A Ravel of Waters

by Geoffrey Jenkins

  'That's it — sun damage!' he went on. cJetwind’s designers realized that to prevent sun damage from infrared and ultra-violet rays the sails would have to have a plastic coating. You realize the problem this poses — what plastic could stand up to the continual flexing, reefing, furling and endless changes in wind pressure? There was also the problem of cracking and flaking. The protective coating would have to withstand that also.'

  Kay said, 'I remember the headaches that caused. But the Schiffbau team came up trumps in the end.'

  'It was brilliant inventiveness,' Tideman went on. 'The specialists evolved a completely new plastic in the polymer group — the same chemical group as dacron itself. It was named polyionosoprene. The day we tested the new plastic and found that it absorbed infra-red and micro-waves was sensational.'

  I threw down a card at random on the table. It was the top ace in the pack.

  Tideman gave value to the pause, gathering up the pack and riffling the deck like a professional card-sharp. The guard beyond the glass partition was lolling, disinterested.

  'That absorption was due — we believed though we couldn't prove it — to an unknown chemical reaction occurring between the dacron and polyionosoprene.' ‘That doesn't sound too dramatic, John.'

  'I was there,' Kay added. 'Everyone seemed quite pleased but not over-excited at the discovery.'

  A slight smile broke the seriousness of Tideman's explanation. 'It was in fact one of the biggest strategic breakthroughs of the satellite age.

  'Infra-red and micro-waves are the basic elements of American and Russian spy satellites. However, infra-red rays are strongly absorbed by water vapour, with the result that a spy satellite cannot "see" through cloud, which means restricting their use to cloud-free days.' He slapped down a card. 'Now — here is polyionosoprene, an artificial substance which similarly absorbs these rays.'

  Kay looked dumbfounded. ‘I never guessed it was that important.'

  'Micro-waves can actually penetrate water vapour — cloud, for example — but the deeper they penetrate the poorer becomes the resolution of the sensor image,' continued Tideman. 'I still don't quite get it,' I said.

  'In the latest Nimbus series of satellite using microwave instruments, resolution is of the order of two hundred to three hundred metres. In other words, any object with a distinct water mass, say, an iceberg, with dimensions smaller than this will not show up on the spy satellite scan.' 'I still don't get the connection with Jetwind,' I said.

  'The combination of heavy cloud cover and polyionosoprene-coated sails renders this ship undetectable by spy satellite,' said Tideman.

  He gathered up the cards as a token gesture and reshuffled them.

  'Polyionosoprene-coated sails also deflect most of what we call PECM — passive electronic counter-measures — which are used in the multi-sensor module installations of the latest American and Russian high-altitude spy-planes.' He dealt the cards.

  'Jetwind's secret makes her of top strategic significance in today's world.'

  Kay still seemed dumbfounded. 'Remembers John, when they told us in Hamburg that polyionosoprene was a big commercial secret and we were not to talk about it? I never dreamed it was anything as momentous as this.5

  'Now then,’ Tideman went on. 'You, Paul and I discussed the importance of the Drake Passage as an antisubmarine choke point. We shall never know how much Brockton was in on what I am about to tell you now. When I learned the facts about polyionosoprene, I immediately thought of the Drake Passage, where cloud cover is total for twenty-five days in the month. A ship protected by polyionosoprene in those waters is almost undetectable by spy satellites. Even under light cloud cover conditions, Jetwind would show up on spy satellite instruments only as an amorphous white blob, indistinguishable from innumerable icebergs. In fact we have the biggest anti-surveillance breakthrough since the first spy-in-the-sky went into orbit.’

  Kay made a helpless gesture. 'They simply referred to the danger of industrial espionage.’ 'What did you do about it?’ I wanted to know.

  'I got back to London as fast as I could make it. After top-level discussions the Navy decided to keep the tightest security watch over Jetwind's proving voyage, which was then scheduled to take place from Montevideo to the Cape.’

  'How does Mortensen's murder tie up with what you're saying now?’ I asked.

  'My guess is that Grohman's Molot Command ordered him to kill him when the Soviet Navy lost track of Jetwind’

  'Lost track? There was no secret about her position! Her journey was publicized throughout the world!5

  'Lost track — from the sky. Satellite track. I think something happened which sent a powerful shock through the Red Fleet.' 'But why?'Kay asked.

  'This ship had to be stopped from going anywhere near this Molot place, in case the alleged Soviet base was exposed.'

