Santorini

by Alistair MacLean

  'That was a long couple of minutes, Vincent, and what are you looking so pleased about?'

  'I really don't know how you do it, sir. Incredible. I don't suppose you have any Scottish blood?'

  'Not a drop, as far as I'm aware. Am I supposed to be following you, Number One?'

  'I thought maybe the second sight. You were right. A classic Greek beauty. Irene. Miss Charial, that is. Odd, mind you, blonde as they come. I thought all those warm-blooded young Latin ladies had hair as black as a raven's wing.'

  'It's the sheltered life you lead, Vincent. You should go to Andalucia some day. Seville. On one street corner a dusky Moorish maiden, the next a Nordic blonde. We'll discuss pigmentation some other time. What did you learn?'

  'Enough, I hope. It's an art, sir, this casual and inconsequential approach. The questioning, I mean. She seems honest and open enough, not ingenuous, if you know what I mean, but quite straightforward. Certainly didn't give the impression of having anything to hide. Says she doesn't know the engine-room well but has been there a couple of times. We came to the question of fuel oil - I was just wondering out loud, natural curiosity, I hope she thought - as to what could have caused the explosion. Seems I was wrong when I said there were just two common ways of arranging fuel and water tanks. Seems there's a third. Two big tanks on either side of the engine, one fuel, one water. How big, I don't know, she was a bit vague about that -- no reason why she should know - but at least thousands of litres, she says. If there was a spare fuel tank she didn't know about it. I look forward, sir, to hearing Mr Andropulos justifying his decision not to abandon ship.'

  'So do I. Should be interesting. Anyway, congratulations. A good job.'

  'No hardship, sir.' Van Gelder scanned the sea around. Odd, don't you think, sir? I mean, are we the only ones who heard the SOS? I would have thought the horizon would have been black with converging vessels by this time.'

  'Not so strange, really. Nearly all the vessels around at this rime of year are private yachts and fishermen. Lots of them don't carry any radio at all and even those who do almost certainly wouldn't be permanently tuned to the distress frequency.'

  'But we are.'

  'This time I'm ahead of you. The Delos - or at least Andropulos - knew that we would be permanently tuned to the distress frequency, that we are automatically alerted by bell or buzzer whenever the distress frequency is energized. This presupposes two things. He knew we were a naval vessel and he also knew that we were in the vicinity.'

  'You realize what you are saying, sir? Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound that way. But the implications, sir. I must say I really don't like those at all.'

  'Neither do I. Opens up all sorts of avenues of interesting speculation, doesn't it?' He turned as McKenzie came on to the bridge: 'And how are our oil-stained survivors, Chief?'

  'Clean, sir. And in dry clothes, I don't think any of them will make the list of the ten best-dressed men.' He looked at Van Gelder. 'I gather you didn't have too much time, sir, for the selection and careful matching up of clothes. They're a bit of an odd sight, I must say, but respectable enough. I knew you would want to see them, Captain -- Mr Andropulos seems very anxious to see you -- and I know you don't like unauthorized people on the bridge so I took the liberty of putting the four gentlemen and the two young ladies in the wardroom. I hope that's all right, sir.'

  'Fine. You might ask the Surgeon Commander and Lieutenant Denholm to join us there. And send a couple of your boys up here to keep a lookout. Who knows, our radar might have a day off.'

  The six survivors from the Delos were standing around rather awkwardly, not talking, when Talbot and Van Gelder reached the wardroom. The four men, as McKenzie had suggested, did present rather an odd spectacle. They looked rather as if they had just raided an old clothes shop, few of the items of their clothing being a match, and for the most part, fitting only where they touched. In striking contrast, both girls were immaculately clad: dressed in white blouses and white skirts, they could have stepped straight from the pages of Vogue.

  'Please,' Talbot said. 'All of you be seated. Before we talk, I suggest we get our priorities right. First things first. You've had a harrowing experience and a lucky escape. I suggest you will not take amiss the suggestion of a suitable restorative.' He pressed a bell and a steward entered. 'Jenkins. Refreshments. Find out what they would like.' Jenkins did so and left.

  'I'm the captain,' Talbot said. 'Talbot. This is Lieutenant-Commander Van Gelder. Ah!' The door had opened. 'And this is Surgeon-Commander Grierson, whom you have met and whose services you fortunately didn't require, and Lieutenant Denholm.' He looked at the short stocky man seated before him. 'I take it that you, sir, are Mr Andropulos, die owner.'

  'I am, Commander, I am.' Andropulos had black hair, black eyes, white teeth and a deeply tanned complexion. He looked as if he hadn't shaved that morning but then, he would always look as if he hadn't shaved that morning. He leapt to his feet, took Talbot's hand, and shook it vigorously. He positively radiated a combined aura of benevolence and bonhomie. 'Words cannot express our gratitude. A close-run thing, Commander, a very close-run thing. We owe you our lives.'

  'I wouldn't go as far as to say that but I'll admit you were in a rather nasty pickle.'

  'Pickle? Pickle?'

  'Dangerous circumstances. I deeply regret both your loss of the members of your crew and your yacht.'

