Redcap (32 page)

“You must save us.”

Shaw looked at him sardonically. “You may as well give me that, then.” He reached out and took the revolver. Karstad didn’t resist, didn’t seem to care.

Shaw asked, “Where’re the others?”

Karstad gestured towards the row of ports along the cabin’s starboard side, ports which looked as straight up into scudding cloud as those on the other side looked into turbulent green sea. He said fearfully, “They tried to swim . . . they did not get far. They drowned, Lubin and Tien, they went under—”

“You’re certain of that?”

“I saw them go.” Karstad was shaking violently. “Now it is up to you, that is why I have let you free. You know about these things, about boats and the sea. I do not. You must save us both.”

“Whatever I do,” Shaw said grimly, “I can’t save the boat. We’re going, you and I, the way the others went. Swim. We’re not so far off the shore now, and it’s the only way. She’s going any time.” He stood over Karstad threateningly. “First, you’re going to tell me what the danger to the
New South Wales
is. Exactly what, Karstad, so I can stop it happening.”

The man looked at him, white-faced and scared. He said,

“I dare not do that—”

“You’ll dare anything now.” Shaw’s eyes were slits; his long jaw came out and he breathed fast. His face showed murder in that moment. He said, “You’ll tell me the whole thing or you go into that rat-trap where Tien put me, Karstad.”

“You . . . would leave me to drown?” Karstad licked his lips.

Shaw said deliberately, “You give me just one good reason why I shouldn’t, you bastard.” He took the man by the throat, shook him savagely. “I’ll give you thirty seconds.”

He began pushing Karstad to the cupboard. The Norwegian swallowed, whimpered. Then he said, “Very well, I will tell you. But you must promise to give me protection afterwards.”

“You’ll get protection all right—from your friends! I’ll guarantee that, Karstad. Now tell me. And hurry. Remember if you help to save life it may count in your favour.”

Shaw’s face went paler as the boat lurched. Karstad said almost in a whisper, “I told you, the liner will blow up between the Heads and Pyrmont, in Sydney harbour. There is a charge . . . it is set for one o’clock to-morrow afternoon, as near as we could do it.”

Water splashed up on to Shaw’s face, into his eyes. “Where’s it placed?”

“In the double bottom, in Number Five tank.” Shaking, Karstad described the metal box and the way it was fixed by means of its heat-resistant suckers. He went on, “It will blow up the nuclear reactor, you understand, and there will be a big explosion.”

“If they flood the tank, will that stop it going off?”

“No. The box will not be affected—”

“Did you put it there?”

Karstad shook his head. “No. It was a ship’s engineer, called Siggings.”

“Why was it done?”

“Because it will finish REDCAP. It is the alternative which Tien spoke of. Now that the main plan has failed, his country relies on this alternative to give her the opportunity for a normal, full-scale attack without incurring the risk of her own stocks being blown up.”

“So the main threat—an all-out attack—that’s still in fact there, as Tien suggested in the car?”

Karstar nodded. “Yes. And that is all I can tell you.”

“It’s about enough.” Shaw’s lips were tight, a bloodless thin line. But he mustn’t let himself get emotional just now, he was going to need all his reserves of coolness. Somehow in that moment his strength seemed buoyed up, reinforced by the over-riding urgency of preserving his life so that he could reach the
New South Wales
, or get word through to her, in time. He said, “Outside, Karstad. Out into the cockpit.”

“No. I cannot face it.” Karstad’s face was dead white, his pupils contracting with sheer fright. Shaw jabbed the gun at him, ordered:

“Open the door and get out. It’s the only chance.”

The man moved backwards, flung the door open. It ripped back on its hinges, swinging and banging. The sound of the wind and sea was redoubled, a tearing, deafening shriek hit them and whips of spray stung their faces. Water drove into the cabin.

“Get out, Karstad!"

Trembling, Karstad obeyed. Shaw went out close behind, still holding the gun though he scarcely needed it any more. There was no fight, no gut's, left in Karstad now. As they came out into the open cockpit the full force of the gale struck them, nearly knocked them off their feet. Shaw, grabbing for the edge of the cabin deckhead, noticed the cringing terror in Karstad’s face as the man looked up at the towering seas which hung, and dropped, and swept away beneath the boat, lifting it high and then flinging it down again, moving it nearer and nearer the shore. They were coming up into the Franklin Channel now, could be thrown ashore on Snake Island. Shaw put his mouth close to Karstad’s ear, yelled into it above the gale:

“Stand by now. And if there’s any trouble when we get ashore, it’ll be the end for you. I’m not risking anything from now on. Right?”

