After a further hesitation he telephoned the base at Williamstown. It took an age to get connected with Andromeda, and when he finally got through to Scovell he barely knew why he had called. To kill time, to put off the moment when he would have to call Claire and tell her.
Scovell sounded clipped and formal. Probably thinks I don’t trust him in control.
‘Nothing to report, sir. The dockyard is still working on the radar and the starboard outer shaft. But everything’s in hand.’ He coughed politely, impatient to hang up. ‘Was there something, sir?’
‘No. Not really. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ He put down the receiver.
There was no point in delaying any further. Claire would be at her quarters now. He opened his pocket diary, the scribbled dates and numbers blurred as he gripped it with both hands.
Blake reached for the telephone and then gave a start as it began to ring.
A bored voice said, ‘You’re through, sir.’
For a moment Blake thought it was Stagg again, but this time it was Quintin.
He barked, ‘Glad I found you. What with Commodore Stagg and the Navy Office, your Admiralty and the Spanish consul, I’m about ready to drop!’
Blake pictured Quintin as he had last seen him in his wheel-chair.
‘You shouldn’t get involved, sir.’
‘Don’t talk such rot, and stop calling me sir. We’re both the same rank, even if I am damn near old enough to be your father.’ He broke off in a fit of coughing. In a more controlled voice he continued, ‘Can’t talk much over the phone, but things are moving at this end. You can forget about courts of enquiry, being sent home and all that stuff. You are going to be needed right here, and soon, if my information is correct. But enough of that. Walls have ears.’
Blake found he was holding the telephone with such force that it was a wonder it did not split in halves. The absurd contrast between his scene with Diana and Quintin’s guarded comments about the immediate future were enough to push anyone over the edge, he thought.
Quintin said, ‘I think we’ve become very close, what with that bloody air crash and what followed. I know a lot about war, what it costs, what it can take out of a man. I’m very fond of Claire, too, but then you know that.’
Blake sat very still, his heart suddenly pounding at his ribs.
Quintin said, ‘She’s been through a lot, and when I saw what was happening between you two I thought I should add my weight. There have been people asking questions, snooping about like spies, but being in charge of intelligence here gives me an advantage. I heard about your wife’s arrival in Sydney, and what I could not guess about it I dragged out of that spineless halfwit Livesay.’
Blake heard him take a deep breath and then say, ‘Now hold on to your hat and don’t hang up on me. Your wife has tried to get you both together again, is that right?’
‘Yes, but I don’t see. . . .’
‘You will, Dick, you will.’ Quintin lowered his voice. ‘The man she’s been living with in London, and he outranks both of us pretty considerably, by the way, wants her to get a divorce from you then marry him, all very neat and dignified so far. He’s an ambitious man and wants no scandal. It would not look too smart to take the wife of a VC, now would it? So she’s to divorce you, after laying the blame firmly at Claire’s doorstep, with all that involves. You know the idea, man away from home, service love-affair, mud-slinging all round.’
Blake’s spirits sank. He did not know what he had been expecting, but he had held on to a hope that Quintin’s blunt involvement might help in some way.
‘I know. She told me she’ll start proceedings unless I agree to her proposal. But she said nothing about the man, nor that she expected to marry him.’
Quintin spoke very slowly, so that Blake should not miss a word. ‘She failed to allow for one small thing. She got herself pregnant. Whether it was by our senior officer or somebody else doesn’t matter much. The man she wants to marry would run like a scalded cat if he thought there was a nice juicy scandal in the offing!’
Blake said, ‘And her father would not help with this. It’s about the only thing he would draw the line at, where she’s concerned.’
‘Yeh. I got that much out of Livesay. Did you ever meet such a creep?’
Blake felt light-headed, as if he was going to be sick.
‘So Diana needed me just for one night. To provide her with a case.’
Quintin sounded suddenly cheerful. ‘Right! Think about it. How you would have looked. Giving your wife a child even though you were having an affair with Claire. She would come out whiter than white, and you and Claire would be right in it up to your necks!’