  'The yacht is nothing. I can always buy another. Well, Lloyd's of London can buy it for me. Still sadder to lose an old friend like the Delos but sadder still, much sadder, to lose the three members of my crew. Been with me for many years. I treasured them all.'

  'Who were they, sir?'

  'My engineer, chef and steward. With me for many years.' Andropulos shook his head. 'They will be sadly missed.'

  'Wasn't it odd for a chef and steward to be in the engine-room?'

  Andropulos smiled sadly. 'Not aboard the Delos, Commander. It was not exactly run along the lines of a ship of the Royal Navy. They were in the habit of having an after-lunch drink there with the engineer. They had my permission, of course, but they preferred to be discreet about it - and what more discreet place than the engine-room? Alas, their discretion cost them their lives.'

  'That is ironic. May I be introduced to the others?'

  'Of course, of course. This is my very dear friend Alexander.' Alexander was a tall man with a thin, unsmiling face and black, cold eyes who didn't look as if he could possibly be anybody's very dear friend. 'This is Aristotle, my captain.' Andropulos didn't say whether Aristotle was the first or last name: he had watchful eyes and a serious expression but looked as if he might, unlike Alexander, be capable of smiling occasionally. 'And this is Achmed.' He didn't say what occupation Achmed held. He was young, pleasant-faced and smiled readily. Talbot couldn't even begin to guess at his nationality except that he wasn't Greek.

  'But I forget myself. Deplorable, deplorable. I forget myself. Such manners. Should have been ladies first, of course. This is my niece, Irene.' Van Gelder hadn't made any mistakes about her, Talbot thought, except that he'd missed out on the wide green eyes and a rather bewitching smile. 'And this is Eugenia.' This one, Talbot reflected, was much closer to Van Gelder's concept of a warm-blooded young Latin lady. She had a slightly dusky skin, black hair and warm brown eyes. And she also, no doubt, was quite beautiful. It seemed to Talbot that Van Gelder was going to find himself in something of a quandary.

  'I congratulate you, Mr Andropulos,' Talbot said gallantly, 'and ourselves. Certainly the loveliest passengers we've ever had aboard the Ariadne. Ah. The steward.'

  Andropulos took his glass -- a scotch and not a small one, and disposed of half the contents in one gulp.

  'My goodness, I needed that. Thank you, Commander, thank you. Not as young as I was nor as tough, either. Age cometh to us all.' He quaffed the rest of his drink and sighed.

  Talbot said: 'Jenkins, another for Mr Andropulos. A slightly larger measure this time.' Jenkins looked at him expression
lessly, closed his eyes momentarily and left.

  'The Ariadne, Andropulos said. 'Rather odd, is it not. Greek name, British vessel.'

  'Courtesy gesture to your Government, sir. We are carrying out a hydrographic charting exercise with your people.' Talbot saw no point in mentioning that the Ariadne had never carried out a hydrographic exercise in its life and that the ship had been called Ariadne to remind the Greeks that it was a multi-national vessel and to persuade a wavering Greek government that perhaps NATO wasn't such a bad thing after all.

  'Hydrographic, you say. Is that why we're moored fore and aft -- a fixed platform for taking bearings.'

  'A fixed platform, yes, but in this instance the purpose is not hydrographic. We've had quite a busy afternoon, Mr Andropulos, and at the moment we're anchored over a plane that crashed into the sea just about the time we were receiving your SOS.'

  'A plane? Crashed? Good God! What - what kind of plane?'

  'We have no idea. It was so wreathed in smoke that it was impossible to distinguish any important features.'

  'But surely - well, don't you think it was a big plane?'

  'It may have been.'

  'But it could have been a big jet. Maybe hundreds of passengers.' If Andropulos knew it wasn't a jet carrying hundreds of passengers, his face wasn't saying so.

  'It's always possible.' Talbot saw no point in telling Andropulos that it was almost certainly a bomber and equally certainly not carrying hundreds of passengers.

  'You -- you mean to tell me that you left the area to come to our aid?'

  'A reasonable enough decision, I think. We were pretty certain that there were people alive aboard the Delos and we were also pretty certain that there was no one alive aboard that plane.'

  'There could have been survivors aboard that plane. I mean, you weren't there to see.'

  'Mr Andropulos.' Talbot allowed a certain coldness to creep into his voice. 'We are, I hope, neither callous nor stupid. Before leaving, we lowered one of our motorboats to circle the area. There were no survivors.'

  'Oh dear,' Irene Charial said. 'Isn't it awful? All those people dead and there we were, busy doing nothing except feeling sorry for ourselves. I'm not being inquisitive, Captain, and I know it's none of my business, but why do you remain anchored here? I mean, there can't possibly be any hope now that some survivors may surface.'

  'There is no hope, Miss Charial. We're remaining here as a marker until the diving ship arrives.' He didn't like lying to her but thought it inadvisable to tell her that there was no rescue ship hurrying to the scene and that, as far as he knew, the only other people who knew of the disaster were the NATO HQ in Italy. More especially, he didn't want any person or persons in her company to know.

  'But -- but it will be too late to save anyone.'

