’s the ship — the Orestes; Greek-owned and registered in Panama.’

Parker looked at her dubiously. ‘Are you goin’ to cross the Atlantic in that?’

‘I am — and so are you,’ said Eastman. ‘She’s done it before and she can do it again; she only has to do it once more and then she’ll be lost at sea.’ He smiled. ‘She’s underinsured and we’re not even going to press too hard for that — we don’t want anybody getting too nosy about what happened to her. If you’re going to install an underwater tube you’ll have to cut a hole in the hull. How are you going to do that?’

‘Let’s have a closer look,’ said Parker, so they went aboard. He spent a lot of time below, up in the bows, then he made a sketch. ‘We’ll make a coffer dam. Get that made up and have it welded to the outside of the hull as marked, then I can cut a hole from the inside an’ install the tube. Once that’s done the thing can be ripped off. You’ll have to find a diver who can keep his mouth shut — it isn’t a normal shipyard job.’

Eastman grinned. ‘We own the shipyard,’ he said softly.

So Parker installed the launching-tube which took another week. He spent a great deal of time measuring and aligned the tube exactly fore and aft. ‘All you have to do is to point the ship accurately,’ he said. ‘That’s it — we’re ready for trials.’

III

Jeanette Delorme had not been around for some time, and it worried Abbot because he wanted to have her under his eye. As it was, he and Parker were virtually prisoners and cut off from the rest of the organization. He did not know what Warren was doing, nor could he contact Hellier to tell him what was happening. With such a breakdown of communications things could go very wrong.

He said to Eastman, ‘Your boss doesn’t seem to be taking much interest. I haven’t seen her around since that first night.’

‘She doesn’t mix with the working slobs,’ said Eastman. ‘I do the overseeing.’ He fixed Abbot with a sardonic eye. ‘Remember what I told you about her. I’d steer clear if I were you.’

Abbot shrugged. ‘I’m thinking of the money. We’re ready for the trial and I don’t think you are authorised to sign cheques.’

‘Don’t worry about the dough,’ said Eastman with a grin. ‘Worry about the trial. It’s set for tomorrow and she’ll be there — and God help you if it doesn’t work out.’ As an afterthought he said, ‘She’s been over to the States, arranging things at that end.’

The black Mercedes called early next morning to pick up Abbot, who was wary when he found he was to be separated from Parker. ‘Where will Dan be?’

‘On the Orestes,’ said Eastman.

‘And me?’

‘Why don’t you go along and find out?’ said Eastman. He seemed disgruntled.

So Abbot went with reluctance in the Mercedes to wherever it was going to take him — which proved to be the heart of Beirut. As the car passed the office of the Daily Star, the English-language newspaper, he fingered the envelope in his pocket and wondered how he could get in there without undue attention. He and Hellier had arranged an emergency information service, but it seemed as though he was not going to get the chance to use it.

The car took him to the yacht harbour where he was met by a trimly dressed sailor. ‘Mr Abbot?’ Abbot nodded, and the sailor said, ‘This way, sir,’ and led him to a fast-looking launch which was moored at the steps.

As the launch took off smoothly, Abbot said, ‘Where are we going?’

‘The yacht — the Stella del Mare.’ The sailor pointed. ‘There.’

Abbot studied the yacht as they approached. She was a rich man’s toy of the type typically to be found in the Mediterranean. Of about two hundred tons, she would be fully equipped with every conceivable comfort and aid to navigation and would be quite capable of circumnavigating the world. But, also typically, that she would not do — these boats were usually to be found tied up for weeks at a time at Nice, Cannes, Beirut and all the other haunts of the jetset — the floating mansions of the wealthy. It looked more and more as though heroin smuggling was profitable.

He was met at the top of the companionway by another floating flunkey dressed in a sailor suit and escorted to the sun deck. As he climbed a ladder he heard the clank of the anchor chain and the vibration of engines. It appeared that the Stella del Mare had been waiting for him.

On the sun deck he found Jeanette Delorme. She was stretched supine, adding to her tan, and was so dressed that the maximum amount of skin got the benefit; her bikini was the most exiguous he had ever seen — a small triangle at the loins and two nipple covers. He hadn’t seen anything like it outside a Soho strip joint, and he doubted if the whole lot weighed more than an eighth of an ounce; certainly less than the dark glasses through which she regarded him.

She waved her hand lazily. ‘Hello, Mike; this is Youssif Fuad.’

Abbot reluctantly looked away from her and towards the man sitting near by. The bald head, the brown lizard skin and the reptilian eyes certainly made a change for the worse. He nodded in acknowledgment. ‘Morning, Mr Fuad.’ He had seen Fuad before. This was the Lebanese banker with whom Delorme had had lunch, and whom he had written off as being too respectable. It just went to show how wrong you could be. Fuad was certainly not taking a sea voyage on the day of the torpedo trial for his health.

