The Greatest Enemy

by Douglas Reeman

  Wishart swallowed hard. ‘Steady on, Doc. I’m still having a job to hold down that raw fish you got us eating.’

  Irvine grinned. ‘Where was that?’

  ‘A place called Duncan House in Hampshire.’

  Standish tried to think of some quick remark, anything to break this line of conversation without making it obvious. None came.

  Irvine folded his arms. ‘I’ll bet the whole place was full of nutty sub-lieutenants.’

  Rideout frowned. ‘Actually I was only attached there on general medical duty.’ He seemed momentarily caught in his own thoughts. ‘No, as a matter of fact many of the patients were quite senior. I remember there was a brigadier who insisted on searching his bed every night for mice. Extremely promising.’ He sighed. ‘Turned out to be advanced D.T.’s. Bit of a disappointment really.’

  Standish placed his hands on his knees below the table and tried to relax. It was stupid to let it affect him like this. It was obvious that neither Dalziel nor Rideout had ever made contact. And yet …

  Wishart said, ‘I wonder what job we’ll get after this.’

  ‘Just so long as we stay clear of trouble.’ Irvine shook the bottle and muttered, ‘Empty!’ He signalled to a waiter and added, ‘One more stroke like the last one and we’ll all be writing reports for the rest of our lives.’

  Rideout watched him, his pale eyes contemplative. ‘Now that is interesting. Your, I mean our captain strikes me as a real man of action. Not one to be trifled with.’

  Irvine eyed him calmly. ‘You mean he’s a type?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Rideout took another glass and beamed at it. ‘It’s only that one does not often make contact with officers of his kind nowadays.’

  Standish said, ‘I suppose that means you’ll be watching all of us and making notes for some future use?’

  The others grinned and he let himself relax a little more.

  Irvine yawned hugely. ‘You wait until he gives you a programme, Doc! I’ll bet a day’s gin he’ll find a nice subject for you to lecture on. Something to make the lower deck really sit up and take notice.’

  Rideout looked at him gravely. ‘A lecture? Is that what happens?’

  Wishart smiled. ‘I’m to give one on the place of the computer in today’s society. God knows what it’ll come out like.’

  ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds, Doc.’ Standish knew Irvine was watching him but added abruptly, ‘On these long stretches of isolated patrol it often pays to keep everyone on the jump.’ He forced a smile. ‘Otherwise we might all end up under your care!’

  Rideout nodded. ‘I see. Well, of course you’d know a great deal more about that than I do.’ He was frowning again. ‘All the same …’

  ‘I’ll go across to the Club for a bit.’ Irvine stood up. ‘What about you?’

  Rideout shook his head. ‘Thank you, but no. I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I think I’ll return to the ship and turn in.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Wishart helped him to gather up the great bag of souvenirs. ‘I promised I’d give Bill Pigott a break as O.O.D. while he slips ashore for an hour.’

  They all looked at Standish who had remained seated. He said, ‘I’ll stay here awhile. I’ve left word at the desk in case I’m wanted.’

  Irvine shrugged. ‘Unlikely. Unless of course the ship is ordered to sea with half her plates lying on the pier.’

  Standish leaned back more comfortably and allowed the noise to wash over him while he considered that last conversation. Why should he worry about it? It was useless to make barriers before trouble came in sight.

  He turned and saw the waiter hovering above him.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, sir. But there is a hotel guest who would like to speak with you. A lady.’

  Standish stood up quickly. ‘Lady?’ He felt suddenly anxious and confused. ‘Where?’

  The man stood aside. ‘If you will follow, sir.’

  As Standish pushed after him he noticed that the table was occupied almost as soon as he had stepped clear.

  After the mingled roar of voices and music in the Planters’ Bar the hotel lounge was like a tomb. A few of the more elderly guests were sitting around enjoying a late night coffee or examining their newest batch of photographs, and through the darkened windows he saw the distant lights of the harbour shining and blinking on the hidden water.

  ‘Lieutenant-Commander Standish, ma’am.’ The waiter bowed himself through the doors and vanished.

