“Where the tetradoxin came from.”
Boydell grinned. “I thought you might. I’d like to know that as well, and I’m sorry to say I don’t. Except that I think we have to assume it came from inside the ball — ”
“Right! But how?”
Boydell shrugged. “Hugh put it through some tough tests — ”
“I know. Extreme pressure and that. But it resisted. So again I ask, how?”
Boydell said, “Hugh had a theory. Pressure could have squeezed the tetradoxin through the metal. It could be kind of porous when under pressure.”
“Or the pressure could have opened up a minute crack?” Boydell pursed his lips. “I’d doubt that. Hugh knew his job … a microscopic examination would have shown that up.”
“I suppose so,” I said. “How about heat?” I went on to tell him, in confidence, about the child in Northumberland. “The heat of the stomach. Could that have released something, had the same end result, say, as pressure?”
“I’d doubt that too. Mind, Hugh didn’t mention heat to me, but I’m dead certain he’d have tried it. And the heat inside the stomach … no, I reckon not, Commander.”
“Then for God’s sake, what?”
Boydell lifted his hands, palms upwards. He was stumped. So was I. He was even more stumped when I added that no trace of the ball had been found in the child’s body. The inference of that was obvious enough: it could only have melted. Max hadn’t said, and I hadn’t asked, whether or not traces of metal had been found at the post-mortem. But if a man of Railton’s eminence didn’t know what the metal was, then it was unlikely a provincial forensic medic would recognise it. But surely that medic would have recognised something foreign? Or did the balls have an inbuilt ability to destroy their own traces?
Boydell, who was a busy man with a longish drive ahead of him, since he was due back in Canberra that evening, went off' leaving me none the wiser except in a negative kind of way. I went back to the Carlton-Rex; Felicity and I had a drink in the cocktail bar before dinner and then went in to eat. I was half way through the soup when the head waiter came over and said there was a Sergeant Dix on the phone. I went out to get it. Dix said, “I took a precaution and a liberty. I had your boat checked.”
I didn’t like that. “What for?” I asked.
“Call it nosiness. My blokes found an explosive device on a long term fuse — acid eating through metal. Behind one of the diesel tanks. It’s been removed. You better watch it.”
“Thanks very much,” I said, and he rang off. There was a nasty sensation in my spine as I sat down to dinner again. Felicity was in this with me, so I had to tell her. It didn’t do much for her appetite. We could have been out at sea — no doubt that was the intent behind the long term fuse. If the explosive hadn’t finished us off, the lurking Pacific sharks would have done. Felicity asked, “Why are they bothering?”
“Obvious,” I said. “What we may know.”
“We could be assumed to have passed it on by now. It’s not obvious at all.”
“They’re just not taking any chances, my darling.”
She wasn’t convinced. Neither, if the truth be told, was I. If ‘they’ had done their homework they would know we were out here on leave and anxious only to get away to where we could be on our own and undisturbed. We didn’t have to come into it from now on out. It all depended, of course, on who ‘they’ were; the matter vis-a-vis Felicity Mandrake and me could conceivably be personal, and that of itself could provide a clue. On the other hand, it wouldn’t necessarily narrow the field all that much. My years in naval intelligence, followed by my time with 6D2, had brought me many enemies. Foremost among them were the men who’d been behind WUSWIPP — the World Union of Socialist Scientific Workers for International Progress in Peace.
Peace and progress my backside; they’d been a right shower of bastards, killers to a man. But they’d not been heard of for a long while now and I reckoned they were old hat. Nevertheless, I had a hunch this thing could be political. These days most bits of nastiness seem to have a political extremist hook-up somewhere along the line. The old days, long gone, when Jim Callaghan had fought a gentlemanly battle with Ted Heath, or Michael Foot got up Maggie’s nose in the House, seemed to be no longer relevant to the real bastardly world. My mind roved … this wasn’t my first visit to Australia. Years ago in my pre-6D2 days there had been the REDCAP business. Radio Regulator Equipment for Defence Co-Ordination, Atomic Powers … all had ended right here in Sydney Harbour and there could still be villains around with grudges against me for seeing to it that REDCAP made a safe arrival. Even though all that, too, was a fragment of past history, some memories are long.
