Redcap

by Philip McCutchan

  Shaw nodded. “What do you think all this means?” he asked.

  Latymer’s eyes were half closed now. He said slowly, “I’m not sure. I don’t like the fact that China seems to be involved—I draw that inference from what Donovan said about the feeling between Russia and China, and also from certain other news I had only yesterday—I’ll come back to that in a moment. I know there’s not a great deal to go on, but we can’t afford to take any chances at all in my opinion. I’m trying to have Karstad located so that we can get the rest of the message, but there’s been no luck so far and I’m not hopeful. He’s probably very shy of contacting an officially accredited agent of the West, even of his own people. We all know his record, even if has managed to get away with it.” Latymer jabbed his cigarette towards Shaw. “Meanwhile, if this threat, whatever it is, is genuine, there’s any God’s amount of trouble ahead. I suppose you realize just how damn hot this MAPIACCIND thing is?” He leaned forward, tapped his hand on the desk in emphasis. “If just one thing goes badly wrong, the world’ll lose confidence— and that’ll virtually mean the end of the agreement. You know how suspicious every one is basically. It’s quite vital to maintain implicit belief in MAPIACCIND. That’s paramount.”

  “I know that, sir.” Shaw was well aware of the dangers. MAPIACCIND had come about as a concrete extension of the old Western European Union and as the result of nearly three years of mostly acrimonious discussion, largely in closed session, in Geneva—discussion which had taken place almost in desperation latterly because of a rapidly deteriorating world political climate following upon the failure of the earlier Big Four talks and the collapse of the A-test ban. Subsequently Britain, U.S.A., France, and Russia had been joined as nuclear Powers by both Western and Eastern Germany, Italy and China, while Canada and Australia as well as some smaller second-flight Powers, had also developed their own independent nuclear programme and were well equipped with H-bombs. As a direct result of this increase in the nuclear club, sheer naked fright throughout the world had led to a welcome display of common sense and a resumption of talks, talks which had been wholly and surprisingly successful: all these countries were now founder-members of the MAPIACCIND Agreement and were thus subject to a rigid control by the International Inspectorate set up by MAPIACCIND’s World Headquarters at Geneva. This Inspectorate was responsible for ensuring, by aerial reconnaissance as well as by on-the-spot examination by the MAPIACCIND teams in the member-nations’ territories, that stocks of nuclear devices of a warlike character were confined to those existing at the time of the signing of the agreement. There was in addition the other, and overriding, safeguard: all the nations concerned had agreed to have their own nuclear stockpiles so co-ordinated and adapted that they were no longer capable of independent use; these stockpiles had been placed under guards of MAPIACCIND teams, whose leaders held certain keys and controls; the stocks themselves were linked by radio to one central control point known as REDCAP—Radio Regular Equipment for Defence Co-Ordination, Atom Powers. Radio signals, transmitted on extremely high frequencies from REDCAP, could, subject to certain checks, operate receivers on the stockpiles themselves, and these receivers would detonate primers, which would in turn blow up the entire nuclear potential of any nation showing signs of intended aggression. Naturally it was never visualized that this extreme measure would ever actually be put into effect; it was very much a last resort, and it was hoped that the threat alone would suffice, that no country would be insane enough to court the devastating risk entailed by any act of aggression, that wars had for ever ceased to be a possibility. REDCAP was in fact the ultimate and terrible deterrent.

  Latymer was going on: “After your call came through, I sought an audience with the Minister.” His voice was tight, angry. “And ‘sought an audience’ is the right term. That little man is really quite impossible to deal with.” He shrugged. “However . . . Now, the first thing that occurred to me was that, considering Donovan said Lubin had been gone some time, it was odd that the Russians had never, so far as we knew, appeared to be in a stew over his disappearance. So a call was put through at once to the Kremlin, at a very high level indeed. And what d’you think the Kremlin said?” Latymer leaned forward, hands flat on the desk. “They said Lubin’s still in Russia, but he’s been a very sick man for a long time and he’s living in retirement on an isolated farm in the Voronezh area.”

  Shaw stared. “That confuses the issue rather, doesn’t it? But if that’s the case, why haven’t they given that out before now?”

