Night Of Error

by Desmond Bagley

  'Danny couldn't find that out. He should have bribed the counter clerk, but he didn't. The boss says come to the lounge first – it's early for a meal. He wants to talk to us there – about that, I guess.' He pointed to the diary pages lying on my bed.* 4*

  The Colombo was a modern American style hotel. We went to the reception desk where I had signed in earlier and asked for Campbell, and were told that he was in one of the lounges. It was discreetly lighted and in one corner a trio was playing soft music. It was all very civilized and pleasant and a definite change from life on board Esmerelda. Over drinks I asked Campbell to bear with me in setting aside for the moment the matter of the diary, and instead listen while I brought him up to date concerning manganese nodules, to which he reluctantly agreed. He was at his most churlish but I knew that mood would wear off as his interest sharpened. He had already done some homework so I was able to cover the matter of nodule formation and distribution fairly quickly, feeling pleased that I had already brought Geordie up to that point as well. I came at last to the matter of nodule dating.

  'I've come to the conclusion that our nodule isn't very old,' I said, producing it from my pocket.

  'How old?' Campbell demanded.

  'He always talks in millions,' said Geordie wisely, but he was wrong.

  'Not more than fifty thousand years,' I said flatly. 'It could be between thirty thousand and fifty thousand but not more than that, I'll stake my reputation on it. Somewhere in the Pacific these things are growing at an explosive rate.'

  'Explosive,' said Geordie incredulously. 'Do you call fifty thousand years explosive?'

  'From a geological standpoint it's very fast. It's damned unusual, though, and it's very important.'

  'Why so?' Campbell asked.

  'Look, the whole damn Pacific is covered with these things which have been growing slowly over millions of years. Now we have one which has grown in a fraction of that time. There must be a specific reason for it. My guess is that it's the result of a purely local condition, and if it is the chances are that this condition still exists – in other words, these nodules are growing at the same rate even now.'

  'I can't see that that helps us much.'

  'It helps us this much. It means we can cut out vast areas -millions of square miles – where I know that no peculiar conditions exist in the sea. I'll go along with orthodoxy on that one; the seabed is pretty regular, there are few changes of climate for one thing. What we've got to watch for is the oddity.'

  'Got any idea what kind of oddity?'

  I nodded. 'I have vague ideas that I'm not prepared to put into words just yet,' I said. 'Maybe I'll get something from the diary translation. It may only need one word to make the whole picture clear – like the last piece in a jigsaw puzzle.'

  'We'll come back to that later,' Campbell said. 'Meanwhile I've been keeping tabs on Suarez-Navarro. Ramirez left London and joined that ship of theirs.'

  'Where are they now?' Geordie asked.

  'Still lying in Darwin – doing nothing. I don't quite get it.'

  He glanced up as he spoke and then got to his feet. Coming through the lounge towards us was a young woman whom I recognized as his daughter, and Geordie and I both stood up as she joined us. Campbell introduced us. 'Clare, this is Michael Trevelyan and this is our Captain, George Wilkins.'

  Geordie shook hands gravely and corrected his name. As I took her hand she looked at me very carefully but did not react to my name at all. I was on the point of reminding her that I had met her once long before, with Mark, but took my cue from her and made my greeting noncommittal. We all sat down once again, and during the few minutes while drinks were being ordered I assessed her, as a man assesses any woman.

  When I had seen her in Vancouver I hadn't been particu larly interested. I couldn't be bothered with Mark or any of his affairs. But now I saw that she was really beautiful and wondered why I hadn't noticed it before. She was tall, with black hair and straight brows over grey eyes. Her mouth was generous with mobile corners, a mouth made for laughter but presently in tight control, as though she had learned not to laugh. She was dressed with that deceptive simplicity which means money, not surprising considering that she was Campbell's daughter. She wore, I noticed, no jewellery apart from a small ruby brooch.

  We all chatted for a short time about this and that, and I saw that there was something wary and watchful about her, and felt that it concerned me. I wondered how Mark had got on with her. When I saw her with him she had seemed to have a lot more sparkle, and this present introversion wasn't Mark's style at all – he always liked his women to have some animation.