We finished dinner.
I said, “We’re going down to the boatyard.”
Felicity showed surprise. “When?”
“Now. After I’ve put a call through to Halloran. While I’m doing that, see to the packing. We’re checking out.”
Surprise became bewilderment. “What’s the idea?”
I said, “I want to get to sea. It used to be my element — remember?”
She didn’t say any more; she went upstairs while I used a telephone. HQ put me through to Halloran’s home number. I didn’t take any security precautions. If I was the magnet, I might as well switch myself on. I told Halloran I was outward bound for the Barrier Reef and would be obliged if he would pull all necessary strings to get me clearance pronto from the port authority. I made reference to an interrupted leave but just so that he would know this was all in the interest of the job and that I wasn’t simply sneaking off out of it, I asked him to tell Max. Also Sergeant Dix. He got the point. He said he would see to everything, and I gave him the Sundowner’s call-up code.
Then I checked out and got reception to call us a cab, and waited for Felicity. When the cab came, I directed the driver to Crows Nest and HQ. At HQ I collected the weapons I’d arranged for earlier, then a 6D2 car drove us down to the boatyard. As a bright moon stole over Port Jackson harbour the Sundowner crept out to sea, making across the silent, sleepy water for the Heads, the diesels kept to a low purr until we met the Pacific swell surging through the channel, the narrows at the entrance. Then I began to bring her up to full power and once we were clear I put the wheel over to head for the north. It was going to be a long haul but we would work watch and watch; Felicity was used to boats, both power and sail, and she was reliable, though naturally I would be available at any time in an emergency. I reckoned there might well be emergencies and I doubted, somehow, if we would need to go all the way to the Barrier Reef before someone showed his hand.
*
By next morning’s wonderful dawn, all green and red and orange spreading over the dark blue water and tinging the New South Wales coastline, nothing at all had showed. Felicity was asleep below in the cabin. I stared around through binoculars. It was a peaceful scene and the sea was a flat calm, though there was, as always, a swell that gave the boat a roll just to make sure we knew we were at sea. There was no sign of any shipping and we had not been followed out of Sydney. No need for that — yet. I wondered just how far ahead that device had been set for and reckoned it would have gone up by now. Dix had spoken of a long term setting, but there wouldn’t be much point in prolonging it too far, and the fact that it had been a long setting could have been a simple desire to make sure we were firmly aboard before it blew. Something like that. Anyway, there would come a time when whoever had placed it would know it hadn’t gone off. Cruisers don’t blow up without the press getting hold of the fact sooner or later. A blank in the papers would bring a smell of rats; but that could still be a long time ahead yet. In point of fact, it wasn’t due to be very long, and I realised that when I heard our radio call sign.
I answered.
It was Halloran in person. He wasn’t taking any precautions against interception; I’d told him, by means of a note left with the night guard when I’d collected my armoury, that aside from anything top secret such was not part
of my idea of being a magnet. So he came out with it bluntly: there had been a leak. A reporter had happened to be lurking in cover while on another story when Dix had sent in the bomb disposal officers and the morning’s papers had got it: removal of a device during a raid by the police. The Sundowner was mentioned by name. Halloran was furious and promised that heads would roll, but I was able to shrug it off, though I made a pretence of being concerned: I didn’t want to give the eavesdroppers the idea that I was leading them on.
As Halloran went off the air, Felicity came up. It was a hot day and she was dressed in nothing at all but the time was not propitious for arousal. I gave her Halloran’s report. “From now on out,” I said, “we expect boarders.”
“What do we do?” she asked.
I grinned at her. “For a start, a soupçon of clothing. You might give them ideas. After that, we play it by ear, looking innocent while we do so.”
“You mean we don’t run?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “In any case, that depends who’s faster.”
