Then there were the entries made at sea. Here the diary turned professional with notes of observations, odd equations roughly jotted, analyses of bottom material, mostly sea ooze. Occasionally there were analyses of nodules – nothing very startling, just run of the sea stuff.
I waded on feeling that I might be wasting my time, but towards the end I was pulled up with a start. I had run my eye down the typewritten sheet and was aware that I was at last looking at something remarkable. It was an analysis of a nodule, though it didn’t specifically say so, and the figures were startling.
Translated from symbols, they read: ‘Manganese – 28%; iron – 32%; cobalt – 8%; copper – 4%; nickel – 6%; other 22%. Wow!’
‘Wow,’ indeed.
There followed analyses of four more nodules, all equally rich.
I did some calculating and found the average cobalt in the five nodules to be a fraction under nine per cent. The copper and nickel weren’t to be laughed away either. I didn’t yet know much about the economics of recovery but it was evident that this might be a paying proposition even with relatively primitive methods of dredging, depending on the depth of water. And I had reason to believe that this was not too great to be worked in. With more sophisticated equipment it would be better than owning a gold mine.
But there was always the snag – nowhere in the diary did Mark say where these riches were to be found. In the whole notebook there was not one place name mentioned. So we weren’t really any better off than we were before, except that scattered through the typewritten pages was the phrase, ‘Picture Here’ , with a number attached, and at the end was a sheaf of reproductions and a brief account by the cipher expert of these doodled drawings.
It is possible and indeed probable that these drawings are of the nature of pictograms or rebuses. A study of the pictograms leads me to believe that they must indicate place names, and of the 32 drawings, I believe I have successfully identified 24.
To illustrate: the rough sketch of the gas mantle with the word GRATIS beneath may well refer to the Australian town of Fremantle; the bearded man with the sword and the baby is probably Solomon, referring to the biblical story, and may indicate the Solomon Islands; the bearded man looking at a monkey may be a reference to Darwin in the Australian territory; the straight line neatly bisected may refer to either the Equator or Midway Island.
The fact that all these names occur in the same quarter of the globe is a further indication that one may be on the right track in such surmising. Other names tentatively identified are also to be found in the same geographical area.
Tracings of the drawings, together with possible identifications are attached. Of the eight drawings unidentified all I can say is that to solve these one would need to have a more precise knowledge of these geographical areas, together with the need to know a great deal more about the ‘artist’, since it is obvious that an idiosyncratic mode of thought is here employed, involving a person’s training, experience and interior feelings; in fact, a total life.
I looked up the analyses of the two non-standard nodules again. Coming immediately after them were two of the drawings, numbers 28 and 29. I checked them against the tracings. One was of a busty wench wearing a Phrygian cap with underneath it the words, ‘The Fair Goddess’. The other was a rather bedraggled-looking American eagle with the inscription, ‘The Disappearing Trick’. Neither was identified.
I leaned back and thought about it all. I knew that Mark’s ship had been based on Australia during the IGY – hence, possibly, the Australian references. Mark had probably been in the Solomons and might well have gone as far as Midway – he would certainly have crossed the Equator anyway. Did he go as far as Easter Island? I checked the tracings and found it – a rabbit apparently trying to hatch an egg, the traditional fertility symbols of Easter. That was one the expert had spotted too.
It was a hell of a big area in which to find The Fair Goddess or The Disappearing Trick.
I thought about Mark and his ‘idiosyncratic mode of thought’. The expert had been dead right there; Mark’s mode of thought had been so damned idiosyncratic that there had been times when I thought it wasn’t human. He had a strangely twisted, involute mind which delighted in complexity and deception, never taking a straight course but always heading ultimately for one goal – the eventual well-being of Mark Trevelyan.
All my life I had watched him cheat and scheme his way towards the things he wanted, never realizing that if he’d gone about his business in a straightforward way it would have been more efficient. He had a first-class brain, but he was lazy and always looking for short cuts – but you don’t find many short cuts in science and thus he tended to lag behind in his work.
I think he was envious of me for some odd reason of his own. I was two years older than he and when we were children he nearly beat himself to death trying to keep up, physically and mentally. The psycho boys have a term for it in their tasteless jargon – ’sibling rivalry’ – but with Mark it took an unhealthy turn. He seemed to see his whole life in terms of competition with me, even inventing apparent parental favouritism towards me where I could see none. The only reason that I know for his having elected to study oceanography was because I had done so and not, like me, out of any burning interest in the subject. He once said that he would be famous when I had been forgotten.
It was ironic in a way that he should have said that, because he had the makings of a first rate scientist with a theoretical bent and if he’d lived I’m sure he could have surprised us all – provided he wasn’t looking for a short cut at the time.
For years I’d avoided him, physically and professionally, but now I had to match my mind against his. I had to ferret out the meanings of his cryptic scrawls and it wasn’t going to be easy. Mark had almost certainly been up to something fishy – no high-cobalt results had come out of the IGY investigations, and Mark had such results. I thought about what Jarvis had said about Mark faking figures during that period, and about Mark trying to persuade Campbell into an expedition to look for nodules. It was beginning to add up.
I was interrupted by Geordie, banging at my bedroom door.
‘Aren’t you ready yet?’ he demanded. ‘We’ve got a dinner date with the boss.’
‘My God, the time’s slipped away.’
‘Found anything?’
I looked up wryly. ‘Yes, I’ve found something but I’m damned if I know what it is. It looks as though we still have to play children’s games against Mark’s tortuous mind. I’ll tell you about it when we’re all together. Give me ten minutes to get dressed.’
‘There’s just one thing first,’ Geordie said, hovering in the doorway. ‘Kane went ashore and sent a cable.’
‘Where to?’
‘We were lucky. I detailed Danny Williams to trail him – don’t worry, he’ll keep it dark – and he managed to hear Kane asking about cable rates to Rabaul.’
‘Rabaul! But that’s in New Britain – in the Bismarck Archipelago. Why in hell would he send a cable clear across the Pacific? Do you know who he sent it to?’
‘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.
IV
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 particularly 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 answer back.’
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.’
The Snow Tiger / Night of Error Page 37