Just as his brain was making sense of what his eyes were seeing, this evanescent globe dissipated like a soap bubble bursting. As it fell away and evaporated in the heat of a thousand suns, it revealed a column of water reaching up to the heavens that must have been a mile high. It was wide, too, so the column had more the proportions of a soup can than a pencil.
The top of the column was so distant in the night sky that it seemed to touch the few scudding clouds which, unconcerned, flitted over the scene in the trade wind.
The water was suddenly warmer around him, and now he felt a compression, as if someone stood on his chest.
It only lasted a moment, but for that instant, he was sure the pressure would build and crush his body like a nutshell in the jaws of a nutcracker.
Impressions were coming so fast now that Toby’s brain was lagging seconds behind.
The towering waterspout held its shape and height for about three seconds. Then it began to collapse, like an upright icicle smashed with a hammer. Myriad drops of moisture reflected the moon’s rays back to him like distant sparklers at a firework party.
Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over.
A casual observer, facing the other way, would have seen shock, disbelief, awe and wonder on the face of someone looking out to sea, but by the time that observer had turned around, it would have been all over.
Toby reckoned ten seconds max for the whole display.
There was a distant sound like tropical rain, or a thundering herd of cattle, or a bit of both.
“Tsunami coming,” Julia said.
The horizon out to seaward appeared to heave itself into the air, blacking out the stars near sea level. The moon went behind a cloud and darkness enveloped them.
The moon emerged again, and now they could clearly see the tsunami wave.
The wave approached, lifting the ocean surface up, up up—until it rose like a wall out to sea, a hard, black wall racing their way.
When it arrived, it was as if they had entered an express elevator. Toby’s stomach was left behind in the deep as the tidal wave, moving at hundreds of miles an hour, lifted them bodily upwards. But the wave didn’t break, and they didn’t even get their heads wet under water. They simply rose with the wave, buoyed by their lifejackets. On the top, Toby saw the tiny navigation lights of ships way out at sea. He hoped they were far enough out.
Then the wave passed, and they dropped as if the elevator car had fallen from its cable.
Seconds later, a roaring sound came from the direction of the island as the tsunami broke on the shore, against the cliffs and over the pristine beaches of the western tourist zone.
Toby hoped that the narrow entrance to Nelson Bay would stop most of the force of the wave. He could not really judge its height, but from the sensations he had experienced, it must have been at least as high as a house from trough to peak.
He realised he still clutched Julia’s hand.
“Piece of cake,” he said. “I could take another of those. Even get used to them.”
“And what do you know, there’s the impresario of the display.”
Toby turned, and there was the third strobe light, not far off.
They finally let go of each other and paddled across to Spiegl. The man was alive, but in an even worse condition than when last seen. His head bulged with a bright red cricket ball-sized swelling, and his glazed eyes stared unseeingly. But he was breathing. His lifejacket expanded and contracted perceptibly with a slow, uneven rhythm.
Toby grabbed the collar of the man’s lifejacket and Julia held on to Toby’s, and the three of them stayed in that configuration until the sound of helicopter blades was followed by a searchlight which snapped on from above, found them, and held them as if in a tractor beam until the helicopter was hovering right overhead and the searchlight beam was vertical and then in a moment the winchman was down in the sea near them and the three strobe lights illuminated the scene like a disco effect.
And then a Cockney voice shouted out, barely audible over the noise of the rotors, “Just when you need them—the bleedin’ Royal Navy!”
Chapter 46
On board the
Surrey,
Captain Gill Boyd and Smithers stood to attention and saluted as Toby and Julia exited the Lynx helicopter and climbed unsteadily down to the deck of the destroyer. Smithers wore civilian clothing—jeans and a T-shirt. He had obviously arrived in a hurry by helicopter.
Two medics were ready with a stretcher. One jumped up into the Lynx to assess Spiegl. The other asked Toby and Julia if they were OK for now or needed urgent medical attention. They said they were OK for now. Another rating reached up and turned off the flashing strobes on their lifejackets for them.
“What about the other nukes? Any news?” Toby asked as soon as he had ducked under the still-spinning rotor.
Julia produced the soggy sheet of paper from her shorts. “Better check out these locations,” she said. “But I now think we’ll find they are all decoys, except the two we know about. Those devices came on board today in a fake generator casing and there’s been no time to get around to these other places since then.”
“Any casualties from the
Amelia
bomb?” Toby asked.