Fuad gave a quick and birdlike jerk of his head. He said petulantly, ‘What is he doing here?’

‘Because I want him here,’ said Jeanette. ‘Take a seat, Mike.’

‘I thought I said I was not to be brought into...’ Fuad stopped and shook his head again. ‘I don’t like it.’

Abbot, who was in a half-crouch preparatory to sitting down, straightened again. ‘I know when I’m not wanted. If you whistle up that launch again, I’ll be going.’

‘Sit down, Mike,’ said Jeanette with a whip-crack in her voice that automatically bent Abbot’s knees. ‘Youssif is always nervous. He’s afraid of losing his respectability.’ There was mockery in her voice.

‘We had an agreement,’ said Fuad angrily.

‘So I’ve broken it,’ said Jeanette. ‘What are you going to do about it?’ She smiled. ‘Don’t be so worried, Youssif; I’ll look after you.’

There was something going on between them that Abbot did not like. Apparently he was not supposed to know about Fuad, and Fuad did not like to have his cover broken. Which made it dicey for Mike Abbot if Fuad decided to bring things back to normal. From the look of him he would not bat a lizardlike eye at murder. He looked back towards Delorme — a much more rewarding sight — and had to remind himself that she would not, either.

Jeanette smiled at him. ‘What have you been doing with yourself, Mike?’

‘You know bloody well what I’ve been doing,’ said Abbot baldly. ‘Or else Eastman’s been wasting his time.’

‘Jack has told me as much as he knows,’ she agreed. ‘Which isn’t much — he’s no technician.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘Will this torpedo work?’

‘I’m no technician, either,’ said Abbot. ‘But Dan Parker seems confident.’ He rubbed the side of his jaw. ‘I think you’ll owe us a hundred thousand dollars before the day’s out.’

‘Youssif has the cheque ready. I hope he’ll give it to you — for your sake.’

This clear warning of the penalty for an unsuccessful trial made the sweat break out on Abbot’s forehead. He thought of what Parker had said about working on the edge of the impossible, took a deep breath and forced himself to say lightly, ‘Where are we going? What’s the drill?’ He turned his head and looked towards the receding land, more to avoid Jeanette’s hidden gaze than out of interest. In a comparison of these two it was obvious that the female of the species was more deadly than the male.

She sat up suddenly, and adjusted the minimal bra which had sagged dangerously under the stress of her movement. ‘We are going to join the Orestes. She is out there — away from the shipping routes. We have some fast boats too, to make sure we are not disturbed. This is like a naval exercise.’

‘How long will we take to get out there?’

‘Maybe two hours — maybe longer.’

‘Say three hours each way,’ said Abbot. ‘And God knows how long for the trial. This is going to take all day. I’m beginning to feel seasick already. I never have liked ships.’

The tip of her tongue played along her top lip. ‘I have a certain cure for seasickness,’ she said. ‘Infallible, I assure you. I don’t think you will have time to be seasick, Mike Abbot.’

She put her hands behind her head and pushed her breasts at him, and he believed her. He glanced at Fuad who was also watching her with his lizard stare, but there was no hint of lust in those dead, ophidian eyes.

Not far over the horizon the Orestes lumbered through the calm morning sea on her way to the rendezvous. Parker climbed the ladder to the bridge and made the thumbs-up sign. ‘Everything’s under control. I’m bringin’ the batteries up to heat now.’

Eastman nodded, then jerked his head towards the officer with the mildewed braid on his battered cap. ‘The skipper’s not too happy. He says the ship’s cranky in her steering.’

‘What would he expect with a bloody big hole cut off centre in the bows?’ demanded Parker. ‘He’ll get used to it.’

‘I guess so,’ Eastman was thoughtful. ‘Would it help to cut another hole on the other side?’

‘It might,’ said Parker cautiously. ‘It would equalize things a bit.’

‘What’s this about warming up the batteries? I didn’t know you did that.’

‘A warm battery delivers power quicker an’ easier than a cold one. A difference o’ thirty degrees Fahrenheit can increase the range by a third — an’ we want all the range we can get.’ Parker took out his pipe. ‘I’ve set her to run at twelve feet. Any less than that an’ she’s likely to porpoise — jump in an’ out o’ the water. An instability like that could throw her right off course. At the end of her run she’ll bob up nice an’ easy like a cork, an’ her Holmes light will go off so you can see her.’

‘You’ll be there to find the torpedo.’

‘I thought you wanted me here to check the firing.’

‘You can do both,’ said Eastman. ‘There’ll be a boat waiting to take you to the other end of the course.’

Parker struck a match. ‘You’ll need a hell of a fast boat to outrun a torpedo.’

‘We’ve got one. Is forty-five knots fast enough?’

‘That’s fast enough,’ admitted Parker, and blew out a wreath of blue smoke.

Eastman sniffed distastefully and moved up wind. ‘What’s that you’re smoking? Old socks?’