  I said ruefully, 'And I, too, unwittingly headed for Molot from the Falklands.'

  'I suppose that's why Jetwind was hijacked. She had to be stopped because she was invisible to Red spy satellites. Grohman knew he was safe in the Falklands — that's why he holed up there after Mortensen's death. Then you came along and threw a spanner in. the works. He never bargained you would get past the warship which was meant to detain Jetwind — orders for which originated, no doubt, right back at Soviet Naval Command HQ.' 'God, what a mess!' exclaimed Kay. 'Keep your eyes on the cards,' Tideman warned again.

  'John,' I cut in. 'Don't you think you exaggerate the whole situation? Grohman is just a puppet whose strings are being manipulated. Suppose he is to lead an attack on the Falklands. There's no way he can count on a force of any size. All he can do is lead a small group of terrorists against Stanley and occupy the place. It would be a demonstration, a gesture — not an operation of international scope such as you have in mind.'

  'Unfortunately, there's more to it than.that. The Navy's anti-submarine specialist team decided that if Jetwind proved herself, a fleet of five Jetwinds would be built. Their true purpose would constitute the newest and most novel form of anti-sub weapon. The projected fleet has even been given a name, the Cape Horn Patrol.'

  There was a long silence. We threw down the cards mechanically, unseeingly.

  'The operational area of the Cape Horn Patrol would be the Drake Passage and its ocean approaches. It has one overriding assignment — to monitor the passage of nuclear submarines. Drake Passage presents a unique problem in tactical detection which no major navy has yet mastered. It is impossible, because of the bad weather and lack of bases, to monitor the passage of nuclear subs by conventional means. If any navy attempted warship patrols of the Passage, they would be detected within hours by satellite. Powered ships are heat-emitting. They are easy game for infra-red sensors. In addition, engines make a noise a give-away to counter-sonar tracking by submarines. Submerged subs are out of satellite reach. Never forget that a nuclear sub is a noisy machine, that is its Achilles' heel. The latest Soviet Titanium class is, fortunately for the West, the noisiest of the lot.'

  'What can Jetwind do that they can't?' Kay wanted to know.

  'Jetwind, being wind-driven, is the silent stalker, the silent killer,' he said. 'In Southern Ocean conditions she is fast — faster than most warships can travel safely. She also offers what no powered vessel can — a stable operations platform. Her sails hold her hull down on the water.

  'So you see,' he said, 'Jetwind is in fact a fast, silent, satellite-undetectable weapon against nuclear subs in an area which also happens to be a naval choke point of major global strategic significance.' I said slowly, 'Now we have it, John.'

  He shook his head. 'At present something "else alarms me — rather, did alarm me.' Kay and I waited anxiously.

  'I was afraid that after the hijacking Grohman might turn back to the Falklands,' he said. 'That would have put paid to Jetwind’s major proving test.'* I felt my stomach muscles cramp. 'Is there more?' asked Kay, now even more alarmed.

  He nodded. 'I told you, I'm pretty sure the Reds panic
ked when they couldn't pinpoint Jetwind by satellite. The United States Navy and Britain have arranged a similar sort of test. The U.S. Navy is diverting one of its latest Seascan spy satellites to check on Jetwind at a given place and time, roughly four hundred miles southsouth-west of Gough. A little over three and a half days from now Jetwind must pass at a point directly beneath the line of the Seascan satellite. This nadir position will offer the best test of her undetectability.'

  'Why select that particular spot in the Southern Ocean?' I asked. 'Because drifting icebergs and ocean and weather conditions are very similar to the Drake Passage’ he answered. 'The location was very carefully chosen.' 'And if Jetwind doesn't show up?'

  For the first time in many fake deals Tideman lifted his head and looked squarely at Kay and me.

  'The Seascan is in transit from one secret destination to another -1 don't know where,' he replied. 'It is the once-only time and place for the test. No Jetwind at the rendezvous, no Cape Horn Patrol. It's as simple as that. The sailing ship will be dead — for ever.' 'How much did Paul know of this?'

  'I wish I'd had time to find out,' he answered. 'Remember his intense interest in your so-called hallucinations? They were supposed to have occurred roughly in the Seascan rendezvous area.' He paused and added, 'And that's where the Orion crashed.'

  'I have something to add,' I said, 'something I didn't mention even to Paul in regard to my "hallucinations". To. this day I'm not sure whether I saw it or not.'

