‘Who’s in charge here?’ Van Gelder asked.
‘I am.’ It was the same man.
‘Anybody left aboard?’
‘Three men, I’m afraid. They won’t be coming with us.’
‘You mean they’re dead?’ The man nodded. I’ll check.’
‘No, no!’ His oil-soaked hand gripped Van Gelder’s arm. ‘It is too dangerous, far too dangerous. I forbid it.’
‘You forbid me nothing.’ When Van Gelder wasn’t smiling, which wasn’t often, he could assume a very discouraging expression indeed. The man withdrew his hand. ‘Where are those men?’
‘In the passageway between the engine-room and the stateroom aft. We got them out after the explosion but before the fire began.’
‘Riley.’ This to a Leading Seaman. ‘Come aboard with me. If you think the yacht’s going, give me a call.’ He picked up a torch and was about to board the Delos when a hand holding a pair of goggles reached out and stopped him. Van Gelder smiled. ‘Thank you, Doctor. I hadn’t thought of that.’
Once aboard he made his way aft and descended the after companionway. There was smoke down there but not too much and with the aid of his torch he had no difficulty in locating the three missing men, all huddled shapelessly in a corner. To his right was the engine-room door, slightly buckled from the force of the explosion. Not without some difficulty, he forced the door open and at once began coughing as the foul-smelling smoke caught his throat and eyes. He pulled on the goggles but still there was nothing to see except for the red embers of a dying fire emanating from some unknown source. He pulled the door to behind him — he was reasonably certain there was nothing for him to see in the engine-room anyway – and stooped to examine the three dead men. They were far from being a pretty sight but he forced himself to carry out as thorough an investigation as he could. He spent some quite considerable time bent over the third man – in the circumstances thirty seconds was a
long time – and when he straightened he looked both puzzled and thoughtful.
The door to the after stateroom opened easily. There was some smoke there but not so much that he required to use his goggles. The cabin was luxuriously furnished and immaculately tidy, a condition which Van Gelder very rapidly altered. He pulled a sheet from one of the beds, spread it on the floor, opened up wardrobes and drawers, scooped up armfuls of clothes — there was no time to make any kind of selection and even if there had been he would have been unable to pick and choose, they were all women’s clothing -dumped them on the sheet, tied up the four corners, lugged the bundle up the companionway and handed it over to Riley.
‘Put this in the launch. I’m going to have a quick look at the for’ard cabins. I think the steps will be at the for’ard end of the saloon under the bridge.’
‘I think you should hurry, sir.’
Van Gelder didn’t answer. He didn’t have to be told why he should hurry – the sea was already beginning to trickle over on to the upper deck. He passed into the saloon, found the companionway at once and descended to a central passage.
He switched on his torch – there was, of course, no electrical power left. There were doors on both sides and one at the end. The first door to port opened up into a food store, the corresponding door to starboard was locked. Van Gelder didn’t bother with it: the Delos didn’t look like the kind of craft that would lack a commodious liquor store. Behind the ochre doors lay four cabins and two bathrooms. All were empty. As he had done before, Van Gelder spread out a sheet – in the passageway, this time — threw some more armfuls of clothes on to it, secured the corners and hurried up on deck.
The launch was no more than thirty yards away when the Delos, still on even keel, slid gently under the surface of the sea. There was nothing dramatic to mark its going – just a stream of air bubbles that became gradually smaller and ceased altogether after about twenty seconds.
Talbot was on deck when the launch brought back the six survivors. He looked in concern at the woebegone and bedraggled figures before him.
‘My goodness, what a state you people are in. This the lot, Number One?’
‘Those that survived, sir. Three died. Impossible to get their bodies out in time.’ He indicated the figure nearest him. “This is the owner.’
‘Andropulos,’ the man said. ‘Spyros Andropulos. You are the officer in charge?’
‘Commander Talbot. My commiseration’s, Mr Andropulos.’
‘And my thanks, Commander. We are very deeply grateful -‘
‘With respect, sir, that can wait. First things first, and the very first thing is to get yourselves cleaned up immediately. Ah. And changed. A problem. Clothes. We’ll find some.’
‘Clothing we have,’ Van Gelder said. He pointed at the two sheet-wrapped packages. ‘Ladies. Gentlemen.’
‘A mention in dispatches for that, Number One. You said “ladies”?’
‘Two, Commander,’ Andropulos said. He looked at the two people standing by him. ‘My niece and her friend.’
‘Ah. Well, should apologize, I suppose, but difficult to tell in the circumstances.’
‘My name is Charial.’ The voice was unmistakably feminine. ‘Irene Charial. This is my friend Eugenia.’
‘We could have met under happier circumstances. Lieutenant Denholm here will take you to my cabin. The bathroom is small but adequate. By the time you bring them back, Lieutenant, I trust they are recognizable for what they are.’ He turned to a burly, dark-haired figure who, like most of the crew, wore no insignia of rank. ‘Chief Petty Officer
McKenzie.’ McKenzie was the senior NCO on the Ariadne.
‘The four gentlemen here, Chief. You know what to do.’ ‘Right away, sir. If you will come with me, gentlemen.’ Grierson also left and Van Gelder and Talbot were left alone. ‘We can find this place again?’ Van Gelder asked. ‘No trouble.’ Talbot looked at him speculatively and pointed towards the north-west. ‘I’ve taken a bearing on the monastery and radar station on Mount Elias there. Sonar says that we’re in eighteen fathoms. Just to make sure, we’ll drop a marker buoy.’
General Carson laid down the slip of paper he had been studying and looked at the colonel seated across the table from him.
‘What do you make of this, Charles?’
‘Could be nothing. Could be important. Sorry, that doesn’t help. I have a feeling I don’t like it. It would help a bit if we had a sailor around.’
Carson smiled and pressed a button. ‘Do you know if Vice-Admiral Hawkins is in the building?’
‘He is, sir.’ A girl’s voice. ‘Do you wish to speak to him or see him?’
‘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?’