Parker grinned cheerfully. ‘Feelin’ queasy already?’ He drew on the pipe again. ‘Where did Mike go this mornin’?’

Eastman stared at the horizon. ‘The boss wanted to see him,’ he said morosely.

‘What for?’ asked Parker in surprise.

‘I’ll give you three guesses,’ said Eastman sarcastically. ‘The little bitch has hot pants.’

Parker clucked deprecatingly. ‘That’s no way to talk of your employer,’ he observed. ‘You think... er... that she an’ Mike are... er...?’

‘I’ll bet they’re both in the sack now,’ said Eastman savagely, and thumped the rail.

‘Why, Jack! I do believe you’re jealous.’ Parker chuckled delightedly.

‘The hell with that,’ said Eastman in a hard voice. ‘I’m immune to anything that chick does with her flaunty little ass — but she shouldn’t mix pleasure with business. It could get us all into trouble. She shouldn’t have...’

He broke off, and Parker said innocently, ‘She shouldn’t have what?’

‘Nothing,’ said Eastman brusquely, and walked away across the bridge where he talked in a low voice to the skipper.

Abbot buttoned his shirt and leaned across the tousled bed to look through the port. The things I do in the line of duty, he thought, and checked his watch. They had been at sea for just over two hours. From the compartment next to the cabin he heard the brisk splash of water as Jeanette showered, and presently she appeared, naked and dripping. She tossed him a towel. ‘Dry me,’ she commanded.

As he rubbed her down vigorously he was irresistibly reminded of his boyhood when he had haunted his grandfather’s stables and had been taught the horseman’s lore by old Benson, the chief groom. Automatically he hissed through his teeth as Benson had done when currying a horse, and wondered what the old man would have thought of this filly.

‘You haven’t been around much,’ he said. ‘I expected to see more of you.’

‘You couldn’t see much more of me.’

‘What were you doing in the States?’

She stiffened slightly under his hands. ‘How do you know I was in the States?’

‘Eastman told me.’

‘Jack talks too much.’ After a while, she said, ‘I was doing what you would expect — setting things up.’

‘A successful trip?’

‘Very.’ She twisted free from him. ‘I’m going to make a lot of money.’

Abbot grinned. ‘I know. I’ve been trying to figure out how to carve myself a bigger share.’ He studied her as she walked across the cabin. Her long-flanked body was evenly tanned and there were no betraying white patches. Evidently the minimal bikini she had worn there morning had been a concession to someone’s modesty — but whose he could not imagine. Fuad’s? That was a laugh.

She turned and smiled. ‘It is a possibility — if the trial is a success.’ As she stepped into a pair of brief panties, she said, ‘What do you think of Jack Eastman?’

‘He strikes me as being a tough boy,’ said Abbot consideringly. ‘He’s no cream-puff.’

‘Could you get on with him?’

‘I might — if he could get along with me.’

She nodded. ‘Something might be arranged.’ She fastened the bra strap. ‘Even if you didn’t get along together something might be arranged — if you are prepared to help with the arrangements.’

Christ, what a hellcat! he thought. It was quite clear what was being tentatively offered. He could supplant Eastman by getting rid of him, and he had no illusions about what that implied. Probably by enlisting his aid in rubbing out her partner she would make even more money. But then he would be in Eastman’s seat — the hot seat — a target for the next gun-happy sucker to enter her sexy little life. He thought of the list of murdered men in her dossier and wondered how many of them had been her lovers. The female spider — the eater of males.

He smiled engagingly. ‘It’s a thought. Where does friend Fuad fit into all this?’

‘Now you are talking too much,’ she said reprovingly as she buttoned her blouse. ‘He has nothing to do with you.’

‘Oh yes he does. He holds the moneybags, doesn’t he?’

She sat at the dressing-table and began to make up her face. ‘You jump to a quick conclusion,’ she said. ‘But you are right.’ Her eyes watched him through the mirror. ‘You are very clever, Mike; much cleverer than Jack. I don’t think you’d have any trouble with him at all.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

‘Since you are so clever, perhaps you can tell me something. What do you know about Regent Films?’

Abbot was aware that she was watching him even though her back was turned, and hoped his expression had not changed. ‘It’s an English — British — film company. Quite a big one.’

‘Who is at the top?’

‘A man called Hellier — Sir Robert Hellier.’

She turned to him. ‘So tell me — why should an English nobleman — a milord — interfere with me?’

Abbot chuckled — he could not help it. ‘I suppose you could call old Hellier a nobleman. Is he interfering with you?’

‘His company is — very much so. It has cost me a lot of money.’

Abbot kept a straight face even though he wanted to cheer. So Warren and the Iranian team had stabbed her right in the wallet she substituted for a heart. He shrugged. ‘I don’t know much about Hellier. He wasn’t on my beat — I didn’t do films or the gossip stuff. For my money it’s a respectable outfit he runs. Regent makes pretty good pictures — I’ve seen some of them.’

