Santorini

‘I’m the captain,’ Talbot said. ‘Talbot. This is Lieutenant-Commander Ven Gelder. Ah!’ The door had opened. ‘And this is Surgeon-Commander Grierson, whom you have met and whose services you fortunately didn’t require, and Lieutenant Denholm.’ He looked at the short stocky man seated before him. ‘I take it that you, sir, are Mr Andropulos, the owner.’

‘I am, Commander, I am.’ Andropulos had black hair, black eyes, white teeth and a deeply tanned complexion. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved that morning but then, he would always look as if he hadn’t shaved that morning. He leapt to his feet, took Talbot’s hand, and shook it vigorously. He positively radiated a combined aura of benevolence and bonhomie. ‘Words cannot express our gratitude. A close-run thing, Commander, a very close-run thing. We owe you our lives.’

‘I wouldn’t go as far as to say that but I’ll admit you were in a rather nasty pickle.’

‘Pickle? Pickle?’

‘Dangerous circumstances. I deeply regret both your loss of the members of your crew and your yacht.’

‘The yacht is nothing. I can always buy another. Well, Lloyd’s of London can buy it for me. Still sadder to lose an old friend like the Delos but sadder still, much sadder, to lose the three members of my crew. Been with me for many years. I treasured them all.’

‘Who were they, sir?’

‘My engineer, chef and steward. With me for many years.’ Andropulos shook his head. ‘They will be sadly missed.’

‘Wasn’t it odd for a chef and steward to be in the engine-room?’

Andropulos smiled sadly. ‘Not aboard the Delos, Commander. It was not exactly run along the lines of a ship of the Royal Navy. They were in the habit of having an after-lunch drink there with the engineer. They had my permission, of course, but they preferred to be discreet about it—and what more discreet place than the engine-room? Alas, their discretion cost them their lives.’

‘That is ironic. May I be introduced to the others?’

‘Of course, of course. This is my very dear friend Alexander.’ Alexander was a tall man with a thin, unsmiling face and black, cold eyes who didn’t look as if he could possibly be anybody’s very dear friend. ‘This is Aristotle, my captain.’ Andropulos didn’t say whether Aristotle was the first or last name: he had watchful eyes and a serious expression but looked as if he might, unlike Alexander, be capable of smiling occasionally. ‘And this is Achmed.’ He didn’t say what occupation Achmed held. He was young, pleasant-faced and smiled readily. Talbot couldn’t even begin to guess at his nationality except that he wasn’t Greek.

‘But I forget myself. Deplorable, deplorable. I forget myself. Such manners. Should have been ladies first, of course. This is my niece, Irene.’ Van Gelder hadn’t made any mistakes about her, Talbot thought, except that he’d missed out on the wide green eyes and a rather bewitching smile. ‘And this is Eugenia.’ This one, Talbot reflected, was much closer to Van Gelder’s concept of a warm-blooded young Latin lady. She had a slightly dusky skin, black hair and warm brown eyes. And she also, no doubt, was quite beautiful. It seemed to Talbot that Van Gelder was going to find himself in something of a quandary.

‘I congratulate you, Mr Andropulos,’ Talbot said gallantly, ‘and ourselves. Certainly the loveliest passengers we’ve ever had aboard the Ariadne. Ah. The steward.’

Andropulos took his glass—a scotch and not a small one, and disposed of half the contents in one gulp.

‘My goodness, I needed that. Thank you, Commander, thank you. Not as young as I was nor as tough, either. Age cometh to us all.’ He quaffed the rest of his drink and sighed.

Talbot said: ‘Jenkins, another for Mr Andropulos. A slightly larger measure this time.’ Jenkins looked at him expressionlessly, closed his eyes momentarily and left.

‘The Ariadne,’ Andropulos said. ‘Rather odd, is it not. Greek name, British vessel.’

‘Courtesy gesture to your Government, sir. We are carrying out a hydrographic charting exercise with your people.’ Talbot saw no point in mentioning that the Ariadne had never carried out a hydrographic exercise in its life and that the ship had been called Ariadne to remind the Greeks that it was a multi-national vessel and to persuade a wavering Greek government that perhaps NATO wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

‘Hydrographic, you say. Is that why we’re moored fore and aft—a fixed platform for taking bearings.’

