Samuel Edwards - Neptune

No stray aeroplanes appeared, to be sure, and Adrienne had nothing to occupy her time other than to stretch out on a fantail deck chair for several hours each day to improve her tan. No security problems arose, no crises erupted and she found herself worrying more and more about Porter.

Again and again she reflected that she was concerning herself unnecessarily. No man who had ever worked for the Corporation was better able to look after himself, and he had demonstrated over the years that he was more than a match for the KGB’s best.

No one was indestructible, to be sure, but he still belonged in a special category.

Had he been working alone she might have relaxed, but what made her apprehensive was his close, continuing association with the Wing woman. Porter was wise to her, and so far had found it easy enough to outmanoeuvre her at every turn. All the same, he was sleeping with her, and intimacy that continued over a protracted period could cause even the most meticulous of field agents to become careless. Adrienne had trapped two senior KGB operatives in just that way, so she knew her fears were solidly grounded. What annoyed her was that she couldn’t understand why she was stewing over Porter. Even if he survived intact, with his calm unruffled, they would separate after this mission ended and might never again be assigned to work together. At best she could hope they would go to bed a few more times, but she had good reason to know how fleeting such pleasures could be.

All the same, she wanted to see him again. He was the one man she had known – in more years than she cared to recall – with whom she believed she could form an enduring relationship. Not, God forbid, that she would care to marry him; that would be too much. Yet it would be comforting to awaken in the morning and know he was beside her.

The very idea was ridiculous. Porter would never allow himself to be domesticated. And if he did reappear, intact, she was willing to bet that damned Eurasian broad would be clinging to his arm. Yes, and he’d have a valid, sound reason to be playing her along, one that the Director himself would approve.

Adrienne realized she was jealous for the first time since she had been an adolescent, but she didn’t care. She was just sorry she hadn’t turned the Deacon loose the night he had given the Wing woman a scrubbing. Accidents had been known to happen. Often. And no field supervisor had ever been fired from the Corporation for over-zealousness.

She had to admit, grudgingly, that even if Nancy Wing did show up with him she’d be so relieved she wouldn’t mind. Well, not all that much. Maybe.

What irritated her beyond measure was the knowledge that Porter had deliberately placed himself in an untenable, exposed position. There might have been a dozen ways to neutralize KGB interest in Project Neptune and to direct the Chinese fishing expedition into harmless waters. Oh, no. He had to be a big hero, even though he knew there were no heroes in this business.

She didn’t even know how he intended to extricate himself from the Singapore mess he had created. Blackman had quietly vanished just before the Neptune had sailed, so she assumed he was involved, but she didn’t share Porter’s faith in Blackman. If only he’d confided in her instead, she would have been in a position to help him squeeze through what would be one of the tightest nets drawn in years.

Damn male obstinacy. Damn male pride. Damn male vanity. And while she was at it, damn the male sex drive. She still suspected that Porter was more deeply involved with the Wing woman than he had told her, and it was possible he had devised a way to include her in this silly, dangerous caper because he still had a yen for her. So damn Nancy Wing, and above all, damn Project Neptune for interfering in what might have developed into a genuine abiding relationship.

A deep voice crackling on a loudspeaker over the intercom aroused Adrienne from her reverie. ‘Miss Howard,’ the man boomed. ‘Captain Humphries’ compliments, and please report to the bridge without delay.’

This was the first time Adrienne had been summoned, and she hastily gathered her belongings and donned her short beach robe over her bikini before hurrying forward to the bridge. Her attire wasn’t suitable, but there had been a note of urgency in the message, so to hell with propriety.

The master of the Neptune was seated in the overstuffed leather chair that naval custom reserved exclusively for his use, and was engrossed in a study of charts, but he rose to his feet as Adrienne approached.

She perched her sunglasses on top of her head, aware of the scrutiny of two junior officers and the helmsman. As a matter of principle, however, she refrained from apologizing for the informality of her dress.

Humphries grinned at her. ‘Are you as healthy as you look, Miss Howard?’

‘I believe so.’ She knew he hadn’t summoned her to compliment her on her suntan.

His smile faded. ‘I assume I’d have been notified if you had relaxed your ban on the sending or receipt of wireless messages by passengers.’

‘Of course, but there’s been no relaxation of the rule. We made it very clear before we sailed that no messages would be sent and none received, even in personal emergencies. Russian tracking equipment is every bit as sophisticated as ours, and you know as well as I do that they have disguised fishing trawlers scattered all over the Pacific. As long as I’m in charge of security on board I won’t change that rule without a written order, personally signed by you!’

‘I have no intention of signing anything, Miss Howard. And rest assured I’ll back you up if necessary. I prefer not to become involved in a confrontation unless I’m forced to intervene, that’s all.’

‘What’s the problem?’ Adrienne had changed from a relaxed girl into a woman with a steel spine.

‘You’ll need your strength. Marie Richards wants to send a message to New York, and her husband is supporting her.’

‘Marie!’ She frowned, then shook her head.

‘I just thought I’d warn you. Frank Richards is waiting for you in the communications office, and he’s in a pretty frightening mood.’

‘I’ll take care of him.’

‘Let me know if you need my help,’ Humphries said.

‘I won’t.’ Adrienne left the bridge and walked down the corridor to the communications centre.

She found Franklin Richards pacing the private office of the signals officer, a lieutenant commander who eased himself out when she appeared.

‘Well, Adrienne!’ Richards wasted no words. ‘I know no private messages are permitted, and I appreciate the reasons for the rule. But this situation is different!’

‘We can make no exceptions, Frank,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Look here, this is very embarrassing. Marie suddenly remembered she hadn’t cancelled a dinner engagement for next week with my managing director for United Kingdom operations and his wife. They’ll think we’re terribly rude.’

‘I’m sure they’ll forgive you in due time. When you’re able to explain.’ Adrienne perched on the edge of the lieutenant commander’s desk.

‘I realize Marie was under a cloud some weeks ago,’ Richards said, trying to curb his anger. ‘So I’m not asking that you send the message as she worded it. Reword it yourself, and put it in code if you wish. I don’t care if you send it through the Corporation and ask them to notify my New York office. Handle it any way you please, just so the wireless message is sent!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Adrienne said. ‘But the rules can’t be broken. I can’t permit exceptions.’

‘I’m just requesting you to bend them a little.’

‘Impossible.’

‘Have you forgotten my contributions to Project Neptune?’ His temper was soaring.