The Depths

by John Creasey

  “Oh,” Palfrey said, mildly. His hand strayed to his hair. “That’s a pity.”

  “I tell you—”

  “Shall I say good-bye to Leah for you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that if a single ship of any navy is sunk, I will choke the life out of Leah with my own hands,” Palfrey said. “And she’s such an attractive girl. Good-bye.”

  “Palfrey!”

  “I have a lot to do,” Palfrey said. “Good-bye.”

  “Do not kill Leah.”

  “I won’t harm her at all provided you don’t carry out your threats,” Palfrey said. “It’s as simple as that.”

  He took the receiver from his ear, hesitated, then put it down slowly. His lips were set in a thin line. His eyes were narrowed, and he stared at Stefan as if he could not see him. There was a beading of sweat on his forehead and his upper lip, and he was deathly pale.

  “Sap, you were right,” Stefan said quickly.

  “You think so?” Palfrey’s eyes nearly closed.

  “I’m sure. If he was so anxious to save this Leah that he would use the Nice wave as a terror-weapon, he wants her desperately. If he believes you will kill her—”

  “Ah. Did I convince him?”

  “I think so.”

  “I wouldn’t like to say,” Palfrey said. “He must know I’m as anxious that he shouldn’t touch the Navy as he is that Leah shouldn’t come to any harm. Stefan”—he stretched out and touched the big man’s arm— “he can, you know. That’s the dreadful thing. He can destroy the ships. I don’t need any convincing.”

  Stefan said: “I don’t, either.”

  Palfrey began to move about the room.

  “We know he can do it, so – what else can he do?”

  “He can control the seas.”

  “And anyone in control of the sea can control the land,” reasoned Palfrey simply. “Polaris is the deadliest weapon yet known to man because it cannot be sought out and destroyed beneath the water.” The sweat was still on Palfrey’s forehead, and heavier on his lips. “Stefan, if we don’t get this man, if we don’t stop him – it will be our fault.”

  “No, Sap”

  “It will be our fault,” Palfrey interrupted roughly. “We knew about the disappearances of the athletes from ships coming back from the Olympic Games, we knew about the disappearance of the Medici with sixty of the world’s best scientific brains on board, and then Venus of Milo, and about the individual disappearances over the years. We never looked beneath the sea for a malicious cause. How blind can men be?”

  “Sap,” Stefan said, “we’re looking there now.”

  “When it might be too late.”

  Stefan said, sharply for him: “What’s got into you? Why don’t you stop crying over spilt milk? You handled the man as if you had all the confidence in the world. Go on working, not reproaching yourself.”

  There was a moment of silence. Palfrey was about to speak when the telephone bell rang. He started again, a sure indication of his raw nerves. Stefan did not look away.

  Palfrey picked up the receiver.

  “Palfrey.”

  “We traced that call,” Alec Merritt told him. “It came from a ship in mid-Atlantic, relayed by radio telephone. It was beyond the range of aircraft. Ships in the vicinity have been asked to keep a look out, but”

  Merritt paused.

  “Go on,” Palfrey’s voice was taut, as if with anger.

  “I’ve checked with the Navy. The position of the ship from which the call came is not on any normal shipping lines. No large vessels are known to be in the area at all. It’s almost as if this came from a submarine. As if it surfaced to make the call.”

  “I see,” Palfrey said. “Thanks, Alec.”

  “Sap.”

  “Yes?”

  “The whole world heard what he said.”

  “That part of the world that matters,” Palfrey agreed.

  “Sap.”

  “For God’s sake don’t go on saying ‘Sap’!”

  “I can imagine how you feel,” Merritt said. “You probably see the implications better than I do.”

  “Spell them out for me,” Palfrey said stiffly.

  “The Admiralty heard that threat,” said Merritt. “The Admiralty doesn’t want to lose its ships. They don’t know why this woman Leah is so important.”

  “I know it,” Palfrey said. “But does anyone else?”

  “The Admiralty has referred to Downing Street. Downing Street has called a meeting of the Ambassadors of the member countries of Z5,” Merritt went on. “They want you here, at midnight.”

  “I see,” said Palfrey, and after a pause: “I’ll be there.”

  Stefan, who heard the conversation on the extension telephone, put down his receiver at the same time as Palfrey. Stefan spoke first, in a gentle voice:

  “How strong is your case, Sap?”

  “By ordinary standards, not strong at all.”

  “Could you justify taking the risk?”

  “I can feel justified,” Palfrey said. “It’s a fifty-fifty chance whether he will believe I will actually kill Leah.”

  “Will you?”

  “I would have to,” Palfrey said. “If he forces this issue and I don’t kill the girl, then I will never have any hope of fighting him.”

  He broke off at a sharp tap at the door, and added: “This will be Duval.” He called: “Come in.”

  The door was thrust open by a young captain, with Duval immediately behind him. Palfrey could judge from the expression on Duval’s face that the news was bad. He forced a smile when the captain drew himself up, and saluted.

  “Dr Palfrey, I have instructions to escort you to an aircraft which will take you to London. M’sieu Andromovitch, there will be a seat on the plane for you, also.”