“I hope not,” said Captain Boyd. “We put out a general Pan-Pan, or emergency alert to all vessels, to clear the area. And the
Amelia
went down in 800 metres. It was just beyond the edge of the shelf. Judging by the fireworks display, she was no more than fifty metres below the surface when the device exploded. Just enough.”
“You cut it fine,” Toby said. “If you’ll excuse my French, I was shitting myself.” He found the deflation valve for the lifejacket and pushed it. Air hissed out, and in a few seconds, he felt a little less like the Michelin Man. Julia did the same.
“You didn’t give me time to launch the Lynx. I had to use the Sea Darts, and they aren’t really meant for surface targets that big,” Captain Boyd said. “We spent a little extra time on the radar guidance. We got a bit lucky all round.”
“What about the tidal wave? Any damage in Nelson Harbour?”
The Lynx pilot, his shutdown checks complete, climbed down to the deck and came towards them.
“The narrow entrance kept most of the water out, from what we’re hearing on the VHF. It livened up everyone’s New Year’s Eve celebrations, but I’ve heard of nothing serious so far. The beaches immediately to the north of here will have taken a hammering, though. This island will never be the same after two nuclear explosions, albeit small ones, both within five miles of the coast. It won’t do anything for fishing or tourism.”
The pilot approached. He took off his helmet. Toby did a double take. “It’s the prince!” he said. “Your Royal Highness! You rescued us!”
The heir to the British throne smiled and put his hand out, and shook hands with Julia and then Toby. “You two certainly livened up a routine training mission. Pleased to serve you.” He saluted, and was gone.
Toby turned back to Smithers. “What about the extortion? Did the Brits and the Yanks wire the money?”
“No, of course not. We had many hours’ worth of delaying tactics up our sleeves.”
“It nearly backfired when they called your bluff and accelerated the countdown.”
“It nearly backfired in 1962 when President Kennedy was about to push the button. But it didn’t then, and it didn’t today. And we got a nice bonus. We found a sub mooching around down there, an old Kilo-class Soviet model. When we fired the first Sea Dart, it let off a pot-shot at us with a torpedo. We responded with the Stingrays and slapped it around a little, and quickly persuaded it to surface, at which point we arrested the whole crew and captured the sub intact. We’ll go over the other side and have a look down at it in a moment. In short, we’ve had a
really
good workout of the weapons systems. Everyone is chuffed. There’s life in these old 42’s yet.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. His tone and demeanour resembled those of a man bragging to a neighbour over the hedge about a newly acquired used car.
“Result!” Toby said.
“Apart from the deaths on the
Amelia
,” Julia said. “What a waste of life. I liked the captain and Chef and little Timmins and the chief engineer. They didn’t deserve this. And they had no idea what was happening. The others, I won’t lose too much sleep over. Except Ivan. I respected him by the end.”
“Me too,” Toby said.
“I expect you both want to get into some dry clothes,” Smithers said. “They’re laying on a little celebration for you down in the Officers’ Mess. It will have to be brief because we still have a lot of work to do tonight. We have to deal with this sub, then establish a ten-mile exclusion zone around and to the west of the detonation. But all the officers, including our new Flight Lieutenant, would like to meet you properly, drink to your health, and congratulate you on the successful conclusion of Operation Abigail.”
“That sounds like a medical procedure,” Toby said. “Let’s call it ‘The Abigail Affair.’ It sounds better. More romantic.” He gave Julia a meaningful look. She raised her eyes skyward.
“Fine. It’s your assignment. On that subject, may we call you again in the future if we need you? Or are you going to look out for another deckhand position?”
Toby considered. “Call me. I don’t promise anything after the way you treated me. I’ll check the size of my poker winnings first. But right now, I’m more interested in a pint of lager. After that, I’d like to speak to my parents and my sister. But what can I tell them?”
“We’ll talk about that. Tomorrow. You’ve missed midnight in the UK, anyway.”
“Also, Julia and
I
would like a little time alone, please.”
“I think that’s rather up to Miss Belova, as we must learn to call her. Subject to that, the
Surrey
and its limited guest facilities are at your disposal.”
“You’re not leaving me alone with Toby, are you? I’m not sure a nice girl like me is safe with him.” She spoke out of the corner of her mouth, and she couldn’t smile properly, because her lip and eyes were swollen. But Toby could read her body language, and he liked what she was really saying, very much indeed.
“Don’t get shy on me on our first date,” he said. “There’s a party in our honour, and we’re going to it. Together.”
More by Timothy Frost
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The Abigail Affair
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Other titles by Timothy Frost:
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