Kay made a helpless gesture. 'They simply referred to the danger of industrial espionage.’ 'What did you do about it?’ I wanted to know.
'I got back to London as fast as I could make it. After top-level discussions the Navy decided to keep the tightest security watch over Jetwind's proving voyage, which was then scheduled to take place from Montevideo to the Cape.’
'How does Mortensen's murder tie up with what you're saying now?’ I asked.
'My guess is that Grohman's Molot Command ordered him to kill him when the Soviet Navy lost track of Jetwind’
'Lost track? There was no secret about her position! Her journey was publicized throughout the world!5
'Lost track — from the sky. Satellite track. I think something happened which sent a powerful shock through the Red Fleet.' 'But why?'Kay asked.
'This ship had to be stopped from going anywhere near this Molot place, in case the alleged Soviet base was exposed.'
I said ruefully, 'And I, too, unwittingly headed for Molot from the Falklands.'
'I suppose that's why Jetwind was hijacked. She had to be stopped because she was invisible to Red spy satellites. Grohman knew he was safe in the Falklands — that's why he holed up there after Mortensen's death. Then you came along and threw a spanner in. the works. He never bargained you would get past the warship which was meant to detain Jetwind — orders for which originated, no doubt, right back at Soviet Naval Command HQ.' 'God, what a mess!' exclaimed Kay. 'Keep your eyes on the cards,' Tideman warned again.
'John,' I cut in. 'Don't you think you exaggerate the whole situation? Grohman is just a puppet whose strings are being manipulated. Suppose he is to lead an attack on the Falklands. There's no way he can count on a force of any size. All he can do is lead a small group of terrorists against Stanley and occupy the place. It would be a demonstration, a gesture — not an operation of international scope such as you have in mind.'
'Unfortunately, there's more to it than.that. The Navy's anti-submarine specialist team decided that if Jetwind proved herself, a fleet of five Jetwinds would be built. Their true purpose would constitute the newest and most novel form of anti-sub weapon. The projected fleet has even been given a name, the Cape Horn Patrol.'
There was a long silence. We threw down the cards mechanically, unseeingly.
'The operational area of the Cape Horn Patrol would be the Drake Passage and its ocean approaches. It has one overriding assignment — to monitor the passage of nuclear submarines. Drake Passage presents a unique problem in tactical detection which no major navy has yet mastered. It is impossible, because of the bad weather and lack of bases, to monitor the passage of nuclear subs by conventional means. If any navy attempted warship patrols of the Passage, they would be detected within hours by satellite. Powered ships are heat-emitting. They are easy game for infra-red sensors. In addition, engines make a noise a give-away to counter-sonar tracking by submarines. Submerged subs are out of satellite reach. Never forget that a nuclear sub is a noisy machine, that is its Achilles' heel. The latest Soviet Titanium class is, fortunately for the West, the noisiest of the lot.'
'What can Jetwind do that they can't?' Kay wanted to know.
'Jetwind, being wind-driven, is the silent stalker, the silent killer,' he said. 'In Southern Ocean conditions she is fast — faster than most warships can travel safely. She also offers what no powered vessel can — a stable operations platform. Her sails hold her hull down on the water.
'So you see,' he said, 'Jetwind is in fact a fast, silent, satellite-undetectable weapon against nuclear subs in an area which also happens to be a naval choke point of major global strategic significance.' I said slowly, 'Now we have it, John.'
He shook his head. 'At present something "else alarms me — rather, did alarm me.' Kay and I waited anxiously.
'I was afraid that after the hijacking Grohman might turn back to the Falklands,' he said. 'That would have put paid to Jetwind’s major proving test.'* I felt my stomach muscles cramp. 'Is there more?' asked Kay, now even more alarmed.
He nodded. 'I told you, I'm pretty sure the Reds panicked when they couldn't pinpoint Jetwind by satellite. The United States Navy and Britain have arranged a similar sort of test. The U.S. Navy is diverting one of its latest Seascan spy satellites to check on Jetwind at a given place and time, roughly four hundred miles southsouth-west of Gough. A little over three and a half days from now Jetwind must pass at a point directly beneath the line of the Seascan satellite. This nadir position will offer the best test of her undetectability.'
'Why select that particular spot in the Southern Ocean?' I asked. 'Because drifting icebergs and ocean and weather conditions are very similar to the Drake Passage’ he answered. 'The location was very carefully chosen.' 'And if Jetwind doesn't show up?'
For the first time in many fake deals Tideman lifted his head and looked squarely at Kay and me.
'The Seascan is in transit from one secret destination to another -1 don't know where,' he replied. 'It is the once-only time and place for the test. No Jetwind at the rendezvous, no Cape Horn Patrol. It's as simple as that. The sailing ship will be dead — for ever.' 'How much did Paul know of this?'
'I wish I'd had time to find out,' he answered. 'Remember his intense interest in your so-called hallucinations? They were supposed to have occurred roughly in the Seascan rendezvous area.' He paused and added, 'And that's where the Orion crashed.'
'I have something to add,' I said, 'something I didn't mention even to Paul in regard to my "hallucinations". To. this day I'm not sure whether I saw it or not.'
Tideman leaned forward; his elbows banging on the table. 'Okay, say it now — what was it?'
'I thought I saw a submarine. She wasn't moving. She was at anchor, moored. Loading something. Then she was swallowed up by the mist.'
Chapter 24
'We've got to retake the ship!'
I was saying next morning to Tideman what I seemed to have repeated a hundred times since the evening before. Tideman's revelations about Jetwind's value as a space-age weapon had left me with a feeling of bewilderment. I had slept badly. It was before breakfast in the sick-bay, and we were waiting for an early Cape news bulletin. Radio reception on Kay's little set was improving. The deduction was that we were shortening the distance to Cape Town. There was no way of establishing our position, even roughly. Tideman and I had speculated about it as frequently as I had reiterated my determination to recapture the ship. We were aware that Jetwind hadn't altered course and was still following my planned route to Gough. We were also able to estimate her speed to within a couple of knots; Grohman kept her going like a train.
The strain of his long vigil was telling on our guard. He would fidget in his seat, then take a pace or two up and down the outer glass-partitioned office, keeping himself alert until his relief arrived.
Tideman nodded in his direction. ‘To get at him, we have somehow to get past that glass partition. As things stand, we have no hope of a surprise.' 'They hold all the trumps,' I agreed.
'All but one,' he answered. He thrust his hand into his 'slide-rule' pocket. 'This.'
'Keep that hidden, for Pete's sake!' I said. 'We've got to find or create the opportunity to use it. It's not only our lives that are at stake. There are all the other consequences. I'm also desperately worried what they'll do to Kay.'
'I don't like the sound of Kyyiv either,' he replied. 'If they got their hands on her at Molot, I fear she's done for.' 'Meaning?'