  Presently Campbell brought us to the matter in the forefront of all our minds. I was not altogether surprised when he said, 'Gentlemen, you had better know that I've told the whole story – so far as I can – to Clare. She's my right hand, you know, doubles as secretary sometimes, and she's always been involved in my affairs. This one is no different.'

  I thought that burglary, forgery, espionage and murder would certainly make it different in my eyes, but perhaps she'd seen all that already, on other missions with her father.

  'What's more, when I join ship she's coming along as well,' he continued. He was the boss after all, but he seemed just a little truculent as he said it, as if daring our opposition. Geordie looked faintly dismayed and glanced at me for his cue.

  'Why not?' I said evenly. 'Lots of room – and we could do with an extra hand in the lab from time to time. And if you can cook, Miss Campbell'

  'Clare, please. Are you Michael or Mike?'

  'Mike, always.'

  She smiled. 'I can cook, but I wouldn't want to be chief cookie. I'll spell whoever it is, though.'

  Geordie was on the edge of his chair, and finally had his say. 'Have you been to sea before, Miss – er, Clare?' he asked sternly. Clare bore it equably.

  'Yes, Geordie, I have – for quite long trips too. I've got all my gear and you'll believe me when you see how worn out it all is. In fact I'm much more familiar with what we're going to do than Pop is.'

  Geordie was routed.

  Campbell broke in impatiently at this point. 'What about the diary, Mike? You've read through it, I suppose.'

  'There are interesting possibilities opening up.'

  'How come?'

  'The diary was written partly while Mark was with the IGY survey. Now, he made a record of those high-cobalt nodules, but the fact never came out in the open scientific record. In other words, he suppressed the evidence.'

  Campbell seemed perturbed. 'I shouldn't think your brother would do a thing like that,' he said stiffly. And that told me that any reservations he may have about Mark stemmed from Mark's personal affiliation with Clare, and that he had never plumbed the depths of Mark's personality. I would have to be careful, but it was time to bring things out into the open.

  I said, 'Can you think of any other explanation?'

  He shook his head. 'I'm at a loss what to make of it – I have been giving it some thought already. Are you serious when you said your brother would do a thing like that? He struck me as a very fine scientist.'

  'Mark was never too scrupulous,' I said. 'He wanted something from you and he was showing his cleanest face.'

  Campbell didn't like that. My open distrust of Mark offended his sense of fitness. Brothers should be brotherly and blood is thicker than water. I suspected he had a strong puritan streak in him, inherited from his no doubt calvinistic ancestors. He said, almost hostilely, 'There's nothing to be gained by running down your brother – especially as he can't answerback.'

  I said softly, 'You should study the Bible, Mr Campbell.

  There are a few stories in the Book that are very illuminating. Read about Cain and Abel, or Esau and Jacob. There's no hard and fast rule that brothers should like one another – and lots of villains have innocent kinfolk.'

  He was acid. 'Well, I suppose you knew him best. I never had any reason to doubt him while he was in my employ.' He caught Clare's eye
and faltered just a little. 'Must admit that personally…'

  Clare's face was calm, showing only a polite interest, but her jawline caught my notice.

  I said, 'We must discuss this. We're faced with a problem put to us by Mark and we can only solve it by understanding him and the way he worked. Geordie can support some of what I may have to tell you.' I had them all riveted now. 'Let me tell you something that I'll bet you don't know – Mark was kicked out of the IGY for falsifying figures. That was just before he joined your company.'

  'I didn't know that and I don't think I believe it.'

  'It's true,' I said. 'Professor Jarvis, my old boss at the Institute, told me about it – and Geordie heard him too. I think he got hold of those nodules at the time, found out their value, and decided to keep the knowledge to himself. Then he moved in on you – and he was using you.'

  Campbell was affronted. 'Using me!' 'You had the money he wanted for an expedition. He couldn't show you the nodules because you'd want to know where he got them. And that was by stealing them from the people who paid his salary.'

  Campbell began to look baffled. 'He never showed me anything. He talked a good story though.'

