Seawitch by Alistair MacLean

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Seawitch

“You’re a fine one to talk.” “What do you mean, sir?” There were fifteen generations of highland aristocracy in the glacial

voice.

Mitchell remained unmoved. “For taking the law into your own hands by breaking into and robbing that arsenal last night. If Roomer and I were decent citizens and law-abiding detectives, we’d have had you behind bars last night. Not even a billionaire can get away with that sort of thing, especially when it involves the assault and locking up of the arsenal guards. John and I were there.” Mitchell was not above a little prevarication when the need arose.

“You were there.” Most rarely for him, Lord Worth was at a loss for words. He recovered quickly. “But / wasn’t there,”

“We know that. We also know you sanctioned the break-in. Ordered it, rather.”

“Balderdash. And if you actually witnessed this, why did you not stop it?”

“John and I take our chances. But not against nine men armed with machine guns.”

This gave Lord Worth pause. They had their figures and facts right. Clearly they had been there. He said: “Supposing any of this rigmarole were true, how in God’s name do you tie me up with it?”

“Now you’re being a fool. We were also at your heliport. We saw the truck arrive. We saw

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nine men unload a fairly massive quantity of more than fairly lethal weaponry into one helicopter. Then a man drove the truck away—an army truck, of course—back to the arsenal from where it had been stolen. The other eight men boarded another helicopter. Then a minibus arrived, carrying twelve heavily armed thugs who joined the other eight. John and I recognized no fewer than five of them—two of them we’ve personally put behind bars.” Roomer looked at him admiringly, but Mitchell wasn’t looking at Roomer, he was looking at Lord Worth, and both voice and tone were devoid of any form of encouragement. “It came as a shock to both of us to find that Lord Worth was consorting with common criminals. You’re sweating a little, Lord Worth. Why are you sweating?’*

Lord Worth didn’t enlighten them as to why he was sweating.

“And then, of course, you came along in the Rolls. One of the very best sequences we got on our infrared movie camera last night.” Roomer blinked, but that Lord Worth believed Mitchell Roomer did not for a moment doubt: everything that Mitchell had said, even the slight embellishments, Lord Worth knew or believed to be true, so he had no reason to doubt the truth of the camera fiction.

“We actually considered phoning the nearest army HQ and having them send along some

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armored cars and a trailered tank. Even your thugs wouldn’t have stood a chance. We thought of going down the road, blocking the Rolls and holding you until the army arrived—it was perfectly obvious that the helicopters had no intention of leaving until you turned up. Once captured, God knows how many of them—especially those who had already served prison terms—would have jumped at the chance of turning state’s evidence and incriminating you. It’s quite true, you know—there is no honor among thieves.” If Lord Worth had any objections to being categorized as a thief, it didn’t register in his face. “But after the standard bit of soul-searching we decided against it.”

“Why, in God’s name?”

“So you admit it.” Mitchell sighed. “Why couldn’t you do that at the beginning and save me all this trouble?”

“Why?” Lord Worth repeated his question.

It was Roomer who answered. “Partly because even though you’re a confessed lawbreaker, we still have a regard for you. But mainly because w.e didn’t want to see your daughters confronted with seeing their father behind bars. In hindsight, of course, we’re glad we didn’t. In comparison with the kidnaping of your daughters, your own capers outside the law fade into a peccadillo.”

Mitchell started the motor again and said: “It is understood that there will be no more pecca-

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dilloes. It is also understood that there will be no more talk about our taking the law into our own hands.”

Lord Worth lay back in his study armchair, His second brandy tasted just as good as his first—it seemed to be his day for brandies. He hadn’t spoken a word for the rest of the trip— which, fortunately, had been mercifully short, for Lord Worth had felt urgently in need of restoratives. Not for the first time, he found himself silently blessing his kidnaped daughters.

He cleared his throat and said: “I assume you are still willing to come out to the rig with me?”

