Samuel Edwards - Neptune

‘Why Richards?’

‘Hell, Mr Porter, they’re the biggest outfit in the area. I applied last summerwhen they put on a big hiring campaign. I never been picked up by the police, so I got a clean record, and seeing I know how to handle firearms pretty good they put me in security.’

‘What were your duties?’

‘Mostly keeping people out of restricted areas.’

‘And what’s in those areas?’

‘The same as there is every place else in the yards. Ships being built.’

‘Like the Neptune?’

‘That’s one of them.’

‘What do you know about the Neptune?’

‘Me? I never even been near that ship. You got to have a special pass for that. Don’t take my word for it, Mr Porter. Anybody at plant security will tell you.’

As nearly as Porter could ascertain, Rasmussen was not lying. His story tied with Kaspar’s insistent claim that guards on his level did not have access to the Neptune.

It was supremely ironic, if he was telling the truth, that a gorilla on the KGB payroll had been working without his knowledge, within a stone’s throw of an ultra-secret project. Porter was inclined to accept the man’s account for the simple reason that he lacked the intelligence to pass along data of any significance concerning the ship.

But he had to try again. ‘You still haven’t answered my question. What do you know about the Neptune?’

‘Nothing!’ Rasmussen was contemptuous. ‘I don’t give a good goddam about any ship in the yards. All I know is Richards makes a fortune because he exploits the workers. He could pay us double what we get, and it still wouldn’t be enough.’

‘I wonder if his memory needs jogging,’ Adrienne said.

‘Perhaps.’ Porter nodded.

She reached for the young man’s wrist and pressed a nerve.

Rasmussen’s scream of pain echoed through the woods.

She pressed again, her face wooden.

He dropped to his knees, writhing in agony. ‘Cut it out! I’ll tell you anything I know, but I can’t make up stuff!’

‘What other KGB people work at the Richards yards?’ Porter asked.

‘Maybe there’s a thousand and maybe there’s none. How the hell would I know?’

Adrienne approached him again.

Rasmussen became panicky. ‘Honest, lady. The way we work, I don’t know anybody except Eddie. My boss. Unless he sends me special orders I meet him once a month, tell him what’s going on in my territory and collect my pay.’

Adrienne hovered behind him, her finger close to his wrist. ‘Just what has been happening in your territory lately?’

‘For three months I didn’t get any orders at all, not one.’ Rasmussen was panting. ‘Not until a general alert went out to the whole network, telling us to kill Mr Porter if we saw him.’

‘How did you know me?’ Porter demanded.

‘When Eddie called me to Seattle he showed me a couple of your pictures, and I studied them good.’

Porter sighed. ‘I fear we’re accomplishing nothing, my love. The KGB issues instructions to its peasants but gives them no information of substance.’

‘That’s been my experience with them, too,’ Adrienne said. ‘The people at the bottom are acquainted only with their immediate superiors.’

‘That’s so, lady!’ Rasmussen, still on his knees, twisted around to keep an eye on the woman who hovered near him.

‘I regret,’ Porter said, ‘that you can make no contribution to the land of your birth.’

The young man became surly. ‘In another three years they would have made me a Soviet citizen. They promised.’

‘It was Carlyle, writing in The French Revolution, I believe, who said, “O poor mortals, how ye make this earth bitter for each other.” I don’t suppose you’re familiar with Carlyle,’

‘No, Mr Porter.’

‘A pity. Stand up Rasmussen.’

The young man struggled to his feet.

‘Your education has been neglected,’ Porter said. ‘I doubt if you realize that fair play is an Anglo-Saxon concept. A practice in which only the quixotic indulge. The British, the Americans, the Canadians, the Australians, the New Zealanders. Do you know what I’m talking about, Rasmussen?’

‘Sort of.’

‘There’s no time like the present to improve your education.’ Porter removed his jacket, folded it with care and laid it on the ground, then took his Magnum from its holster and handed it to Adrienne, who looked at him in astonishment.

Rasmussen was bewildered.

‘Like you,’ Porter said, ‘I am now unarmed. In a moment you’ll have an opportunity to meet me in hand-to-hand combat. Do me in, and Moscow will give you your just rewards. Capitalist gold, Soviet citizenship and whatever else your heart desires.’

‘You’re mad, Porter!’ Adrienne said.

‘What about her?’ the young man asked. ‘She’s got guns.’

‘I presume her grief over my passing would be so great it would spoil her aim. But you’d have to arrange your escape in your own way. Are you game?’

‘Hell yes!’ Rasmussen’s grin bared his teeth.

‘You can’t do this,’ Adrienne said.

‘Oh ye of little faith, remove his handcuffs. That’s an order,’ Porter said.

She unlocked the cuffs, and pulled them off with one hand while continuing to hold her .32 at the ready in the other. Then, so she couldn’t be seized and used as a shield, she retreated rapidly to the edge of the clearing.

As soon as Rasmussen realized his bonds had been removed he raced across the open space and threw himself at the older, slighter man.

Porter sidestepped, and his antagonist brushed past him, ‘Easy does it,’

Rasmussen whirled, came at him again and aimed a vicious kick at his groin.

‘Fair play must be instinctive,’ Porter said. ‘I regret it can’t be taught.’ Moving with great care he walked backward, step by step inching closer to the edge of the cliff.

A wild gleam appeared in Rasmussen’s pale eyes as he lunged.

They were scant feet from the precipice as they grappled and swayed, and Adrienne caught her breath. If they lost their footing one or both could tumble from the ledge.

Porter’s physical strength was no match for that of his opponent, and he had no intention of being overwhelmed. Holding the younger man at bay with his left hand he reached around Rasmussen with his right and, in a blow that travelled mere inches, struck the back of his neck smartly.

Rasmussen dropped to the ground, his head drooping at a grotesque angle.

Porter rolled him over the edge of the cliff and watched as the body dropped to the rocks far below.

Adrienne was shaken as she came forward. ‘That was the most stupid—’

‘You lack imagination, my love.’ Porter straightened his necktie, donned his jacket and took his Magnum from her, ‘In a short time one of my people will arrive with Rasmussen’s car, which will be parked where ours now stands. In it will be a partly consumed sandwich and a half-can of beer. When the police find him in the morning they’ll come up here. The verdict? Poor Rasmussen came to the park for a solitary picnic, lost his footing and fell. A bullet in the head would have been messy, and I dislike involving local authorities when we’ll be hanging about the neighbourhood for a time.’

‘I see your point,’ she said, walking beside him to their waiting car. ‘All the same, it was an insane gesture. Suppose he—’

Porter chuckled, interrupting her. ‘For the sake of argument,’ he said, ‘I’m willing to concede I may have been showing off for your benefit. An adolescent trait I can’t seem to overcome when I’m trying to impress a lovely lady.’

The comment silenced her, and she realized it had been intended for that purpose.