She nodded; she knew I wouldn’t run. That wasn’t the idea. She knew there was going to be a gunfight. She may have been scared but she didn’t show it. Felicity Mandrake had been in plenty of tough spots since she’d quitted the staff side in London and joined me in the field. She was quite a girl; efficiency, brains, and attractive with it. Too attractive: never mind the time not being propitious for arousal — I wished she’d hurry up and put something on. She gave a giggle; she’d read my face. She went down to the cabin and came back up with a swimsuit on, a stark white two-piece bikini that contrasted wickedly with the tan of our last English summer — Australia hadn’t had a chance yet, but she was the sort of girl that was always tanned even if it did come largely from a lamp. She also brought one of Halloran’s guns: a heavy-calibre automatic, a Colt .45 which she’d kept handy by her bunk since turning in the night before.
Mine was by me on the shelf in front of the wheel, a good old 9mm Luger. That wasn’t all; we had a brace of British Army pattern FN automatic rifles with a nice high rate of fire. We wouldn’t be easy meat.
I said, “We watch out ahead. They won’t be following up from Sydney, they’ll intercept.”
“They may not come at all. Not yet.”
I glanced sideways at her. “Meaning?”
“We’d be easier disposed of somewhere in the Barrier Reef.”
“But much, much harder to find,” I said. “You’ve never been up there.” I had; it was a hundred thousand or so square miles enclosed by dangerous coral, with certain more or less safe channels for shipping. The area was not one for hunt the slipper, however superb it might be for a leisurely holiday in the sun on some of the inshore islands. And there was still around six hundred miles to go to reach the Capricorn Channel at the southern end of the Reef, almost four hundred miles north of the Brisbane River. I took a look at the chart. I doubted if anyone would approach us with intent off the Brisbane River; there’s usually shipping moving in and out. At that moment Felicity reported a vessel hull down ahead. I watched through my binoculars and soon masts and a funnel came into view. Not long after this another was sighted. It wasn’t surprising; there’s always traffic between Brisbane and Sydney or Melbourne.
The two ships, closing fast, headed to come down our starboard side. They were both coasters. The one we had first seen passed on to the south. The second took longer about it and after a while I realised she had reduced speed.
“Weird,” I said.
“Could this be it?”
I nodded. “Could be. Waiting till that first ship’s out of sight.”
“She’s altering course,” Felicity said.
Again I nodded. The coaster was swinging to starboard, all set, by the look of it, to cross our course. There was nowhere for her to put into on the coast just here and I could see no navigational reason for her to alter. Of course, the Sundowner had the legs of her; she wouldn’t be capable of more than sixteen or seventeen knots. We had not far short of twenty-five, which is a very fair and manoeuvrable margin. But I didn’t want to run. In any case the coaster’s crew had to manifest their hostility first.
Soon after that, they did.
I could see the men on her navigating bridge, studying us through binoculars. As I used my own to stare back at them, I became aware of activity on the superstructure abaft the bridge, where a small electric crane was being used to lower a boat. I saw that it was a power boat. Nothing like the size of the Sundowner, but it could be fast. By this time the coaster was dead ahead and not so far off. I heard a shout through a loud-hailer.
“Stop your engine.”
I gave a rude reply through my own loud-hailer and put the wheel over. As I did so, the coaster’s power boat took the water and with no delay came out towards us. There were four men aboard, all armed. I saw one of the guns come up and bullets zipped into our hull. That was enough for me. I brought up one of the FN automatic rifles, took aim, and pumped lead across the water. Two of the men threw up their arms and went over. Talk about speed: I saw the fin moving, slicing through the blue Pacific, almost in the instant that the men went over. There was a high, terrible scream, then a thrashing of the surface and I fancied I saw the spreading blood. I yelled at Felicity to call the Sydney HQ and make a report while I carried on firing, but I was just too late. The coaster had been moving in and now more guns opened from her bridge and a stream of bullets came into the wheelhouse, missed Felicity by a hair, and smashed into the very heart of our communications system. It began to smoke. I kept up my fire, concentrating on the power boat, and the remaining two men went over as sharks’ breakfasts. There was a shout of warning from Felicity and then I was thrown off balance as the coaster smacked alongside and we wallowed. Half the crew seemed to pour aboard while others grappled us in to the coaster’s side. I saw a man like an ape half strangling Felicity, then something like an iron bar came down on my head and for the time being that was my lot.
