‘You’re expecting him?’
‘Yes.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
He sat down opposite me again and I thought for a moment he had reached a decision. But all he said was, ‘Have you any idea of the average age of this ship’s company?’ He was interrupted again. More messages. He flicked through them, nodded briefly to Stanway, turning back to me and saying, ‘Well, have you? The average age.’ He slapped his hand on the table. ‘You won’t believe this, but it’s not quite twenty-three and a half. That’s the average age of everybody, officers, senior rates, the lot. They’re kids, most of them, with mothers and fathers, girlfriends, quite a few of them married, and I’m responsible. Not just for them, for their lives, but to all those people I’ve never met.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘What can I do?’ He got suddenly to his feet. ‘You don’t seem to realise – this potty little island is the centre of the world. Just for the moment. For the next few hours.’ He started to pace up and down. ‘There are warships converging on it, the whole apparatus of military confrontation beginning to be put in motion. The heads of half a dozen of the world’s most powerful countries will be consulting their advisers, despatching envoys with cautionary notes, even talking to each other direct, and all because of a little jumped-up peasant farmer called Ismail Fuxa, a bunch of disaffected locals and a couple of hundred highly trained professional soldiers, commandos probably, and almost certainly from an Arab country. In these circumstances, speed and ruthlessness, a willingness to take chances – hit the other fellow before he knows what’s happening. God! I’ve had plenty of instruction on this. If you strike fast enough and hard enough you can change the face of the world. And you’re asking me …’
The loudspeaker interrupted him. ‘There’s a boat coming out from Cala Llonga, sir. The speedboat again, I think.’
He picked up the mike. ‘Very well. It should be a man named Evans. Have him met at the ladder and if it is bring him straight to my cabin.’
‘Very good, sir.’
He turned back to me. ‘You’re worried about your wife, and so am I. But just try to get this clear in your mind – you, me, Soo, all the boys on this ship, we’re just pawns in a game that is being played on a world board.’ He turned away, staring out to the lights of the waterfront. ‘It will all depend now on whether I can persuade Pat.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘Frankly I doubt it. This must surely be the biggest thing he’s ever been involved in.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Cape Spartivento is about two-forty miles from here – eight hours’ steaming, something like that, and it’s nearly nine already. Five hours gone. By midnight a whole fleet of ships could be gathering off the entrance here. An hour after that they could be steaming in past Villa Carlos, and if they were able to do that unopposed … Then it would be a case of possession being nine-tenths of the law. International law, that is, and Fuxá has appealed to Moscow for help. Belatedly Spain has called upon her EEC partners to assist in maintaining her sovereignty here.’
He was running over it again for his own benefit, not mine. ‘And on our side –’ He was at the port hole. ‘Mahon-naise! That’s what Richelieu’s chef called his version of the local allioli. You know what that was for?’ He was talking for the sake of talking. ‘For the banquet. The French were holding a banquet here at Mahon after their victory over Byng. We’d held the islands for almost fifty years, from 1708 till 1756. Mahonnaise!’ he said again. ‘Poor Byng!’ His voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘We were here for another nineteen years, from 1763, and then yet again for four very important years during the Napoleonic Wars. That was when Nelson was supposed to have stayed up there at Golden Farm.’
He turned back to me, smiling sardonically. ‘You see, I’ve been well briefed on the naval background. Grand Harbour, Mahon, Gibraltar, a string of naval strongholds stretching across the Western Mediterranean. We’ve held them all, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there aren’t quite a number of people back home, people who are in a position to influence events, who still hanker after them. So you see –’ He hesitated. ‘What I’m trying to make you understand, Mike, is that we’re all just pawns – all of us who are here on the spot where it’s happening. Pat included. I don’t know what he gets out of it, but there’s nothing you or I could offer him –’ He swung round at the sound of the loudspeaker again. ‘Yes?’
‘It is Mr Evans, sir. I’ll send him up, shall I?’
‘Is he on his own?’ Gareth’s voice sounded suddenly nervous.