  “So they mean it,” Palfrey said, gruffly.

  “Dr Palfrey,” Duval said. “The authorities here have taken the woman Leah from her room, and have refused to tell me where she can be found.”

  “That is so,” the captain said. “She is in our custody, Dr Palfrey. We shall take care of her until instructions are received from Paris.”

  “They mean to make sure I can’t harm her,” Palfrey said bleakly to Stefan. “They don’t think I’m a good risk.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  S.I.B.

  Palfrey stepped into the conference room in the underground headquarters of Z5 in London. Joyce Morgan was sitting at a small table near the door, with a list in front of her, ticking off the names of the representatives who came from the different member countries. The Secretary-General, looking almost severe with his pale face and close-cropped fair hair, sat on a dais with the year’s President of the Supreme International Body – known to those within the organisation as S.I.B. Next to Merritt on the other side was Ivan Tarov, the Russian Ambassador. On the President’s other side was Geoffrey Mandell, the special envoy of the President of the United States. These two men were very much alike physically, heavy-featured, dark-haired, rather solemn, even earnest. To look at, they might be expected to be at each other’s throats at every opportunity. In fact they worked well together, particularly in S.I.B. The President was Le Blum, of Belgium, short, dapper, with black waxed moustache and black waxed beard – and very dark clearly defined eyebrows.

  Palfrey paused by Joyce’s table.

  “Hallo, Joyce. What can you tell me?”

  “They’re very worried,” Joyce said.

  “The understatement of the year!” Palfrey smiled vaguely and went along to the desks which were in the well of the conference room. He sat down. No one else was there, but as the red upholstered seats filled up, one by one, Stefan came and joined him. There had always been and there would always be a
bond between these two men; when the Russian was at hand, Palfrey always felt more sure of himself. Now, he played with his hair as he said:

  “Anyone been getting at you?”

  Stefan smiled. “Tarov, of course, and Mandell.”

  “Together?”

  “Separately. Each really wants to know the same thing.”

  “What?”

  “Has Dr Palfrey taken leave of his senses?”

  “Am I mad?” Palfrey said. “Sometimes I think I am.” He looked round as the President said: “Will we need that?” Behind him was a small movie projector, so that a picture could be thrown on a screen which was visible to everyone present. “Or are they the mad ones?”

  Stefan made no comment.

  So far, Palfrey reminded himself, Stefan had made no commitment about his own views. He would be questioned by the delegates, as would Palfrey, and he would say what he believed – friendship would not influence him in any way. Was there any significance in the fact that he had not yet given his opinion?

  Merritt called: “Is everyone here, Miss Morgan?”

  “Yes, Mr Secretary.”

  “Are the doors sealed?”

  “Yes, Mr Secretary.”

  “Mr President,” the Secretary-General said in a clear aside, “the session may open when you wish.”

  To Palfrey it was like a court scene in a film or on the stage. The half circle of “judges”, the dapper President and his attendants on the dais, he and Stefan down here – he had been through this a dozen, a hundred times before, although never in such circumstances, never with the realisation that the mood of the delegates was almost entirely antagonistic.

  “Gentlemen,” the President began, “we have been summoned to consider a crisis of extreme urgency. We know the background situation. We have convincing evidence that many disappearances at sea have been due to the activities of one man, whose name we do not yet know. We have positive evidence that he is able to create extremely dangerous conditions throughout the oceans of the world. We know, from reports and photographs received during the past twenty-four hours, what he was able to do on the French Riviera.” There was a pause, then the lights dimmed, and some photographs were flashed onto the screen. The scene of destruction and disaster, the floating bodies and the broken boats showed in stark horror. “I do not think there can be one among us who is not fully aware of the danger from this individual,” Le Blum went on. “Is there?”

  He paused, to glance round.

  Chetnic, of Poland, looked at Palfrey pointedly.

  “A danger we should have known about long ago,” he said.

  Two or three delegates nodded.

  “Long ago,” echoed Palo, of Brazil. “Why haven’t we?”

  “I don’t think it is the purpose of this meeting to investigate that,” demurred the President. “The time may come later, but the immediate task is to decide policy for the next twelve – in fact the next four hours.”

  “If we know how it has been possible for this man to be so active for so long, it might be possible for us to decide the best course of action,” interposed Smythe, of Great Britain.

  Palfrey looked at him intently.

  Smythe was one of the old school, a conventionalist in every way; it was commonly said that he had been born half a century too late. He stuck rigidly to protocol, carried out the instructions of his government to the letter, and never yielded an inch to ease any situation. There was little doubt that he had been told to press for the release of the woman Leah, as “he” had ordered; how could the British representative do any less?

  “Dr Palfrey,” the President said, deferring to the others, “if you have any statement to make at this stage we will be glad to hear it.”

  Palfrey stood up.

  “None at all,” he said.

  “I’m not sure that is good enough,” Mandell put in. “It has been happening under our noses for a long time, Mr President.”

  “Dr Palfrey?”

  Palfrey, still standing, put his right hand to his hair.

  “I’ve no statement to make at this juncture,” he insisted.