Mitchell contemplated his glass. “We never expressed our intentions one way or another about that. But I suppose someone has to look after you and your daughters.”

Lord Worth frowned. There had, he felt, been more than a subtle change in their relationship. Perhaps the establishment of an employer-employee status would help redress the balance. He said: “I feel it’s time we put your co-operation on a businesslike footing. I propose to retain you in your professional capacities as investigators—in other words, become your client. I shall not quibble at your demanded fees.” He had no sooner finished than he realized that he had made a mistake.

Roomer’s voice was coldly unenthusiastic. “Money doesn’t buy everything, Lord Worth.

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Sea witch

Particularly, it doesn’t buy us. We have no intention of being shackled, of having our freedom of action curtailed. And as far as the fees and your skyVthe-limit implication are concerned, the hell with it. How often do we have to tell you we don’t trade money for your daughters* lives?”

Lord Worth didn’t even bother frowning. The change in relationship, he reflected sadly, had been even greater than he had realized. “As you will. One assumes that you will be suitably disguised?”

Mitchell said: “Why?”

Lord Worth was impatient. “You said you saw some ex-convicts boarding the helicopter. People you recognized. They’ll surely recognize you?”

“We never saw ’em before in our lives.”

Lord Worth was properly shocked. “But you

told me—”

“You told us big black lies. What’s a little white lie? We’ll go aboard as—say—your technological advisers. Geologists, seismologists— it’s all the same to us, we know nothing about geology or seismology. All we need are business suits, horn-rimmed glasses—for the studious look—and briefcases.” He paused. “And we’ll also need a doctor, with full medical kit and a large supply of bandages.”

“A doctor?”

“For extracting bullets, sewing up gunshot wounds. Or are you naive enough to believe that

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no shot will be fired in anger aboard the witch?”

“I abhor violence.”

“Sure. That’s why you sent twenty heavily armed thugs out to the Seawitch during the night? Fine, so you abhor violence. Others welcome it. Can you find us a doctor?”

“Dozens of them. The average doctor hereabouts rates his scanning of X-rays a very poor second to the scanning of his bank balances. I know the man. Greenshaw. After seven years in Vietnam, he should fill your bill.”

Roomer said: “And ask him to bring along two spare white hospital coats.” “Why?” Mitchell said. “Want to look scientific, don’t you?** Lord Worth picked up the phone, made the arrangements, replaced the instrument and said: “You must excuse me. I have some private calls to make from the radio room.” Lord Worth’s sole reason for returning to his house was to contact his inside man, Corral, and have him, without incriminating himself, inform Benson, who had hosted the Lake Tahoe meeting, that the government intended to blast out of the water any foreign naval ships that approached the Seawitch. An exaggeration but, Lord Worth thought, a pardonable one. Despite the secretary’s promise, Lord Worth placed more faith in his direct approach.

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Mitchell said: “Which one of us do you want to go with you?”

“What do you mean? ‘Private,’ I said.” His face darkened in anger. “Am I to be ordered around in my own house, supervised as if I’m an irresponsible child?”

“You behaved responsibly last night? Look, Lord Worth, if you don’t want either of us around, then it’s obvious you want to say something that you don’t want us to hear.” Mitchell gave him a speculative look. “I don’t like that. You’re either up to something we wouldn’t like, something shady maybe, or it’s a vote of no confidence in us.”

“It’s a personal and highly important business call. I don’t see why you should be privy to my business affairs.”

Roomer said: “I agree. But it so happens that we don’t think it is a business call, that business would be the last thing in your mind right now.” Both Mitchell and Roomer stood up. “Give our regards, to the girls—if you ever find them.”

“Blackmail! Damned blackmail!” Lord Worth rapidly weighed the importance of his call to Corral compared to the importance of having Mitchell and Roomer around. It took all of two seconds to make up his mind, and Corral was clear out of sight at the wire. He was sure that the two men were bluffing, but there was no way he could call their bluff, for that was the one sure way of provoking a genuine walkout

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