Medusa

‘’Fraid so. This has been planned. It was planned before ever they allocated us a berth alongside this bloody quay.’ He spoke quietly, more to himself than to his First Lieutenant. ‘And have a full Damage Control Party closed up, fire hoses ready to be run out and full pressure on the pumps when we need it.’

‘Internal Security platoon, sir?’

Gareth hesitated.

‘A show of strength, as you said,’ Mault added. ‘It might do the trick.’

Gareth didn’t answer, staring down at the quay. Already the crowd was drifting back, a group of them gathering round the motor cyclist. He was a barrel-chested, tough-looking man, his face almost square with a thick nose, and he had black curly hair that covered his head like a helmet. ‘All right, have the arms issued. Say twenty men under the command of that Marine sergeant.’

‘Simmonds?’

‘Yes. Perhaps it’s for this sort of thing he was posted to the ship.’ Gareth’s face creased in a grin, ‘I did wonder.’ And he added, ‘But keep them out of sight. A parade of arms is the last thing we want.’ And then, half to himself, he said, ‘About time I sent a signal to CINCFLEET telling them what’s going on.’ He went back into the bridge to telephone, and after that it was a long wait. Finally we returned to his day cabin. ‘No good my hanging around the bridge, looking anxious. They‘d begin to get the jitters.’

‘What about you?’ I asked.

He laughed. ‘Oh, I’ve got the jitters, of course I have.’ His steward appeared and he ordered some more coffee. ‘Care for a brandy with it? Or would you prefer Armagnac? The wardroom shipped some Armagnac at Gib, really first-rate stuff.’ But he wasn’t drinking now so I thanked him and said I was all right. We drank our coffee in silence, listening to the reports that began to come in over the loudspeakers: damage control first, then MEO confirming there would be full pressure on the hydrants, WEO to say the searchlight was manned. Finally the First Lieutenant’s voice announcing that the IS platoon was at readiness and fully armed. ‘God! I hope we don’t have to resort to that.’

‘You think it might come to that?’ I asked him.

He shrugged and went to the window, standing there, looking out, his coffee gripped in his hand. ‘That bunch isn’t gathered out there for nothing.’ There was a knock on the bulkhead by the curtained doorway and the Yeoman of Signals poked his bearded face in. ‘Signal from CINCFLEET passing a telex from Menorca, sir.’

Gareth took it, read it through, then handed it on to me. ‘Sorry about that. It looks as though you’re still suspect.’

The telex was short and to the point: Ref your query Michael Steele, his sudden departure confirmed authorities in their suspicions. Legal proceedings now being initiated for extradition Malta. For your information weapon used by Barriago still not found. There was no signature, and when I asked him who had sent it, he shook his head. ‘Everything on this ship that’s connected with Communications is classified. But as far as I know the source is absolutely reliable.’ He held out his hand for the signal. ‘Too bad. I wish I could have provided you with better news.’

I thanked him and got to my feet. ‘I’d best be going,’ I said.

He shook his head. ‘Not now.’ He glanced at the clock on the bulkhead above the desk. ‘Five minutes to get them off the company’s premises, ten more for them to reach the quay here.’ He finished his coffee and reached for his cap. ‘Time to go up to the bridge. Coming?’

I followed him into the passage and up the ladder to the bridge. The scene had changed very little, except that the crowd seemed to have grown larger. We went out on to the wing. A big searchlight was mounted now and manned, and the damage control people were lowering hoses on to the quay. No sign of the boarding party, but a Marine sergeant was standing by the davits on the deck below. Gareth called him up to the bridge wing. ‘I’ll give you the order, Sergeant, when I want your men paraded on the quay. Once there you’ll have to act as the situation demands. Your job is to see that all the ship’s personnel get back on board unhurt. But just remember this, any action you take will have political repercussions and will ultimately be exposed to the full glare of publicity.’

The sergeant stared at him impassively. ‘Aye, aye, sir.’

Silence then, just the thrumming of the ship’s machinery, a slight trembling of the deck plates underfoot, and men everywhere around the deck waiting and watching, while down on the quay the excited, nervous babble of Maltese voices came up to us as an audible complement to the constantly shifting pattern of the waiting crowd. I could see the motor cyclist in his black leather talking and gesticulating to the little group gathered round him, and there were others, shadowy figures, among the various groups.