Seawitch Part 17

Seawltek left to kill." She gave what might have been a tiny shudder and looked away.

La.r.s.en said: "The ship is in our hands, Miss Marina. We're expecting a little more trouble in about ten minutes, but we can take care of that."

Lord Worth replaced his receiver. "What's that?"

"Cronkite is sending some reinforcements by helicopter. Not many-eight or nine. They won't have a chance. He's under the Impression that Durand is still in charge here."

"I take it he's not."

"He's unconscious and tied up. So is Aaron."

A yearning look came over Lord Worth's face. "Is Cronkite coming with them?"

"No."

"How very unfortunate. And I've just had some more bad news. The Torbello has broken down."

"Sabotage?"

"No. The main fuel-supply line to its engine has fractured. Just a temporary stop, though it may take some hours to repair. But there's no cause for worry, and half-hourly reports on the state of repairs should be forthcoming."

Another disturbing point had arisen: Lord Worth disclosed that no major marine-insurance companies or Lloyd's of London had ever heard of the existence of the Tiburon, The fact was less than surprising if one knew of Mulhooney's renaming exploits-Hammond to Tiburon to Z37.

Alistalr MacLean Georgia. The vessel had virtually ceased to exist Even more disturbing, however, was the fact that the Marine Gulf Corporation had reported the disappearance of its seismological survey vessel from Freeport. It was called the Hammond.

The U. S. Navy had two points of cold comfort to offer. What the United States did with its obsolete submarines was to sc.r.a.p them or sell them to foreign governments: none had ever fallen into the hands of commercial companies or private individuals. Nor were there any Cous-teau-type submersibles along the Gulf Coast The telephone bell jangled. Lord Worth switched on the wall receivers. The radio officer was succinct "Helicopter, flying low, due northwest, five miles out."

"Well, now,** La.r.s.en said, "this should provide a diversion. Coming, Mitch.e.l.l?"

"In a minute. I have a little note to write. Remember?"

"The note, of course.*' La.r.s.en left. Mitch.e.l.l penned a brief note in neat printed script that left no room for misinterpretation, folded it in his pocket and went to the door. Lord Worth said: "Mind if I come along?"

"Well, there won't be any danger, but I think you'd do better to listen for messages from radar, radio, sonar and so forth."

"Agreed. And HI call up the Secretary to see 238.

what luck he's had in hauling those d.a.m.ned warships off my back."

Marina said sweetly: "If there's no danger Fra coming with you."

"No."

"You have a very limited vocabulary, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l."

"Instead of trying to be a heroine you might try the Florence Nightingale bit-there are two very sick people through there who need their hands held.*'

**You're much too bossy, Michael."

"As they say, a male chauvinist pig."

"Could you imagine me marrying a person like you?"

"Your imagination is your own business. Besides, I've never asked you to." He left.

"Well!" She looked suspiciously at her father, but Lord Worth had his risibility under complete control. He picked up a phone and asked that the Christmas tree be opened and the exploratory drilling restarted.

The helicopter was making its landing approach as Mitch.e.l.l joined La.r.s.en and Palermo and his men in the deep shadows of the accommodation area. The platform light had been dimmed but the helipad was brightly illuminated. Palermo had six portable searchlights in position. He nodded to Mitch.e.l.l, then made his un- 239.

Alistata* MacLean hurried way to the pad. He was carrying an envelope in his hand.

The helicopter touched down, the door opened and men with a discouraging a.s.sortment of^auto-matic weapons started to disembark. Palermo said: "I'm Marino. Who's in charge here?*1 "Me. Mortensen." He was a bulky young man in battle fatigues, looking more like a bright young lieutenant than the thug he undoubtedly was. "I thought Durand was in charge here."

"He is. Right now he's having a talk with Lord Worth. He's waiting for you in Worth's quarters."

"Why are the deck lights so dim?"

"Voltage drop. Being fixed. The landing pads have their own generators." He pointed. "Over there."

Mortensen nodded and led his eight men away. Palermo said: "Be with you in a minute. Fve got a private message for the pilot from Cronkite."

Palermo climbed up into the helicopter. He greeted the pilot and said: "I got a message here for you from Cronkite."

The pilot registered a degree of surprise. "I was told to fly straight back."

"Won't be long. Seems Cronkite is anxious to see Worth and his daughters."

The pilot grinned and took the envelope from Palermo. He opened it, examined both sides of a blank sheet of paper and said: "What gives?"

a JO "This." Palermo showed him a gun about the size of a small cannon. "Don't be a dead hero."

The platform lights went out and six searchlights came on. La.r.s.en's stentorian voice carried clearly. "Throw down your guns. You haven't got a chance."