She threw down a comb with a clatter. ‘These Regent people have cost me more money than you’ve even heard of. They’re...’ The telephone rang and interrupted her. She picked it up. ‘Yes? All right.’

Abbot looked through the port and saw the Orestes not very far away. Jeanette said, ‘Come on, Mike; we’re wanted on deck. We’re transferring to the other ship.’

When they arrived on deck Abbot saw a group of seamen busily engaged in lowering a boat. The Stella del Mare had stopped and was rolling uneasily in the slight swell, and the Orestes was abeam of them about two hundred yards away.

Fuad was not on deck, but Abbot caught sight of him lurking in the saloon. It seemed that Youssif Fuad was intent on concealing his association with these nefarious activities, which was why he had objected when Abbot had come on board. Jeanette, on the other hand, seemed to want Fuad more deeply involved, and Abbot wondered if he could use the issue as a point of attack.

He followed Jeanette down the companionway and stepped into the launch, and it pulled away in a lazy circle and headed for the Orestes. When Jeanette climbed up on to the deck of the battered coaster she was suddenly businesslike. ‘All right, Jack; let’s get on our way. Are you ready, Parker?’

Parker grinned easily. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

She offered him a small, tight smile. ‘You’d better make it good — but Jack’s been telling me you do good work.’ The telegraph clanged, the deck vibrated as the engines increased speed, and the Orestes began to move. ‘What’s the drill?’ asked Abbot.

‘We go another fifteen miles,’ said Eastman. ‘Then turn and shoot. We have a couple of boats along the course in case the torpedo comes up too soon, but we’ll be pacing it anyway. It should surface somewhere near the yacht — if we get the range we need.’

Abbot laughed, and said to Parker, ‘You’d better not be too good, Dan; it would be a hell of a joke if you slammed the torpedo into the Stella del Mare.’

Parker grunted. ‘It wouldn’t do too much damage without a warhead. But the fish would be a write-off an’ I wouldn’t like that.’

‘Neither would I,’ said Eastman. He gave Abbot an unfriendly stare and said coldly, ‘I don’t like your sense of humour.’

‘Neither do I,’ said Abbot, still smiling. ‘Dan and I have a hundred thousand dollars riding with this torpedo.’

The Orestes ploughed on westward. Jeanette took Eastman by the elbow and they walked to the other side of the deck, deep in conversation. Abbot said, ‘He’s not as friendly as he was.’

Parker shook with laughter. ‘Maybe he’s jealous. Has he any cause to be, Mike?’

‘You mean me and Delorme?’ Abbot pulled a sour face. ‘I don’t know about jealousy, but he ought to be running scared. The bitch wants me to knock him off at an opportune moment. We had a nice friendly chat.’

‘I’ll bet you didn’t stop at taikin’,’ said Parker pointedly. ‘Do you mean to tell me that she asked you to kill Eastman?’

‘Not in so many words, but the subject came up. Another thing — Warren’s been hitting her hard over in Iran. She’s really steamed up about it. She wanted to know about Regent Films.’

‘That’s good to know,’ said Parker. ‘What did you tell her?’

‘I acted dumb and stuck to generalities. Maybe Warren can pull off the whole trick and let us off the hook here.’

‘He can’t,’ said Parker. ‘We’re on the hook an’ we’re wrigglin’. We’ll have to get out o’ this ourselves. I’m goin’ below — I want to check the fish.’

Abbot frowned; he thought he detected a shade of nervousness in Parker — something that now showed itself for the first time. He did not like to think of what might happen if the trial proved a bust, but Parker was worried about something else — the problem of what was going to happen if the trial was a success. It was something to think about.

Very likely he and Parker would be expected to go with the Orestes on the final job, clear across the Atlantic to fire the torpedo ashore on some secluded beach. The snag about that was that it would never get there — Parker would see to that. And what Jeanette would do in that case was not at all problematical, although the details were hazy. Probably he and Parker would share the same concrete coffin at the bottom of the Caribbean. It was a nasty thought.

The correct course of action would be to wait until the warhead was filled with heroin and then dump the lot somehow in such circumstances that he and Parker could get away. The trouble with that line of thought was that everything depended on what Delorme did — he had no initiative at all. They would just have to wait and see what happened.

He leaned on the rail and looked gloomily at the sea, and his thoughts were long and deep. Presently he sighed and turned to watch Jeanette and Eastman who had their heads together. She would be telling him of the arrangements she had made in the States, and he would have given a lot to be able to eavesdrop. If he knew where the heroin was going then the gang in the States could be rounded up — a quick closing in on the beach with the capture of the torpedo — and he and Parker would be in the clear.

His train of thought was broken by the clang of the telegraph bell and the sudden easing of vibration. Parker came up from below and looked over the side. ‘We’ve arrived,’ he said. ‘Look at that thing down there.’