There was no reaction from the Norwegian. That big man seemed to have gone right to pieces and Shaw doubted if in fact he would ever make it to the land. Meanwhile they waited—waited for Shaw to give the word. The wind slammed into their bodies, howling high and weird, taking the breath from their mouths, battering at them mercilessly as Shaw hung on for the boat to carry them as far into Corner Inlet as she could, or as far as was safe, so as to reduce the stretch they would have to swim.

Grim and unspeaking, he kept that last vigil.

A little after that the moment of action came.

The boat gave a deeper lurch, went over, over . . . something like sixty degrees of roll, Shaw estimated. Then she hesitated, hovered. She didn’t come back. Instead, she went over a little more, until the cabin’s side was almost beneath the water and rising and falling like a lunatic lift.

Shaw jabbed Karstad with the gun. He yelled, “Hurry— jump for it. Now!” Expecting the man to obey, he had scrambled on to the gunwale and was about to go over himself when he felt Karstad’s arms wrapping round his legs and he staggered. Lashing out with his feet, he clung there to the gunwale. He heard Karstad’s yell: “You do not go— you do not go without me. Save me. . . .”

Savagely Shaw struck out with the gun, caught Karstad a hard blow on an arm, shouted at him: “You bastard . . . if you don’t let go . . . I’ll shoot you.”

He struck out again.

Karstad fell away, a fleck of foam on his lips, cowering, trying to squeeze his body into the relative lee of the superstructure and its false safety. Shaw reached down, grabbed for his throat and hauled. Whimpering, legs and arms flying, Karstad made the gunwale, clung like a leech to that last frail straw of what even now he seemed to regard as the safe solidity of the boat. Shaw said through his teeth:

“It’s your last chance. Jump when I tell you—and at once. Understand?”

Karstad nodded dumbly.

A moment later Shaw yelled out:
“Now!”

Karstad stared into his face, then began sobbing. But, steeling himself for what was now inevitable, he pulled his body upright. He jumped. He disappeared immediately into a big sea which had swept under the foundering boat, came up farther on, a speck in the rushing water striking out, quite strongly but in desperation, towards the shore-line of Snake Island, wasting his energy in fighting the sea instead of letting it carry him on.

Shaw chucked the revolver away, stood poised for an instant on the lifted side, and then jumped clear. As his feet thrust against the wood he felt the boat’s side lift farther and then fall away sharply from him. He knew then that he’d jumped only just in time, that the boat was turning over now and would be gone inside thirty seconds.

He jumped well clear, half carried along the wind, went deep, came up on the crest of a huge roller which shot him forward at breakneck speed, headlong, and then roared away above his head. Time and again that same process was repeated, and it was only sheer determination and the strong will to battle through that kept Shaw going. It was an almost instinctive, automaton-like progress towards safety; he was buoyed up, borne along almost, by that vital necessity of getting the word through to Sydney, of having the liner stopped outside the Heads to prevent an even greater tragedy which would involve a close-packed city, of having the ship’s double bottoms searched for the charge so that it could be removed in time. He was bruised and battered, torn face stung with the salt water, shaken to his very being, at times unable to do more than just keep his head clear for long enough to suck in air; but he had no thought of failure.

At one moment he saw Karstad ahead of him, still battling quite strongly against the seas, and then a big wave threw them close together. Shaw was just dimly conscious of Karstad’s white, terrified face and then the man’s mouth opened in what appeared to be a hopeless cry. After that, Karstad’s hands went up in the air with a gesture of desperation, as though he was reaching up to heaven for reprieve.

And then he was gone; he simply disappeared, went under and sank like a stone.

The fast boat with James aboard, coming out through the Franklin Channel, found Shaw only just about in time, when he was at last feeling he couldn’t keep afloat much longer.

It was different as soon as he saw the boat.

