Ken Follett - Triple (1991)

Dieter Koch, the new engineer officer of the Caparelli, lay In his bunk in the middle of the night thinking: but what do I say if somebody sees me? What he had to do now was simple. He had to get up, go to the aft engineering store, take out the spare oil pump and got rid of it. It was almost certain he could do this without being seen, for his cabin was close to the store, most of the crew were asleep, and those that were awake were on the bridge and in the engine room and likely to stay there. But "almost certain" was not enough in an operation of this importance. If anyone should suspect, now or later, what he was really up to ... He put on a sweater, trousers, sea boots and an oilskin. The thing had to be done, and it had to be done now. He pocketed the key to the store, opened his cabin door and went out. As he made his way along the gangway he thought: I'll say I couldn't sleep so I'm checking the stores. He unlocked the door to the store, turned on the light, went in and closed it behind him. Engineering spares were racked and shelved all around him-gaskets, valves, plugs, cable, bolts, filters . . . given a cylinder block, you could build a whole engine out of these parts. He found the spare oil pump in a box on a high shelf. He lifted it down-it was not bulky but it was heavy-and then spent five minutes double-checking that there was not a seoond spare oil pump. Now for the difficult part. I couldn't sleep, sir, so I was checking the spares. Very good, everything in order? Yes, sir. And what's that you've got under your arm? A bottle of whiskey, sir. A cake my mother sent me, The spare oil pump, sir, I'm going to throw it overboard ... He opened the storeroom door and looked out. Nobody. He killed the light, went out, closed the door behind him and locked it. He walked along the gangway and out on deck. Nobody. It was still raining. He could see only a few yards, which was good, because it meant others could see only that far. He crossed the deck to the gunwale, leaned over the rail, dropped the oil pump into the sea, turned, and bumped into someone. A cake my mother sent me, it was so dry ... 'Who's that?' a voice said in accented English. "Engineer. You?" As Koch spoke, the other man turned so that his profile was visible in the deck light, and Koch recognized the rotund figure and big-nosed face of the radio operator. "I couldn't sleep," the radio operator said. "I wasget ting some air." He's as embarrassed as I am, Koch thought. I wonder why? "Lousy night," Koch said. "Im going in." "Goodnight." Koch went inside and made his way to his cabin. Strange fellow, that radio operator. He was not one of the regular crew. He had been taken on in Cardiff after the original radioman broke his leg. Like Koch, he was something of an outsider here. A good thing he bad bumped into him rather than one of the others. Inside his cabin he took off his wet outer clothes and lay on his bunk. He knew he would not sleep. His plan for tomorrow was all worked out, there was no point in going over it again, so he tried to think of other things: of his mother, who made the best potato kugel in the world; of his fiance, who gave the best head in the world; of his mad father now in an institution in Tel Aviv; of the magnificent tapedeck he would buy with his back pay after his assignment; of his fine apartment in Haifa; of the children he would have, and how they would grow up in an Israel safe from war. . He got up two hours later. He went aft to the galley for some coffee. The cook's apprentice was there, standing in a couple of inches of water, frying bacon for the crew. "Lousy weather," Koch said. "It will get worse." Koch drank his coffee, then refilled the mug and a second one and took - them up to the bridge. The first officer was there. "Good morning," Koch said. "Not really," said the first officer, looking out into a curtain of rain. "Coffee?" "Good of you. Thank you." Koch handed him the mug. 'Where are we?" "Here." The officer showed him their position on a charL "Dead on schedule, in spite of the weather." Koch nodded. That meant be had to stop the ship in fifteen minutes. "See you later," he said. He left the bridge and went below to the engine room. His number two was there, looking quite fresh, as if he had taken a good long nap during his nighfs duty. "Hows the oil pressureT'Koch asked him. "Steady."

"It was going up and down a bit yesterday." "Well, there was no sign of trouble in the night," the number two said. He was a little too firm about it, as if he was afraid of being accused of sleeping while the gauge oscillated. "Good," Koch said. "Perhaps it's repaired itself." He put his mug down on a level cowling, then picked it up quickly as the ship rolled. "Wake Larsen on your way to bed." "Right." "Sleep well." The number two left, and Koch drank down his coffee and went to work. The oil pressure gauge was located in a bank of dials aft of the engine.'Tbe dials were set into a thin metal casing, painted matt black and secured by four self-tapping screws. Using a large screwdriver, Koch removed the four screws and pulled the casing away. Behind it was a mass of many. colored wires leading to the different gauges. Koch swapped his large screwdriver for a small electrical one with an insulated handle. With a few turns be disconnected one of the wires to the oil pressure gauge. He wrapped a couple of inches of insulating tape around the bare end of the wire, thm taped it to the back of the dial so that only a close inspection would reveal it was not connected to the terminal. Then he replaced the casing and secured it with the four Screws. Wben Larsen came in be was topping up the transmission fluid. "Can I do that, sir?" Larsen said. He was a Donkeyman Greaser, and lubrication was his province. I "I've done it now," Koch said. He replaced the filler cap and stowed the can in a locker. Larsen rubbed his eyes and lit a cigarette. He looked over the dials, did a double take and said. "Sirl Oil pressure zerol" ozeror, "Yes!" "Stop enginest" "Aye, aye, sir." Without oil, friction between the engines metal parts would cause a very rapid build-up of heat until the metal melted, the parts fused and the engines stopped, never to go again. So dangerous was the sudden absence of oil pressure that Larsen might well have stopped the engines on his own initiative, without asking Koch. Everyone on the ship heard the engine die and felt the COparelli lose way; even those dayworkers who were still asleep in their bunks heard it through their dreams and woke up. Before the engine was completely still the first officer's voice came down the pipe. "Bridgel What's going on below?" Koch spoke into the , voice-pipe. "Sudden loss of oil pressure. "Any idea whyr "Not yet." "Keep me posted." "Aye, aye, sir." Koch turned to Larsen. "We're going to drop the sump," he said. Larsen picked up a toolbox and followed Koch down a half deck to where they could get at the engine from underneath. Koch told him, "If the main bearings or the big end bearings were wom the drop in oil pressure would have been gradual. A sudden drop means a failure in the oil supply. There's plenty of oil in the system-I checked earlier-and there are no signs of leaks. So there's probably a blockage." Koch released the sump with a power spanner and the two of them lowered it to the deck. They checked the sump strainer, the fall How filter, the filter relief valve and the ai relief valve without finding any obstructions. "If there's no blockage, the fault must be in the pump," Koch said. "Break out the spare oil pump." 'That will be in the store on the main deck," Larsen said. Koch handed him the key, and Larsen went above. Now Koch had to work very quickly. He took the casing off the oil pump, exposing two broad-toothed meshing gear wheels. He took the spanner off the power drill and fitted a bit, then attacked the cogs of the gear wheels with the drill, chipping and breaking them until they were all but useless. He put down the drill, picked up a crowbar and a hammer, and forced the bar in between the two wheels, prising them apart until he heard something give with a loud, dull crack. Finally he took out of his pocket a small nut made of toughened steel, battered and chipped. He had brought it with him when he had boarded the ship. He dropped the nut into the sump. Done.