Abbot saw a fast-looking boat riding easily in the water. Eastman came over, and said, ‘That’s to take us back to the yacht. How are you going to work this, Parker?’

‘Can we talk to this ship from that boat?’

‘Sure — there’s radio communication.’

‘Then have a word with the skipper. There’s a switch near the binnacle; he presses the tit when the compass points due north magnetic. I’d like to be in that boat to watch the fish when she leaves. All the skipper has to do is to watch the compass and flick the switch. He’d better be on the wheel himself.’

‘I’ll tell him,’ said Eastman, and went up on to the bridge.

The instructions were given and they went down to the boat which had come alongside, Jeanette and Eastman first, then Abbot and Parker. The engines opened up with a muted growl which spoke of reserve power and they moved away from Orestes which turned in a wide sweep on a reciprocal course. Parker watched her. ‘Give me the glasses an’ tell the skipper he can fire when ready. We move off when I give the word a little over thirty knots — course due north magnetic. Everyone keep an eye astern.’

Eastman spoke into the microphone, then said, ‘He’ll fire when he gets his bearing — any time now.’

Parker had the glasses at his eyes and was gazing at the bows of Orestes. There was a pause, then Eastman said, ‘He’s fired,’ and simultaneously Parker yelled, ‘She’s on her way — get goin’.’ He had seen the burst of air bubbles break from the bow of Orestes to be swept away in the wake.

The low growl of the engines burst into an ear-shattering roar as the throttles were opened and Abbot was momentarily pinned back in his seat by the sudden acceleration. Parker was staring at the water. ‘She didn’t porpoise,’ he yelled. ‘I was a bit worried about that. She should be runnin’ true.’

‘What do you mean?’ shouted Eastman.

‘The tube’s only six feet underwater an’ the fish is set to run at twelve — I thought she might duck down an’ then come up again sharply to break surface. But she didn’t — the beauty.’ Parker leaned forward. ‘Tell your helmsman to keep as near to thirty-one knots as he can an’ steer a straight course.’

It was a wild ride and seemed to go on for ever as far as Abbot was concerned. Even though the sea was calm there was a minor swell and the boat would ride a crest and seem to fly for a split second before coming down with a jolting crash. He touched Parker on the arm. ‘How long does this go on?’

‘Half an hour or so. The torpedo is makin’ thirty knots so we should be a bit ahead of her. Keep your eyes peeled aft — wi’ a bit o’ luck you won’t see a bloody thing for a while.’

Abbot stared back at the sea and at the rushing wake unreeling itself from the boat at what seemed to be a fantastic speed. After a while he found it hypnotized him and tended to make him feel sick, so he turned his head and looked at the others, blinking as the wind caught his eyes.

Jeanette was sitting as calmly as she had sat in the Paon Rouge, with one hand braced on a chrome rail. The wind streamed her blonde hair and pressed her blouse against her body. Eastman had his teeth bared in a stiff grin. Occasionally he spoke into the microphone he held, but to whom he was talking Abbot did not know. Probably he was telling the Stella del Mare that they were on their way. Parker was riding easily and staring aft, a light of excitement in his eyes and a big grin on his face. This was his day.

The boat rushed through the water interminably. After ten minutes they swept past a fair-sized motor launch which was making lazy circles, and Eastman stood up and waved. This was one of the boats which guarded the course. Eastman sat down abruptly as their own boat bounced violently over the wake which crossed their path — and then again. The circling boat receded into the distance behind them as they pressed on.

Abbot thought of the torpedo somewhere below and behind them if Parker was right. Although he had seen it stripped down, it was hard to realize that it was down there driving through the water undeviatingly at this speed. He looked forward at the broad shoulders of the man at the wheel and saw the muscles of his arms and back writhe as he fought to keep the boat on a straight course and that gave him some inkling of Parker’s achievement — one half inch error in a hundred yards for mile after mile after mile.

They passed another circling boat and again bounced over its wake to leave it behind. Eastman looked at his watch. ‘Another ten minutes,’ he shouted and grinned at Parker. ‘We’ve come ten miles — five to go.’

Parker nodded vigorously. ‘Ease a knot off the speed if you can — we don’t want to overrun her too much.’

Eastman turned and spoke into the helmsman’s ear and the roar of the engines altered the slightest fraction. To Abbot it did not seem to make any difference to the speed; the wake streamed away behind them just as quickly in a line so straight it seemed to be ruled on the blue water. He was beginning to feel sicker; the noise was deafening and the motion upset his stomach, and he knew that if they did not stop soon he would vomit over the side. If this was watersport it was not for him.

Presently Jeanette spoke for the first time. She stood up and pointed. ‘Stella del Mare.’