  ‘Good of you to leave your table like this.’

  Standish stared at her for several seconds without speaking. He was aware of a sense of disappointment even as he told himself he had been ridiculous to hope for anything else. What had he expected as he had hurried after the waiter? That it might be Alison who had tracked him down to throw herself in his arms? To offer him back some sort of future again? Or had he been anticipating something else?

  The woman who was watching him was slim and fair, and he supposed, in her early thirties. Her eyes were calm and very steady, and seemed vaguely at odds with her mouth which was both wide and sensuous. All these thoughts rushed through his mind as he heard himself ask, ‘How can I help? Will you let me order you a drink?’

  She sat down in a cane chair, the movement both easy and elegant. She said, ‘I will order.’ She raised her arm and a hotel steward appeared as if by magic. ‘I am having brandy and soda. And you?’

  She had a quiet but very direct manner of speaking. The sort of woman who would be used to her own way, Standish thought.

  ‘Pink gin will do me.’

  As she turned to speak with the steward he ran his eyes quickly over her clothes. Alison’s extravagance had taught him one thing, and that was how to recognize expensive tastes. And this woman, whoever she was, would have gone through a month’s pay just to cover herself for one evening.

  She turned and looked at him calmly. ‘I flew in a few days ago. I had intended to go up country if necessary.’ She shrugged. ‘But now it seems I am saved that prospect.’

  She took her glass from the tray and stared at it.

  ‘I saw your ship come in and made a few enquiries. When I heard you had left your name at the desk I decided to meet you.’

  Standish cradled the drink in his hands. ‘I see.’

  ‘You don’t, of course.’ Then she smiled. It altered her completely, lighting up her face and making it almost beautiful. ‘I should introduce myself. I am Sarah Dalziel.’

  Standish placed his glass on the table. Giving himself a few more seconds to think.

  ‘Why did you want to see me, Mrs. Dalziel?’

  The smile had gone. ‘My place is with my husband. Isn’t that what they say?’ She touched the glass with the tip of her tongue. ‘He made no arrangements for me out here. Fortunately I am not totally reliant on Service pay, so I came anyway.’ She seemed to come to a decision. ‘I had to meet you. To know what sort of man you are.’

  ‘And now you know?’

  ‘I know what you are not. That is probably more to the point. You could have been one those watery-eyed subordinates, or you might as easily have been a fool. You are neither.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘There is no need to be sarcastic.’ Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘I know I had the advantage over you. I read of your exploits in the Straits Times today, about your battle with Chinese pirates. They gave you quite a write-up. Even mentioned your past career, or some of it. Hector seems to have been lucky with his second in command this time.’

  Standish rose to his feet. ‘Look, I don’t see how I can help you, Mrs. Dalziel. Even if I knew what you wanted, I would still be unable to interfere.’

  ‘Please sit down.’ She uncrossed her legs and leaned towards him. ‘You didn’t even know he was married, did you? So please hear me out before you start judging and condemning my actions!’

  Standish sat. He said slowly, ‘Have you tried to contact him?’

  ‘I thought I’d wait a bit longer. I have a fe
w friends here, and I have heard some rumours about him, and the ship.’

  Standish waited. Here we go. No secret was ever safe for long in a naval base.

  ‘People are saying that my husband nearly got himself court martialled.’

  ‘What people?’

  She met his eyes frankly. ‘Just people. But they are high enough to know what they’re talking about.’

  ‘I don’t think I can listen to any more …’

  She reached out and seized his hand. ‘Don’t start talking like a round-eyed midshipman! You know the Navy and how it all works. Well then, so do I. I was born into it, christened into it and married into it. When my father was born, his choice of career was already mapped out for him, too.’ She dropped her voice as two other hotel guests turned to glance curiously in her direction. ‘My husband’s rank is the lowest ever carried by a single member of my family, so even if I was stupid I could not fail to have learned something about your precious Service!’

  She seemed to realize her hand was still resting on his and added quietly, ‘Excuse the drama. I’m a bit overwrought.’ She took it away, but he could still feel its smoothness.

