Redcap (8 page)

Shaw sighed in exasperated fury, clenched his fists, relaxed them. This was a difficult young woman to get angry with, especially in the circumstances of that night in France so short a while ago. He swallowed his anger, told her to sit down. He stood over her, asked:

“Don’t you realize this game’s dangerous?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“You’ll be mucking up my chances of finding anything out.”

She said defensively, “No, I won’t. I needn’t even know you at first. If we happen to get friendly on board . . . well, that’s quite natural, isn’t it, aboard a liner?” Suddenly, Shaw thought with a pang, she sounded forlorn again, alone and friendless. She went on, “I . . . want to be in on this all the way now, Commander Shaw. My father was going to do what he could to help, and—well, I suppose I just want to carry on, that’s all.” She looked up at him appealingly, her small, serious face framed by that darkly curling hair. “You’re not really angry, are you?”

He answered heatedly. “Of course I am! You’re being damned inconvenient and thoughtless, if you want to know what I think—and that’s putting it mildly. You deserve to be spanked within an inch of your life!” He walked up and down, stopped and swung round on her. “How did you get away? I thought my chief had put a man on you and Debonnair.”

“Yes, he had,” she agreed in a dead tone. “But I’m used to that sort of thing and I slipped him without any trouble. They’ll only just about be ticking over that I’ve gone— Debonnair had to go away for a night and she won’t know till she gets back from her office. The man thinks I’m in the flat at Albany Street.” She turned to him impulsively. “Don’t you see? I’m not just any girl! I know this business a little. Maybe I
can
help. I want to.”

“Help!” he repeated bitterly. “All you’re going to do is to draw attention to me, if there’s anybody aboard who knows you’re John Donovan’s daughter.”

She said quietly, “They won’t know that. I’m Judith Dan-gan. The only people Daddy ever let me meet were his own friends, and they knew me as Donovan. I always went back to that name when I was with Daddy.”

Shaw grunted. “Tell me something else, then. How did you know I was coming here?”

She said simply, “I guessed. You see, I knew—what was aboard the liner.”

Shaw went rigid. “You . . .
what?
”

“Karstad told Daddy that.”

“For God’s sake—how many other people know?”

“I can’t tell you that. I expect only Karstad, and whoever he got it from. That was what Daddy told me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

She gave him a quick look. “Because I meant to come, and I thought if you knew I knew, you’d find a way of stopping me.”

Shaw’s face was white and grim now. He said through his teeth, “You’re an irresponsible little fool.” He took her arm, asked roughly: “D’you know anything else, while we’re about it?”

She shook her head. “That’s all I ever found out. Daddy let that slip. Normally he never told me anything. But he was ... he wasn’t himself after Karstad came.”

“Did you ever meet Karstad?”

“No. He only came that once, and I didn’t know anything about it till he’d gone. But Daddy was in a foul temper afterwards, and—”

“Why was that?”

“I don’t know, he just was.” She fiddled with her handbag.

“And—I wanted to help him, and I talked to him. Then he let it out that—the thing—would go on the
New South Wales
, and Karstad had come to see him. He shut up like a clam after that—he realized pretty quick he’d had a lapse and he didn’t say any more about it till he got me to contact you in Fouquier’s some while after.”

Shaw nodded, faced her, said grimly: “Now just listen. This is tremendously important. Are you quite sure there’s nothing else at all you can tell me—anything that may help?”

She pursed up her lips, frowned. She said, “There’s absolutely nothing else, honestly.”

He rubbed his nose, shrugging helplessly. That answer had sounded convincing. The girl was perfectly genuine— but what an insane little idiot she’d turned out to be! He’d better cypher a message for Latymer and set his mind at rest—if that was the word—as to where the girl was. He said tautly, “All right. And now you’d better have my cover-story—just so you don’t go and put your foot in itl”

Shortly after the liner was past Capri, Shaw got his summons to the Captain’s quarters. He went along at once; and, as he reached the foot of the stairway leading up to the officers’ accommodation, he saw the man again, the man with the penetrating eyes. He gave Shaw only a cursory, uninterested look before going into the library. But once again memory vaguely stirred and Shaw felt just a little uneasy.

The liner’s Master—Commodore Sir Donald Mackinnon, K.B.E., D.S.O., R.D., R.N.R., senior Master of the A. and P. fleet—had dismissed his steward, and he poured the drinks himself. Colonel Gresham was up there as well, sitting in a bar of the lowering sun which came through the day-cabin’s after ports, touched Gresham’s sandiness to a growing bronze, ran on over the thick blue carpet, sparkled on brightly polished brass fittings and expensive panelling.

