by John Creasey
When Palfrey stopped, there was only that hushed tension – followed, after a while, by a rustling of movements among the spellbound men.
Someone whispered: “Has he gone?”
Palfrey raised his hand, palm outwards, for silence.
The man to whom Palfrey was speaking said in a low-pitched, resentful-sounding voice:
“What do you mean, it can’t go on?”
“This kind of arm’s length negotiation,” Palfrey explained. “We must at least know what you want. When we know that, it might be possible to work out some agreement. By far the best thing is for us to talk. May I come and see you?”
There was another period of silence. Someone coughed; the President turned and glared at him.
Garri-Garri said: “On one condition, Dr Palfrey.”
“Naturally.”
“I will send for you if you bring Leah with you.”
Palfrey said: “Yes.”
“You accept?”
“Of course,” Palfrey said. “All I want to do is talk to you.” He was winding hair round the forefinger of his left hand again. “Is that the only condition?”
After a pause, Garri-Garri said: “Yes. Except—”
“Ah.”
“You bring no offensive weapon.”
“No,” said Palfrey. “No weapon.”
Garri-Garri asked: “Palfrey, are you prepared to surrender yourself to me without condition?”
“I hoped it was obvious,” Palfrey said. “We up here haven’t a chance of coming through this without grave losses unless we can talk to you. Chance has made me the best liaison officer. I know a great man when I deal with one. You could have destroyed the whole of the British Navy, but satisfied yourself with one ship. So – I knew that I was dealing with a man of great humanity.” He closed his eyes, as if to shut out some evil vision: “Very great humanity,” he added. “And the first man ever to rule the deep, too. I cannot impose conditions; I have to accept yours. I have to place my trust in you.”
He stopped, and his eyes were screwed up, as if in pain.
Garri-Garri said: “You will do exactly what I told you, this morning, except that you will be in the speed boat with Leah. You will start from Nice at five o’clock in the morning, steering on the same course. You will have no weapons with you. Don’t fail me this time, Dr Palfrey.”
There was a click of sound.
Palfrey took his hand from his forehead, without patting down those ruffled hairs. “And I thought he was wrong,” Joyce said in a whisper which carried to every corner of the room. A man said: “It is unbelievable.” Smythe stood up and walked slowly towards Palfrey, every movement stiff, his hands clenched as if he intended to attack Palfrey physically. Palfrey did not move. Mandell called:
“Smythe!”
“Do not interfere,” advised Tarov.
The President’s beard was bobbing, although he uttered no word.
Smythe simply held out his hand.
Palfrey murmured politely to the many who came up to congratulate him, found Tarov’s handshake very powerful, Mandell’s quick and hard, the President’s feather-weight; but then, the President kissed him on both cheeks. When it was all over, Palfrey had a light meal in his office, talked for ten minutes to Joyce and Merritt, and then went along to the bacteriological department of Z5. At this hour, no one was on duty. Here in this laboratory blood tests were made on people from all parts of the world, mostly people suffering from suspected poisons. Here, poison gases were tested; here, all the theory of bacteriological warfare was known. Great charts on the walls showed the extent of the preparations and of the dangers. Palfrey, who had access to every department, went to a long, glass-doored cupboard marked Incubating bacteria. He hesitated, opened the door, then took out two small phials. They were of plastic, and unbreakable. He put them into his pocket, and went out, locking the door.
Joyce, who saw him leaving, said to Merritt: “He’s taken something to kill himself with, if it gets too much for him.”
Merritt said: “He’s the last man in the world who would commit suicide, but—”
He did not finish.
There were tears in Joyce’s eyes.
An hour later, Palfrey was in the air, heading towards Nice. Messages had gone out, to all Z5 agents; he felt confident that word would reach Stefan, and there would be no difficulty now. He carried with him a memory of the tension in that big room, the effect of all he had said on the Patriarch, the fact that the gradual build-up in his mind had been so completely justified.
When he reached Nice, Stefan was waiting at the airport.
They stood at the side of the bed in the hotel where Palfrey had first taken Leah, looking down on her. She was exactly as she had been when he had last seen her. Stefan, one hand at the foot panel, rubbed his chin and said almost unbelievingly: “She has never stirred. Even while I was lifting her from the small boat to the larger one, she did not move. It is almost as if she were dead. Sap—”
“Yes?”
“Why do you think she is so important to Garri-Garri?”
“It’s the one thing I don’t yet know,” Palfrey said. “We’ll find out.” He felt relaxed and tired – as he might after a long, sleepless night. “Certainly he wants her back.”
“The obvious question is – if he is so anxious about her, why did he let her come away?”
Palfrey nodded as they moved out of the bedroom into the sitting room. The window was open, and the afternoon air was blowing gently in, stirring the tassels of the sunblind outside. The scene was peaceful again. Some bathing stations were back in service, although there were very few deck chairs, and even fewer mattresses. Some umbrellas struck a gay, defiant note. Children were playing, a few people were swimming. Palfrey knew that this was typical of the scene in a hundred places – a gradual return to normal. There was one good thing: the governments’ reassurance that there had been no cause to panic had been justified; there would be less risk of a general panic, now.