  ‘As a matter of fact I only flew out here because I’m worried about him. He’s had a bad time lately. I wouldn’t want anything else to go wrong.’

  ‘The collision?’

  She nodded. ‘And other things. In a way it’s partly my fault. I knew he was eating his heart out to get a ship again. So I asked a friend of my father to pull strings.’ She smiled sadly. ‘So he got the Terrapin.’

  Standish watched her. He wanted to get out, but something about her candour, her complete lack of evasiveness seemed to hold him in the chair.

  ‘You want me to tell him you’ve arrived in Singapore?’

  Surprisingly she shook her head. ‘No. At least, not yet. I just want you to know I’m here. In case anything happens.’

  Standish leaned towards her, aware of her perfume, the closeness of her hand.

  ‘You must tell me. What could happen?’

  She stood up, gracefully, like a cat.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He followed her to the door, conscious of the watching eyes from the other chairs, the silence about him.

  Outside she turned and looked at him steadily. ‘You’ll say nothing of our meeting, will you?’ Then she held out her hand to him. ‘You know where to find me.’

  He smiled. ‘It was just luck. I’ve never been here before.’

  As she turned towards the stairway she said quietly, ‘I’d have found you anyway.’ Then she was gone.

  Standish walked out into the street and looked round for a taxi. It was getting worse, not better, and the more he thought about it the more he felt he was being made to take sides. To play some part in a conspiracy which he still did not fully understand.

  There were no available taxis, so with his hands deep in his pockets he started to walk through the crush of carefree people, none of whom knew anything of his predicament, and probably would have cared even less if they had.

  * * *

  Dalziel strode briskly along the edge of the dock and then stood by the brow until Standish caught up with him. He pointed with his black walking stick towards some Chinese workers who were mixing paint on the frigate’s deck below the four-inch gun mounting.

  ‘Better tell the O.O.D. to keep his eye on those jokers until they’re all ashore and finished, eh?’

  He ran his eyes over the ship from bow to stern and then added, ‘Looks much better.’

  Standish watched him and replied, ‘Out of dock tomorrow then?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dalziel started to walk along the wall until he had reached the great dock gates and peered down at the oily water beyond them where two boats were being warped against the piles by some of the Terrapin’s seamen.

  ‘Are they our new boats?’ He sounded incredulous.

  Standish nodded. ‘The whaler’s not too bad, sir. But the motor boat is more patches than planks, and its engine was certainly not new even when this boat got it.’

  Dalziel rubbed his chin. ‘So that’s all we get for replacements, eh? Bloody lot of misers!’

  Standish glanced at him, expecting more. But Dalziel was still looking at the two replacement boats, his eyes glinting thoughtfully. Standish wondered if in fact the dockyard could have given them some better boats. Or whether someone was getting his own back for all the urgency which Dalziel had thrust his way.

  And the work had certainly moved, he thought. It was less than two weeks since the ship had returned to that discreet silence. Two weeks of work and frayed tempers, while Dalziel had harried his officers and dockyard officials alike to get what he wanted and in double-quick time.

  Dalziel faced him and asked calmly, ‘Have you seen Hornby this morning?’

  ‘He’s working in the T.S., sir.’

  ‘Good.’ Dalziel started back towards the brow, swinging his stick like a sword above the worn stones. ‘I’ll have him in my day cabin right away. Get things squared up before we sail, eh?’

  ‘Sir.’ Standish saw Dalziel turn to watch him again. ‘If it’s the matter of that sports fund, I did speak with him about it. I am sure it was an oversight.’

  ‘Of course, Number One.’ Dalziel was smiling crookedly. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’ He frowned. ‘But still, we can’t have the ship’s name impaired by that sort of carelessness, now can we?’

  They passed the saluting gangway sentry and Dalziel added, ‘Trot Hornby down then, will you? Make it as smooth as you can for him, eh?’

  Standish found the electrical officer squatting amidst a litter of wiring and various switches, his face creased with concentration.

  He looked up and said wearily, ‘All old stuff, but I thought I might be able to salvage something useful.’ He paled. ‘What is it?’