Ponderously Sir Donald crossed the cabin, the sun glinting now on the gold of the four stripes on either shoulder of his white, starched uniform. He handed Shaw a glass of gin-and-bitters, looking at him from under bushy white brows as he loomed, tall and heavy, above Shaw’s chair. Like his ship, he was massive, impressive.

He said in a deep, carrying voice: “I never did like having that article aboard, Commander. And then when that signal came in from London, saying
you
were    joining    . . .” He gave a friendly, rolling laugh. “That’s not meant to sound unwelcoming, of course.” He looked directly at Shaw as he sat down. “Well? All I know so far is what’s in that crate, and that you’ve got some connexion with it. Now, how much farther can you put me in the picture?”

“I’ll tell you what I can, sir, but you’ll have to excuse     me if there are a few omissions.” Shaw told Sir Donald and Gresham about Lubin and the vague threat which Latymer believed existed to the ship as a result. He also mentioned the rumours about the Chinese troop movements, but said nothing about Donovan or the other sources. When the Captain had listened, attentively, to Shaw’s story he took a mouthful of gin, swallowed it. He took another, thoughtfully, draining the glass this time, then set it down rather hard on a small table beside his chair.

Smacking a heavy hand on the arm, he said: “You know —I don’t think they had any business to put that damned thing aboard a ship like this.” He added, “It’s been a queer voyage even this far.”

“In what way, sir?”

Sir Donald pushed out his lower lip and frowned. His eyebrows, drawn together, made a thick white line which stood out in contrast to his leathery face. He said slowly, “It’s hard to say, really. Oh—nothing concrete’s gone wrong, I don’t mean that. It’s just a feeling. You learn to sense these things after a few decades spent carting the rich around the world!” He laughed. “This time, they don’t seem to be enjoying themselves as much as they should when they’re surrounded by all the glamour of a maiden voyage.” He frowned again and shook his head. “They’re pernickety— much more so than usual. The Purser’s had a hell of a time.”

“D’you think anything’s spread, sir?” Shaw asked.

“Don’t think it’s that. Do you, Colonel?”

Gresham replied jerkily, “No. Certain there’s been no leak. Think the old spirit’ll come soon, Captain. Early days yet.” Sir Donald ran a hand over his jaw. “Possibly.” He pushed cigarettes across, said briefly: “Help yourself.”

“Thank you, sir.” Shaw took a cigarette, lit it, blew a cloud of smoke. He said, “It’s hard to know where to begin on this job. I know that doesn’t sound very professional, but there it is.”

“I suppose you can’t do much more than look and listen,” Sir Donald remarked. “However, you can count on any help you want from me. I’ll do all you think necessary to safeguard this confounded machine, shoft of hazarding my ship or endangering my passengers. I’ll be delighted to get rid of it, I can tell you,” he added with feeling. “Shaw, can you put this—er—threat into more concrete form?”

“I wish I could. It’d be easier to meet if we knew what it was. It’s all so vague. Largely, we’re working on conjecture, on sheer guesswork, but my chief seems convinced the ship’s in danger.”

Sir Donald asked sharply, “If he’s so certain, why don’t they off-load the thing en route? Why in heaven’s name go on possibly risking the lives of my passengers?”

Shaw lifted his shoulders. “Just because it’s so vague. Certain people in England aren’t taking it as seriously as they might. Come to that, we have to admit that our information could be wrong—but I’d swear it isn’t.” He took a deep breath, glanced at the Captain. “Personally, I think we have to face the fact that the threat could be one of two things— either some one’s planning to seize REDCAP, or they’re planning to do away with it altogether. Blow it up.”

“Blow it up aboard, d’you mean?”

“I don’t know, sir, but I think that could be the case. We can’t rule it out, anyway.”

“But it’s—it’s fantastic!” Sir Donald’s square, red-brown face was hard and angry. “Are they all dimwits at the Admiralty and the Ministry? Don’t those fellers at home realize what an explosion aboard this ship would be like? With that nuclear reactor down below—and the ship full of unsuspecting passengers—why, it’d be a holocaust!”

Shaw said grimly, “I’m certain my chief realizes all right, sir, and I know I do. But as I said, no one’ll believe us, or rather they won’t believe in our sources of information. It’s my job, partly, to convince them.”