One of Mortensen's men suicidally thought different He flung himself to the platform deck, loosed off a burst of submachine fire and successfully killed one of the searchlights. If he felt any sense of gratification it must have been the shortest on record, for he was dead before the shattered gla.s.s stopped tinkling down on the platform. The other eight men threw down their guns.

Palermo sighed. He said to the pilot: "See? Dead heroes are no good to anyone. Come on."

Eight of the nine men, including the pilot, were shepherded into a windowless storeroom and locked inside. The ninth, Mortensen, was taken to the radio room where he was shortly joined by Mitch.e.l.l. For the occasion, Mitch.e.l.l had changed into a boiler suit and makeshift hood, which not only effectively masked his face but also m.u.f.fled his voice. He had no wish to be identified.

He produced the paper on which he had made notes, screwed the muzzle of his .38 into the base of Mortensen's neck, told him to contact Cronkite and read out the message and that the slightest deviation from the script would mean a 341.

Altotalr MacLean shattered brain. Mortensen was no fool and in his peculiar line of trade he had looked into the face of death more than once. He made the contact, said all was well, that he and Durand were in complete control of the Seawitch, but that it might be several hours before the helicopter could return, as last-minute engine failure had damaged the undercarriage. Cronkite seemed reasonably satisfied and hung up.

When La.r.s.en and Mitch.e.l.l returned to Lord Worth's cabin the latter seemed in a more cheerful frame of mind. The Pentagon had reported that the two naval vessels from Cuba and the one from Venezuela were stopped in the water and appeared to be waiting instructions. The Torbello was on its way again and was expected to arrive in Galveston in ninety minutes. Lord Worth might have felt less satisfied if he'd known that the Torbello, shaking hi every rivet, seam and plate, was several hundred miles from Galveston, traveling southwest in calm seas. Mulhooney was in no mood to hang around.

Marina said accusingly: "I heard shots being fired out there."

"Just warning shots in the air," Mitch.e.l.l said, "Scares the h.e.l.l out of people."

"You made them all prisoner."

Lord Worth said irritably: "Don't talk nonsense. Now do be quiet. The commander and I have important matters to discuss."

242.

"We'll leave,** Mitch.e.l.l said. He looked at Marina. "Come on-let's see the patients off."

They followed the two stretchers out to the helicopter. They were accompanied by Durand and Aaron-both with their hands tied behind their backs and on a nine-inch hobble-Dr. Greenshaw and one of Palermo's men, a menacing individual with a sawed-off shotgun who was to ride guard on the captives until they reached the mainland.

Mitch.e.l.l said to Marina: "Last chance."

"No."

"We're going to make a great couple," Mitch.e.l.l said gloomily. "Monosyllabic, yet."

They said their goodbyes, watched the helicopter lift off and made their way back to Lord Worth's quarters. Both Worth and La.r.s.en were on separate lines, and from the expressions on their faces it was clear that they were less happy with life than they might have been. Both men were trying, with zero effect, to obtain some additional tankerage. There were, in fact, some half-dozen idle tankers on the south and east coasts in the 50,000-ton range, but all belonged to the major oil companies, who would have gone to the stake before chartering any of their vessels to the North Hudson Oil Company. The nearest tankers of the required tonnage were either in Britain, Norway or the Mediterranean, and to have brought them across would have involved an intolerable loss of time, not to say 243.

money-this last matter lying very close to Lord Worth's heart. He and La.r.s.en had even considered bringing one of their supertankers into service, but had decided against it. Because of the tankers' huge carrying capacity, the loss in revenue would have been unbearably high-and what had happened to the Crusader might happen to a supertanker. True, they were insured at Lloyd's, but that august firm's marine-accident investigators were notoriously, if justifiably, cagey, prudent and cautious men; and although they invariably settled any genuine claim, they tended to deliberate at length before making any final decision.

Another call came through from the Torbello. On course, its estimated time of arrival in Gal-veston was one hour. Lord Worth said gloomily that they had at least two tankers in operation: they would just have to step up their already crowded schedules.

One half hour later another message came through from the tanker. One half hour to Gal-veston. Lord Worth might have felt less a.s.sured had he known that now that dark had fallen, the Starlight, leaving the Georgia where it was, had already moved away in the direction of the Sea-witch, its engines running on its electrical batteries. Its chances of sonar detection by the Seawitch were regarded as extremely small. It carried with it highly skilled divers and an un- 244.

pleasant a.s.sortment of mines, limpet mines and amatol beehives, all of which could be activated by remote radioactive control.

Yet another half hour pa.s.sed before the welcome news came through that the tanker Torbello was safely berthed in Galveston. Lord Worth informed La.r.s.en he intended to make an immediate voice-link call to the port authorities in Galveston to ensure the fastest turnaround ever, money no object He got his voice link in just one minute-the Lord Worths of this world are never kept waiting. When he made his customary peremptory demands the harbormaster expressed a considerable degree of surprise.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, sir."

