Алистер Маклин - Seawitch

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

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

‘Excellent.’ Cronkite was pleased, and sounded it. Everything was going his way, but then, he had expected nothing else. ‘Lord Worth bring anyone with him?’

‘Apart from the pilot, three people. A doctor – surgeon, rather – and he seems genuine enough. Lord Worth appears to have expected some blood to be spilt. I’ll check his credentials in Florida in a few minutes. Also, two technicians – seismologists, or something of that kind. Genuine and harmless – even the sight of a slung machine-pistol gives them a severe attack of St Vitus’s dance. All are unarmed.’

‘So no worries?’

‘Well, three. Lord Worth has a squad of about twenty men aboard. They have the look of trained killers about them, and I’m pretty certain they’re all ex-military personnel. They have to be because of my second worry – Lord Worth has eight dual-purpose anti-aircraft guns bolted on to the platform.’

‘The hell he has!’

‘I’m afraid so. He also has piles of mines lining the sides of the platform. Now we know who broke into the Mississippi naval armoury last night. And the third problem is that we’re far too thin on the ground. There’s only myself and four others to watch everybody. Some of us have to sleep sometime. I need reinforcements and I need them quickly.’

‘You’ll have over twenty arriving at dawn tomorrow morning. The relief rig crew are due in then. A man called Gregson – you’ll recognize him by the biggest red beard you ever saw – will be in charge.’

‘I can’t wait that long. I need reinforcements now. You have your chopper on the Georgia.’

‘And what do you think I carry aboard the Georgia? An army of reinforcements?’ Cronkite paused, then went on reluctantly: ‘I can spare eight men, no more.’

‘They have radar aboard.’

‘Not unheard of. What does it matter? You’re in charge.’

‘Yes, Mr Cronkite. But your own golden rule: never take a chance.’

‘When you get the word that our helicopter has taken off, neutralize it.’

‘Destroy the radar cabin?’

‘No. We’ll almost certainly want to use it when we’ve completely taken over. The scanner will be on top of the drilling derrick. Right?’

‘Right.’

‘It’s a simple mechanical job to stop it from turning. All it needs is someone with a spanner and a head for heights. Now tell me exactly where Lord Worth’s hard men are quartered. Gregson will require this information.’

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

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

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

Roomer said: ‘We appreciate your concern, Doctor. But don’t worry about us.’

‘I wasn’t worrying about you.’ Dr Greenshaw assumed his most sombre expression. ‘A good Christian can also pray for the souls of the ungodly.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘No external agency was involved. I have good friends in California Intelligence. Their interest in us is zero. Nor was the FBI involved. For that to have happened we’d have had to commit some crime and then cross State lines. Neither of those have we done. And before we met last time I had an electronics expert in to check not only this room but the entire house for bugs. There were none.’

Mr A said: ‘Perhaps he planted a bug?’

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

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

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

‘I have no idea. We shall probably never know.’

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

Corral said: ‘Thank you very much.’

Benson said: ‘Intelligent men don’t make so obvious a link.’

‘As you said on our previous meeting, I’m the only person who has no declared interest in being here.’ Borosoff seemed quietly relaxed. ‘I could be your man.’

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