Алистер Маклин - Seawitch

‘If you go, anything to be done in your absence?’

‘There’ll be dual-purpose anti-aircraft guns arriving aboard the Roamer this afternoon. Secure them to the platform.’

‘To the north, south, east but not west?’

‘As you wish.’

‘We don’t want to start blowing holes in our own oil tank.’

‘There’s that. There’ll also be mines. Three piles, each half-way between a pair of legs.’

‘An underwater explosion from a mine wouldn’t damage the legs?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. We’ll just have to find out, won’t we? Keep in constant half-hourly touch with both the Torbello and the Jupiter. Keep the radar and sonar stations constantly manned. Eternal vigilance, if you will. Hell, Commander, I don’t have to tell you what to do.’ He wrote some figures on a piece of paper. ‘If I do have to go, contact this number in Washington. Tell them that I’m coming. Five hours or so.’

‘This is the State Department?’

‘Yes. Tell them that at least the Under-Secretary must be there. Remind him, tactfully, of future campaign contributions. Then contact my aircraft pilot, Dawson. Tell him to be standing by with a filed flight plan for Washington.’

The radio operator knocked, entered, handed Lord Worth a message sheet and left. Lord Worth, hands steady and face now untroubled, decoded the message, reached for the phone and told Chambers to get to the helicopter at once.

He said to the two men: ‘A Russian-built Cuban submarine is on its way from Havana. It’s being followed by a Russian guided missile destroyer. Both are heading this way.’

‘A visit to the State Department or the Pentagon would appear to be indicated,’ Larsen said. ‘There isn’t too much we can do about guided missiles. Looks like there might be quite some activity hereabouts: that makes five vessels arrowing in on us – three naval vessels, the Jupiter and the Roamer.’ Larsen might have been even more concerned had he known that the number of vessels was seven, and not five: but then Larsen was not to know that the Questar and the Starlight were heading that way also.

Lord Worth rose. ‘Well, keep an eye on the shop. Back this evening some time. I’ll be in frequent radio contact.’

Lord Worth was to fly four legs that day: by helicopter to the mainland, by his private Boeing to Washington, the return flight to Florida and the final leg by helicopter out to the Seawitch. On each of those four legs something very unpleasant was going to happen – unpleasant for Lord Worth, that was. Fortunately for Lord Worth he was not blessed with the alleged Scottish second sight – the ability to look into the future.

The first of those unpleasantnesses happened when Lord Worth was en route to the mainland. A large estate wagon swept up to the front door of Lord Worth’s mansion, carrying five rather large men who would have been difficult later to identify, for all five wore stocking masks. One of them carried what appeared to be a large coil of clothes rope, another a roll of adhesive tape. All carried guns.

MacPherson, the elderly head gardener, was taking his customary pre-work dawn patrol to see what damage the fauna had wreaked on his flora during the night when the men emerged from the estate wagon. Even allowing for the fact that shock had temporarily paralysed his vocal chords he never had a chance. In just over a minute, bound hand and foot and with his lips literally sealed with adhesive tape he had been dumped unceremoniously into a clump of bushes.

The leader of the group, a man by the name of Durand, pressed the front-door bell. Durand, a man who had a powerful affinity with banks and who was a three-time ex-convict, was by definition a man of dubious reputation, a reputation confirmed by the fact that he was a close and long-term associate of Cronkite. Half a minute passed then he rang again. By and by the door opened to reveal a robe-wrapped Jenkins, tousle-haired and blinking the sleep from his eyes – it was still very early in the morning. His eyes stopped blinking and opened wide when he saw the pistol in Durand’s hand.

Durand touched the cylinder screwed on to the muzzle of his gun. As hooked a TV addict as the next man, Jenkins recognized a silencer when he saw one.

‘You know what this is?’

A fully awake Jenkins nodded silently.

‘We have no wish to harm anyone in this household. Especially, no harm will come to you if you do what you are told. Doing what you are told includes not telling lies. Understood?’

Jenkins understood.

‘How many staff do you have here?’

There was a noticeable quaver in Jenkins’s voice. ‘Well, there’s me – I’m the butler–’

Durand was patient. ‘You we can see.’

‘Two footmen, a chauffeur, a radio operator, a secretary, a cook and two housemaids. There’s a cleaning lady but she doesn’t come until eight.’

‘Tape him,’ Durand said. Jenkins’s lips were taped. ‘Sorry about that, but people can be silly at times. Take us to those eight bedrooms.’

Jenkins reluctantly led the way. Ten minutes later all eight of the staff were securely bound and silenced. Durand said: ‘And now, the two young ladies.’

Jenkins led them to a door Durand picked out three of his men and said softly: ‘The butler will take you to the other girl. Check what she packs and especially her purse.’

Durand, followed by his man, entered the room, his gun in its concealed holster so as not to arouse too much alarm. That the bed was occupied was beyond doubt, although all that could be seen was a mop of black hair on the pillow. Durand said in a conversational voice: ‘I think you better get up, ma’am.’ Durand was not normally given to gentleness, but he did not want a case of screaming hysterics on his hands.

A case of hysterics he did not have. Marina turned round in bed and looked at him with drowsy eyes. The drowsiness did not last long. The eyes opened wide, either in fear or shock, then returned to normal. She reached for a robe, arranged it strategically on the bed cover, then sat bolt upright, wrapping the robe round her.

‘Who are you and what do you want?’ Her voice was not quite as steady as she might have wished.

‘Well, would you look at that, now?’ Durand said admiringly. ‘You’d think she was used to being kidnapped every morning of her life.’

‘This is a kidnap?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Durand sounded genuinely apologetic.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Vacation. Little island in the sun.’ Durand smiled. ‘You won’t be needing any swim-suit though. Please get up and get dressed.’

‘And if I refuse?’

‘We’ll dress you.’

‘I’m not going to get dressed with you two watching me.’

Durand was soothing. ‘My friend will stand out in the corridor. I’ll go into the bathroom there and leave the door open just a crack – not to watch you, but to watch the window, to make sure that you don’t leave by it. Call me when you’re ready and be quick about it.’

She was quick about it. She called him inside three minutes. Blue blouse, blue slacks and her hair combed. Durand nodded his approval.

‘Pack a travelling bag. Enough for a few days.’

He watched her while she packed. She zipped the bag shut and picked up her purse. ‘I’m ready.’

He took the purse from her, unclipped it and up-ended the contents on the bed. From the jumble on the bed he selected a small pearl-handled pistol, which he slipped into his pocket.

‘Let’s pack the purse again, shall we?’

Marina did so, her face flushed with mortification.

A somewhat similar scene had just taken place in Melinda’s bedroom.

Twenty-five minutes had elapsed since the arrival of Durand and his men and their departure with the two girls. No one had been hurt, except in their pride, and they had even been considerate to the extent of seating Jenkins in a deep armchair in the front hall. Jenkins, as he was now securely bound hand and foot, did not appreciate this courtesy as much as he might have done.