'Is that why you shot a harmless American reporter?' I said derisively when he had finished at the instrument,
'Brockton was a spy!' he shouted. 'We caught him sending off a signal which would have wrecked our enterprise. That was his death warrant. He had to die!'
'Enterprise? That's a goddam funny word for murder and piracy’,
Grohman shrugged and went on in his hectoring tone. 'When Argentina freed itself from the colonial rule of Spain, the thieving British saw their opportunity in the upheaval which followed and stole the Malvinas from us. One American life is nothing beside that.'
'How can you and four gunmen hope to seize such a spread-out group of islands?' I asked. 'You might perhaps get away with it for a while in a little place like Port Stanley. Also, think of the international stink you'll create…'
Grohman seemed amused. 'You'll see, in a few days' time.'
'It will take more than a few days for Jetwind to beat back to the Falklands into this gale,' I replied. 'A few weeks, more likely.'
Perhaps Tideman felt that his continued silence was playing the situation a little too dumb.
He said, 'I'll back that up, as a sailor.' The emphasis was on sailor.
'Shut up, both of you!' retorted Grohman. 'Don't argue with me. I'm in command, and what I say goes. You are the enemies of Las Malvinas. Consider yourselves lucky that I do not shoot you out of hand. But I will let you live — provided you behave — for a few days. 'Until we reach Molot.'
Chapter 23
Molot was the riddle which bugged our long day in captivity in the ship's sick-bay. The ‘hospital' was situated underneath the port wing of the bridge — in exactly the same position but on the opposite side of my captain's suite. It had two curtained-off cubicles and a minute double 'ward' containing two surgical beds. A glass partition separated the sick-bay itself from an outer reception office, designed for a medical orderly. The sickbay did not seem to have had much use except as a junk room for ship's odds and ends. One of these was a survival suit stored on a hanger which, Tideman explained, was used in icy seas for inspection of Jetwind3 s drop keels.
'Molot?' I asked Tideman for the hundredth time. 'Where the hell is Molot?'
'It must be the base from which the attack on the Falklands will be launched,' he replied. 'That's about all I can guess.'
'But Grohman is heading away from the Falklands,' I pointed out. 'He's kept Jetwind going like a bomb all day. Away from his objective. There is no land — whatsoever — between the Falklands and Gough Island.'
'Perhaps Molot is a place we know by a different name — like Malvinas,' suggested Tideman. 'Even then, I don't get it. Grohman is holding Jetwind on the course you selected for Gough.' 'He's not doing it too badly either.'
'There's nothing wrong with his sailoring,' replied Tideman. 'He's sailing by computer. Maybe we could get an extra knot or two out of her manually.'
'The only possibility of land is the South Sandwich group,' I went on. 'But they're far to the south of our present course.'
'South Sandwich it might be,' said Tideman. 'But that doesn't mean much. Most of the islands are volcanic. They're all coated with ice being so near Antarctica. I've heard that the only way to land is by helicopter. They would be totally unsuitable as a base. What if Molot is another name for Gough?'
'No, John. Gough is a South African weather station. It's important — it's the only weather station in the central part of the Southern Ocean. Group Condor couldn't take it over without provoking a massive retaliation.'
'The same objection applies to Tristan da Cunha which is only a couple of hundred miles northwest of Gough,' he answered. 'If Group Condor occupied either of them, it would prejudice the Falklands attack in advance because the secret would be out. Also, any assault force would then have to cross twenty-one hundred miles of ocean in order to reach the Falklands.'
'Poor Paul!' I said. ‘I wonder if he got wind of Grohman's plans?' 'I'm in the same boat as Paul,' Tideman replied quietly.
'Grohman doesn't suspect a thing,' I reassured him. 'If he had, you wouldn't be here, John.'
'You're also living on borrowed time, Peter. Until Molot, Grohman said.'
It all came back to Molot. When night came, we were no nearer an answer. Suddenly the outer sick-bay door opened. 'Kay!' I jumped up to go to her.
'Keep back!' Grohman appeared behind her threatening with the UZI.
Kay and I looked at one another for a long moment. Her eyes told me everything. She was still pale but smiling. The guard warily pitched her suit-case inside.
Grohman looked strained. Holding down a crew of twenty-eight could not have been easy.
'She's to stay here,' he said briefly. 'It's not for the pleasure of your company, let me assure you. It's because I can't spare one man solely to guard her.' 'What do you expect me to say to that?' I asked.
'Listen, Rainier,' he said angrily. 'You and Tideman are expendable, understand? The final decision does not rest with me or else you'd have been overside already. This woman is not in the same category. She is valuable to us. Just as in another way Sir James Hathaway is valuable to us. A million dollars will help finance Group Condor's operations.'
I deliberately tried to rattle him. I would have been prepared to risk the second gun if I could have grabbed his automatic. Tideman, I knew, would back me to the hilt — the hilt of that wicked dagger, which he had managed to keep.
'You're going back to the Malvinas, you say — but you're heading in the opposite direction!'
Kay broke in. 'What possible use can I be to Group Condor! Who'll pay a million dollars for me?'
'You are an expert in sail aerodynamics — that is why you are valuable’ replied Grohman.
'Sail aerodynamics!' she exclaimed. 'What has that to do with killing and murder and unsuspecting attacks?'
'You play the innocent well,' said Grohman. 'But it doesn't wash. At Molot you will be transferred to Soviet protection. I have been notified that afterwards you will be transferred to Kyyiv in Russia itself where secret experiments are being conducted into sail aerodynamics.'
I was stunned; Kay was speechless. If Grohman got wind of Tideman's connection with the Schiffbau Institut's tests, he was a dead man.
Grohman looked triumphant. Perhaps it was his paranoid temperament which compelled him to boast of his superiority — in the face of murder.
'I have been to Kyyiv,' he said. 'We admit that the Schiffbau's experiments are ahead of ours. This ship proves it. You will be a valuable asset to our research team.' 'Kyyiv! Me! I won't go!'
Grohman stroked the finning along the UZI's barrel. It was a cat-like, sinister gesture.
'The decision is not mine whether to force you or not,' he said. 'That rests with Command at Molot. But I advise you not to push your luck too far.' 'Soviet Command, you mean?' I asked. He looked surprised. 'Who else?'
'Nothing will make me go to some secret test ground in Russia under threat!' Kay burst out.
'You have about three days to think it over before we reach "Moiot,' replied Grohman. 'Think about it well, Senorita Fenton. You will be treated well if you cooperate. Otherwise…' He shrugged. 'You bastard!' I said. 'You crazy bastard!' He swung the automatic on me. For a moment his eyes went kill-blank. Then he relaxed. 'Three days — that is all you have, Rainier!'