  Standish said gently, ‘The captain wants to see you.’

  ‘The money?’ Hornby looked sick.

  ‘Yes.’ He helped him to his feet. ‘Get a grip on yourself, man!’

  Hornby fumbled with his boiler suit. ‘I’m just putting my kid into a decent school. If anything happened over this I don’t know what I’d do.’

  They did not speak again until they were in Dalziel’s cabin.

  The captain was examining a long-barrelled sporting rifle, darting occasional glances at what appeared to be a maker’s handbook.

  He looked up and smiled. ‘Ah, Number One. Capital.’ He placed the rifle on top of a locker beside several boxes of ammunition. When he turned again he was not smiling.

  Standish said formally, ‘Lieutenant Thomas Hornby, sir.’ He could almost feel the man’s terror beside him.

  ‘Well, Hornby, I’ve read the executive officer’s report and I have examined your own, ahem, ledgers. For the want of a more suitable word, I would say that you have been a complete bloody fool.’

  Hornby moved his heavy shoulders wretchedly. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m really terribly sorry, I …’

  Dalziel’s eyebrows came together. ‘Shut up!’ Then he walked round the table and eyed the other man coldly. ‘Do you know how many men have said they were sorry before they were hanged?’ His head came forward with a jerk. ‘Well, do you?’

  Hornby whispered, ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Then that is a bloody pity!’ He leaned back against the table and crossed one leg over the other. ‘How you ever became qualified as an electrical officer I shall never know. I personally would not allow you at large with a number eight torch battery, do you know that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ It was pitiful to hear him, Standish thought.

  Dalziel shook his head. ‘I do not know, Hornby. I really do not know about you.’

  Hornby’s hands were screwed into tight fists as he said desperately, ‘If I could have another chance, sir?’

  Dalziel frowned severely. ‘Don’t grovel, Hornby. On some it looks fine. But on fat men it merely looks obscene.’ He held up his hand and grinned. ‘I know what we’ll do,
Hornby.’ He pointed at the two crumpled ledgers on his table. ‘We can’t give back the funds to people who’ve vanished to the other ends of the earth. People who probably still fondly imagine that their old sports officer was as intelligent as he was gross. So we’ll spend it. How does that strike you, eh?’

  Hornby stared at him, his eyes glazed as if from shock. ‘Sir?’

  ‘That’s what we’ll do then.’ He nodded firmly. ‘Lieutenant-Commander Standish will witness your signing over the money to my care, and I will spend it before you do something even more cretinous, from which even I cannot save your disgusting body.’

  Standish watched Hornby’s relief with something like amazement. Another few minutes of Dalziel’s onslaught and he would have broken, he was quite sure of that.

  Dalziel folded his arms and nodded. ‘Just remember this in future, Hornby. Remember it every time you start hatching up schemes you can’t control, right?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Now get out of my sight!’ As the lieutenant lumbered to the door he added, ‘I’ll make an officer of you yet, Hornby! If it bloody well kills you!’

  The door slammed shut and he said cheerfully, ‘I said it was nothing we couldn’t handle.’ He consulted his watch. ‘I’ve to go to the C. in C.’s office in an hour.’ He could hardly restrain his grin. ‘Orders at last, Number One.’

  Standish followed him to the upper deck, his mind still in a whirl. ‘What about the money, sir?’

  ‘We’ll spend all of it.’ Dalziel paused and looked suspiciously at two Chinese workers. ‘Came to me just now. Know just the very thing to buy with it.’ He chuckled. ‘Sports Fund indeed. I hope to God Hornby never gets as close to a court martial again. Still, I expect he lost a few pounds in weight back there, one way or the other.’

  Standish saluted as Dalziel marched purposefully up the brow swinging his stick. Hornby might live to resent what Dalziel had said to him, but he had certainly been lucky.

  He turned as the quartermaster said, ‘Shore telephone call, sir.’

  He took the telephone, his eyes still on Dalziel’s silhouette as he strode along the top of the basin. ‘Standish here. Who’s that?’