  Tideman leaned forward; his elbows banging on the table. 'Okay, say it now — what was it?'

  'I thought I saw a submarine. She wasn't moving. She was at anchor, moored. Loading something. Then she was swallowed up by the mist.'

  Chapter 24

  'We've got to retake the ship!'

  I was saying next morning to Tideman what I seemed to have repeated a hundred times since the evening before. Tideman's revelations about Jetwind's value as a space-age weapon had left me with a feeling of bewilderment. I had slept badly. It was before breakfast in the sick-bay, and we were waiting for an early Cape news bulletin. Radio reception on Kay's little set was improving. The deduction was that we were shortening the distance to Cape Town. There was no way of establishing our position, even roughly. Tideman and I had speculated about it as frequently as I had reiterated my determination to recapture the ship. We were aware that Jetwind hadn't altered course and was still following my planned route to Gough. We were also able to estimate her speed to within a couple of knots; Grohman kept her going like a train.

  The strain of his long vigil was telling on our guard. He would fidget in his seat, then take a pace or two up and down the outer glass-partitioned office, keeping himself alert until his relief arrived.

  Tideman nodded in his direction. ‘To get at him, we have somehow to get past that glass partition. As things stand, we have no hope of a surprise.' 'They hold all the trumps,' I agreed.

  'All but one,' he answered. He thrust his hand into his 'slide-rule' pocket. 'This.'

  'Keep that hidden, for Pete's sake!' I said. 'We've got to find or create the opportunity to use it. It's not only our lives that are at stake. There are all the other consequences. I'm also desperately worried what they'll do to Kay.'

  'I don't like the sound of Kyyiv either,' he replied. 'If they got their hands on her at Molot, I fear she's done for.' 'Meaning?'

  He side-stepped a direct answer. 'It was better she should know Jetwind’s secret. If the pressure becomes too great, she could always break down and confess. Not knowing and playing the genuine innocent might only lead to something worse.'

  I got up and made for the partition like a lion trapped in a cage. Up came the sentry's automatic. 'Peter! Leave it! Here comes the Cape news!' It took a great effort to pull myself away. 'There is concern in Cape Town shipping circles regarding the whereabouts of the missing sailing ship Jetwind, which began an attempt on the Falklands-Cape record some days ago’ said the suave tones of the woman newsreader. 'All attempts to establish communication with the ship have failed. The owner, Mr Axel Thomsen, told our news staff this morning that he is worried about the safety of the ship, which encountered a storm of hurricane proportions shortly after leaving Port Stanley. Weather satellite photographs confirm that a storm of unusual intensity is still raging along the route Captain Rainier decided to take to Gough Island. Captain Rainier had been warned by weather experts not to follow this course…'

  'I can't stand this holier-than-thou, I-told-you-so crap!' I exclaimed angrily. 'If they only guessed what was going on!' 'No one could guess, Peter,' replied Tideman. I tried to defuse my frustration. 'This amounts to the fact that Grohman is keeping radio silence, doesn't it?' 'Wouldn't you, in his shoes, with the stakes involved?' The bulletin went on: — 'Mr Thomsen adds that South African Naval Headquarters has informed him that the area where Jetwind was last reported is well outside the range of long-range maritime reconnaissance aircraft. Nevertheless, if nothing is heard today from the missing ship, the South African research vessel Agulhas, which is now on a routine replenishment voyage to our weather station on Gough Island, may be diverted to search for Jetwind. The Agulhas is equipped with two helicopters, which would enable a wide area of ocean to be covered…'

  There was an interruption. Grohman had arrived in the outside office. With him was the guard's relief, looking the freshest of the three.

  Grohman, carrying his automatic, unlocked the door. He was strained and unshaven. If I was short on sleep, he was shorter. Kay emerged from her cubicle. I said, 'You just missed an interesting news bulletin, Grohman. Everyone is getting pretty worried about Jetwind’ 'The people who matter aren't worried’ he retorted.

  I went on, trying to needle him. 'Your radio silence is proving counter-productive. You didn't hear what the radio had to say.'

  'Don't play games!' he snarled. 'Landajo tapes all the main news bulletins. I can hear them at my leisure.'

  I kept silent. His nerves were too ragged to take it. Finally he snapped. 'Out with it — what did the news say?'

  'If nothing is heard today from Jetwind, the Agulhas will divert from Gough and search the Southern Ocean — with helicopters.' 'You lie!' he exploded. 'You are making this up!'