Abbot felt relieved — his ordeal was almost at an end. Parker twisted round and looked at the yacht, then beckoned to Eastman. ‘Don’t stop here. Run straight past on the same course. We want the torpedo, not the bloody yacht.’

Eastman nodded and spoke to the helmsman again, and they tore past the Stella del Mare and there was nothing ahead but the bouncing horizon. Parker shouted, ‘Everyone look astern — you’ll see her with her nose in the air like a bloody great pole stickin’ out o’ the sea, an’ there’ll be a light an’ a bit o’ smoke.’

Everyone looked but there was nothing but the Stella del Mare receding into the distance, and Abbot felt depressed as the minutes ticked by. He looked at his watch and noted that it had been thirty-three minutes since they had begun this mad dash across the Mediterranean. He did a mental calculation and figured they had come at least sixteen miles and possibly more. What could have gone wrong?

He remembered what Parker had said about setting the torpedo to run at a depth of twelve feet from a launch of six feet. Parker had been worried about porpoising, but what if the torpedo had just carried on down into the depths of the sea? From what Parker had previously told him, if the torpedo got much below sixty feet the pressure would damage it beyond repair and it would never be seen again.

He looked at Jeanette whose expression had never changed. What would she do about it? He could guess the answer would be violent. Parker was staring aft with a tense look on his face. His grin was gone and the crowsfeet around his eyes were etched deeper.

Thirty-four minutes — and nothing. Thirty-five minutes — and nothing. Abbot tried to catch Parker’s eye, but Parker had attention only for the sea. It’s a bust, decided Abbot in desperation.

Suddenly Parker was convulsed into movement. ‘Thar she blows!’ he yelled excitedly. ‘On the starboard quarter. Cut these bloody engines.’

Abbot looked over the sea and was thankful to hear the engines die. Away in the distance bobbed the torpedo, just as Parker had described it, and a smoky yellow flame burned dimly in the strong sunlight. The boat turned and headed towards it while Parker literally danced a jig. ‘Where’s a boat-hook?’ he demanded. ‘We have to secure her.’

‘What’s that flame?’ asked Eastman.

‘The Holmes light,’ said Parker. ‘It’s powered by sodium — the wetter it gets the hotter it burns.’

‘A neat trick,’ commented Eastman.

Parker turned to him and said solemnly, ‘That torpedo bein’ there at all is an even neater trick. I reckon she did eighteen miles an’ that’s not just a trick — it’s a bloody miracle. Are you satisfied wi’ it?’

Eastman grinned and looked at Jeanette. ‘I guess we are.’

‘We’ll be expecting your cheque,’ said Abbot to Jeanette.

She smiled at him brilliantly. ‘I’ll get it from Youssif as soon as we get back to the yacht.’

IV

They went back to Beirut in the Stella del Mare, leaving the Orestes to pick up the torpedo from the launch to which it was secured, with Parker vowing eternal vengeance on anyone who was so ham-fisted as to damage it in the process. In the luxurious saloon Eastman broke open the cocktail cabinet. ‘I guess we all need a drink.’

Abbot dropped limply into a chair. For once Eastman had expressed exactly his own feelings. In the last hour he had gone through enough emotions to last a man a lifetime and a stiff drink would go down well. It turned into a convivial party — Eastman was jovial, Parker was drunk on success and needed no liquor to buoy him up, Jeanette was gay and sparkling, and even Youssif Fuad unbent enough to allow a fugitive smile to chase quickly across his face. Abbot was merely thankful.

Jeanette clicked her fingers at Fuad who took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to her. She passed it to Abbot. ‘The first instalment, Mike. There’ll be more to come.’

He unfolded the cheque and saw that it was drawn on Fuad’s own bank for $100,000 American, and wondered what would happen if he attempted to draw it before the final run of the torpedo off the American coast. But he did not comment on it — he was not supposed to know Fuad was a banker. ‘I wish us many more,’ he said.

Eastman raised his glass. ‘To the best goddam mechanic it’s been my fortune to meet.’

They drank to Parker, who actually blushed. ‘It’s too bad they don’t have torpedo races,’ said Eastman. ‘You’d never be out of a job, Dan. I’ve not seen anything so exciting since I was at Hialeah.’ He smiled at Jeanette. ‘But I guess there’s a lot more riding on this than I ever had on a horse race.’

Parker said, ‘That’s just the first bit — now we run into more problems.’

Jeanette leaned forward. ‘What problems?’ she asked sharply.

Parker swished his drink around in his glass. ‘Normally a Mark XI torpedo has a short range — a bit over three miles. Anythin’ you shoot at you can see, an’ any damn’ fool can see a ship three miles away. But you’re different — you want to shoot at somethin’ that’s clear over the horizon. You saw the distance we just travelled.’

‘That shouldn’t be much trouble,’ said Eastman. ‘Not if you have a good navigator who knows where he is.’