Strength came back into his aching legs and arms, his battered body. Every now and again, as the waves rose and fell, he glimpsed the man battling towards him on the end of a life-line. Desperately he swam for safety, rushing down the side of a wave. The man grabbed him just before he went under a roller, and the two hung together, gasping; then the men aboard James’s boat heaved in on the life-line and, after what seemed hours of agonizingly slow progress through the water, pulled them both aboard.

Shaw was carried gently into the cabin and laid on a settee, white and shivering. As the boat turned and headed back into Corner Inlet, James put a flask to Shaw’s lips and tilted it. Shaw sucked greedily, felt the fast, surging warmth as the rum went down. Men took off his shirt and trousers, wrapped him in a greatcoat, stripped off some of their own dry clothing for him to wear. They did their best to patch up his face, where the blood was starting out again. As he moved, he could feel the bruises and the stiffness, and the dull ache that came from exhaustion. He noticed Tien’s Chinese driver, sitting under a gun held by one of James’s men. After that he just lay there and nobody bothered him. By the time the boat had made comparatively smooth water he was, with considerable effort, able to sit up. He felt giddy and sick, bent his head between his knees until the feeling passed. Then he asked hazily, “How did you find me?”

James said, “Well, first of all I hauled Ling in and we questioned him the best part of the night. He didn’t say a word and we couldn’t get anything on him, but I knew he wasn’t telling the truth. Likewise your bloke Markham from the ship—he’s been arrested, but he doesn’t know anything, or says he doesn’t. Then word came through that a car with a Chinese driver had been breaking speed records down this way, so I guessed I’d been right about Wilson’s Prom. Well, we flew out then, but we had to force-land not far north of here. We came on by road, fast, and when we got near the Prom area we saw a car pulled into some scrub. This bloke was in it.” He nodded towards the Chinese driver. “We did a little persuading, you know what I mean, and then we found the boathouse and just put two and two together, and when we looked around, well, we found another boat. This one.”

“What about the men you were going to send down here?”

James said, “I sent ’em all right, earlier on, but I’d put ’em farther south—down by South-West Point. They won’t have seen a thing.”

Shaw rubbed at his aching eyes. “Did Ling say anything about the
New South Wales?"

“I told you, he didn’t say anything, but it didn’t take much brain to work that out. Have you—-”

Shaw broke in, “The transmission failed and I’ve smashed the set. That’s all finished now.” James let out a long, deep sigh, grasped Shaw’s shoulder hard. Shaw went on, “But there’s something else. If Ling didn’t say anything, then we’re the only ones left who know—apart from a man called Siggings aboard the ship,
if
he’s still there. . . ."

Shaw’s giddiness caught him again and he stopped. James bent forward anxiously, asked: “Know what?”

“That ... the liner’s due to blow up in the harbour— somewhere inward of the Heads, at one o’clock to-morrow afternoon.” Shaw had broken out in a light sweat now. “There’s more than three thousand people aboard her, women and children included . . . and if her reactor goes, well, so does a whole lot of Sydney.”

James stared at him, went very pale. He said softly, “Well, for God’s sake.”

“How soon can we get in touch with Sydney, or the ship?”

James swore. “That’s just the flaming trouble. Far as I know, we can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Not yet, anyway. All the telephones are down for miles around. There’s trees blocking most of the roads—had a job getting here ourselves, had to use a lot of cross-country tracks, and since we got through it’s worsened. Floods, for one thing. We’re kind of cut right off from the nearest town with any radio communication.”

Shaw’s face went hard. He said, “Don’t you understand, sir? There’s a nuclear explosion heading up for Sydney at twenty-six knots. We’ve just got to get through, that’s all!”

“But in God’s name—howl”

Shaw raised his hands, let them drop. “I’m damned if I know and that’s the truth. We’ll just have to get back to the car and drive until we find a telephone or a telegraph office that works. And we haven’t a lot of time.”

They were ashore soon after that and making up for James’s car, Shaw being helped along by two of the naval ratings. Getting in, they headed for the road into Fish Creek, with Tien’s car and driver behind them under guard of one of James’s party. They could hear the thunder of the sea, and the whistle of the wind past the car. They started to come into the beginnings of flooded country, and that took off some of their speed, soon reduced them to little more than a crawl through deepening water, a crawl which Shaw found one of the most painfully frustrating experiences of his life.