‘A fixed platform, yes, but in this instance the purpose is not hydrographic. We’ve had quite a busy afternoon, Mr Andropulos, and at the moment we’re anchored over a plane that crashed into the sea just about the time we were receiving your SOS.’

‘A plane? Crashed? Good God! What—what kind of plane?’

‘We have no idea. It was so wreathed in smoke that it was impossible to distinguish any important features.’

‘But surely—well, don’t you think it was a big plane?’

‘It may have been.’

‘But it could have been a big jet. Maybe hundreds of passengers.’ If Andropulos knew it wasn’t a jet carrying hundreds of passengers, his face wasn’t saying so.

‘It’s always possible.’ Talbot saw no point in telling Andropulos that it was almost certainly a bomber and equally certainly not carrying hundreds of passengers.

‘You—you mean to tell me that you left the area to come to our aid?’

‘A reasonable enough decision, I think. We were pretty certain that there were people alive aboard the Delos and we were also pretty certain that there was no one alive aboard that plane.’

‘There could have been survivors aboard that plane. I mean, you weren’t there to see.’

‘Mr Andropulos.’ Talbot allowed a certain coldness to creep into his voice. ‘We are, I hope, neither callous nor stupid. Before leaving, we lowered one of our motorboats to circle the area. There were no survivors.’

‘Oh dear,’ Irene Charial said, ‘Isn’t it awful? All those people dead and there we were, busy doing nothing except feeling sorry for ourselves. I’m not being inquisitive, Captain, and I know it’s none of my business, but why do you remain anchored here? I mean, there can’t possibly be any hope now that some survivors may surface.’

‘There is no hope, Miss Charial. We’re remaining here as a marker until the diving ship arrives.’ He didn’t like lying to her but thought it inadvisable to tell her that there was no rescue ship hurrying to the scene and that, as far as he knew, the only other people who knew of the disaster were the NATO HQ in Italy. More especially, he didn’t want any person or persons in her company to know.

‘But—but it will be too late to save anyone.’

‘It’s already too late, young lady. But they’ll send divers down to investigate, to find out whether it’s a passenger-carrying jet or not and to try to ascertain the cause of the accident.’ He was looking, without seeming to look, at Andropulos as he said the last words and felt almost certain that he saw a flicker of expression cross his face.

Andropulos’s captain, Aristotle, spoke for the first time. ‘How deep is this plane, Commander?’

‘Seventeen, eighteen fathoms. Just over thirty metres or so.’

‘Thirty metres,’ Andropulos said. ‘Even if they do get inside—and there’s no guarantee that they will be able to do so—won’t it be difficult to move around and see anything?’

‘I can guarantee they’ll get inside. There are such things as oxyacetylene torches, you know. And they’ll have powerful underwater torches. But they won’t bother with either of those things. The divers will carry down a couple of slings with them. A diving ship will have no difficulty at all in bringing the fuselage to the surface. Then they’ll be able to examine the plane at their leisure.’ This time there was no trace of expression in Andropulos’s face: Talbot wondered if he, Andropulos, had become aware that such changes in expression were being sought for.

Jenkins entered and handed Talbot a sealed envelope. ‘From the radio-room, sir. Myers said it was urgent.’

Talbot nodded, opened the envelope, extracted and read the slip of paper it had held. He slipped it in his pocket and stood.

‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I have to go to the bridge. Come along with me, Number One. I’ll join you at seven o’clock for dinner.’

Once outside, Van Gelder said: ‘You really are a fearful liar, sir. A fearfully good liar, I mean.’

‘Andropulos isn’t half bad, either.’

‘He’s had practice. Between the two of you—well, in his own phrase, it’s a close-run thing. Ah, thank you.’ He unfolded the slip of paper Talbot had handed him. ‘ “Vitally urgent you remain in closest contact with downed plane Stop will join you earliest in the morning Stop Hawkins”. Isn’t that the Vice-Admiral, sir?’

‘None other. Vitally urgent and flying down to see us. What do you make of that?’

‘I make it that he knows something that we don’t.’

‘Indeed. Incidentally, you’ve kind of forgotten to tell me about your visit to sonar.’

‘Sorry about that, sir. I had something else on my mind.’

‘Somebody, not something. Having seen her I can understand. Well?’