  'You can check — it's on tape, you said so yourself.' I pushed home my verbal attack. 'That means that they'll locate Molot, Grohman. What will your bosses in the Soviet Fleet say when they find out you've blown their cover? The eyes of the world are already focused on this section of the Southern Ocean because of Jetwind. You haven't been nearly clever enough!' 'I should shoot you!' he snarled.

  'It's too late,' I replied with more bravado than I felt. 'You've started something you can't reverse. Searchers will be here soon like a swarm of bees.'

  I felt Grohman was against the ropes, psychologically speaking.

  He said defensively, 'If I had sent a Mayday, they would have been here in any event.'

  'You should simply have carried on as if nothing had happened,' I persisted. 'Just pretended you were me. I doubt whether if you'd tried it Thomsen would have fallen for a yarn about a second Jetwind skipper having died by accident.'

  'Don't mock me, you bastard! There is still time to put the search off the scent.' 'Go ahead,' I said. 'You're the skipper.'

  'Rainier,' he said in a way which was more sinister than his histrionics, 'Molot Command has instructed me to deliver you — unharmed. It might be a lot easier for you if I could tell them you had been cooperative. As it is…'He shrugged.

  Kay broke in. 'Get this clear -1 will not cooperate under duress or any other way. I go along with Peter and John — whatever.' 'Those are very big words,' sneered Grohman. 'We shall See — at Molot.' We knew what had been in his mind regarding the search for Jetwind when we heard the lunch-time news bulletin. 'There is news at last of the sea drama being enacted in the Southern Ocean around the space-age windjammer Jetwind. Naval Headquarters at Silvermine, Cape Town, reports that a faint, garbled radio message was picked up this morni
ng from the ship. It appears that she has been partially dismasted and that there have been casualties as a result of the accident…' 'Casualties — accident!' expostulated Kay. 'The signal stated that the ship was in no immediate need of assistance and gave her position as fifty-two degrees south, thirty-nine degrees west, near the island of South Georgia…' 'South Georgia!' exclaimed Tideman. 'The island of South Georgia is approximately seven hundred miles eastsoutheast of Jetwind's starting-point in the Falkland Islands, which means that the ship must have been driven considerably off-course by the hurricane which damaged her. At this stage no further details are available.' 'What is Grohman up to?' Kay asked. 'It's a red herring to stave off a possible search,' I said. 'He hopes it'll give him the breathing-space he needs to reach Molot.'

  'The experts won't be put off by a fake distress signal like that, surely? Won't they smell a rat?' asked Kay.

  'In the light of his assurance that Jetwind is in no immediate danger, no one is going to mount an expensive, dangerous search far away from the main shipping lanes,' I said.

  'Peter, John! We must do something! We can't just let the situation slide! We can't go on like this, waiting, just waiting!'

  'Keep calm, Kay,' said Tideman gently. 'The guy who wins in a hijacking is the one who can keep his nerve the longest.'

  Just how corrosive that tension could be, we discovered throughout the interminable afternoon. There was nothing to do, nothing to read. We played what Tideman called 'silly-buggers card games' — inconsequential time-wasting which we tried to enliven by wagering impossible sums. The attempt was not a success. The nightmare of Molot overshadowed everything.

  We could not wait for the main dinner-time news bulletin from Cape Town: 'No further messages have been received from the missing sailing ship Jetwind making for South Georgia,' it reported. 'Shipping experts believe that the vessel may try and reach the sheltered harbour of King Edward Cove where the old Grytviken whaling station is situated. This is now occupied by the British Antarctic Survey. So far all attempts by the Survey's radio ZBH to contact the damaged vessel have failed. Until some positive information is received, the survey replenishment ship Agulhas will continue to Gough Island as scheduled without mounting a special search as was originally planned.' 'Grohman pulled it off!' I exclaimed. 'There goes our last outside chance!' The bulletin continued: 'Mr Axel Thomsen, Jetwind’s owner, was interviewed today on the fate of his unique attempt to reinstate the sailing ship as an ocean cargo carrier. "This is the second mishap which has hit Jetwind" he said. "I think the ship must be jinxed." Mr Thomsen added that he would remain in Cape Town until specific news had been received about the ship and would then return overseas. He added that he was bitterly disappointed at the failure of Jetwind. If the ship could be repaired, he added, he would decide whether or not to sell it. "That is, if there is anyone left who is still interested in sailing ships," Mr Thomsen said.'