I was met at the top by one of the officers, I can't remember who. He took me to the Captain's day cabin where we had breakfasted — was it only that morning? I barely heard him tell me the Captain would be with me shortly as I tried to marshal my arguments, my mind perversely concentrated on all the forms of torture I had heard and read about, a picture there as vivid as the day I had seen it — on a beach in Mali, a palm-frond hut, and lying there in his own excreta with the flies crawling, the only man I have ever seen tortured to death. His face — I could see his face still, the lips chewed to ribbons, the teeth protruding white and the eyes starting from his head. And then I was thinking of Soo as I had last seen her, laughing as she had left meon the quay at Addaia.
I went over to the settee and sat down, suddenly tired, the two images merging, so that in my mind's eye I saw them as one, the Arab's tortured features superimposed on Soo's. I don't remember how long I sat there, numbed at the vision of what might happen to her if Gareth didn't take his ship out of Mahon. This wasn't just a matter of Ismail Fuxa and his personal ambitions. It was bigger than that, much bigger, Fuxa just a pawn in a game being played far away from Menorca behind closed doors. Political figures with hot lines and satellites at their disposal. A young woman, held as a hostage — that was nothing. A unit of flesh. Disposable. Just as this ship was disposable, the men I had lived with on the hurried run from Malta…
'Glad we were able to contact you.' His voice was flat. It seemed tired, and he didn't smile as he crossed the cabin, pulled up a chair and sat down facing me. 'I don't know how long we've got. Not long.' He sounded resigned, his face grey as though he hadn't slept for a long time. I thought he had aged since I had seen him that morning, the broad forehead puckered deeper, the lines at the corners of eyes and mouth more pronounced, and he just sat there staring at me dumbly.
'Where is she?' I asked.
He gave a little shrug. But he didn't say anything. It was as though he didn't know how to begin.
They've contacted you, have they?'
He nodded.
'So where is she? Where is she being held?'
Then you know.' He seemed relieved, the knowledge that he hadn't got to break the news to me releasing his tongue. 'I sent across to Bloody Island for you as soon as it was dark, but you weren't there. Then we saw lights in your place at Gala Figuera, so I took a chance and sent young Leslie Masterton in to see if you were there. I'm glad you were.' His eyes were fixed on me. 'What happened? Do you know?'
I told him briefly of the scene that had greeted me, and then, unable to restrain myself, I burst out, 'It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't pushed your way into our lives. It's your bloody fault. All your fault.' And seeing that image again in my mind's eye, I leaned forward and grabbed hold of him. 'Who was it came for her? Who were they that grabbed her so brutally. Benjie — that little dog of ours — was shit scared. He's always so clean, and a brave little beast normally. Those bastards must have been rough with her.'
'All right, all right.' He was holding up his hand, pleading with me. 'You've told me how they took her, and you're right, it's because of me. I'm sorry. It's my fault.' And then, his voice suddenly stronger, 'But it's happened. You have to accept that. We both do.' His tone took on a note of authority. The question now is how we handle the situation. They started piling on the pressure for me to take the ship out shortly after two o'clock local time, an emissary from some.sort of military commander. He came out in a speedboat from Cala Llonga. I wouldn't allow him on board, of course, and I told him my position was unchanged I could only put to sea when I had orders to do so. The same thing I had told that man Fuxa. Until then I would remain here. He came out once more, threatening to open fire on me, and I warned him that if he did so I had the authority of the British Government to take what action I considered necessary to defend my ship. In short, I asked him to tell his general not to be a bloody fool and push me that hard.'
'Soo,' I said. 'What about Soo?' My voice was too high and I tried to get a grip on myself. 'All you've talked about so far is your problem. I'm not interested. It's my wife I'm concerned about.'
'Do you think I'm not concerned? What the hell do you take me for?' He straightened his shoulders, his hands clasped tightly. 'I'm sorry.' The anger was gone from his voice. 'My problems are my own. I agree. But they do concern you.'
'No, you/ I said. 'Not me. My concern — '
He suddenly banged the coffee table between us. Will you listen, for God's sake. I've told you. We haven't much time. And my position, as Captain of one of HM ships, is very relevant to what has happened to Soo. I have my orders, and the fact that she's a hostage — ' He was interrupted by a knock and his eyes flicked to the doorway. 'Come in, Leading Seaman Stanway.' He was always very punctilious about rank and I had to sit silent while he went through a whole sheaf of messages.
'We may be an old ship,' he said, as he dismissed the young seaman, 'but they've fitted us out with a pretty sophisticated communications set-up so I'm getting a steady stream of messages, news briefs, and of course we're picking up secret naval information and orders. Besides Victor Sykes, who is not only fluent in Spanish, but also speaks French, German and Italian, I have a man on loan from one of the oil companies who speaks a number of the Arab languages, also a PO who has recently completed a Russian language course.' He was still looking down at the messages in his hand. 'That Russian cruiser was sighted visually just south of Spartivento at 16.03- She was steaming at thirty knots plus. The course and speed of the other ships I mentioned suggest that they will rendezvous with her fourteen miles east of La Mola shortly after midnight. So it's like I said, we haven't much time.'
'Time for what?' I was losing patience with him. 'It's Soo I'm worried about. I want to know where she is, whether she's all right, and I want her back — safe.'
He didn't say anything, his hands clasped tight on the wadge of papers, his shoulders stooping forward. God! he looked tired, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders and it was too much for him. 'There's a signal here says a D-20 class destroyer, two frigates and some fast attack craft have just left Barcelona. They'll be joined by a couple of subs.' Even his voice sounded tired. 'There's some French warships about to sail from Toulon. They're too far away, of course, and they're not members of Nato. The Italians are even further. The earliest any of those ships can be off the entrance here is 03.00. That'll be at least two hours too late.'
'Why are you telling me this?' But I knew why. I had been right about his role. 'You're going to stay here. Is that what you're saying?'
He shrugged, an almost Gallic gesture, the palms of his hands spread.
Silence then, both of us thinking our own thoughts. He got slowly to his feet and began pacing up and down. Could Instill persuade him? 'If you could pretend to leave. A gesture. Enough at least to get them to return her…'
He turned on me then, his voice rising on a note of anger as he said, 'Don't be a fool, man. You're not dealing with amateurs.' And he added, 'You don't know Pat. I do. He's cold-blooded, ruthless. That's his nature, and all his adult life he's lived in the cold-blooded, ruthless world of violence and terrorism.'