Santorini

‘See him, Jean. Ask him if he would be kind enough to stop by.’

Vice-Admiral Hawkins was very young for one of his rank. He was short, a little overweight, more than a little rubicund as to his features and exuded an aura of cheerful bonhomie. He didn’t look very bright, which he was. He was widely regarded as having one of the most brilliant minds in the Royal Navy. He took the seat to which Carson had gestured him and glanced at the message slip.

‘I see, I see.’ He laid the message down. ‘But you didn’t ask me here to comment on a perfectly straightforward signal. The Sylvester is one of the code names for the frigate HMS Ariadne. One of the vessels under your command, sir.’

‘Don’t rub it in, David. I know it, of course—more accurately I know of it. Don’t forget I’m just a simple landlubber. Odd name, isn’t it? Royal Naval ship with a Greek name.’

‘Courtesy gesture to the Greeks, sir. We’re carrying out a joint hydrographic survey with them.’

‘Is that so?’ General Carson ran a hand through his grizzled hair. ‘I was not aware that I was in the hydrographic business, David.’

‘You’re not, sir, although I have no doubt it could carry out such a survey if it were called for. The Ariadne has a radio system that can transmit to, and receive transmissions from, any quarter of the globe. It has telescopes and optical instruments that can pick out the salient features of, say, any passing satellite, even those in geosynchronous orbit—and that’s 22,000 miles up. It carries long-range and surface radar that is as advanced as any in the world. And it has a sonar location and detection system that can pick up a sunken object at the bottom of the ocean just as easily as it can pinpoint a lurking submarine. The Ariadne, sir, is the eyes and the ears and the voice of your fleet.’

‘That’s nice to know, I must say. Very reassuring. The ability of the commanding officer of the Ariadne is—ah—commensurate with this extraordinary array of devices he controls?’

‘Indeed, sir. For an exceptionally complex task an exceptionally qualified man. Commander Talbot is an outstanding officer. Hand-picked for the job.’

‘Who picked him?’

‘I did.’

‘I see. That terminates this line of conversation very abruptly.’ Carson pondered briefly. ‘I think, Colonel, that we should ask General Simpson about this one.’ Simpson, the over-all commander of NATO, was the only man who outranked Carson in Europe.

‘Don’t see what else we can do, sir.’

‘You would agree, David?’

‘No, General. I think you’d be wasting your time. If you don’t know anything about this, then I’m damned sure General Simpson doesn’t know anything either. This is not an educated guess, call it a completely uneducated guess, but I have an odd feeling that this is one of your planes, sir—an American plane. A bomber, almost certainly, perhaps not yet off the secret lists—it was, after all, flying at an uncommon height.’

‘The Ariadne could have been in error.’

‘The Ariadne does not make mistakes. My job and my life on it.’ The flat, unemotional voice carried complete conviction. ‘Commander Talbot is not the only uniquely qualified man aboard. There are at least thirty others in the same category. We have, for example, an electronics officer so unbelievably advanced in his speciality that none of your much-vaunted high-technology whizzkids in Silicon Valley would even begin to know what he’s talking about.’

Carson raised a hand. ‘Point taken, David, point taken. So an American bomber. A very special bomber because it must be carrying a very special cargo. What would you guess that to be?’

Hawkins smiled faintly. ‘I am not yet in the ESP business, sir. People or goods. Very secret, very important goods or very secret and very important people. There’s only one source that can give you the answer and it might be pointed out that their refusal to divulge this information might put the whole future of NATO at risk and that the individual ultimately responsible for the negative decision would be answerable directly to the president of the United States. One does not imagine that the individual concerned would remain in a position of responsibility for very much longer.’

Carson sighed. ‘If I may speak in a spirit of complaint, David, I might point out that it’s easy for you to talk and even easier to talk tough. You’re a British officer. I’m an American.’

‘I appreciate that, sir.’

Carson looked at the colonel, who remained silent for a couple of moments, then nodded, slowly, twice. Carson reached for the button on his desk.

‘Jean?’

‘Sir?’

‘Get me the Pentagon. Immediately.’

2 (#ulink_d1f4ccb9-82f8-5da9-a9be-b0a61b7620a5)

‘You are unhappy, Vincent?’ Vincent was Van Gelder’s first name. There were three of them seated in the wardroom, Talbot, Van Gelder and Grierson.

‘Puzzled, you might say, sir. I don’t understand why Andropulos and the others didn’t abandon ship earlier. I saw two inflatable dinghies aboard. Rolled up, admittedly, but those things can be opened and inflated from their gas cylinders in seconds. There were also lifebelts and life-jackets. There was no need for this the-boy-stood-on-the-burning-deck act. They could have left at any time. I’m not saying they’d have been sucked down with the yacht but they might have had a rather uncomfortable time.’