“But who’d want to blow it up—where would that get them?” Sir Donald swung heavily round on Gresham. ‘What d’you think, Colonel? Think there’s anything behind this?” Gresham gnawed at his straggly moustache, then spoke in a clipped, abrupt voice. “Sounds awfully melodramatic, doesn’t it——”

Sir Donald rapped, “It certainly does!”

“Ah—one moment.” Gresham wagged a finger. “Didn’t mean to suggest we shouldn’t take it seriously. Think we should. Shaw spoke of the Chinese. Can’t afford to take a single chance with those blighters, y’know.” He drew in air and moustache in about equal quantities. “If Lubin’s gone over to them—well, one just can’t say, what?” Gresham fumbled in his pocket, brought out a pipe and pouch. He raised an eyebrow at the Captain, who nodded. Gresham took his time filling the pipe, then he looked up and said: “Always thought this REDCAP arrangement was too wide open. MAPIACCIND, of course, that’s a tremendous thing, but REDCAP’s far too vulnerable, d’you follow? Too much depends on it, too. It’s—er—too much in one place, if you see what I mean.”

Shaw murmured, “Too centralized?”

The Colonel’s eyes brightened and he waved his pipe eagerly. “That’s it exactly. Just my point. Everything’s centred on REDCAP. REDCAP goes—everything goes.” He lit the pipe, sucked noisily for a moment. “Let’s assume Shaw’s right and it is China that’s behind this. So happens I know the Chinese pretty well, their mental processes an’ all that. Brought up out there, actually. Lived in Shanghai as a child, went back there often before the war—my father was in business out there. Shipping agency.” The moustache was sucked in, blown out again. “It was obvious even then they’d try for world power one day. And now, d’you see, they’re a long way down the road on the nuclear tack. . . He broke off, shrugged expressively.

Sir Donald said, “But dammit, Colonel, they did join MAPIACCIND. They needn’t have done that.”

“Oh, quite. Yes. But if China had
refused
to join, it’d have put her in a difficult position from the propaganda viewpoint for one thing, and in the second place I believe they really only joined it when they found they couldn’t stop it being formed.” Gresham puffed a cloud of smoke into the air, thoughtfully, settled back in his chair as the smoke filtered into a bar of sunlight and wreathed like fog. “I look at it this way. The Chinese simply aren’t the sort of people who ever willingly join anything—unless there’s something very tangible in it for themselves alone. Remember, they never even went fully into the Russian camp, even when they were on friendly terms, even during the honeymoon period when the revolution first got properly under way after the War. They always held back, never wanted to be hobbled. And now, d’you see, after years and years of domination by the ‘foreign devils’ in one form or another—trade, Treaty Ports, Japan, what you like—they’ve begun to feel their own power and their own weight properly. Once John Chinaman’s ready and
feels
himself to be ready, he goes into action. Until then, he’ll wait, because he’s patient by nature. But when he is ready. . . Gresham made an expressive gesture with his pipe-stem. “See?”

Shaw asked, “You think he’s ready now?”

Gresham nodded. “Very possibly. More I think about it, more I think there’s probably quite a lot behind all this. They could easily be thinking along the lines of . . . well, as you suggested, mucking up REDCAP in some way.”

The Captain said doggedly, “I still don’t see where it would get them.”

Gresham’s bright eyes held a brief twinkle. He said jerkily, “Wishful thinking, Captain! Trying to persuade yourself against your better judgment. Look at it this way. China’s a nuclear Power and a big one. Probably the biggest of us all. You know they had a lot of Russian help before the split came—why, the Russians built their first heavy-water reactor for plutonium production in Pekin, just for research —that’s the one that started up in September 1958, and it’s just as big as some of the Harwell jobs. And we know for a fact that when the MAPIACCIND Agreement was signed, China had an enormous stockpile of H-bombs, long-range ballistic missiles, the lot. The whole lot.” He jabbed his pipe-stem at Shaw and Sir Donald. “Well now. All that’s tied up in MAPIACCIND, adapted to REDCAP. So the Chinese can’t use any of their new weapons.”

“Neither can anybody else,” Sir Donald pointed out.

“Ah, but there’s a difference. Just when the Chinese are feeling ready
for the first time
, they’re frustrated by this world agreement. My guess would be, they’ve got hold of Lubin, either willingly or unwillingly, to find out all they can about the backroom secrets of the organization and about REDCAP too—”