Blake asked, ‘How did you get all this out of Livesay? It’s more than I’ve ever heard him say in his life.’
Quintin chuckled. ‘I threatened to tell the admiral he was no good out here and to have him sent back to the UK with a duff report. Rank has its privileges, and boy I was happy to use ’em after what he tried to do to you.’
‘Thanks for telling me. I don’t know what to say. A few minutes ago I felt like jumping off the harbour bridge. I’m still a bit stunned by all of it. Sickened at being caught with my guard down again. I should have known. People don’t change. Especially Diana.’
‘I’ve got to go. I promised my wife.’ Quintin added brightly, ‘I feel a whole lot better myself!’ He slammed down the telephone.
Blake sat for a long time just looking at the opposite wall. It had very nearly worked. It would have been easy for Diana, especially as she had discovered how much he cared for Claire Grenfell. To protect her he might have gone to bed with Diana. Just to get rid of her. To wait until she had got herself into a situation where she was in danger for once. He stared round the room. And she was out there somewhere, expecting him to call her. Unless Livesay had told her what had happened.
The telephone rang again and Blake picked it up. Diana or Jack Quintin, or perhaps Stagg with some crazy scheme for catching his German raider.
She sounded very close, as if she was standing beside him with her mouth to his ear.
‘I hoped I’d catch you.’ She sounded unsure. Out of breath.
‘Claire! I was just going to ring you. To try and explain –’
‘Please, don’t talk. I want to tell you. What I’ve been thinking about. Everything.’ She gave a quick gasp, like sob. ‘You don’t have to explain anything to me. I love you, Richard. It’s so easy to say when you can’t see my face or touch me. I know about your wife. . . .’
‘Yes, but you don’t know what’s happened –’
‘Please, you mustn’t talk. Not yet. And I do know. She came here to see me. It was horrible to start with. I’m no good at that sort of thing. And then I thought of you. Us. In that terrible raft. With the shark always there. It was then I began to fight her, Richard. When she threatened me and my family I told her to go to hell.’ She tried to laugh. ‘Not like me at all.’
‘Claire, I do love you.’
‘I know. I think I knew from the beginning. Captain Quintin told me the rest. He must have seen I was worried. He’s been pretty wonderful.’
Blake said, ‘I must see you. I’m so sorry to get you mixed up with this. But I’ll make it up to you. Nobody will hurt you any more, I promise.’
She was half laughing, partly crying, as she said, ‘What’s it like in Sydney?’
Blake looked at the window. It had begun to pour, the rain like steel needles across the nearest rooftops.
‘It’s suddenly very beautiful!’
‘Here, too!’ There was a metallic click and she said huskily, ‘Sorry. That was your ring. It hit the phone. It’s still there, I’ve not taken it off since that night.’
He said suddenly, ‘Can you come, Claire? Here, to Sydney. I’m not certain how long it will be before. . . .’ No, he had to shut that from his mind. Nothing mattered now. ‘I want to see you so much.’
She could not control the tears any more. ‘Tomorrow. Captain Qu
intin will fix it. I love you.’
Blake lay back on the bed, his fingers interlaced behind his head. He was still lying there, staring at his own thoughts, when darkness closed over the city.
In another part of Sydney, Commander Victor Fairfax stood by a window looking out into the gloom, but seeing his wife’s reflection in the glass as she finished packing his suitcase.
She turned and looked at him, her breasts half bare in the special nightdress which she had bought for the trip.
‘I still don’t see why you’ve got to leave so early tomorrow?’
He shrugged. ‘You know the Navy, Sarah. Always at the crack of dawn.’
She crossed the room and put her arms round his neck and pressed herself against him.
‘God, I shall miss you, Vic.’
He stroked her bare back and laid his chin in her hair. She was worried, and so was he. Neither wanted to hurt the other on the last night. It was always the same. Except this was worse.
He said, ‘It will soon be over and done with, I expect. Or another false alarm. I wonder what the skipper’s doing?’