  Latymer said briefly, “Prestige. To admit that their star electronics man was at his last gasp wouldn’t help their bargaining power in world affairs. They wouldn’t come clean until they had to, d’you see, and until now that hasn’t arisen. Anyway, that’s my theory. There’s no accounting for the Russian mind, you know. Well—they were asked to check that Lubin really was still there, and a call came back not long ago.” Latymer stubbed out his cigarette. “He’s there all right—according to them. In bed, and very, very sick. Matter of fact, they say he’s ga-ga, can’t get any sense out of him—I suppose they realize they can’t go on keeping it dark now. Odd, isn’t it?”

  Shaw said, “Very odd indeed. He can’t be in two places at once.”

  Latymer snorted irritably. “Dammit, you sound just like the Minister! I don’t know the answer, I regret to say, but I’ll make a guess. If Donovan’s right—and I agree with you, he wouldn’t speak unless he was certain—then Lubin’s got a double and the Russians have been very nicely fooled. Or they’re cooking up something with China, but personally I’d doubt that very strongly. As Donovan said, the Chinese and the Russians aren’t at all friendly these days.” He rapped his fingers hard on the desk and looked searchingly at Shaw. “There’s something building up, I’m sure of that, partly because of that other news I mentioned.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  Latymer said, “It’s something that seems to me to tie up, and I don’t like it.” He leaned across the desk again, his steely gaze boring into Shaw. He said quietly, “The Chinese are mobilizing some of the People’s Militia. It’s all very well to talk about reductions and limitations of manpower—we know that’s been done in all the MAPIACCIND countries, but just look at China’s population, and the huge numbers that have already had military training. They’ve got something like twelve million men available for combat in the Militia, according to the latest figures, apart from four million always under arms. Well—some of those armies are on the move, Shaw. Some artillery units, so I hear, are moving into areas which, according to earlier reports from Geneva, contain many of China’s nuclear stockpiles. And those gunner units have had training in handling nuclear missiles—rockets and so on. Now d’you see?”

  Shaw’s face had whitened. “Yes, I do.”

  Latymer took up a heavy, round ebony ruler, rolled it in his hands. He said, “I don’t know what all this adds up to, but it worries me. The troop movements could be sheer coincidence, I know, but taking them in conjunction with what Donovan told you, I don’t think they can be dismissed that easily. If only Donovan could have lived just a little longer . . . it’s all so damn fishy, when you come to think how deeply Lubin was mixed up with the MAPIACCIND thing. He was one of the really big backroom boys, and what he doesn’t know, technically, isn’t worth knowing. Matter of fact, he was actually working on REDCAP itself— and now we hear from Donovan that it’s REDCAP that’s directly concerned in this threat.”

  Shaw nodded. He asked, “What do the authorities say, sir?”

  Irritably Latymer banged down the ruler, shifted in his chair. “My dear boy, they’re just not impressed! I’ve been in constant touch with half the Cabinet and all the Chiefs of Staff ever since I got in, which was damned early this morning. I’ve had a bellyful. They’re such a suspicious lot of bastards.”

  “You mean they just don’t believe it?”

  Latymer said wearily, “No, they don’t—because they know Donovan’s official record. In the days
when Donovan was last active, the Chiefs of Staff were at sea, or in the field, or flying over Berlin. All honour to them for that—but they don’t know anything about our job. The Minister, for all I know, was down a ruddy coal mine. I wish to God he still was. You see, black’s black and white’s white to them —they’re incapable of looking at things our way, Shaw. They don’t know Donovan at all and all they can hoist in is that he was a branded traitor under sentence of death. So bang goes our source—in their view. To say nothing of the fact that Karstad was Donovan’s contact, and Karstad’s name stinks—and he’s basically on the other side anyhow. I pointed out my own theory to them, which is that Karstad could conceivably be putting the human race before any single country for once—before himself even.”

  Shaw shook his head doubtfully. “Unlikely, sir!”

  “Unlikely? Of course it’s unlikely!” Latymer snorted. “He may be doing the old double agent act again. And I know he’s a killer and a pretty unsavoury one at that—we know his special method of killing, what? All the same, Shaw, so far as we know, whatever his motive, we have got to give him credit for tipping us off about—something.”

