Carreras was certainly taking no chances with that gun. But why so many
as three? you didn’t need three. Then I had it. Carreras hadn’t just
been talking idly when he’d spoken of the possibility of foul play in
connection with the death of his son. He did suspect it, but his cold,
logical mind had told him that neither crew nor passengers of the
campari could have been responsible. If his son had met death by
violence, then death could only have come from one of his own men. The
renegade who had killed his son might strike again, might attempt to
ruin his plans. And so three men on guard together. They could watch
each other.
I left, skirted the hatch, and made my way to the bo’sun’s store.
I fumbled round in the darkness, found what I wanted, a heavy
marlinespike, and then was on my way, marlinespike in one hand,
macdonald’s knife in the other.
dr. Caroline’s cabin was in darkness. I was pretty sure that the
windows were uncurtained, but I left my torch where it was. Susan had
said that carreras’ men were prowling round the decks that night: the
chance wasn’t worth it. And if dr. Caroline wasn’t already in number
four hold, then the chances were high indeed that he would only be in
one other place in his bed, and bound to it hand and foot. I climbed up
to the next deck and padded along to the wireless office. My breathing
and pulse were almost back to normal now; the shaking had eased, and I
could feel the strength slowly flooding back into my arms and shoulders.
Apart from the constant dull ache in my neck where the sandbag merchant
and tony carreras had been at work, the only pain I felt was a sharp
burning in my left thigh where the salt water had got into the open
wounds. Without the anaesthetic i’d have been doing a war dance. On
one leg, of course.
the wireless office was in darkness. I leaned my ear against the
door, straining to hear the slightest sound from inside, and was just
reaching out a delicate hand for the doorknob when I just about had a
heart attack. A telephone bell had gone off with a shatteringly
metallic loudness not six inches from the ear i’d so hard pressed
against the door. It jarred me rigid; for all of five seconds lot’s
wife couldn’t even have hoped to compete with me, then I pussyfooted
silently across the deck into the shelter of one of the life boats.
I heard the vague murmur of someone talking on the telephone, saw
the light come on in the wireless office, the door open, and a man come
out. Before he switched off the light I saw two things: I saw him bring
a key from his right-hand trouser pocket, and I saw who it was, the
artist with the machine gun who had killed tommy wilson and cut down all
the rest of us. If I had to settle any more accounts that night, I
hoped bleakly it would be with this man.
he closed the door, locked it, and went down the ladder
to “a” deck below. I followed him to the top of the ladder and
stayed there. There was another man at the foot of the ladder, lit
torch in hand, just outside dr. Caroline’s cabin, and in the backwash
of light from the cabin bulkhead I could see who it was. Carreras
himself. There were two other men close by, and I could distinguish
neither of them, but I was certain that one of them would be dr.
Caroline. They were joined by the radio operator and the four men moved
off aft. I never thought of going after them. I knew where they were
going.
ten minutes. That was the detail the news broadcast about the
disappearance of the twister had mentioned. There were only one or two
men who could arm the twister, and it couldn’t be done in less than ten
minutes. I wondered vaguely if caroline knew he had only ten minutes to
live. And that was all the time I had to do what I had to do. It
wasn’t long.
I was coming down the ladder while carreras’ swinging torch was
still in sight. Three quarters of the way down, three steps from the
bottom, I froze into immobility. Two men leaning into that driving rain
their black blurred shapes were barely distinguishable, but I knew it
was two men because of the low murmur of voices-were approaching the
foot of the ladder. Armed men-they were bound to be armed, almost
certainly with the ubiquitous tommy gun which seemed the standard weapon
among the generalissimo’s henchmen.
they were at the foot of the ladder now. I could feel the ache in
my hands from the tension of my grip round marlinespike and opened clasp
knife. Then suddenly they went veering off to the right, round the side
of the ladder. I could have reached out and touched them both. I could
see them almost clearly now, clearly enough to see that both had beards,
and had I not been wearing the black hood and mask they would have been
bound to see the white glimmer of my face. How they didn’t even see my
shape standing there on the third bottom step was beyond me: the only
reason I could think of was that they both had their heads lowered
against the driving rain.
seconds later I was inside the central passageway of “a”
accommodation. I hadn’t poked my head round the outside passage door to
see if the land was clear; after that escape i’d felt that nothing
mattered; i’d just walked straight inside. The passageway was empty.
the first door on the right, the one opposite caroline’s, was the
entrance to carreras’ suite. I tried the door. Locked. I walked down
the passage to where benson, the dead chief steward, had had his
cubicle, hoping that the luxurious carpet underfoot was absorbent enough
to soak up the water that was almost cascading off me. White, benson’s
successor, would have had a blue fit if he could have seen the damage I
was doing.
the master key to the passengers’ suites was in its secret little
cubbyhole. I removed it, went back to carreras’ cabin, unlocked the
door, and went inside, locking it behind me.
the lights were on throughout the suite. Carreras probably hadn’t
bothered to switch them off when he’d left he wasn’t paying for the
electricity. I went through the cabins, sending each door in turn
flying open with the sole of my stockinged foot. Nothing? no one. I
had one bad moment when I entered carreras’ own sleeping cabin and saw
this desperate hooded, crouched figure, dripping water, hands clenched
round weapons, with wide, staring eyes and blood dripping down beside
the left eye. Myself in a looking glass. I had seen prettier sights.
I hadn’t been aware that i’d been cut; I supposed it must have been the
result of one of the many knocks i’d had against the side of the
campari, opening up the wound in my head.
carreras had boasted that he had a complete loading plan of the
fort ticonderoga in his cabin. Nine minutes now, maybe even less.
Where in the name of god would he keep the plan? I went through
dressing tables, wardrobes, lockers, cupboards, bedside tables.
Nothing. Nothing. Seven minutes.
where, where would he keep it? think, carter, for heaven’s sake,
think. Maybe caroline was getting on with the arming of the twister
faster than anyone had thought possible. How did anyone know, as the
broadcast had said, that it took all of ten minutes to arm it? if the
twister was such a secret and until it had been stolen it had been such
a top-priority hush hush secret that no member of the public had known
of its existence-ow did anyone know it took ten minutes to arm it? how
could anyone know? maybe all it required was a twist here, a turn
there. Maybe-maybe he was finished already… Maybe.
I put those thoughts to one side, drove them out of my mind,
crushed them ruthlessly. That way lay panic and defeat. I stood
stock-still and forced myself to think, calmly, dispassionately. I had
been looking in all the most obvious places. But should I have been
looking in the obvious places? after all, i’d gone through this cabin
once before, looking for a radio; i’d gone through it pretty thoroughly,
and I hadn’t seen any signs. He would have it hidden; of course he
would have it hidden. He wouldn’t have taken a chance on anyone finding
it, such as the steward whose daily duty it was to clean out his cabin,
before his men had taken over the ship. No stewards on duty now, of
course, but then he probably hadn’t bothered to shift it since the