She recognized his attempt to change the subject. ‘I mean, why all the secrecy? Surely you can tell me? You’re off tomorrow and I shall go back to Melbourne. It’s not as if nothing has happened!’
He tilted her chin with his fingers. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s top secret. You know the score.’
‘You mean, it’s dangerous?’
‘Even crossing the road’s that, my love.’
‘Well, you be careful. I love you so.’
He pulled the ribbons on her shoulders and she stood back from him to let the nightdress fall to the floor. She did not take her eyes from his face as he lifted her breasts in his hands and ran his fingers over her body.
Then with great care he laid her on the bed and undressed while she watched him.
Then she said, ‘You’d better come back to me! Otherwise. . . .’
The rest was lost as his mouth covered hers and with sudden urgency they joined together.
In Williamstown, a small, inoffensive man paused to watch some tipsy sailors lurching towards the heavily-guarded dockyard gates. He smiled at them, a gentle, amused smile, but the sailors were too far gone to notice. Beyond the wired gates the ships stood like unmoving blocks of steel, peaceful now that the rivet guns had stopped their din and the last of the workers had gone home.
The man was a clerk in the dockyard, too frail for military service, but very useful when it came to ledgers and lists of requirements for the ships under construction or repair.
He was on his way home, at exactly his usual time, pausing only at this one shop to buy some cigarettes and an evening paper. Then he would take his dog for a walk, and sit down for the evening meal with his wife and mother-in-law. All as usual.
The man behind the shop counter nodded to him and passed over a pack of cigarettes. The little clerk gave him in return a small envelope. Then he went on his way, knowing his dog would be at the gate, waiting impatiently for him.
The shopkeeper bolted the door and went into his back room, opening the envelope without haste and whistling quietly to himself.
In an hour the contents of the envelope would be flashed across the ocean, a thousand miles or more. To the German raiders.
14
Last Chance
COMMODORE RODNEY STAGG took a heavy lighter from the desk and lit his cigar with great concentration.
Across the desk, his face lined with fatigue and pain, Captain Quintin watched him warily. He had been in his office for most of the night, in spite of his wife’s protests, and Stagg’s booming cheerfulness was getting on his nerves.
Through the windows he could just discern the early morning sounds of Melbourne coming to life for another day. But the office, and those adjoining it, were already busy, and had been for the past two days. The clatter of a teleprinter, the murmur of voices on telephones, the occasional clink of coffee cups, it was as near to a flagship as Quintin would ever get now.
Stagg asked, ‘What time’s Fairfax getting here?’ He looked meaningly at a wall clock. ‘In my day . . . .’
Quintin groaned. ‘This is your day, sir. Or soon will be.’
Stagg grinned. ‘Sure thing. It’s all dropping into place, and I must admit we couldn’t have had a hope in hell without your department’s aid. Yours, too, of course.’
Quintin gave up. ‘True.’
The commodore’s massive shadow loomed over Quintin’s map of the Indian Ocean and at the latest markers placed there by his staff.
‘No more sinkings reported. Not from the raider anyway. It makes sense. The bastard’s running out of fuel and supplies. I’ll bet my pension that Blake was right about the Spaniard. That’s two supply ships down and another prevented from reaching the area.’
Quintin smiled wryly. It was a change for Stagg to admit anything at all.
Stagg added, ‘You’ve checked everything yourself?’
Quintin sighed, hating the smell of the cigar. ‘Yes. I had a signal from NOIC Aden. A fleet oiler, the Empire Prince, is ready to sail. She’s loaded with fuel, too. Any extra subterfuge like filling her with ballast instead of oil would only involve more people. We want security down to a minimum of personnel.’
Stagg nodded, his copse of hair shining in the bright overhead lights.
‘Good thinking.’
Quintin said, ‘The Second Naval Member was not slow to point out what would happen if we make a mistake. The raider will get his hands on enough fuel to last him for months, and we’ll have egg on our faces.’
‘Worse, if I know him!’ Stagg moved back to the map. ‘A small, hand-picked crew of volunteers, with Fairfax in command. I’m not sure about him though.’