‘Same thought had occurred to me. Mentioned it to Andrew here. Odd. Maybe Andropulos had a reason. Anything else?’

‘The owner tried to stop me from boarding the yacht. Maybe he was concerned with my health. I have the feeling he wasn’t. Then I would much like to know what caused that explosion in the engineroom. A luxurious yacht like that must have carried an engineer—we can find that out easily enough—and it’s a fair guess that the engines would have been maintained in an immaculate condition. I don’t see how they could have caused an explosion. We’ll have to ask McCafferty about that one.’

‘That, of course, is why you were so anxious that we pinpoint the spot where the Delos went down. You think an expert on the effects of explosives could identify and locate the cause of the explosion? I’m sure he could, especially if he were an expert at determining the causes of aircraft lost through explosions—those people are much better at that sort of thing than the Navy is. Explosives experts we have aboard but no experts on the effects of explosives. Even if we did, we have no divers aboard—well, you and myself apart—trained to work at levels below a hundred feet. We could borrow one easily enough from a lifting vessel or salvage tug but the chances are high that he’d know nothing about explosives. But there’s really no problem. It would be a simple matter for any lifting vessel to raise an aircraft fuselage to the surface.’ Talbot regarded Van Gelder thoughtfully. ‘But there’s something else worrying you, isn’t there?’

‘Yes, sir. The three dead men aboard the Delos—well, to be specific, just one of them. That’s why I asked the doctor here to come along. The three of them were so smoke begrimed and blackened that it was difficult to tell what they were wearing but two of them appeared to be dressed in white while the third was in a navy blue overall. An engineer wouldn’t wear whites. Well, I admit our engineer Lieutenant McCafferty is a dazzling exception; but he’s a one-off case, he never goes near his engines anyway. In any event I assumed the man in the overalls was the engineer and he was the one who caught my attention. He had a vicious gash on the back of his head as if he had been blown backwards against a very hard, very sharp object.’

Grierson said: ‘Or been struck by a very hard, sharp object?’

‘Either way, I suppose. I wouldn’t know. I’m afraid I’m a bit weak on the forensic side.’

‘Had his occiput been crushed?’

‘Back of his head? No. At least I’m reasonably certain it hadn’t been. I mean, it would have given, wouldn’t it, or been squashy. It wasn’t like that.’

‘A blow like that should have caused massive bruising. Did you see any?’

‘Difficult to say. He had fairly thick hair. But it was fair. No, I don’t think there was any.’

‘Had it bled a lot?’

‘He hadn’t bled at all. I’m quite sure of that.’

‘You didn’t notice any holes in his clothing?’

‘Not that I could see. He hadn’t been shot, if that is what you’re asking and that is what I think you are asking. Who would want to shoot a dead man? His neck was broken.’

‘Indeed?’ Grierson seemed unsurprised. ‘Poor man was through the wars, wasn’t he?’

Talbot said: ‘What do you think, Andrew?’

‘I don’t know what to think. The inflicting of the wound on the head and the snapping of the vertebra could well have been simultaneous. If the two weren’t simultaneous, then it could equally well have been—as Vincent clearly seems to think—a case of murder.’

‘Would an examination of the corpse help at all?’

‘It might. I very much doubt it. But an examination of engine-room bulkheads would.’

‘To see if there were any sharp edges or protrusions that could have caused such a head wound?’ Grierson nodded. ‘Well, when—and if—we ever raise that hull, we should be able to kill two birds with one stone: to determine the causes of both the explosions and this man’s death.’

‘Maybe three birds,’ Van Gelder said. ‘It would be interesting to know the number and layout of the fuel tanks in the engine-room. There are, I believe, two common layouts—in one case there is just one main fuel tank, athwartships and attached to the for’ard bulkhead, with a generator or generators on one side of the engine and batteries on the other, plus a water-tank to port and another to starboard: or there could be a fuel tank on either side with the water-tank up front. In that case the two fuel tanks are interconnected to keep the fuel levels equal and maintain equilibrium.’

‘A suspicious mind, Number One,’ Talbot said. ‘Very suspicious. What you would like to find, of course, is just one fuel tank because you think Andropulos is going to claim that he didn’t abandon ship because he thought another fuel tank was about to go and he didn’t want his precious passengers splashing about in a sea of blazing fuel oil which would, of course, also have destroyed the rubber dinghies.’