Santorini. Alistair MacLean
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features.’
‘But surely—well, don’t you think it was a big plane?’
‘It may have been.’
‘But it could have been a big jet. Maybe hundreds of passengers.’ If Andropulos knew it wasn’t a jet carrying hundreds of passengers, his face wasn’t saying so.
‘It’s always possible.’ Talbot saw no point in telling Andropulos that it was almost certainly a bomber and equally certainly not carrying hundreds of passengers.
‘You—you mean to tell me that you left the area to come to our aid?’
‘A reasonable enough decision, I think. We were pretty certain that there were people alive aboard the Delos and we were also pretty certain that there was no one alive aboard that plane.’
‘There could have been survivors aboard that plane. I mean, you weren’t there to see.’
‘Mr Andropulos.’ Talbot allowed a certain coldness to creep into his voice. ‘We are, I hope, neither callous nor stupid. Before leaving, we lowered one of our motorboats to circle the area. There were no survivors.’
‘Oh dear,’ Irene Charial said, ‘Isn’t it awful? All those people dead and there we were, busy doing nothing except feeling sorry for ourselves. I’m not being inquisitive, Captain, and I know it’s none of my business, but why do you remain anchored here? I mean, there can’t possibly be any hope now that some survivors may surface.’
‘There is no hope, Miss Charial. We’re remaining here as a marker until the diving ship arrives.’ He didn’t like lying to her but thought it inadvisable to tell her that there was no rescue ship hurrying to the scene and that, as far as he knew, the only other people who knew of the disaster were the NATO HQ in Italy. More especially, he didn’t want any person or persons in her company to know.
‘But—but it will be too late to save anyone.’
‘It’s already too late, young lady. But they’ll send divers down to investigate, to find out whether it’s a passenger-carrying jet or not and to try to ascertain the cause of the accident.’ He was looking, without seeming to look, at Andropulos as he said the last words and felt almost certain that he saw a flicker of expression cross his face.
Andropulos’s captain, Aristotle, spoke for the first time. ‘How deep is this plane, Commander?’
‘Seventeen, eighteen fathoms. Just over thirty metres or so.’
‘Thirty metres,’ Andropulos said. ‘Even if they do get inside—and there’s no guarantee that they will be able to do so—won’t it be difficult to move around and see anything?’
‘I can guarantee they’ll get inside. There are such things as oxyacetylene torches, you know. And they’ll have powerful underwater torches. But they won’t bother with either of those things. The divers will carry down a couple of slings with them. A diving ship will have no difficulty at all in bringing the fuselage to the surface. Then they’ll be able to examine the plane at their leisure.’ This time there was no trace of expression in Andropulos’s face: Talbot wondered if he, Andropulos, had become aware that such changes in expression were being sought for.
Jenkins entered and handed Talbot a sealed envelope. ‘From the radio-room, sir. Myers said it was urgent.’
Talbot nodded, opened the envelope, extracted and read the slip of paper it had held. He slipped it in his pocket and stood.
‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I have to go to the bridge. Come along with me, Number One. I’ll join you at seven o’clock for dinner.’
Once outside, Van Gelder said: ‘You really are a fearful liar, sir. A fearfully good liar, I mean.’
‘Andropulos isn’t half bad, either.’
‘He’s had practice. Between the two of you—well, in his own phrase, it’s a close-run thing. Ah, thank you.’ He unfolded the slip of paper Talbot had handed him. ‘ “Vitally urgent you remain in closest contact with downed plane Stop will join you earliest in the morning Stop Hawkins”. Isn’t that the Vice-Admiral, sir?’
‘None other. Vitally urgent and flying down to see us. What do you make of that?’
‘I make it that he knows something that we don’t.’
‘Indeed. Incidentally, you’ve kind of forgotten to tell me about your visit to sonar.’
‘Sorry about that, sir. I had something else on my mind.’
‘Somebody, not something. Having seen her I can understand. Well?’
‘The noise from the plane? Tick…tick…tick. Could be anything. Halzman half suggested it might be some sort of timing device. Could be that he’s right. I don’t want to sound alarmist, sir, but I don’t think I like it very much.’
‘I don’t particularly care for it myself. Well, then, the radio-room.’
‘I thought you said you were going to the bridge?’
‘That was for Andropulos’s benefit. The less that character knows about anything the better. I think he’s cunning, astute and alert for the slightest nuances.’
‘Is that why you didn’t make any reference to the engine-room explosion?’
‘Yes. I may, of course, be doing him a massive injustice. For all I know he may be as fresh and innocent as the dawn’s early dew.’
‘You don’t really believe that, sir.’
‘No.’
Myers was alone in the radio-room. ‘Another message to Rome,’ Talbot said. ‘Again Code B. To Vice-Admiral Hawkins. Message received. Strongly advise that you come soonest. Tonight. Report repeated two and a half second ticking sounds from plane. Could be timing device. Please phone immediately.’
‘A ticking sound, possibly a timing device, Talbot says.’ Vice-Admiral Hawkins was standing by Carson’s chair as the general read and reread the slip of paper Hawkins had just handed him.
‘A timing device. We don’t have to discuss the implications of this.’ From his high-rise office Carson looked out over the roofs of Rome, then at the colonel across the desk, then finally up at Hawkins. He pressed a button on his desk.
‘Get me the Pentagon.’
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was also standing as the man behind the desk read the slip of paper he had just been handed. He read it three times, laid it down carefully on the desk, smoothed it out and looked across at the Chairman. His face looked drawn and tired and old.
‘We know what this means, or what it could mean. If anything goes wrong the international repercussions will be enormous, General.’
‘I’m afraid I’m fully aware of that, sir. Apart from the universal condemnation, we will become the pariah dog, the outcasts of the world.’
‘And no hint of any Soviet involvement.’
‘None whatsoever. No proof, direct or indirect. As far as the world is concerned, they are blameless. My first reaction is that they are indeed blameless. My second thoughts are exactly the same. I can see no way they are linked with this. We bear the burden, sir.’
‘We bear the burden. And will stand condemned before the court of mankind.’ The General made no reply. ‘The Chiefs have no suggestions?’
‘None that I regard as very useful. In short, bluntly, none. We have to rely on our people out there. Carte blanche, sir?’
‘We have no option. How good are your men in the Mediterranean?’
‘The very best. No rhetoric, sir. I mean it.’
‘And this British vessel on the spot?’
‘The frigate