“I think I can answer that one,” Palfrey said.
“How?”
“It did not occur to Garri-Garri that she was in any danger,” Palfrey said. “There isn’t any doubt that he’s sent his envoys up here over the years, and most of them have escaped, a few have killed themselves. This was the first time he came into open conflict. Obviously he had to send an emissary he felt certain would be most effective, and the risk to the emissary would not seem great. The one known weakness in this man, Stefan – an overwhelming vanity, an assumption that he cannot lose. The way he reacted on the telephone, the arrogant belief that he alone can be right, the fact that he bowed to flattery which nearly made me sick – this man’s middle name is vanity. And the character of Garri-Garri fits in perfectly, from what we know of it.”
“You may be right about the reason for letting her come,” Stefan said. “But I think there must be a stronger reason for being so anxious to get her back. One of his men was killed – he hasn’t shown any hesitation in killing ordinary people. It isn’t conscience, or—” he broke off, for there was a tap at the door. “I think this is Higgins,” he explained; his smile momentarily radiant. “There is a remarkable man, Sap – a really remarkable man! I think he would give both his arms to come with you to the Deep.”
Palfrey said thoughtfully: “It’s an idea, too.”
“You can’t take any more chances,” Stefan protested.
The door opened, and Higgins stamped in. He was wearing a pale blue T-shirt which fitted his chunky body too tightly, and a pair of old flannels, and had a towel round his neck.
His hair looked as if it were growing in a dozen directions at once. He gave it a perfunctory rub with the towel as the door slid to behind him, and turned his periwinkle eyes on Palfrey.
“So you’re back. Haven’t touched her, have you?”
“No,” said Palfrey. “I daren’t.”
“Absolute miracle,” Higgins declared. “I still can’t really believe that it’s happening.” He went to the bedroom door, opened it, and stared at Leah for a few seconds, then came back and closed the door with a silence which was almost reverent. “Miracle. What’s this about you taking her back where she came from?”
“I shall, tomorrow. They’re his terms.”
“Getting some sense,” said Higgins, gruffly. “Didn’t want to lose her yesterday, that’s why I helped Steffy.” That anyone could use any kind of diminutive for Stefan was almost ludicrous. “But to barter for a deal – that’s more like it. You’ve got to come to terms with this chap, Palfrey. Don’t be in any doubt about it. This is the kind of secret that mankind’s got to have. No sacrifice too great.” He blew his nose on a grubby handkerchief. “Any chance of me coming with you?”
“Stefan just suggested it.”
“Well?”
“The Patriarch might decide that we both have to be sacrificed,” Palfrey pointed out. “On the other hand, he specified only that I shouldn’t take any weapon – I wouldn’t regard you as a weapon; would he?”
“Be a damned fool if he did,” Higgins said. “I would give the rest of my life for the chance of seeing this man, seeing where Leah came from. There must be more than one – many more than one. Will you take me?”
After a pause, Palfrey said: “Yes.”
“Sap—” Stefan began.
“None of your business, Steffy,” Higgins said bluffly. “You owe me this for my help yesterday, anyhow. If it hadn’t been for me you wouldn’t have had this chance.” His eyes were glowing, his voice was almost hoarse. “My God, I can’t wait – I just can’t wait.” After a pause, he added in a different tone: “Well, what about lunch? I’m famished. Going to eat here or down in the restaurant?”
“Up here, I think,” Palfrey said. He went across to the telephone and called for a waiter. Then he replaced the receiver and went on: “You know that you probably won’t get back alive, don’t you?”
“Nor will you, so that makes us square,” said Higgins. “What are you looking so preoccupied about?”
“We can’t understand why Garri-Garri is so anxious to get Leah back.”
“Queer chap in every way,” said Higgins, pursing his lips. “Tell you one thing that might explain it, though. I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant. Sneaked a specimen of her blood and had it tested – no doubt about it. Think that might be the answer?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE WHIRLPOOL
The morning was calm, the sea was like glass, reflecting the stars which gradually became fainter as the dawn spread over the land.
Palfrey felt inwardly calm.
He sat on one side of the little speed boat, with Higgins on the other side. He knew that aircraft were flying just offshore, and that ships had gathered fairly near the spot; he was to be followed in the hope of finding out where he went, and what happened. He saw Stefan, standing by the side of the jetty like a great statue. No one else was near, but some distance off the men who had been here yesterday were standing and watching.
Palfrey glanced at his watch; it was two minutes to five.
He raised his hand to Stefan. Higgins twisted round to look at the Russian, and said:
“I’ll be seeing you, Steffy.”
“I hope so,” Stefan said.
“Don’t be a pessimist,” Higgins reproved.