  'It's already too late, young lady. But they'll send divers down to investigate, to find out whether it's a passenger-carrying jet or not and to try to ascertain the cause of the accident.' He was looking, without seeming to look, at Andropulos as he said the last words and felt almost certain that he saw a flicker of expression cross his face.

  Andropulos's captain, Aristotle, spoke for the first time. 'How deep is this plane, Commander?'

  'Seventeen, eighteen fathoms. Just over thirty metres or so.'

  'Thirty metres,' Andropulos said. 'Even if they do get inside - and there's no guarantee that they will be able to do so -won't it be difficult to move around and see anything?'

  'I can guarantee they'll get inside. There are such things as oxyacetylene torches, you know. And they'll have powerful underwater torches. But they won't bother with either of

  those things. The divers will carry down a couple of slings with them. A diving ship will have no difficulty at all in bringing the fuselage to the surface. Then they'll be able to examine the plane at their leisure.' This time there was no trace of expression in Andropulos's face: Talbot wondered if be, Andropulos, had become aware that such changes in expression were being sought for.

  Jenkins entered and handed Talbot a sealed envelope. "From the radio-room, sir. Myers said it was urgent.'

  Talbot nodded, opened the envelope, extracted and read the slip of paper it had held. He slipped it in his pocket and stood.

  'My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I have to go to the bridge. Come along with me, Number One. I'll join you at seven o'clock for dinner.'

  Once outside, Van Gelder said: 'You really are a fearful liar, sir. A fearfully good liar, I mean.'

  'Andropulos isn't half bad, either.'

  'He's had practice. Between the two of you - well, in his own phrase, it's a close-run thing. Ah, thank you.' He un-folded the slip of paper Talbot had handed him. '"Vitally urgent you remain in closest contact with downed plane Stop will join you earliest in the morning Stop Hawkins". Isn't that the Vice-Admiral, sir?'

  'None other. Vitally urgent and flying down to see us. What do you make of that?'

  'I make it that he knows something that we don't.'

  'Indeed. Incidentally, you've kind of forgotten to tell me about your visit to sonar.'

  'Sorry about that, sir. I had something else on my mind.'

  'Somebody, not something. Having seen her I can understand. Well?'

  'The noise from the plane? Tick ... tick ... tick. Could be anything. Halzman half suggested it might be some sort of timing device. Could be that he's right. I don't want to sound alarmist, sir, but I don't think I like it very much.'

  'I don't particularly care for it myself. Well, then, the radio-room.'

  'I thought you said you were going to the bridge?'

  'That was for Andropulos's benefit. The less that character knows about anything the better. I think he's cunning, astute and alert for the slightest nuances.'

  'Is that why you didn't make any reference to the engine-room explosion?'

  'Yes. I may, of course, be doing him a massive injustice. For all I know he may be as fresh and innocent as the dawn's early dew.'

  'You don't really believe that, sir.'

  'No.'

  Myers was alone in the radio-room. 'Another message to Rome,' Talbot said. 'Again Code B. To Vice-Admiral Hawkins. Message received. Strongly advise that you come soonest. Tonight. Report repeated two and a half second ticking sounds from plane. Could be timing device. Please phone immediately.'

  'A ticking sound, possibly a timing device, Talbot says.' Vice-Admiral Hawkins was standing by Carson's chair as the general read and re-read the slip of paper Hawkins had just handed him.

  'A timing device. We don't have to discuss the implications of this.' From his high-rise office Carson looked out over the roofs of Rome, then at the colonel across the desk, then finally up at Hawkins. He pressed a button on his desk.

  'Get me the Pentagon.'

  The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was also standing as the man behind the desk read the slip of paper he had just been handed. He read it three times, laid it down carefully on the desk, smoothed it out and looked across at the Chairman. His face looked drawn and tired and old.

  'We know what this means, or what it could mean. If anything goes wrong the international repercussions will be enormous, General.'

  'I'm afraid I'm fully aware of that, sir. Apart from the universal condemnation, we will become the pariah dog, the outcasts of the world.'

  'And no hint of any Soviet involvement."

  'None whatsoever. No proof, direct or indirect. As far as the world is concerned, they are blameless. My first reaction is that they are indeed blameless. My second thoughts are exactly the same. I can see no way they are linked with this. We bear the burden, sir.'

  'We bear the burden. And will stand condemned before the court of mankind.' The General made no reply. 'The Chiefs have no suggestions?'

  'None that I regard as very useful. In short, bluntly, none. We have to rely on our people out there. Carte blanche, sir?'

  'We have no option. How good are your men in the Mediterranean?'

  'The very be
st. No rhetoric, sir. I mean it.'

  'And this British vessel on the spot?'

  'The frigate Ariadne? A very special vessel indeed, I am given to understand. Whether or not it can cope with this, no one can say. There are too many imponderables.'

  'Do we pull it out?'

  'That's not for my decision, sir.'

  'I know it's not.' He was silent for a long moment then said: 'It may be our only hope. It stays.'

  'Yes, Mr President.'

  Talbot was alone with Van Gelder on the bridge when the radio-room called.

  'I have voice contact with Rome, sir. Where will you take it?'