by Wilbur Smith
Denis Herbstein's Sunday article had been done with high
professionalism, especially bearing in mind the very short time he had
to put it together. it had included interviews with representatives of
Lloyd's of London, the oil companies, environmental experts both in
America and England, and even with the United States Coast Guard.
Try to make it tight and hard/advised the anchor-man.
Let's not pussyfoot around. He wanted sensation, not too many facts or
figures, good gory horror stuff - or a satisfying punch-up.
The Sunday Times article had flushed them out at Orient Amex and Christy
Marine; they had not been able to ignore the challenge for there was a
question tabled for Thursday by a Labour member in the Commons, and
ominous stirrings in the ranks of the American Coast Guard service.
There had been enough fuss to excite the interest of The Today and
Tomorrow Show. They had invited the parties and both Christy Marine and
Orient to meet their accuser.
Amex had fielded their first teams. Duncan Alexander with all his
charisma had come to speak for Christy Marine, and Orient Amex had
selected one of their directors who looked like Gary Cooper. With his
craggy honest face and the silver hairs at his temple he looked like the
kind of man you wanted flying your airliner or looking after your money.
The make-up girl dusted Nicholas face with powder.
I'm going to invite you to speak first. Tell us about this stuff - what
is it, cadmium? the interviewer checked his script.
Nicholas nodded, he could not speak for he was suffering the ultimate
indignity. The girl was painting his lips.
The television studio was the size of an aircraft hangar, the concrete
floor strewn with thick black cables and the roof lost in the gloomy
heights, but they had created the illusion of intimacy in the small
shell of the stage around which the big mobile cameras cluttered like
mechanical crabs around the carcass of a dead fish.
The egg-shaped chairs made it impossible either to loll or to sit
upright, and the merciless white glare of the arc lamps fried the thick
layer of greasy make-up on Nicholas skin. it was small consolation that
across the table Duncan looked like a Japanese Kabuki dancer in make-up
too white for his coppery hair.
An assistant director in a sweatshirt and jeans clipped the small
microphone into Nicholas lapel and whispered, Give them hell, ducky.
Somebody else in the darkness beyond the lights was intoning solemnly,
Four, three, two, one - you're on! and the red light lit on the middle
camera.
Welcome to The Today and Tomorrow Show/ the anchor-man's voice was
suddenly warm and intimate and mellifluous. Last week in the French
ship-building port of St Na zaire, the largest ship in the world was
launched In a dozen sentences he sketched out the facts, while on the
repeating screens beyond the cameras Nicholas saw that they were running
newsreel footage of Golden Dawn's launching. He remembered the
helicopter hovering over the dockyard, and he was so fascinated by the
aerial views of the enormous vessel taking to the water that when the
cameras switched suddenly to him, he was taken by surprise and saw
himself start on the little screen as the interviewer began introducing
him, swiftly running a thumbnail portrait and then going on: Mr. Berg
has some very definite views on this ship. In her present design and
construction, she is not safe to carry even regular crude petroleum oil/
Nicholas said.
However, she will be employed in the carriage of crude oil that has been
contaminated by cadmium sulphide in such concentrations as to make it
one of the more toxic substances in nature. Your first statement, Mr.
Berg, does anyone else share your doubts as to the safety of her design?
She does not carry the Al rating by the marine inspectors of Lloyd's of
London/ said Nicholas.
Now can you tell us about the cargo she will carry - the so-called
cad-rich crudes? Nicholas knew he had perhaps fifteen seconds to draw a
verbal picture of the Atlantic Ocean turned into a sterile poisoned
desert; it was too short a time, and twice Duncan Alexander interjected,
skilfully breaking up the logic of Nicholas presentation and before he
had finished, the anchor-man glanced at his watch and cut him short.
Thank you, Mr. Berg. Now Mr. Kemp is a director of the oil company. My
company., Orient Amex, last year allocated the sum of two million U.S.
dollars as grants to assist in the scientific study of world
environmental problems. I can tell you folks, right now, that we at
Orient Amex are very conscious of the problems of modern technology He
was projecting the oil-company image, the benefactors of all humanity.
Your company's profit last year, after taxation, was four hundred and
twenty-five million dollars/ Nicholas cut in clearly. That makes point
four seven percent on environmental research - all of it tax deductible.
Congratulations, Mr. Kemp. The oil man looked pained and went on: Now
we at Orient Amex/ plugging the company n gm e again neatly, are working
towards a better quality of life for all peoples.
But we do realize that it is impossible to put back the clock a hundred
years. We cannot allow ourselves to be blinded by the romantic wishful
thinking of amateur environmentalists, the weekend scientists and the
doom-criers who - Cry Torrey Canyon, Nicholas suggested helpfully, and
the oil man suppressed a shudder and went on quickly. -who would have us
discontinue such research as the revolutionary cadmium cracking process,
which could extend the world's utilization of fossil fuels by a
staggering forty percent and give the world's oil reserves an extended
life of twenty years or more. Again the anchor-man glanced at his
watch, cut the oil off in mid-flow and switched his attention to Duncan
Alexander.