‘Hell, sir, he’s a good man. His captain says so, and I agree.’
‘Huh. Well, we shall see. What about the latest on the German agent?’
Quintin grinned. ‘He’ll be taking his dog for a walk about now, before he goes to work.’
‘The bastard. I’d like to choke him to death with my own hands!’
Quintin said, ‘Any other way would have been a risk. To lay a false trail to some useless Q-ship or the like would have been smelled a mile off. This way the Germans will know it’s real and that the bait is worth the taking.’
A Wren looked through the door. ‘Commander Fairfax, sir.’
Stagg growled, ‘About bloody time.’
Fairfax entered, carrying a briefcase and looking surprisingly fresh after a flight with the Navy’s mail.
It took Quintin about fifteen minutes to describe the mission and what was required. When he had finished he said, ‘If you’ve any thoughts, I’d like to hear them.’
Fairfax glanced at Stagg, but there was no reaction.
‘I’d say it was a good idea, sir. It could work.’
Stagg said shortly, ‘Could? It bloody must!’
Quintin said, ‘It was the dockyard office which gave my people the idea. There is no other place where so much information comes in about stores and equipment which will be needed by incoming ships, berths and slipways required for this or that type of vessel. The Empire Prince will make a signal when she’s on her way to Williamstown. To say that she has suffered damage and needs immediate dockyard facilities on arrival. That way she will be able to point out the necessity of off-loading her fuel without delay. I imagine that our little spy will be only too eager to pass on that information.’
Fairfax asked, ‘You said that he had already sent a message to his contact, sir?’
‘Yeh. I had it spread around that I am preparing a decoy which will be sailing in a couple of days from Perth. I have even drafted a signal to that effect, repeated to Fremantle and Andromeda.’
Stagg had been watching Fairfax’s profile with some irritation. ‘Well?’
‘If I was the German captain I’d think it about perfect, sir. The two cruisers away in another direction with their decoy, while a real, fat prize c
omes unexpectedly from Aden. I’d also know all about Empire Prince. She was captured by the Germans in Holland at the outbreak of the war and later used as a supply vessel for the Bismarck. The Brits retook her and learned a lot from her gear which the Germans had fitted. Having no bases, they had equipped the ship for oiling at sea.’
Stagg looked at Quintin and said grudgingly, ‘He’s done his homework.’
Fairfax said, ‘We’ve had our differences, sir. But I still maintain I was right. I couldn’t have saved your men without losing every passenger under my command.’
Stagg rolled the cigar in his thick fingers. ‘Maybe. But if you’d been made to watch your boys lined up and slaughtered, and then had the little bastards going over you with their knives and bamboo needles, I guess you’d be a bit sour on the subject!’
It was as near to an agreement that they would ever reach, Fairfax thought.
He looked at the map and remembered Sarah’s arms about his neck as he had left for the airfield. They had become closer than ever, and the Navy’s casual acceptance of a marriage had given way to something stronger, something which, if he could stay alive, would last.
Stagg said slowly, ‘I’ve given orders for both my ships to be ready to sail tomorrow afternoon. It won’t do any harm for people to see us doing what we say we are going to do. It’s got to work this time. There’s a big troop convoy due at Cape Town shortly. The soldiers are needed for the Pacific. If we let the raider slip past us, that convoy will be delayed. The good old chain reaction which starts from the top.’
Quintin kept his face blank. ‘Never mind, sir, when you are at the top you’ll be able to change all that, eh?’
Stagg glared at him. Then his face split into a slow grin. ‘Sonofabitch!’ He made for the door. ‘I’ll be in touch. About Blake?’ He raised an eyebrow.
Quintin replied coolly, ‘I’ll tell him.’ As the door closed he looked at Fairfax and smiled. ‘Later.’
A young Wren entered with a tray of coffee and toast. Quintin liked morning toast, a habit he had gathered with the Royal Navy.
A Ship Must Die (1981) Page 22