  That's right. He had a lot of theory and you nearly fell for it. If you had, he'd have wasted his time and your money fossicking round the Pacific for six months and then his "theory" would have led him to a spectacular find. You see, he knew where those nodules came from. Anyway you'd be in the chips and he'd be both rich and vindicated – the great scientist.'

  Campbell nodded unwillingly.

  I said, 'But something went wrong. You had your run-in with Suarez-Navarro and found yourself strapped for ready funds. You couldn't finance his expedition, and so he left you flat because you were of no further use to him. Isn't that so?'

  There was silence while Campbell digested all that.

  'All right, you've made your point – don't drive it into the ground. Assuming something like that is possible – what do you suggest we do now?'

  'First, another point. You wondered how Suarez-Navarro came into the nodule hunt. I think Mark may have tried the same ploy on them. In fact I think he and Norgaard were waiting in Tahiti for the ship that's being fitted out right now, and that ties everything in squarely together.'

  'All right, let's assume that too. We're safer the more we can see into the forest, I suppose.' Campbell was still shaken by what I'd said about Mark. 'What do we do next?'

  'Well, we could find out where Mark's IGY ship dredged and drop ours in the same places. But I don't think it will be any of the sites they actually surveyed or this would have come out already – Mark wasn't the only one doing assays. No, I think it was a trial site, one they weren't serious about, and probably didn't even make a record of, though we could check it out.'

  We all sat in gloom for a while. The faint drift of music changed tempo and a woman began to sing with the trio, and I turned to watch her. Her voice was nice but she was no world-beater. Her body was better than her voice and set off admirably by a revealing gown. For a moment, lost in something not at all of our troubled world, I relaxed and only caught the end of a sentence directed at me by Clare Campbell.

  '… to ask you a question – if I'm not distracting you, Mike?' Her voice was calm but when I turned back I saw an ironic sparkle in her eyes.

  'Sorry, yes?' I said.

  'You say that Mark was kicked off the ship for falsifying figures – but which figures? Not the high-cobalt nodule assay because, as you said, that news hasn't broken yet. So he must have falsified other figures which caught him out. What were they and why did he cook them – could they matter?'

  That was something I hadn't thought of, and it was a stopper. I said, 'Mark was always a fast boy with a red herring. He cheated once in his school exams, and this is how he did it. He was called into the headmaster's office just before an exam and the master happened to be out of the room. On the desk was a pile of question papers. Mark played it cleverly – he didn't take one, he took six. Then he made a copy for himself and passed the six papers to other boys -anonymously.'

  Campbell said, 'I don't get it.'

  'It's simple. He told me about it afterwards – he always knew I wouldn't tell tales. He reckoned that if the thing blew up in his face he'd see to it that the six papers were all found -in the possession of other boys. He'd be in the clear. It wasn't found out and he got away with it. Now what if he's done something like that here?'

  Campbell looked frustrated. He was supposed to be a man with acumen, after all. 'I may be dumb, but I still don't get it.'

  'Look,' I said patiently. 'Mark has located a deposit of high-cobalt nodules and he's busy suppressing the information. He knows that if he's found out he's not only in disgrace but he's lost a potential fortune. So – knowing Mark – I'd guess that he'd toss out a few red herrings. He'd falsify some more figures to confuse the issue, and he'd probably revise all estimates upwards. It would add slightly to the risk of discovery, but if it was found out, as it evidently was, he'd be only another glory-hunting scientist, rather too optimistic and looking for professional praise. No one would suspect that one set of figures was wrong for another reason. They may not ever have caught it.' I laughed humourlessly. 'I'll bet that all Mark's findings were junked, anyway. None of his colleagues would trust his figures after that.'

  'Why didn't they tell the world about it – to protect people like Pop?' asked Clare a little bitterly.

  'I think they would feel that commercial folk like your dad can take care of themselves,' I said. 'They're mostly too gentlemanly.'

  Campbell was looking at me in wonder, Geordie in silent assent of my assessment. 'Did Mark really have a mind like that?' Campbell said.