"G.o.ddam it, I always know what I'm talking about."

"Not in this case, Lord Worth, I'm afraid you've been misinformed or hoaxed. The Torbello has not arrived."

"But dammit, I've just heard-**

"One moment, please."

The moment pa.s.sed into about thirty during which Mitch.e.l.l thoughtfully brought Lord Worth a gla.s.s of scotch, which he half-consumed at one gulp. Then the voice came through again.

"Bad news. There's not only no sign of your 245.

All stair MaeLean tanker, but our radar scanners show no signs of any vessel of that size within a radius of forty miles."

"Then, what the devil can have happened to her? I was speaking to her only two or three minutes ago."

"On her own call sign?"

"Yes, dammit"

*Then obviously she's in no trouble."

Lord Worth hung up without as much as a courtesy thank you. He glowered at La.r.s.en and Mitch.e.l.l as if what had happened had been their fault. He said at length: "I can only conclude that the captain of the Torbello has gone off his rocker."

Mitch.e.l.l said: "And I conclude that he's under lock and key aboard his own ship.'*

Lord Worth was heavily ironic. "In addition to your many other accomplishments you've now become psychic."

"Your Torbello has been hijacked."

"Hijacked! Hijacked? Now you've gone off your rocker. Who ever heard of a tanker being hijacked?"

"Who ever heard of a jumbo jet being hijacked until the first one was? After what happened to the Crusader in Galveston, the captain of the Torbello would have been extremely leery of being approached, much less boarded, by any other vessel unless it were a craft with respectability beyond question. The only two such types 24ft Scan itch of craft are naval or coast guard. WeVe heard that the Marine Gulf Corporation's survey vessel has been stolen. A lot of those survey vessels are ex-coast guard with landing s.p.a.ce for a helicopter to carry out seismological pattern bombing. That ship was called the Hammond. With your connections you could find out about it in minutes."

Lord Worth did find out in minutes. He said: "So you're right." He was too dumbfounded even to apologize. "And this of course was the Tiburon that Cronkite sailed from Galveston. G.o.d only knows what name it goes under now. What next, I wonder?"

Mitch.e.l.l said: "A call from Cronkite, I'd guess."

"What would he call me for?"

"Some tough demands, I'd say. I don't know."

Lord Worth was nothing if not resilient. He had powerful and influential friends. He called an admiral in naval headquarters in Washington and demanded that an air-sea search unit be dispatched immediately to the scene. The Navy apologetically said that they would have to obtain the permission of the Commander-in-Chief -that is, the President. The President, he knew, would profess a profound if polite degree of disinterest. Neither he nor Congress had any reason to love the oil companies who had so frequently flouted them-which was less than fair to Lord Worth, who had never flouted anyone in Wash-247 Allstalr MaeLcam ington in his life. More, the search almost certainly lay outside their jurisdictional waters. Besides, it was raining in the Gulf and black as the pit, and though their radar might well pick up a hundred ships in the area, visual identification would be impossible.

He tried the CIA. Then- disinterest was even more profound. In the several years past they had had their fingers badly burned in public and all their spare time was devoted to licking their wounds.

The FBI curtly reminded him that their activities were purely internal and that anyway they got seasick whenever they ventured on water.

Lord Worth considered making an appeal to the UN, but was dissuaded by La.r.s.en and Miteh-elL Not only would the Arab states, Venezuela, Nigeria, every Communist country, and what now went by the name of the Third World-and they held the vast majority of votes hi the UN- veto any such suggestion: the UN had no legal power to initiate any such action. Apart from that, by that time the entire UN complex were probably hi bed anyway.

For once in his life, Lord Worth appeared to be at a loss. Life, it appeared, could hold no more for him. Lord Worth was discovering that, upon occasion, he could be as fallible as the next man.

A voice-over call came through. It was, as Mitch.e.l.l had predicted it would be, Cronkite. He was glad to inform Lord Worth that there was 248.

no cause for concern over the Torbello, as she was in safe and sound hands.

"Where?" Had his daughter not been present, Lord Worth would undoubtedly have qualified his question with a few choice adjectives.

"I prefer not to specify exactly. Enough to say that she is securely anch.o.r.ed in the territorial waters of a Central American country. It is my intention to dispose of this oil to this very poor and oil-deficient country"-he did not mention that it was his intention to sell it at half price, which would bring in a few acceptable hundred thousands of dollars-"then take the tanker out to sea and sink it. Unless, of course-"

"Unless what?" Lord Worth asked. His voice had a.s.sumed a peculiar hoa.r.s.eness.

"Unless you close down the Christmas tree on the Seawiteh and immediately stop all pumping and drilling."

"Fool."

"How's that?"

"Your thugs have already attended to that Haven't they told you?"