  “Yes, that’s true. And Donovan seemed to be trusting him. But they still wouldn’t listen?”

  “They would not. You see, there’s also the little matter of the Russians saying Lubin’s still safely tucked up in bed near Voronezh. Russia’s the power most directly concerned, you’d think, and they don’t believe a word of it, and I think they’re quite genuine about believing Lubin to be bed-bound in his farmhouse. I believe they honestly think the West may be up to something—that it’s all some trick of the bloated capitalists, part of a move, they may think, to justify the West in, say, circumventing the MAPIACCIND Agreement, throwing-off the adaptors on our own stocks ostensibly as a defensive measure, but really to pave the way for a reprisal-free attack by Wall Street and the City of London . . . that’s the way the Eastern mind works! As for me. I’ve been practically told to my face that I’m trying to stir up international differences. Then there’s my man, the one who tipped me off about the troop movements in Asia.” Shaw knew better than to ask Latymer for a name. “He’s first-rate, utterly dependable. But he’s also a murderer and a big-time racketeer, mixed up in all kinds of swindles from prostitution to bank robbery. He’s quite a name, went down for a long stretch in Switzerland just after the war. The Minister knew of him all right! Try putting a man like that across to the blasted Minister,” Latymer said bitterly, “or any of the Cabinet. I’ve tried, Shaw, I’ve tried, but everything’s against us.”

  “Don’t they react to the mobilization reports, sir?”

  Latymer snapped. “Not noticeably. They’re just irritated because I’m fool enough to listen to two traitors and a thug. According to the C.I.G.S., the troop movements, if they’ve taken place at all, are just part of the routine training programme. They say the Chinese regularly carry out parachute training in Fukien province, for instance.” Latymer sighed. “Trouble is, they do! So once again I was stymied. And the Minister said that nothing whatever had been heard from Geneva to indicate that the inspecting teams had found anything unusual up to now.”

  Shaw bit his lip, frowned. He asked, “In your opinion, sir, what is the threat exactly? All-out war?”

  Latymer shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think it’s that. I don’t think anybody’s really likely to risk actual war in a straightforward sense with every other atomic power up against them, and they’d be risking the operation of REDCAP against them too, don’t forget. These Asians are a subtle lot, and there are other ways, no doubt. Personally, I’ve a feeling some one means to destroy REDCAP—or grab it and use it to blackmail the rest of the world. But that’s going to be for you to find out—I’m giving you the assignment. It’s a big one. But first, tell me this: you haven’t followed your usual form, Shaw.” Latymer picked up the ruler again, held it pointed like a gun at Shaw’s head. “You haven’t tried to resign. Why?”

  “Because I’m already pretty deep in, and because John Donovan was my friend.” Shaw found that his hands were shaking a little, and he folded his arms to hide it. “Because he died to pass on that scrap of information. I’ll not forget the way he looked when they—”

  “Pipe down, Shaw!”

  Latymer’s heavy hand came down hard on his desk. He had been watching Shaw closely and now he almost snarled, “Snap out of that. There’s no damn room for sentiment in this game, and you know it. A man has died on this side, and a few more on the other. Well? I dare say more will die before this job’s over. The people who die—they’re dead!” He made a sweeping gesture with a powerful arm. “That’s all. Forget ’em. They’re numbers, not names, they’re not even people—to us. That’s the way it has to be. Good God, d’you think I like sending people out of this room on missions which may finish ’em off—d’you think I don’t care about Donovan? We’ve got to submerge our feelings, Shaw, grow hard if you like. If we don’t, we’re done for. We’ll never stay sane, you or I or the others.” He stubbed a finger towards Shaw in emphasis. “Understand? Don’t ever get emotionally involved, that’s what I’m getting at.” He sat back, blew out his pink cheeks. “Damned if I thought I’d ever have to go back to Lesson Number One with a man of your experience.”

  Shaw didn’t answer, but Latymer saw the unspoken, if unwilling, acceptance in his eyes. Shaw was a good man, a first-rate and very dependable agent, and he knew basically that he had to accept things like that. But Shaw would never grow hard, would always have that thin skin and that compassion which made the job weigh so much more heavily on him than it did on other agents in the game; and there came the times when a man like Shaw had to be cracked down on, when something inside the man had to be brought out, cruelly if necessary, so that he could be forced to see himself plainly. . . .