‘The best navigator in the world can’t tell his position to a quarter-mile in the open sea,’ said Parker flatly. ‘Not without an inertial guidance system which you couldn’t afford even if the Navy would sell you one. You can’t buy those on the war surplus market.’

‘So what’s the answer?’ asked Jeanette.

‘That big derrick on the Orestes is about fifty feet above the water,’ said Parker. ‘If you put a man up there in a sort o’ crow’s nest he could see a shade over eight miles to the horizon. What you’ve got to do is to put up a light on shore about the same height or higher, an’ if it’s bright enough it’ll be seen sixteen miles or more out at sea by the chap in the crow’s nest. But it needs to be done at night.’

‘It’s going to be a night job, anyway,’ said Eastman.

Parker nodded. ‘It needs polishin’ up a bit, but that’s the general idea.’ He paused. ‘There might be a few lights along the coast so you’ll need to have some way of identifying the right one. You could have a special colour or, better still, put a switch in the circuit an’ flash a code. The man in the crow’s nest on the Orestes should have a telescope — one o’ those things target shooters use would do, an’ it should be rigidly fixed like a sort o’ telescopic sight. As soon as he sees the light through it he presses the tit an’ away goes the torpedo. An’ it might help if he’s on intercom wi’ the helmsman.’

‘Ideas come thick and fast from you, don’t they?’ said Eastman admiringly.

‘I just try to earn me money,’ said Parker modestly. ‘I have a stake in this, you know.’

‘Yeah,’ said Eastman. ‘Another two hundred thousand bucks. You’re earning it.’

‘There might be even more in it for you, Parker,’ said Jeanette and smiled sweetly at Fuad. ‘Youssif is neither poor nor ungenerous.’

Fuad’s face set tight and firm and he hooded his eyes. To Abbot he looked as generous as someone who had just successfully robbed the church poor-box.

Jeanette’s car was still awaiting them when they arrived back in the yacht harbour. ‘I have something to show you,’ she said to Abbot and Parker. ‘Get in the car.’ To Eastman she said, ‘You stay with Youssif and check over with him what I’ve told you. See if either of you can find any holes in it.’

She got into the car and sat next to Abbot and the car pulled away. Abbot wanted a chance of a private word with Parker who, intoxicated by success, had been shooting his mouth off a little too much. He would have to talk to him about that. He turned to Jeanette. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Back to where you came from this morning.’

‘There are no surprises there,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen everything.’

She just smiled at him and said nothing, and the car drifted opulently out of Beirut along the Tripoli road back to the torpedo shed. It turned into the yard, and she said, Take a look inside, then come back and we’ll talk about it.’

He and Parker got out and walked towards the shed. Just before they opened the door, Abbot said, ‘Wait a minute, Dan; I want to talk to you. I don’t think you should give them too much — as you were doing on the way back today. If that hellcat gets the idea she doesn’t need us we might be in trouble.’

Parker grinned. ‘They need us,’ he said positively. ‘Who is goin’ to put new batteries into that torpedo? Eastman wouldn’t have a clue, for one. We’ll be all right until the end, Mike.’ His face sobered. ‘But what the hell is goin’ to happen then I don’t know. Now let’s go in an’ see what the big surprise is.’

They went into the shed. Parker switched on the lights and stood transfixed at the top of the stairs. ‘Bloody hell!’ he burst out. ‘They need us an’ no mistake.’

Lying on trestles below them were three torpedoes.

Abbot’s mouth was suddenly dry. ‘Three more! That’s a hell of a lot of heroin.’ He was filled with the terrible necessity of getting the information out to where it would do some good. But how the hell could he? Every step he took, every move he made, was under observation.

‘If they think I’m goin’ to start a bloody one-man production line they can think again,’ Parker grumbled.

‘Quiet, Dan, for God’s sake!’ said Abbot. ‘I’m trying to think.’ After a while he said, ‘I’m going to try to pull a fast one on that bitch outside. You back me up. Just remember that you’ve had a hard day and all you want to do is to go to bed.’

He left the shed and crossed the yard to where the car was waiting. He bent down, and said, ‘Quite a surprise. Are all those going to be loaded and shot off at once?’

Jeanette said, ‘It’s what Jack calls the jackpot. There’s more money in it for you, of course.’

‘Yes,’ said Abbot. ‘We’ll have to discuss that — but why do it here? Why don’t you and me and Dan take the night off to celebrate — say at the Paon Rouge.’ He grinned. ‘It’s on me — I can afford it now.’

Parker said from behind him, ‘Count me out, I’m too tired. All I want is me bed.’

‘Well, that doesn’t really matter, does it? You’ll trust me to fix the finance with Jeanette?’

‘O’ course. You do what’s right.’ Parker passed his hand over his face. ‘I’m goin’ to turn in. Good night.’

He walked away, and Abbot said, ‘What about it, Jeanette? I’m tired of being cooped up in this place. I want to stretch my wings and crow a bit.’ He gestured towards the shed. ‘There’s a lot of work in there — I’d like to have a break’ before we start.’