  I saw that he was hurt; his pride in his judgement of men had been badly undermined. But then, he'd been taken in by an expert. 'He had a mind that would make a corkscrew look like a straight edge. You don't have to take my word for it, either. Geordie can tell you some tales.'

  Geordie nodded. 'Aye, the boy was a twister. He caused the family a lot of grief.'

  'All right. Supposing that Mark was as machiavellian as you make him out to be, it seems we're back where we started – all we have to go on is the diary.'

  'And that's going to be a devil of a job, sorting out his scribbles. I can make a fair stab at the science, but the rest is a teaser.'

  'We'll discuss it over dinner,' Campbell decided, to my secret relief.

  We chewed over the diary and the dinner together. The dinner was digestible which was more than any of us could say for the diary. Clare asked if she could have it for bedside reading. 'I like that sort of thing,' she said. 'Puzzles, jigsaws.' And I also thought that she might have felt that her own knowledge of Mark's odd mind might be useful.

  'You're welcome,' I told her. 'I want a break from it.' I was pleased that as the evening wore on she seemed to lose some of her reserve and her mouth began to lose its tight-locked caution. We were at the coffee stage when a waiter came up to the table. 'Are one of you gentlemen Mr Trevelyan?'

  'I am.'

  There's a lady in the foyer asking to see you.'

  I looked around blankly. 'I don't know anyone in Panama.'

  Campbell looked up at the waiter. 'An old lady or a young lady?'

  'Oh, a young lady, sir.'

  Campbell's eyes twinkled. 'If I were you I'd be in the foyer now. What's stopping you?'

  I got up. 'It's probably a mistake,' I said, thinking that it almost certainly wasn't. 'Excuse me.'

  There were several people in the foyer including more than one young lady, but no one approached me. I crossed to the desk and said, 'My name's Trevelyan. I understand someone wants me.'

  The clerk pointed with his pen, indicating that I should come into the office behind the desk. The young lady was waiting all right, and I did know her, in a way; she was the singer who had been entertaining us in the lounge.

  'I'm Trevelyan. You wanted to speak to me?'

  She w
as nervous, I could see that. She was rather slight and looked, at close quarters, a trifle undernourished, with hollows under her dark eyes and a skin more weathered than tanned. There was an appealing quality about her – I think the best word would be winsome. I was intrigued.

  'I'm sorry to trouble you – I saw your name in the register-but I wondered if you were any relation of Mark Trevelyan? From Tahiti?'

  'He was my brother,' I said. 'I'm Michael. Obviously you -know Mark.' I didn't know if she knew of his death and I felt it would be unkind to throw it at her without warning.

  She nodded, gripping her hands together. 'Yes, I knew him, very well. Have you just come from England?'

  'Yes.'

  'Do you know his – wife?'

  'Yes.'

  'Did she get the suitcase I sent?'

  I stared at her now. 'Well, I'm damned! I thought you were a man. So you are P. Nelson.'

  She smiled and some of the tension left her. 'Yes – Paula Nelson. Then the case did arrive all right?'

  'It arrived, thank you,' I said. I didn't say that it had been stolen immediately afterwards because I didn't know just where this girl stood in the complexity of Mark's affairs. But I could try to find out.

  'Miss Nelson, what about coming into the lounge and having a drink with me and my friends? We're all of us interested in Mark and in what he was doing out here.'

  She shook her head. 'Oh, I couldn't do that, Mr Trevelyan. I'm one of the hired help around here – we're not supposed to drink with the customers. The manager says this isn't a clip joint.' Her nervousness now seemed to include a fear of the manager's imminent wrath.

  I said gently, 'Perhaps we could go somewhere else, if you've the time. I would like to talk to you.'

  She looked at her watch. 'I could spare half an hour. Then I've got another stint in the lounge. If you'll wait while I get my wrap?'

  'It'll be a pleasure.'

  I thought of sending a message back to the others but decided against it. I didn't have to account to them for all my actions. We went to a small bar a little way down the street, I bought a couple of drinks and we settled down in an alcove. The bar was deserted except for a solitary drinker. I said, 'You're an American, aren't you?'