‘There’s three of them altogether, but he’s the only one who’s come aboard and he’s asking to see you personally.’
‘Then have him sent up right away.’
‘Very good, sir.’
The loudspeaker clicked off, Gareth standing by his desk fiddling with a ruler. Was he scared of the man? The spate of words he had been pouring out to me was in itself a sign of nerves. ‘Better let me do the talking.’ He was on edge and I wondered how much of a hold this half-brother of his had on him. The years at Ganges, then on that houseboat in the mud gut at Felixstowe Ferry. And Evans – he must be very sure of himself, to come on board this ship.
The knock came sooner than I had expected. Gareth sat himself down abruptly at his desk. ‘Come in.’
It was Davison. ‘Mr Evans, sir.’
‘Show him in. Then draw the curtain and wait outside.’
He seemed taller, the face more craggy, and the neck solid as a stone column. He wore no hat, his dark hair rumpled, and his shirt and the camouflage jacket were open at the neck. He was smiling, but no warmth in it, just an indication that he was prepared to be reasonable – or was he nervous, too, was there a certain insecurity under that tough exterior?
‘Come in, Pat.’ Gareth had risen to his feet. ‘Sit down.’ He waved him to a chair. ‘Mike Steele you know.’
‘Yeah, we’ve met before.’ He sat down, smiling at me, his voice low key. ‘How’s the boat behaving?’ But he didn’t expect an answer for he turned to Gareth, the smile gone from his face. ‘Well, when do you leave?’ And he added. ‘It better be soon. Very soon.’
Gareth sat down opposite him. ‘Didn’t they tell you, about the engines?’
‘Don’t give me that crap.’
‘We have condenser trouble.’
‘I said, don’t give me that crap.’ The voice had hardened. ‘The oldest gimmick there is – can’t move because the engines don’t work.’ He laughed, his voice a sneering mockery. ‘Considering why you’re here, it’s hardly likely their fucking Lordships would have let you to sea with engines that were on the blink. So you get your fancy marine engineer on the blower and tell him to start up.’
‘Unfortunately, you’re wrong about the engines.’ The trembling of his lower lip somehow made the statement unconvincing. ‘You should know how mean things can be in the Royal Navy. This is an old ship and she was fitted out in a hurry.’
‘So that you, and the rest of them on board, could be blown to hell. You always were a soft option, boy. You sit here for another two or three hours … Look, the bastards who give the orders, they aren’t going to be here to hold your hand when Fuxá gets the support he’s asked for and all hell breaks loose.’ He leaned suddenly forward, his voice softer, more urgent. ‘Don’t be a sucker. You’re expendable, the whole lot of you. Nobody cares about you. So be sensible. And if you want to stick to that fiction about the engines, then there’s a tug and two other ships waiting out there to give you a tow.’
‘If I go at all I’ll go under my own steam. Not under tow. And what I do depends on my orders.’
There was a long silence after that, the two of them staring at each other, and in that silence I heard my own voice, sounding like a stranger, as I said, ‘And what about my wife?’
There was no answer, both of them apparently locked in their own thoughts.
‘Where is she?’
Evans turned slowly and looked at me. ‘Not far
away.’ He said it so reasonably, as though kidnapping a woman was the most ordinary thing in the world. ‘I’ll come to her in a moment.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s nine forty-seven. I’ll give you until ten p.m. to sort your engines out and get under way. Fifteen minutes. Okay?’ He had risen to his feet.
‘And if I don’t?’ Gareth hadn’t moved from his chair and the silence stretched between them as they stared at each other like a pair of gladiators.
‘It’s been a long time,’ Evans said. ‘Must be four years now.’
‘Just on five.’
‘Yeah. Well, you would remember, wouldn’t you. Moira wrote me you’d been picked up. Sent me a copy of the East Anglian with a picture of you tied to the buoy.’ His mouth stretched to something close to a grin, the teeth bared. ‘And now they’ve landed you with something that looks to me like a bloody suicide mission.’ He leaned forward again. ‘Look, boy, you owe it to yourself, to the men you’ve got cooped up in this tin can they’ve given you – get out now, before it’s too late.’
