Seawitch

by Alistair MacLean

  Lord Worth glared at him. ‘You think I’d head for a telephone the moment your backs are turned?’

  Mitchell smiled. ‘Isn’t it odd that the same thought should occur to the three of us at the same instant?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Commander Larsen and Scoffield observed the approach of the Worth Hudson helicopter with surprise but without undue concern. Lord Worth customarily gave advance warning of his arrival but could occasionally be forgetful on his point. In any event it was his helicopter, and this should be about his expected time of arrival. They sauntered across the platform and arrived at the north-east helipad just as the helicopter touched down.

  Surprisingly, no one emerged immediately from the machine. Larsen and Scoffield looked at each other in some perplexity, a perplexity that was considerably deepened when the disembarkation door slid back and Durand appeared in the doorway with a machine-pistol cradled in his hands. Just behind him stood a similarly equipped henchman. From their shadowed position it was impossible for them to be observed by any of the rig duty crew.

  Durand said: ‘Larsen and Scoffield? If you are carrying weapons please don’t be so foolish as to try to use them.’ The boarding steps swung down. ‘Come and join us.’

  The two men had no option. Once aboard, without taking his eyes off them, Durand said: ‘Kowenski, Rindler–see if they are armed.’

  Both Larsen and Scoffield carried automatics but seemed quite indifferent to being deprived of them: their attention was directed exclusively to the presence of Lord Worth’s daughters.

  Marina smiled, albeit a trifle wanly. ‘We could have met under happier circumstances, Commander.’

  Larsen nodded. ‘Your kidnappers. This can carry a death sentence.’ He looked at Campbell. ‘Why did you fly those criminals out here?’

  ‘Because I come over all cowardly when I have a pistol barrel screwed into the back of my neck all the way from take-off to touchdown.’ Campbell spoke with a certain justifiable bitterness.

  Larsen looked at Melinda. ‘Have you been maltreated in any fashion?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And they won’t be,’ Durand said. ‘Unless, of course, you refuse to do as we tell you.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You close down the Christmas tree.’ This meant closing off all the oil supplies from the ocean floor.

  ‘I’ll be damned if I do.’ Larsen’s dark piratical face was suffused with fury. Here, Durand realized, was a man who, even without arms, could be highly dangerous. He glanced briefly at Rindler, who struck Larsen on the back of the neck with the butt of his machine-pistol, a shrewdly calculated blow designed to daze but not knock out. When Larsen’s head had cleared he found that he had bracelets around both wrists and ankles. His attention then focused on a pair of gleaming stainless steel medical cutters of the type much favoured by the surgical fraternity for snipping through ribs. The handles were in Durand’s firm grip: the unpleasant operating end was closed lightly round the little finger of Melinda’s right hand.

  Durand said: ‘Lord Worth isn’t going to like you too much for this, Larsen.’

  Larsen, apparently, was of the same opinion. ‘Take those damned pliers away and my bracelets off. I’ll close down your damned Christmas tree.’

  ‘And I’ll come with you just to see that you really do turn off this Christmas tree. Not that I would recognize one of those things if I saw it, but I do know that there are such things as flow gauges. I shall carry a walkie-talkie with me. Aaron here has another. I shall keep in constant contact with him. If anything should happen to me–’ Durand looked consideringly at the medical cutters, then handed them to Heffer, the fifth man in his team. He told Campbell to put his arms behind his seat-back and handcuffed his wrists.

  ‘Don’t miss much, do you?’ Larsen’s voice was sour.

  ‘You know how it is. So many villains around these days. Come on.’

  The two men walked across the platform in the direction of the drilling rig. After only a few paces Durand stopped and looked around him admiringly.

  ‘Well, well, now. Dual-purpose anti-aircraft guns. Piles of depth-charges. One would almost think that you were prepared to withstand a siege. Dear me, dear me. Federal offence, you know. Lord Worth, even with the millions he can pay for lawyers, can’t fail to spend at least ten years in penitentiary for this.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Hardly standard equipment aboard an oil rig. I’ll wager it wasn’t here twenty-four hours ago. I’ll wager it was inside the Mississippi naval armoury that was broken into last night. The Government takes a very dim view of people who steal its military equipment. And, of course, you must have specialists aboard who are skilled in handling such equipment, and that’s hardly part of the basic training of oil rig crews. I wonder if those crews are also carrying special equipment–such, for instance, as was stolen from a Florida armoury last night. I mean, two unrelated armoury break-ins in the same night is just too much of a coincidence. Twenty years in prison with no possibility of remission for you too, as the person chiefly responsible for aiding and abetting. And people call us criminals!’