*
When I came round I was roped down on a bunk. My head throbbed like a drum and I felt desperately sick and my mouth was as dry as the Australian desert. There was a porthole in the cabin and after a while I became aware of two things: Felicity was similarly roped to another bunk, and the sun was on the wrong side. That is to say, it was on my side, and it shouldn’t have been if we were still heading south. I’d better explain that: I knew I was on the coaster’s starboard side because I still had a basic seaman’s instincts: I hated ropes that were left as hanging judases, and one was just that, right outside the cabin port, slap-slap as the vessel rolled to the swell, and it was a rope from the crane that had lowered the power boat, which evolution had taken place on the starboard side.
So we were going back north. For the Reef and a fond farewell? Perhaps; perhaps not. It would presumably have been easier to feed us to the sharks. The inference was that we had a use. A moment later I heard Felicity’s voice. “How d’you feel?” she asked. “Are you all right?”
“Alive,” I said. “You?”
“Not too bad. I didn’t get hit on the head.” There was a catch in her voice. “I’ve been so worried … ”
“You can stop now. I’ll be OK. I’ve a hard skull.” The sick feeling was getting worse and I retched. “Sorry. What happened to the Sundowner, do you know?”
“Blown up,” she said.
I felt savage. Max was Max and as mean as hell when he wanted to be. I was officially on leave and the financial result of the boat’s loss would be put down to my own account, not 6D2’s. But that was in the future and I simmered down, just hoping there would be a future. We were now right out on a limb, no-one in the outside world having any idea what had happened to us. “I suppose you saw the crew,” I said. “Any leads, any clues?”
“If you mean did I recognise any faces, the answer’s no. No-one out of the past — mine, anyway. Who did you expect?”
“I’ve no idea,” I said. The pain throbbed away, banging hard. Felicity’s
voice began to sound far off, dim, not understandable any more. I went into unconsciousness again. I don’t know how long for; when once again I came back to life there were two men in the cabin, looking down at me. One was shaking me, which didn’t do any good at all.
I said, “Stop that or you’ll regret it.” I turned my head towards him and retched, and he stepped back with an exclamation. It was then that I really took him in, and his mate too. They didn’t look like seamen. Too soft, too immaculate, too fragile. One was dressed in a dark blue shirt with short sleeves, the shirt over-riding black trousers; the other wore a grey alpaca light-weight coat and tartan trousers. Not a Scot, however: too many teeth, too wide a grin, too sallow, too precise.
They were both Japanese.
I wasn’t entirely surprised. Japs were one of the ghosts from the past that had been on my mind the last twenty-four hours. The personal angle looked as if it might now have showed.
4.
“Commander Shaw,” one of the Japanese said. “And Miss Mandrake.”
“All right,” I said. “So you know who we are. And you?”
“Not important.” The grin was devilish. The teeth gleamed at me. I read much sadism in the face. Then the grin widened and, evidently deciding he could release a little more general information, he said, “The Sendar Maru.”
“Yes, I was getting there. But what’s the connexion?”
The grin was still in place, like a death mask. “My honourable father,” he said. “Master of Sendar Maru. Our honourable father.” He indicated his companion. “Brothers.”
I nodded. I understood only too well. Felicity and I had been working together a couple of years back on the fight against the organisation known as CORPSE, the letters standing for the Committee of Responsible Persons for Selective Eradication, the outfit headed by the enigmatic man in purple. They’d had a crazy idea that they could take over the government of Britain and they’d come pretty close to succeeding — with Japanese help. A gigantic Japanese tanker, the Sendar Maru, had approached the shores of Britain with the CORPSE brass being embarked to form a take-over cabinet. To cut a long story short, I had been responsible for blowing up the Sendar Maru with the loss of all hands. Now I was faced with vengeance. I wondered what the connexion might be with the heavy balls. I doubted if the present attentions of the brothers were entirely on the personal plane.
Rollerball (Commander Shaw Book 17) Page 3