Geoffrey Jenkins - A Ravel of Waters

I spotted one of the group leaving the pinnace with an armful of fresh charges.

The idea tugged at the back of my mind. 'How far is that pinnace from Jetwind, John?’

He eyed me. 'Three cables, a trifle more, maybe.' 'Five hundred metres?' 'About that.'

'Explosion — seismology.' I turned over the words slowly, thoughtfully. Tideman watched me, waiting for an explanation. As yet, my plan was too nebulous to formulate in words.

As we stood, the sun suddenly broke through the storm clouds. The sunset mist swirled and flowed and ebbed like pink foam from a lung-shot. Molot became even more unreal. The ice was blue-white; the grey lengths of the warships were tinged with red, the colour of their ensigns. Soon the long Antarctic summer night would begin, a night which never really got dark.

The boat with Kay vanished behind the Akademik Kurchatov. 'The sub's moving!' exclaimed Tideman.

His keen eye had spotted the narrowing of the sail's angle against the white back-drop of Trolltunga. 'She's coming out,' he added. 'No,' I replied. 'She's heading for the fleet replenisher.'

The sub edged towards her big sister. Which warship housed the faceless Molot Command? The sub neared the Berezina. 'The gantry — look!' exclaimed Tideman.

My muzziness was passing; I could focus again. The cut from Grohman's blow was small and did not bleed much but the bruise felt the size of Trolltunga.

A section of the Berezina's prominent athwartships gantry slid out of its housing to reach over the sea like a horizontal crane. Then, cables with massive hooks attached spilled into the water. 'Watch!' said Tideman excitedly. 'This is something no Westerner has ever witnessed! The fleet's fuelling! They're bringing up the jellifjed fuel from the undersea dump!'

Tens of thousands of hectolitres of jellified fuel! Each massive container in itself a bomb big enough to sink a ship! Molot itself — the whole anchorage — a more gigantic bomb still! It only needed a trigger to detonate it! And then my plan was born: I knew how I would attempt it. But it would kill Kay.

That was the thought which lacerated my mind for the nest hour while Tideman and I stood viewing the fleet begin its refuelling operation. The soundless process was punctuated at intervals by the detonation of more seisinic charges from Trolltunga. The mystic half-light of the Antarctic twilight, the swirls of mist and cloud, the ice skyscrapers brooding over the Red Fleet's secret base in an ocean as remote as the moon's Sea of Storms, made the scene as unreal in its own way as the one I had witnessed from Albatros. Progress was much slower than I had anticipated. Floodlights sprang up aboard the Berezina and Akademik Kurchatov. Strange reflections flickered off the ice and the blue-grey hulls of the squadron. The artificial light added a further dimension of unreality to the macabre scene — a mother sickling her brood with dragon's blood. The time to strike was when the babes were at the fuelling teats. Tonight! But Kay! What about Kay!

I jumped off my stool in agitation. By now I had largely shaken off the effects of Grohman's blow. The sentry followed my movements with his automatic.

'Cool it, Peter!' warned Tideman in a low voice. 'Don't attempt anything again!' He broke off, staring at the warships. 'What is it, John?' 'Jetwind's boat — it's coming back!'

'There are several more men in the boat than Grohman left with,' added Tideman. The craft sheered off its course and made for the scientists' pinnace at the foot of Trolltunga. Then one of Grohman's crew made his way laboriously up to the tent party above. It seemed to take an excruciating time for him to reach the summit. Finally he returned to the boat.

'They're coming our way! It looks as if Kay and Hathaway are coming back!' exclaimed Tideman.

The boat finally tied up alongside Jetwind. Now I could go ahead! With Kay back, I would set match to fuse of my plan the moment Grohman stepped on Jetwind's deck. Kay climbed aboard under guard. Her progress to the bridge along the main-deck took a light year to my impatient senses.

Then she was with me. When a person walks in from the dead, words are not enough. Grohman had no need to guard us at that moment. I did not even notice him.

I came to earth when he ordered abruptly, 'Take them away — lock them up!'

He snapped something further in Spanish at the sentry, who had a half-smoked cigarillo between his lips. The man sullenly ground out the smoke with his foot.

Grohman addressed us. 'No smoking — even at this distance from the fuel. Orders from Command. One spark, and up would go the ships. Is that clear?’ Too clear, Grohman. It is the heart of my plan.

He added, 'Molot Command has even stopped the scientists firing their charges during the operation because of the risk.' 'The ships are taking their time about it,' I remarked.

'Just you hope for the sake of your skins that it goes on for long,' was his comeback. 'Make no mistake, you're not coming along with Group Condor.'

He cradled the gun and spoke briefly to the guard. You couldn't call it a smile which crossed his face. He went on, 'If the English capitalist has his ransom paid, it will be a condition of his release that he keeps his mouth shut.'

'We have seen the operation, Tideman and I,' I pointed out. His reply sent my stomach nerves into a spasm. 'Dead men tell no tales. The rest of Jetwind's crew will be given the option of cooperating with us and keeping their mouths shut — or else. You two have got till the fleet has finished refuelling.' 'How long is that?'

'Why shouldn't you know?' he asked cynically. 'Operation Molot has been advanced — the squadron sails tomorrow morning. After the stir over Jetwind's disappearance, Command considers it unwise to delay. The fleet dares not risk detection; there is still the possibility of a chance interception. The attack must and will come like a bolt from the blue. If there is local resistance, the Almirante Storni will support Group Condor in crushing it.'

Kay took a step towards Grohman. 'You can shoot me along with Peter and John!' she blazed. 'I'd rather die than play along with terrorists who are planning to murder innocent civilians and seize their homes!'

Grohman said speculatively, 'I believe you mean what you say, senorita.' 'You can do what you wish, I will not cooperate!'

'You are a fool, senorita,' retorted Grohman. 'Do not love a man like this. Let him go. There are plenty more men. You can save your life — have a good life, even, at Kyyiv.' 'That's my business,' Kay answered hotly.

'Take them away!' he snapped. Then he added something in Spanish to the guard. There was no mistaking the threat in his voice. Nor the way it cowed the man. He repeated it in English for our benefit.

'I have warned him that if any one of you attempts any funny business, he will be shot tomorrow with you.'

'This is my plan.'

Kay, Tideman and I were back again in the sick-bay. I waited only long enough for the guard to settle behind the glass partition before sitting the others down at the table. The pretence of playing cards was agonizing. Guillotine victims did it with more aplomb. But they had no hope of escape. 'We are going to escape,' I added. 'Tonight.'

Kay's fan of cards trembled. Even Tideman's iron control cracked. 'How?' he demanded. 'For pity's sake, how?'

'It is tonight or never,' I answered. 'Our one big chance — our only chance — is while the fleet is occupied fuelling.' 'Peter!' Kay started to remonstrate.

'Try to remember you are supposed to be playing cards,' I reminded her. 'You know what to expect if that gorilla out there suspects us. It's his neck as well as ours. I intend it to be his.' 'Go on,' said Tideman quietly. I made a pretence of trumping a card. 'I intend to blow up the fleet.'