  “Surely, if the meeting requests a statement—” the President began.

  “Mr President.” This was Meshnon, of India, another stickler for protocol. “I have said before at these conferences that there is too great a danger in reticence. We all understand that some secrecy must be observed in the carrying out of the operative work of the organisation, but that should not be used as a shield by Dr Palfrey, or by anyone else, to hide personal failure to meet one’s obligations. This is a serious, a very serious, failure. I am not convinced that the situation is as bad as we are told. I think it would be easy for us to allow ourselves to be panicked into taking the wrong action. Certainly if we require a statement, then Dr Palfrey should give it.”

  “I am inclined to agree.” The President’s beard bobbed. “Dr Palfrey, why are you reluctant to make this explanation? We are not necessarily implying that you have been incompetent, that the fault is in any way yours.”

  “Of course you are,” Stefan interposed, in a clear, loud voice.

  The President looked astonished, not only at the interruption, but also at the source of it. Stefan Andromovitch was known as the most diffident of men at such meetings. Palfrey looked startled, and glanced sideways at the giant. Tarov leaned forward, his lips compressed in a hint of an ironic smile.

  “When the President is speaking—” Merritt began.

  “We shall overlook that interruption,” the President declared. He was like a perky little sparrow; whenever he spoke that pointed black beard wagged like a reproving finger. “I repeat, we are not necessarily implying that any of the operative staff has failed, but—”

  “Mr President,” Stefan interrupted in the same deep voice, “I would like your permission to retire.”

  He stood up, towering over Palfrey, almost as tall as the men sitting on that raised dais. He gave a stiff bow, from the waist, and turned his back on the President. The surprise was so complete that no one attempted to stop him, or even to speak, until he had reached the desk where Joyce was sitting. Then Merritt called:

  “Andromovitch – please!”

  Stefan turned.

  “Well?”

  He looked not only massive, but furiously angry. The glitter in his eyes was like the glitter of steel under harsh white lights. His arms were straight by his sides, the fists clenched.

  “You are required to attend so as to give evidence and opinion.”

  “Evidence?” Stefan echoed. “Opinion? Here? Who is going to listen to either? You have made up your minds what you are going to do. From the moment you stepped into this room, nearly every delegate came to condemn Dr Palfrey. Since the session opened there has been nothing but insult and ingratitude to a man who—by all that is holy, a man worth ten times any one of you. The man to whom everyone here owes his existence. Have you forgotten the past? Have you completely forgotten what he has done now that you are so safe and snug – and smug?” His tone and his looks were scathing. “I am finished with this organisation. Finished for good and all.”

  He turned and strode towards the door, thrust it open, and stalked out.

  As the door swung to behind him, the silence of consternation fell upon the big room. Palfrey leaned back in his chair, smiled faintly, and tried not to show his gratitude and his admiration. He was quite sure that Stefan had done this to shock the delegates into a different attitude; it might even succeed. He patted down a little kiss-curl, oblivious of what he was doing, and looked up at the President.

  “We don’t seem to have pleased Mr Andromovitch,” Mandell remarked.

  “It is an unforgivable outburst,” Meshnon said, angrily. “Quite unforgivable.”

  “Was it perhaps justifiable?” Taro
v inquired.

  “Mr Andromovitch must be suffering under very great stress—” the Dutch delegate interpolated mildly. “Mr President – is the same not true of Dr Palfrey? Of us all?”

  “Why won’t Palfrey explain why this situation was allowed to develop?” demanded Smythe.

  Palfrey said, mildly: “Mr President – to explain and to present a case covering such an investigation as this would take several hours. To prepare it so that you could pass a true judicial judgement, would take several weeks, perhaps months. I—ah—I think Andromovitch was angry because he feels that this was an emergency session, and not a trial. If you wish to put me on trial at any time, I shall not question your authority. But I would have thought that you could find a more appropriate time. After all, we have less than four hours to make the decision – whether to defy this man or whether to let him have his Leah back. I came prepared to discuss that. I didn’t resent the fact that the woman was taken out of my custody, although that was a strong indication of lack of trust. I didn’t greatly object to being ordered here at a moment’s notice, when I could almost certainly be of more use in Nice. But I do object to wasting time. I—ah—I wonder if we know the reasons for the attitude adopted by so many delegates?”

  Tarov said: “What is that?”

  “Please, explain yourself,” urged the President.

  “I know why Mr Smythe is critical,” went on Palfrey. “He is nervous of what might happen to the British Navy – what might very well happen, too. It could, you know. This unknown man can cause underwater eruptions which would sink any vessel afloat. He can create the conditions in which there would be no survivors. That is the cold fact of the situation. If I were Mr Smythe, or the British Prime Minister, I would be very worried indeed. What particular factor is worrying everyone else? I find it very hard to believe that Mr Meshnon is particularly perturbed about the British Navy. Have there been other threats? Is everyone here with instructions from his government which way to vote?”

  Tarov said: “I am not.”

  “Mr President, I suggest we hear the case for holding the woman – there must be a strong one, or Dr Palfrey wouldn’t advocate it.” That was Arthurs, of New Zealand.