Gareth stared at him as though hypnotised.
‘Well, say something, for Christ’s sake. What’s it to be? Stay here and get pulverised to nothing, or up your hook and get to hell out before it’s too late?’
A funny little half-smile showed on Gareth’s face. He shook his head. ‘Come off it, Pat. You’re not here just to try and save my life again. You’re here because you know damn well the presence of one of HM ships in Mahon harbour makes the whole thing impossible. Your plan of operations depends on two things for success – surprise and unimpeded access to the harbour here. The first you’ve achieved. In fact, your people exploited the element of surprise so well that you were able to seize control of all the key positions at this end of the island. What you didn’t expect was that there would be a Nato warship anchored in Port Mahon. Your coup now needs the backing of a major power and I doubt very much whether you’ll get it as long as this tin can, as you call it, remains anchored here. At least that’s my reading of all the flurry of signals my Communications Office is picking up.’
His voice had become stronger, more authoritative as he developed his argument. Now he leaned forward, both elbows on the desk, his eyes fixed on his half-brother. ‘My advice to you – it’s the same advice as you’ve just been giving me – get out now, while you can.’ Abruptly his right hand came up, jabbing a finger. ‘Time is against you, man. You know it. I know it.’
‘You’ll be smashed to hell, boy.’
‘Maybe. But I don’t think so.’ Somehow his voice managed to carry conviction. ‘By dawn you’ll be faced with crack Spanish troops and the arrival of the first of their naval units.’
‘And how will they get into Mahon? We’ll blast them out of the water with those big guns on La Mola. As for troops – what troops? They can’t land …’
‘Paratroops,’ Gareth said quietly. ‘I’ve just heard they’ll be taking off about an hour before dawn.’
‘Thank you. I’ll pass the information on. But I think Madrid may have second thoughts. Landing paratroops anywhere on Menorca would amount to invasion of the new republic’s territory, and with the powerful support we shall then have –’
‘That’s provided you can get Medusa out of the way,’ Gareth cut in. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’ And he repeated his previous argument: ‘Because you know damn well that support won’t be forthcoming so long as there’s a Nato presence in Port Mahon.’
‘So you won’t listen to reason.’ The line of the man’s mouth had hardened, so had his voice. There was anger in it now as he said, ‘Then I’ll have to use another form of persuasion. The woman. We’re holding her hostage for your departure.’ He turned to me. ‘Your wife, Steele. You haven’t said much so far, but I’m telling you now, if you don’t want her death on your hands, you’d better start persuading young Gareth here to get the hell out of Mahon.’
‘Where is she?’ I asked.
‘I told you, not far from here.’
‘Was it you who broke into the house and took her?’
He shook his head. ‘Not me. Two of my crew. You met them the day you agreed to swap Thunderflash for that fishing boat of yours. They say she fought like an alley cat.’
‘Is she all right? Is she hurt?’
‘They had to tie her down, that’s all.’ He was looking straight at me. ‘No, she’s not hurt. Not yet.’ He turned back again to Gareth and added, ‘But she will be if you don’t get out of here fast.’
‘I have my orders.’
‘Then get some new ones. Tell them there’s a woman hostage and you’re in love with her. You are in love with her, aren’t you?’ Gareth’s eyes flicked in my direction and he passed his tongue over his lips. Evans was grinning, knowing now that his information was correct. ‘You can have her back the instant you’re clear of Port Mahon. I’ll hand her over to Steele here. That suit you?’
Gareth half shook his head, his hands locked, the fingers moving. I thought I detected a new mood, one of indecision. Evans saw it, too, and it was then that I heard him say, ‘Look, Gareth, the people I’m with aren’t squeamish, you know. Nor am I. But they’re real hard. You know what I mean?’
Gareth half shook his head again, his eyes slitted as though wincing in advance of what he seemed to know was coming.