  Larsen had a few choice observations to make in return, none of which would have received the approval of even the most tolerant board of censors.

  The Christmas tree was duly neutralized. The pressure gauges registered zero. Durand turned his attention to the Roamer, carrying out its short and wearisome patrol between the rig and the huge floating oil tank. ‘What’s our friend up to?’

  ‘Even a land-lubber like you should be able to guess. He’s patrolling the pipe-line.’

  ‘What on earth for? You could replace a cut line in a day. What would that achieve? It’s crazy.’

  ‘You have to use crazy methods to deal with crazy people. From all accounts Lord Worth’s enemies should be locked up for their own good. For everybody’s good.’

  ‘Worth’s band of cut-throats aboard this rig? Who’s their leader?’

  ‘Giuseppe Palermo.’

  ‘That mobster! So the noble lord, apart from indulging in grand larceny, is a known associate of criminals and convicted felons.’

  ‘You know him, then?’

  ‘Yes.’ Durand saw no point in elaborating upon the fact that he and Palermo had spent two prison terms together. ‘I want to talk to him.’

  The talk was brief and one-sided. Durand said: ‘We’ve got Lord Worth’s daughters prisoner. You’re Lord Worth’s men, so we know that no harm will come to them from you. We’re bringing them towards the living quarters here but they will not mingle with you–we don’t want you to take our aces away from us. You will remain inside your quarters. If you don’t you’re likely to hear quite a lot of screaming and see bits and pieces of fingers or ears being dropped through your windows. I hope you believe me.’

  Palermo believed him. Palermo had a reputation for ruthlessness that matched Durand’s, but it couldn’t begin to match Durand’s unholy joy in sadism. Durand was perfectly capable of not only doing what he threatened but of deriving immense satisfaction in so doing.

  Palermo returned to his Oriental quarters. Durand called up Rindler on the walkie-talkie and told them a to come across, including Campbell, the pilot: Campbell was tough and resourceful and it was just possible that, by standing up, he could slip his manacled arms over the back of his seat, step through them and take them off. Whether he would have enough fuel for the return fight would be a problem for him, even though he would almost certainly head, not for Florida, but for the nearest spot on the mainland, which would be due south of New Orleans.

  As the prisoners and guards disembarked from the helicopter Durand said: ‘Accommodation?’

  ‘Plenty. There are spare rooms in the Oriental quarters. There’s Lord Worth’s private suite.’ ‘Lock-ups?’

  ‘What do you mean? This isn’t a prison.’

  ‘Store-rooms? Ones that can be locked from the outside.’

  ‘Yes.’
>
  Durand looked at Larsen consideringly. ‘You’re being extremely co-operative, Larsen. Your reputation says otherwise.’

  ‘Two minutes’ walk around and you could confirm all I’m saying for yourself.’

  ‘You’d like to kill me, wouldn’t you, Larsen?’

  ‘When the time is ripe, yes. But it’s not yet.’

  ‘Even so.’ Durand produced a pistol. ‘Stay about ten feet away. You might be tempted to attack me and tell our men that you’ll tear me limb from limb unless they release the girls. A tempting thought, no?’

  Larsen looked at him yearningly and said nothing.

  The girls, the pilot and their four escorts arrived. Durand said: ‘Well, now, we must find some suitable overnight accommodation for you.’ He led the way to the first of several store-houses and opened the door to reveal a room packed roof-high with tinned foods. He bundled Campbell inside, locked the door and pocketed the key. The next store-house contained coils of rope, a powerful smell of crude oil and an active, scuttling population of those indestructible creatures, cockroaches. Durand said to the two girls: ‘Inside.’

  The girls took one shuddering look then turned away. Marina said: ‘We will not go inside that disgusting place.’

