McKinnon looked morose. The fact that none of them appears to understand a word of English – they’re very good with their blank stares when you address them in that language – doesn’t mean that one or two of them don’t speak better English than I do. It doesn’t rule out the crew of the Argos. And, of course, it doesn’t rule out our own crew or the nine invalids we picked up in Murmansk.’
‘And how would they have known that the tampered cardiac unit had been transferred from the recovery room to Ward A? Only – let me see – only seven people knew about the transfer. The seven at the table this morning. One of us could have talked, perhaps?’
‘No.’ McKinnon was very definite.
‘Inadvertently?’
‘No.’
‘You trust us that much?’ Ulbricht smiled but there was no humour in it. ‘Or is it that you have to trust somebody?’
‘I trust you all right.’ McKinnon sounded a little weary. ‘Point is, it wasn’t necessary for anyone to talk. Everybody knows that Dr Singh and the two injured crewmen from the Argos are dead.’ McKinnon made a dismissive little gesture with his hand. ‘After all, we’re going to bury them inside the half-hour. Everybody knows that they were killed by an explosive blast inside the recovery room and our newest Flannelfoot must have known that the transceiver was there and may have guessed, or suspected, that the case of the cardiac unit had been damaged sufficiently to reveal the existence of the transmitter. It had not, in fact, but that was pure luck on my part.’
‘How do you explain the attack on the radio officer?’
‘Easily.’ McKinnon looked and sounded bitter. ‘Flannel-foot didn’t have to know where the radio was, all he had to know was that we had developed a certain interest in radio. Mr Jamieson tried to take some of the blame for the attack. Totally unnecessary when Mastermind McKinnon is around. My fault. My fault entirely. When I went down to find a radio officer the crew of the Argos were, as usual, in a corner by themselves. They weren’t alone in the mess-deck – some of the injured men we picked up in Murmansk and some of our crew were there – but not close enough to hear us talking. Not that there was any talking. I just said the word “radio” several times, low enough not to be overheard, and this lad from Limassol looked at me. Then I made a motion of tapping my forefinger as if sending a signal in Morse. After that, I spun the handle of an imaginary electrical generator. None of this could have been seen except by the crew of the Argos. Then I made my stupid mistake. I cupped my hand to my ear as if listening to something. By this time Limassol had got the message and was on his feet. But our new Flannelfoot had got the message too. Just one little movement of my hand and he got it. He’s not only violent and dangerous but very smart too. An unpleasant combination.’
‘Indeed it is,’ Ulbricht said. ‘You have it right, you must have, and I can’t see any reason for self-reproach. I used the right word back there – disturbing.’
Naseby said: ‘Do you by any chance remember who exactly was in the mess-deck when you were there?’
‘I do. Every crew member who wasn’t on watch. On the deckside, only two were on watch – you and Trent down in the Captain’s cabin there keeping an eye on the sextant and chronometer. All the off-duty engine-room staff. Two cooks and Mario. Seven of the seventeen invalids we picked up in Murmansk – the three who were supposed to be tubercular cases, the three who are supposed to be suffering from nervous breakdowns, and one of the exposure cases. He’s so wrapped in bandages that he can barely walk so he doesn’t come into consideration. A couple of nurses – they don’t come into consideration either. And there’s no doubt you’re right, Lieutenant – the crew of the Argos has to be in the clear.’
‘Well, that’s something,’ Ulbricht said. ‘A moment ago you were expressing reservations against them which I found rather puzzling, as in that long talk in the Captain’s cabin we had more or less agreed that the crew of the Argos was in the clear. The original suggestion, you may remember, came from you.’
‘I remember. Next thing you know I’ll be looking into the mirror and saying “and I don’t trust you, either”. Yes, I know I made the suggestion, but I still had this tiny doubt.