‘Good. I think you do.’ Evans swung round on me. ‘But for your benefit I’ll spell it out. If your wife’s lover –’ the words were spoken quite viciously, so that it was obvious he got a vicarious pleasure out of his shock use of them –’doesn’t shift his ship out of here within quarter of an hour, you could be getting her back in bits and pieces. Okay?’ He got to his feet.
I had an instant ghastly picture in my mind of Soo laid out on a wooden slab while a man stood over her with an axe, her arms stretched out and pinioned ready for the blow. I felt sickened, and glancing across at Gareth I saw his face was ashen. What must have been going on in his mind at that moment I cannot think, Soo’s life balanced against those years of being trained to carry out the orders of his naval superiors, and all the time the knowledge that forces beyond his control were moving inexorably to a point of crisis. And if he gave in to Evans’s demands I had the feeling he would be doing so on the basis that, whatever he did, he and his men were doomed to extinction.
Evans glanced at the clock on the wall, then at his watch. ‘Okay, so you’re on local time. It’s now 21.53. If you’re not fetching your anchor by 22.10 –’
‘I can’t do it. Not to an exact deadline.’ Once again he was arguing that the state of the ship’s engines made an immediate move impossible. I don’t know when he decided to do what he finally did, but it must have been at about this point, and he must have been something of a natural actor – maybe that was the Celt in him – but he did manage eventually to convince Evans there was a problem with the engines. I think what finally did it was an open discussion over the telephone with Robin Makewate, his Marine Engineer Officer, which ended with him saying, ‘Half an hour then. I’ll have them standing by the anchor at 22.15. I want power on that one engine by 22.15 at the latest. Without fail, Robin … Yes, that’s an order. Do it how you like, but get one of them going by then or we’re in trouble.’
He put the phone down and turned to Evans. ‘That’s the best I can do. I presume you didn’t come on board without making some provision against my detaining you here?’
‘Correct. VHF contact.’ He patted the sagging pocket of his camouflage jacket. ‘If I don’t report in on the hour …’ He gave a little shrug. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll be on to them in a minute. Meantime, you want to know how we hand the woman back. Since you’ve got Steele here, and she’s his wife, it better be to him.’
They discussed it between themselves, no reference to me and Soo treated as though she was some sort of parcel that was proving difficult to deliver. In the end it was agreed that Evans and I should be landed on Bloody Island to await the frigate’s departure. As soon as it was out past the
island of Lazareto, Evans would radio his base contact and Soo would be delivered to me in exchange for Evans. ‘I’ll have the Sergeant of Marines issue you with a gun,’ Gareth said to me. ‘You’ll have to sign for it, of course, and somehow it will have to be returned.’ He turned back to Evans. ‘I take it you’re not armed.’
Evans laughed. ‘Not much point, one man against a whole ship’s company.’
Gareth nodded and dabbed a number on the intercom system. ‘Have Sergeant Simmonds report to my cabin and tell the First Lieutenant I want a word with him.’ He went to the curtain and pulled it back. ‘Escort Mr Evans to the head of the ladder,’ he told Davison. ‘He’ll be sending his boat back to Cala Llonga. And have our own launch stand by to take both these gentlemen across to Bloody Island. After that have it brought on board and stowed.’ He turned to Evans. ‘Whilst you’re out in the open I suggest you take the opportunity to report in to your base that you’re okay.’
Evans stood there for a moment, frowning, his eyes fixed on Gareth who had already turned back at the sound of a voice calling him over the intercom. It was Mault and he told him, ‘I want the ship closed up ready for sea, Number One. We’ll be getting under way as soon as MEO can give us the necessary power.’
‘We’ve received new orders, have we?’ Mault’s voice was a mixture of curiosity and doubt.
‘You’ve just received my orders, Number One, so get on with it.’ There was a crisp finality in the way he said it that even the thickest-skinned could not fail to understand. ‘We’ll be out of here by 22.15 at the latest.’ He switched off before his second-in-command could ask any more awkward questions and turned back to Evans. ‘When you report in, tell your people to bring Mrs Steele down to Cala Llonga ready to take her out to Bloody Island. I don’t know how far away she is, but I’d like her down on the beach there before we sail.’
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