  Kowenski said in a gently-chiding voice which accorded ill with the Colt he held in his hand: ‘Don’t you know what this is?’ Rindler had a similar weapon trained on Melinda.

  Both girls glanced briefly at each other and then, in what was obviously a prepared and rehearsed movement, walked towards the men with the guns, seized the barrels with their right hands and hooked their right thumbs behind the trigger forefingers, pulling the guns hard against themselves.

  Marina said: ‘I can squeeze my thumb far faster than you can jerk that gun away. Want to try?’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Durand was badly shaken. He had run up against most situations in his life, but this one lay far beyond his most remote conception. ‘You trying to commit suicide?’

  Melinda said: ‘Precisely.’ Her eyes never left Rindler’s. ‘You’re lower than those horrible cockroaches in there. You are vermin who are trying to destroy our father. With us dead you won’t have a singe card left to pay.’

  ‘You’re crazy! Simple pain crazy!’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ Marina said. ‘But for crazy people our logic is pretty good. With nothing to shackle his hands you can imagine how our father will react–especially as he will believe, as everybody will believe, that you murdered us. He won’t have recourse to the law, of course–you simply have no idea what power a few billion dollars can bring to bear. He’ll destroy you and a your criminal associates to the last man.’ She looked at Kowenski with contempt. ‘Why don’t you press the trigger? No? Then drop your gun.’ Kowenski dropped his gun and Rindler did the same.

  Melinda said: ‘My sister and I are taking a walk. We will return when you have quarters prepared fitting for Lord Worth’s daughters.’

  Durand’s face had definitely lost colour and his voice was hoarse and not quite steady as he tried to regain a measure of authority. ‘Have your walk if you must. Heffer, go with them. Any trouble, shoot them in the legs.’

  Marina stooped, picked up Kowenski’s Colt, walked up to Heffer and rammed the muzzle into his left eye. Heffer howled in agony. Marina said: ‘Fair deals. You shoot me through the leg–now, I mean–and I’ll blow your brains out.’

  ‘God’s sake!’ Durand’s voice was almost imploring. He was just one step removed from wringing his hands. ‘Somebody’s got to go with you. If you’re out there on your own and in no danger, Palermo’s men will cut us to pieces.’

  ‘What a perfectly splendid idea.’ Marina withdrew the pistol from an already bruising eye, and looked in distaste at Heffer, a rodent-faced creature of indeterminate age and nationality. ‘We see your point. But this–this animal is not to approach within ten yards of us at any time. That is understood?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ If they asked him for the moon Durand would have levitated himself and got it for them. Having overwhelmingly displayed what it was to have sixteen generations of Highland aristocratic ancestry, the two girls walked away towards one of the triangular perimeters. It was fully twenty yards before they both began, at the same instant, to tremble violently. Once started, they could not control the trembling and they prayed that the following Heffer could not notice it.

  Marina whispered shakily: ‘Would you do that again?’

  ‘Never, never, never. I’d rather die.’

  ‘I think we came pretty close to it. Do you think that Michael and John would be shaking like us after an experience like that?’

  ‘No. If there’s any truth in half the hints Daddy lets drop, they’d already be planning what to do next. And Durand and his obnoxious friends wouldn’t be shaking either. Dead men don’t shake very much.’

  Marina’s trembling turned into a genuine shiver. ‘I only wish to God they were here right now.’

  They stopped ten feet short of the platform perimeter. Neither girl had a head for heights. They turned and looked north-eastwards as the distant and muted roar of an aero-engine came to their ears.

  Durand and Larsen heard it at the same time. They could see nothing because dusk had already fallen, but neither man had any doubts as to the identity of the approaching helicopter and its occupants. With some satisfaction Durand said: ‘Company. This has to be Lord Worth. Where will they land?’

  ‘The south-east helipad.’

  Durand glanced across the platform to where the two girls were standing with Heffer, gun carried loosely in his right hand, less than the regulation ten yards away. Satisfied, Durand picked up his machine-pistol and said: ‘Let’s go and welcome his lordship aboard. Aaron, come with us.’