At the time I more than suspected that we had another Flannelfoot aboard but I wasn’t certain until less than half an hour ago. It’s impossible to believe that it wasn’t our new Flannelfoot who blew the hole in the for’ard ballast room when we were alongside that sinking corvette. And it’s unthinkable – and for me this is the clincher – that a member of the Argos crew would deliberately set out to murder a person who was not only a crewmate but a fellow countryman.’
‘At least it’s something,’ Naseby said. ‘Brings it down to our own crew, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, our crew – and at least six allegedly physical and mentally disturbed cripples from Murmansk.’
Naseby shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Archie, this trip is going to be the ruination of you. Never known you to be so terribly suspicious of everybody – and you’ve just said you could find yourself not even trusting yourself.’
‘If a nasty suspicious mind is any kind of hope for survival, George, then I’m going to keep on having just that kind of mind. You will remember that we had to leave Halifax in a tearing hurry, in a cargo ship little more than half converted to a hospital. Why? To get to Archangel and that with all possible speed. Then, after that little accident when we were alongside that corvette it became equally essential that we be diverted to Murmansk. Why?’
‘Well, we were listing a bit and down by the head.’
‘We had stopped making water, weather conditions were fair, we could have reached the White Sea, crossed it, and made Archangel without much trouble. But no, it was Murmansk or nothing. Again, why?’
‘So that the Russians could place that explosive charge in the ballast room.’ Ulbricht smiled. ‘I recall your words -our gallant allies.’
‘I recall them too. I wish I didn’t. We all make mistakes, I’m certainly no exception, and that was one of my biggest. The Russians didn’t place that charge – your people did.’
‘The Germans? Impossible!’
‘Lieutenant, if you imagine Murmansk and Archangel aren’t botching with German spies and agents, you’re living in Alice’s never-never Wonderland.’
‘It’s possible, it’s possible. But to infiltrate a Russian naval working party – that’s impossible.’
‘It’s not impossible but it doesn’t even have to be necessary. People are capable of being suborned, and while it may not be true that every man has his price, there are always those who have.’
‘A Russian traitor, you suggest?’
‘Why not? You have your traitors. We have our traitors. Every country has its traitors.’
‘Why should we – the Germans – want to place a charge in the San Andreas?’
‘I simply have no idea. In the same way as I have simply no idea why the Germans have attacked, harassed and pursued us – but not tried to sink us – ever since we rounded the North Cape. What I’m suggesting is, it’s very likely that the same German agent or agents suborned one or more of the invalids we picked up in Murmansk. An alleged psychiatric case or mental breakdown patient, who is sick of both the war and the sea, would make an ideal choice for the traitor’s part and I shouldn’t even imagine that the price would have to be very high.’
‘Objection, Mr McKinnon. It was a last-minute decision to detach the San Andreas from the convoy. You can’t suborn a man overnight.’
‘True. At the most, highly unlikely. Maybe they knew a week or two ago that we would be detached to Murmansk.’
‘How on earth could they have known that?’
‘I don’t know. The same way I don’t know why someone in Halifax knew quite a long time ago that Dr Singh would be in need of a transceiver.’
‘And you don’t think it extraordinary that the Russians, if they were not responsible for placing that charge, should have brought the San Andreas into Murmansk apparently for the sole benefit of your mysterious German agents?’
‘They’re not my agents but they’re mysterious all right. The answer again is that I simply don’t know. The truth appears to be that I just don’t know anything about anything.’ He sighed. ‘Ah, well. Close to noon, Lieutenant. I’ll go get the sextant and chronometer.’
Lieutenant Ulbricht straightened from the chart. ‘Still, remarkably, holding the same course – 213. Precisely 64º North. Ideally, we should steer due south now but we’re near enough to Trondheim as we are now, and that would only bring us closer. I suggest we maintain this course for the present, then turn due south some time during the night, midnight or thereabouts. That should bring us down the east coast of your native islands tomorrow, Mr McKinnon. I’ll work it out.’ ‘You’re the navigator,’ McKinnon said agreeably.