Mr. Alexander, your so-called ultra-tanker will carry the cad-rich
crudes. How would you reply to Mr. Berg? Duncan smiled, a deep secret
smile. When Mr. Berg had my job as head of Christy Marine, the Golden
Dawn was the best idea in the world. Since he was fired, it's suddenly
the worst. They laughed, even one of the cameramen out beyond the
lights guffawed uncontrollably, and Nicholas felt the hot red rush of
his anger.
Is the Golden Dawn rated Al at Lloyd's? asked the anchor-man.
Christy Marine has not applied for a Llpyd's listing we arranged our
insurance in other markets. Even through his anger Nicholas had to
concede how good he was, he had a mind like quicksilver.
How safe is your ship, Mr. Alexander? Now Duncan turned his head and
looked directly across the table at Nicholas.
I believe she is as safe as the world's leading marine architects and
naval engineers can make her. He paused, and there was a malevolent
gleam in his eyes now, So safe, that I have decided to end this
ridiculous controversy by a display of my personal confidence.
What form will this show of faith take, Mr. Alexander? The anchor-man
sensed the sensational line for
which he had been groping and he leaned
forward eagerly.
On Golden Dawn s maiden voyage, when she returns from the Persian Gulf
fully laden with the El Barras crudes, I and my family, my wife and my
step-son, will travel aboard her for the final six thousand miles of her
voyage from Cape Town on the Cape of Good Hope to Galveston in the Gulf
of Mexico. As Nicholas gaped at him wordlessly, he went on evenly,
That's how convinced I am that Golden Dawn is capable of performing her
task in perfect safety. Thank you. The anchor-man recognized a good
exit line, when he heard one. Thank you, Mr. Alexander.
you have convinced me - and I am sure many of our viewers. We are now
crossing to Washington via satellite where The moment the red in use
light flickered out on the television camera, Nicholas was on his feet
and facing the real Duncan Alexander. His anger was fanned by the
realization that Duncan had easily grandstanded him with that adroit
display of showmanship, and by the stabbing anxiety at the threat to
take Peter aboard Golden Down on her hazardous maiden voyage.
You're not taking Peter on that death trap of yours, he snapped.
Thats his mother's decision/ said Duncan evenly. As the daughter of
Arthur Christy, she's decided to give the company her full support/ he
emphasized the word full'.
I wont let either of you endanger my son's life for a wild
public-relations stunt. I'm sure you will try to prevent it, Duncan
nodded and smiled, and I'm sure your efforts will be as ineffectual as
your attempts to stop Golden Dawn., He deliberately turned his back on
Nicholas and spoke to the oil man. I do think that went off rather
well/ he said, don't you? James Teacher gave a graphic demonstration of
why he could charge the highest fees in London and still have his desk
piled high with important briefs. He had Nicholas urgent application
before a Judge-in-Chambers within seventy hours, petitioning for a writ
to restrain Chantelle Alexander from allowing the son of their former
marriage, one Peter Nicholas Berg, aged twelve years, to accompany her
on an intended voyage from Cape Town in the Republic of South Africa to
Galveston in the state of Texas aboard the bulk crude-carrier Golden
Dawn, and/or to prevent the said Chantelle Alexander from allowing the
child to undertake any other voyage aboard the said vessel.
The judge heard the petition during a recess in the criminal trial of a
young post-office worker standing accused of multiple rape. The judge's
oak-panelled book-lined chambers were overcrowded by the two parties,
their lawyers, the judge's registrar and the considerable bulk of the
judge himself.
Still in his wig and robes from the public court, the judge read swiftly
through the written submission of both sides, listened attentively to
James Teacher's short address and the rebuttal by his opposite number,
before turning sternly to Chantelle.
Mrs. Alexander. The stern expression wavered slightly as he looked upon
the devastating beauty which sat demurely before him. Do you love your
son More than anything else in this life., Chantelle looked at him
steadily out of those vast dark eyes, And you are happy to take him on
this journey with you? I am the daughter of a sailor, if there was
danger I would understand it. I am happy to go myself and take my son
with me. The judge nodded, looked down at the papers on his desk for a
moment.
As I understand the circumstances, Mr. Teacher, it is common ground that
the mother has custody? That is so, my lord. But the father is the
child's guardian. I'm fully aware of that, thank you/ he snapped
acidly.
He paused again before resuming in the measured tones of judgement, We
are concerned here exclusively with the welfare and safety of the child.
It has been shown that the proposed journey will be made during the
holidays and that no loss of schooling will result.