Palfrey started the motor; it turned sweetly, at a touch. He took the helm. It was one minute to five. He stared out to sea, just aware of the drone of aeroplane engines high in the sky, and the hum of a car somewhere near the harbour.
He increased the pressure on the throttle.
“Good-bye, Sap,” Stefan said.
Palfrey turned his head, smiled, murmured: “See you, Stefan,” and allowed the speed boat to move.
Palfrey stood staring at the calm sea. It was like heading towards eternity. He did not know whether Garri-Garri would take his word, whether there was any hope at all that he would see this world again. He knew that there was nothing else he could have done, and there was some satisfaction in knowing that it had worked out this way, and that he had at least a chance.
Higgins said: “Palfrey.”
Palfrey wished he was alone.
“Yes?”
“Don’t know what the next ten minutes or so will bring,” Higgins said. “Just like to say this – damn glad I met you.”
“Thanks.”
“Bloody nonsense!” Higgins roared, almost in the next instant. “We’ll get back all right. We’re going to find the secret of life.”
Palfrey smiled …
The speed boat was travelling at thirty knots, and its speed was increasing; forty-five knots was the speed he had been instructed to reach and maintain. He kept the course with little or no deviation. He did not look round at the coast. The last headland disappeared from his line of vision; now there was only a small ship to his left; soon, that disappeared. They had been travelling for fifteen minutes, and were a long way from land. The noise of the boat’s engine drowned the sound of the aircraft overhead.
He glanced round, at Leah. She was lying in exactly the same position as he had seen before, so superbly beautiful. Flawless. Was Higgins right? Was she to have a child?
The spray was cutting into his face, a slight wind was rising. The little craft quivered under the speed. Nothing at all was in front of him—
As that thought passed through his mind, his whole world seemed to explode, and he was appalled. For out of the calm sea, a great wave rose to an enormous height. It was about half a mile away, towering high in the sky, and was perhaps half a mile long. It cut off the view of the sea, and darkened the sky. There was no hope of avoiding it, no chance at all. Higgins stood up, clasping his hands as if in prayer, his chin thrust forward; he looked like an Old Testament prophet. Palfrey forced himself to keep his eyes open, to watch that seething mass of water, the top curling down towards him.
Then he saw the gap in the middle. There was a path through the wave. In that vivid moment he thought of the dividing of the waters in the Red Sea, and amazement drove away his fear. There was that smashing, cruel wave on either side and in the middle a patch of calm: and they were heading for the calm.
The wave was hissing and screeching about them, but quite suddenly Palfrey realised that they were in the middle of it, going round and round as if in the clutch of a whirlpool. He could not steer against it. He was thrown to one side, saw Higgins lose his balance, thought that he would fall overboard, and did not think he would have a chance if once he fell. Palfrey stretched out to try to help him, but before he did so there was a vivid flash. Instantly, a small craft rose out of the water, a tiny silvery submarine. It was alongside before he could move. The top opened, rather like the inverted hatch of an aircraft, and a man stood up. Almost at once, a second silver craft arrived, followed by a third.
It was as simple as being transferred from one boat to another in a calm sea.
Palfrey was helped into one; Higgins into the second; and Leah was lifted, gently, into the third. There was room for Palfrey to sit down in comfort, room even for him to stretch out his legs. The pilot – if pilot was the word, for the craft appeared to have no controls of any kind – sat behind Palfrey, who knew only that he was dressed in some kind of grey-green clothes, which revealed the unblemished skin of his arms and legs.
The hatch closed. Light which was so like daylight that it did not seem strange, glowed in the tiny space. Without a sound, the nose of the craft pointed downwards.
Palfrey felt as if he were in an aircraft hurtling downwards faster than the speed of sound. At first there was the translucence of daylight on the water. He saw fish flash past, a few big ones,
a huge shape which was like a shark. Soon, as they carved their way downwards, the water outside became dark; it was like being plunged into night without a moment of dusk. There was no sound, just swift movement. Soon he lost all sense of direction; for all he knew they might be travelling upwards instead of straight along. He had a sense of high speed, as in an aircraft, but heard no sound of engines and felt no vibration.
He began to lose count of time.
He had no idea whether he had travelled fifty miles, or five hundred, when he sensed that the craft was slowing down.
Soon he realised that they had stopped. He looked out of tiny windows on either side. They seemed to be hovering just as they would in a helicopter. Then he saw a silvery flash, and realised that it was one of the other craft. It was entering a huge, funnel-shaped cave. Cave? It darted in, and was lost to sight. Almost immediately, the second craft did the same thing.
Palfrey caught his breath, and thought: “We’re next.”
They headed for the funnel-shaped ‘cave’. Quite suddenly there was blackness, a stygian gloom terrifying in its opaqueness. He felt as if his lungs were bursting. He sensed that the man behind him was aware of this fear, and fought against showing how frightened he was – and then, as quickly as the blackness had descended, light came.