Jeanette indicated her clothing. ‘But I can’t go to the Paon Rouge dressed like this.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Abbot. ‘Give me two ticks while I change, then I’ll come with you to wherever you live. You change, and we go on the town. Simple.’

She smiled thoughtfully. ‘Yes, that might be a good idea. How are you as a lady’s maid? I gave my girl the day off.’

‘That’s fine,’ said Abbot heartily. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Five hours later he swished brandy around his glass, and said, ‘You drive a hard bargain, Jeannie, my girl, but it’s a deal. You’re getting us cheap, I hope you know that.’

‘Mike, don’t you care about anything except money?’ She sounded hurt.

‘Not much,’ he said, and drank some brandy. ‘We’re two of a kind, you and me.’ He signalled to a waiter.

‘Yes, I think we are alike. I feel much closer to you than I do to poor Jack.’

Abbot quirked an eyebrow. ‘Why poor Jack?’

She sat back in her chair. ‘He was annoyed that you were on Stella today. I think he’s becoming jealous. If you stay with us — with me — that will have to be settled, and settled for good.’ She smiled. ‘Poor Jack.’

‘He’s living with you, isn’t he?’ said Abbot. ‘I think those were his clothes I saw in the wardrobe.’

‘Why, I believe you are jealous, too,’ she cried delightedly.

He felt a cold shiver at the nape of his neck as he pictured Jeanette and Eastman lying in bed together while she discussed the possibility of one John Eastman knocking off one Michael Abbot. This she-devil was quite capable of playing both ends against the middle. She believed in the survival of the fittest, and the survivor would get first prize — her lithe and insatiable body. It wasn’t a bad prize — if you could stand the competition. The trouble was that if you played by her rules the competition would be never-ending.

He forced a smile. ‘I like you and money in roughly equal proportions. As for Jack Eastman, I suggest we leave that problem for a while. He still has his uses.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But don’t leave it too long.’

He pushed back his chair. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to see a man about a dog. I’ll be back in a moment.’

He walked quickly into the foyer and into one of the few rooms in the Phoenicia where he could get away from Delorme. He locked himself in a cubicle, took an envelope from his pocket and checked the wording on the single sheet of paper inside. Then he reinserted the sheet, sealed the envelope and addressed it carefully.

He found an attendant who obligingly brushed his jacket with subservient attention, and said, ‘I’d like to have this letter delivered to the Daily Star office at once.’

The attendant looked dubious but brightened immediately as he heard the crisp rustle of folding money. ‘Yes, sair; I’ll ‘ave it delivered.’

‘It’s important,’ said Abbot. ‘It must get there tonight.’ He added another banknote. ‘That’s to make sure it arrives within the hour.’

Then he straightened his shoulders and went back to where the she-spider was waiting.

V

Sir Robert Hellier sat behind his desk and looked at the newspaper. It was the Beirut English language paper, Daily Star, which he had flown to London regularly. He ignored the news pages but turned to the classified advertisements and ran his fingers down the columns. This he had done every morning for many weeks.

Suddenly he grunted and his finger checked its movement. He took a pen and slashed a ring round an advertisement. It read:

He heaved a sigh of relief. He had lost contact with Abbot and Parker many weeks previously and had been worried about it, but now he knew they were still around he felt better. He re-read the advertisement and a frown creased his forehead as he groped for the pen.

Five minutes later he found he was sweating. Surely he had made a mistake in his calculations. Got a few too many noughts mixed in somewhere or other. The 2,000 acres mentioned in the advertisement meant that the Delorme woman intended to smuggle 2,000 pounds of heroin — that was the jumping-off point. He began right again from the start and worked it out very carefully. The end result was incredible.

He looked at the final figure again and it still shattered him. $340,000,000.

That was what 2,000 pounds of heroin would be worth to the final consumers, the drug addicts who would pay their $7.00 and $8.00 a shot. He wrote down another figure. $100,000,000.

That was what Delorme would be paid if the dope could be safely delivered inside the States. He expected the whole thing would be worked out on a credit basis — not even the Syndicate could be expected to raise that much capital at one time. The stuff would be cached and doled out a few pounds at a time at $50,000 a pound, and Delorme would be creaming the lot. She had organized the whole business right from the Middle Eastern poppy fields, had taken all the risks and would take all the profits, which were enormous.

With shaking fingers he picked up the telephone. ‘Miss Walden: cancel all my appointments for an indefinite period. Get me a plane reservation for Beirut as soon as possible, and a hotel reservation accordingly — the Saint — Georges or the Phoenicia. All that as soon as possible, please.’

He sat and looked at the advertisement, hoping to God that whoever had set it in type had made a misprint and that he was embarking on a wild goose chase.

He also hoped he could hear from Warren because Warren and the three men with him had also gone missing.