On the other hand, I do not believe that the petitioner has shown that
there exists reasonable doubts about the safety of the vessel on which
the voyage will be made. It seems to be a modern and sophisticated
ship. To grant the petition would, in my view, be placing unreasonable
restraint on the child's mother. He swivelled in his chair to face
Nicholas and James Teacher. I regret, therefore, that I see
insufficient grounds to accede to your petition. in the back seat of
James Teacher's Bentley, the little lawyer murmured apologetically.
He was right, of course, Nicholas. I would have done the same in his
place. These domestic squabbles are always - Nicholas was not
listening. What would happen if I picked up Peter and took him to
Bermuda or the States? Abduct him? James Teacher's voice shot up an
octave, and he caught Nicholas arm with genuine alarm - I beg of you,
dismiss the thought. They would have the police waiting for you God!
Now he wriggled miserably in his seat. I can't bear to think of what
might happen. Apart from getting you sent to gaol, your former wife
might even get an order restraining you from seeing your boy again, she
could get guardianship away from you. If you did that, you could lose
the child, Nicholas. Don't do it. Please don't do it! Now he patted
Nicholas arm ingratiatingly. You'd be playing right into their hands.
And then with relief he switched his attention to the briefcase on his
lap.
Can we read through the latest draft of the agreement of sale again? he
asked, We haven't got much time, you know. Then, without waiting for a
reply, he began on the preamble to the agreement which would transfer
all the assets and liabilities of Ocean Salvage and Towage to the
Directors of the Bank of the East, as nominees for parties unnamed.
Nicholas slumped in the far corner of the seat, and stared thoughtfully
out of the window as the Bentley crawled in the traffic stream out of
the Strand, around Trafalgar Square with it wheeling clouds of pigeons
and milling throngs of tourists, swung into the Mall and accelerated
down the long straight towards the Palace.
I want you to stall them/ Nicholas said suddenly, and Teacher broke off
in the middle of a sentence and stared at him distractedly.
I beg your pardon? I want you to find a way to stall the Sheikhs., Good
God, man. James Teacher was utterly astounded.
It's taken me nearly a month - four hard weeks to get them ripe to sign/
his voice choked a little at the memory of the long hours of
negotiation. I've written every line of the agreement in my own blood.,
I need to have control of my tugs, I need to be free to act 'Nicholas,
we are talking about seven million dollars. We are talking about my
son/ said Nicholas quietly.
Can you stall them? Yes, of course I can, if that's what you truly
want. Wearily James Teacher closed the file on his lap. How long? Six
weeks - long enough for Golden Dawn to finish her maiden voyage, one way
or the other. You realize that this may blow the whole deal, don't you
Yes, I realize that. And you realize also that there isn't another
buyer? Yes. They were silent then, until the Bentley pulled up before
the Bank building in Curzon Street, and they stepped out on to the
pavement Are you absolutely certain? Teacher asked softly Just do it/
Nicholas replied, and the doorman held the bronze and glass doors open
for them.
Bermuda asserted its calming influence over Nicholas the moment he
stepped out of the aircraft into its comfortable WArMth and clean,
glittering sunlight. Bernard Wackie's gorgeous burnt-honey-coloured
secretary was there to welcome him. She wore a thin cotton dress the
freshly cut pineapple and a flashing white smile.
Mr. Wackie's waiting for you at the Bank, sir. Are you out of your
mind, Nicholas? Bernard greeted him. Jimmy Teacher tells me you blew
the Arabs out of the window. Tell me it's not true, please tell me it's
not true. Oh, come on, Bernard, Nicholas shook his head and patted him
consolingly on the shoulder, your co-mission would only have been a
lousy point seven million, anyway. Then you did it! Bernard wailed,
and tried to pull his hand out of Nicholas grip. You screwed it all up.
The Sheikhs have been screwing us up for over a month, Bernie baby. I
just gave them a belt of the same medicine, and do you know what? They
loved it. The Prince sat up and showed real interest for the first
time. For the first time we were speaking the same language. They'll
still be around six weeks from now. But why? I don't understand. just
explain to me why you did it. Let's go into the plot, and I'll explain
it to you. in the plot Nicholas stood over the perspex map of the
oceans of the globe, and studied it carefully for fully five minutes
without speaking.
That's Sea Witch's latest position, she's making good passage.
The green plastic disc that bore the tug's number was set in
mid-Atlantic.
She reported two hours ago/ Bernie nodded, and then with professional
interest, How did her sea trials go off? There were the usual wrinkles
to iron out, that's what kept me in St Nazaire so long.
But we got them straight and Jules has fallen in love with her., He's
still the best skipper in the game. But already Nicholas attention had
switched halfway across the world.
Warlock's still in Maurit'us! his voice snapped like a whip.
I had to fly out a new armature for the main generator.