  Latymer relaxed, lit a fresh cigarette. He asked calmly, “Want to know what you’re going to do?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Find Lubin. And find some good, hard proof that I haven’t been talking tripe—and that’s going to be the most difficult part. If you can achieve just that, I’ll personally guarantee that the threat, whatever it is, won’t be allowed to materialize.” He added in a hard voice, “Even then, it’ll mean the end of MAPIACCIND just the same—unless Lubin’s found before too much comes out and makes everyone start questioning the wisdom and value of MAPIACCIND. That’s what we’ve got to prevent, and it’ll be up to you, Shaw, to stop it getting that far.”

  Shaw murmured, “It’s a tall order. . . ."

  “Our assignments usually are, but somehow we manage to stagger through,” Latymer said gruffly.

  “I suppose so.” Shaw gave a fleeting smile. “Do you want me to go to China, sir?”

  “Oh, no! That wouldn’t get you far. Remember the threat is direct to REDCAP initially. It’s my guess Lubin’ll be somewhere in the region of REDCAP.” He added rather mysteriously, “He could even be in Australia already . . . but somehow I don’t think that’s very likely.”

  “Australia, sir?” Shaw looked surprised. “Why there? REDCAP’s being sited in Geneva, surely?”

  Latymer grinned. “You’re not the only one who thinks that. It was, until just recently. However, the Swiss have refused to have it, on the grounds that any intending aggressor might be tempted to try to knock it off with a few conventional bombs so as to negate the safeguard, get rid of the reprisal in advance. They didn’t think that was a fair risk to ask of a small, lightly-defended country. Can’t say I blame ’em really. All the other neutrals refused it on similar grounds. Well, after that there was a devil of a lot of hoo-ha and hot air in private, with Russia refusing to let it be sited in U.K. or U.S.A. and vice versa. Deadlock was only averted by a compromise proposal, which was that REDCAP should be sited in Australia.”

  “In a member-nation’s territory—non-neutral ground?”

  Latymer gestured irritably. “Not exactly—I’ll explain in a moment. It’s going up to a plac
e called Bandagong, just inside the Northern Territory—somewhere south-west of Alice Springs, on the fringe of the central desert. I dare say you’ve heard of the MAPIACCIND Experimental Power Station at Bandagong?”

  “Yes, I have, sir—”

  “Amazing place, I believe. Semi-military establishment. You can send me a postcard all about it! Well—that’s to be REDCAP’s permanent home, Shaw, and to answer your query let me tell you it’s no longer Commonwealth territory at all. In effect, it’s a kind of neutral zone under MAPIACCIND sovereignty, guarded on its outer perimeter by what sounds like half the Australian Army—-Australia, as of a few weeks ago when a special secret session of the Federal Parliament rushed an Act through, has given up all her rights in the area. It’s garrisoned internally by troops of the MAPIACCIND Field Force. They’ve always been there, of course, but now their role is to act as a guarantee of the area’s complete autonomy, even though it’s physically situated within a member-nation’s boundaries. There’s an airfield close by, with aircraft on constant patrol against the conventional attack that the Swiss were worried about, and the whole area’s ringed with Early Warning radar stations, so it’s pretty secure in that way. I hope, too secure for Lubin to do anything. I believe it is, too. You see what that means?” Latymer jabbed the ruler at Shaw again. “Any attempt must be made before REDCAP gets to Bandagong. And it’s on its way already, Shaw. Therefore the time of the most danger is from now, while it’s in transit between here and Sydney, where it’s to be off-loaded, and again from there to Bandagong, where it’ll go in a road convoy under Australian Army guard. . . . Of course, it would get there quicker if it was discharged at Fremantle or Melbourne, but the roads up from Sydney are better, apparently.”

  “How far on its way is it, sir?”

  Latymer said, “By my reckoning, it’ll be just past Gibraltar at this moment. It’s going out in the new ship—the Australia and Pacific Line’s New South Wales.”