Philip Kerr - The Five Year Plan (1998)

'Freeboard?'

'In the tropical zone you expect the best weather, so you load more cargo with a consequent reduction in freeboard,' explained Jock. 'Increased freeboard increases the safety of the ship in bad weather. And vice versa. Plus, we're working on the summer loadline. That also decreases our freeboard.' Jock grinned and began to roll a cigarette.

'Ach, don't worry yourself. If we do have a problem we can always radio that

submarine.'

'You really think it's there?'

Jock lit his cigarette, flicked a switch on the radio to change channels, and Dave heard the sound that he had heard before. Jock said, 'There it is. Broadcasting right now.'

Dave remembered Keach screwing around with his Tracvision antenna and wondered if the signal could have anything to do with the Baby Doc.

'Wait a minute,' he said. 'Before, you said you thought a sub was only a possibility. That it might be one of the boats on this ship that was broadcasting.'

'Aye sir, that was the first possibility. The sub was the second. And now that I think about it, there's a third as well.'

'What's that?'

'One of the boats on this ship is broadcasting to the submarine.' Jock sucked on the cigarette with slow precision and half swallowed his inhalation of smoke.

'You really do think it's there, don't you?' Dave repeated dumbly.

'I'm no sonar man,' said Jock. 'But there was something there on the echo sounder, last time I looked. It's not very accurate, mind. All it does is give you the depth of clear water underneath the hull. But anyone could see there should have been more water than there was on the sounder. Of course, for all I know it could have been a reef, or even a friendly whale.'

'But you don't really think that, do you, Jock?'

'No sir, I think it's a sub.'

'What about the captain? What does he think?'

'Granny?' Jock laughed. 'All he cares about is his garden and that woman on the Jade. Fancies his chance, by all accounts. He doesn't give a shit about any submarine.' Jock flicked ash across the radio table. 'Quite exciting when you think about it. A spy aboard the Duke.'

'But why?' said Dave. 'Why would anyone want to spy on this ship?'

'Ah well, that's the question, isn't it, sir? Why indeed?'

Jack Jellicoe was sunbathing in his garden. This consisted of several terracotta pots filled with lobelia and scented geraniums, which were arranged around one of the bow engine towers on top of the bridge. Lying on his sun-lounger, with a cool-box of ready-mixed pink gins by his side, and a novel by P.D. James, the captain was in his element. But he knew, as soon as he saw his second officer approaching, that something must be amiss. Niven was a competent officer and would never have disturbed him unless it was something important.

'What's up?' he barked.

Niven handed over the fax. 'Weather map, sir. I thought you ought to see it straight away.'

'Thank you Two-O.' Jellicoe scrutinized the map carefully.

Niven said, 'Hurricane Louisa, sir. Following us. Thought I'd better lay in a new course. I've marked it up on the fax, sir.'

'I see,' Jellicoe said sourly. 'The only problem with this new course is that it takes us straight along the Tropic of Cancer.'

'Yes sir. I thought if we stayed south the storm would pass by well north of us, heading toward the Azores.'

'And where do you propose that we should sail north to ourselves, when we want to head toward Gib and the Med? Which is, after all, where we are ultimately bound.'

'Well sir, just north of the Canary Islands.'

'Just north of the Canaries, eh?' Jellicoe smiled bitterly and then pointed to the two brass cannon that were pointed out to sea. 'What about those?'

'How do you mean, sir?'

'In case you'd forgotten, we stole those from the island of Lanzarote. Which, if memory serves, is one of the smaller Canary Islands. Thus placing me and my ship in rather bad odor with the local government's chief budgerigar. You see my point?'

'Yes sir.'

Jellicoe took another look at the map.

'We can't possibly go anywhere near there.'

'No sir.'

'Here's what we'll do, Two. I've seen this kind of thing before. The storm will have largely blown itself out by the time it gets to us, take my word for it. No, we'll stick to our original course. However, just to be on the safe side, tell the chief engineer to give us maximum revs. We'll try to put some distance between ourselves and Louisa. It'll probably get a bit rough, but nothing we can't handle. You know, Two, contrary to popular opinion, the best place you can be during a storm is at sea. When Hurricane Bertha struck the American coast, US Navy officers ordered their ships to sea, to save them from being thrown against the harbor walls. That should tell you something.'

'What about the ladies on the Jade, sir?'

'What about them?'

'Tonight's their cocktail party, sir.'

'Oh, that.' Jellicoe took another look at the weather map and shook his head. 'Should be all over by the time the sea starts to get up.'

'You know they might not be used to this kind of thing, sir. I mean it's going to get pretty rough.'

'Oh, I don't think you need worry about Captain Dana and her crew. I'm sure they've encountered a bit of squally weather in their time.'

'Yes sir, but a boat like that. They'll be fitted with stabilizers, won't they? They're not much good to them while they're aboard the Duke, sir. The only stabilizer on this ship is the cook's coffee.'

'That'll be all, Mister Niven. Better tell the boys to go to blues. It's going to get cooler. And tell the helmsman it's steady as she goes.'

'Aye sir.' Niven started to walk away, shaking his head. 'Steady as she goes? Fat bloody chance of that.'

'Something to add, Mister Niven?'

'No sir.'

'Then get on with it.'

Jellicoe watched his second officer retreat. Calmly he folded away his sunlounger, then collected up his cool-box, his novel and the weather map. Heading back to his own cabin he was chuckling happily. It looked very like the supernumos were going to get a real taste of the Atlantic after all.

Kate had walked down to the stern of the ship to take a closer look at the Britannia and her crew, and to see if she could plant another listening device on the hull.

The captain, Nicky Vallbona, the other crewman, a guy named Webb Garwood, and Vallbona's girlfriend, Gay Gilmore, were nowhere to be seen. Kate strolled up and down the dock wall alongside the Britannia a couple of times, affecting a greater interest in the Duke's engine towers and open stern but there was nothing to see except a lot of seagulls picking over the garbage floating in the Duke's wake. The Britannia looked as shipshape as any other boat on the transport, and that included the Camera.

Kate looked both ways and then knelt down to tie the lace of her boat shoe. The listening device was no bigger than an earplug and it was a simple matter to lean across and stick the bug to the boat's coachroof. She was already walking away, when a man's voice behind her brought her to a halt.

'Talk to me,' said the man. 'Don't just stand there. I mean, have you given any thought to having kids, for instance?'

Half expecting to see Howard standing on the dock wall behind her, Kate glanced around. There was no one in sight.

'Your biological clock,' said the voice. 'Well, it's hardly slowing down, is it honey? I mean you leave it until you're in your thirties and it becomes a lot harder to conceive, doesn't it?'

Kate realized that the voice was coming from an open window near the bow of the Britannia. Who needed bugs when you had open windows? Not that there was anything about this conversation that was of particular interest to the FBI. It could easily have been Howard. How often had Kate heard him utter these same remarks?