  Larsen said: ‘You’d better hope that Lord Worth proves a bit more tractable than his daughters.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Larsen smiled in sardonic satisfaction. ‘You really did catch a couple of tigresses by their tails, didn’t you?’

  Durand scowled and walked away, followed by Larsen and Aaron, the latter armed similarly to Durand. They reached the south-east helipad just as the Worth Hudson helicopter touched down. Lord Worth himself was the first out. He stood at the foot of the steps and stared in disbelief at the armed men. He said to Larsen: ‘What in God’s name goes on here?’

  Durand said: ‘Welcome aboard the Seawitch, Lord Worth. You may regard me as your host and yourself as a guest–an honoured guest, of course. There has been a slight change of ownership.’

  ‘I’m afraid that this man here–his name is Durand and one must assume that he is one of Cronkite’s lieutenants–’

  ‘Cronkite!’ Durand was jarred. ‘What do you know about Cronkite?’

  ‘I can hardly congratulate him on his choice of lieutenants.’ When Lord Worth poured on his icy contempt he used a king-sized can. ‘Do you think we are such fools as not to know who your paymaster is? Not that Mr Cronkite has long to live. Nor you, either, for that matter.’ Durand stirred uneasily; Lord Worth sounded far too much like his daughters for his peace of mind. Lord Worth directed his attention to Larsen. ‘One assumes that this ruffian arrived with accomplices. How many?’

  ‘Four.’

  ‘Four! But with Palermo and his men you have over twenty! How is it possible–’

  Durand was back on balance. When he spoke it was with a slight if pardonable smugness. ‘We have something that Larsen hasn’t. We have your daughters.’

  What was apparently pure shock rendered Lord Worth temporarily speechless, then in a hoarse voice he said: ‘Great God Almighty! My daughters!’ Lord Worth could have had his Oscar just for the asking. ‘You–you are the kidnapper?’

  ‘Fortunes of war, sir.’ It said much for Lord Worth’s aristocratic magnetism that even the most villainous eventually addressed him in respectful tones. ‘Now, if we could see the rest of the passengers.’

  Mitchell and Roomer descended. In perfectly-cut tan alpac
a suits, horn-rimmed glasses and discreet panamas, they were innocuousness personified. Lord Worth said: ‘Mitchell and Roomer. Scientists–geologists and seismologists.’ He turned to Mitchell and Roomer and said dully: ‘They’re holding my daughters captive aboard the Seawitch.’

  ‘Good God!’ Mitchell was properly shocked. ‘But surely this is the last place–’

  ‘Of course. The unexpected, keeping the necessary one or two steps ahead of the opposition. What is your purpose in coming here?’

  ‘To find new sources of oil. We have a perfectly equipped laboratory here–’

  ‘Your journey has not been necessary. May we search your bag and that of your friend?’

  ‘Have I any option?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Aaron.’

  Aaron carried out a quick examination of Mitchell’s bag. ‘Clothes. Some scientific books and scientific instruments. Is all.’

  Dr Greenshaw clambered down the ladder, reached up and relieved the pilot of various bags and boxes. Durand looked at the doctor and said: ‘Who the hell is he?’

  ‘Dr Greenshaw,’ Lord Worth said. ‘A highly respected doctor and surgeon. We did expect a certain amount of violence and bloodshed aboard the Seawitch. We came prepared. We do have a dispensary and small sick-bay here.’

  ‘Another wasted trip. We hold all the cards, and violence is the last thing we expect. May we examine your equipment, Doctor?’

  ‘If you so wish. As a doctor I deal in life and not in death. I have no concealed lethal weapons. The medical code forbids it.’ Greenshaw sighed. ‘Please search but do not destroy.’

  Durand pulled out his walkie-talkie. ‘Send one of Palermo’s men across here with an electric truck. There’s quite a bit of equipment to pick up.’ He replaced his walkie-talkie and looked at Mitchell. ‘Your hands are shaking Why?’

  ‘I’m a man of peace,’ Mitchell said. He crossed his hands behind his back to conceal the tremor.

  Roomer, the only man to recognize the signals, licked his lips and looked at Mitchell in exaggerated, nervous apprehension. Durand said: ‘Another hero. I despise cowards.’