The shivering hadn't stopped. I don't know if Parks had noticed. It felt like a fever, without the temperature, cold, if anything, the skin clammy. I'd had a row with Kim: she'd said, 'You've got to sign in at a hospital for a bit. Shock needs treatment. It's as important to treat shock as if you were bleeding to death. I know this, I've been trained and I've seen what happens if people neglect shock. It can kill.'
The worst of it was that she probably thought I was carrying on out of bravado, but that was not the case, it was not, my good friend, the case at all. I would have given a great deal to report to a hospital and flop out onto a bed with nice clean sheets and a gentle nurse to wipe my fevered brow and hold my hand, a very great deal. But this, if you remember, was the last chance I'd got of bringing home Barracuda, however thin, however desperate.
We'll talk about that when we meet. Apostolos doesn't want anything said before then. We need to keep open minds.
Apostolos Simitis.
The voices coming in to the recorder weren't always as intelligible as that. They were coming through a mass of unrelated and conflicting sounds – other voices, music, static, interference, coming in on six channels from the six transmitters, and Parks was doing what he could to keep them separate and edit them before they went onto the tapes. He was sitting like a spider in the middle of a dense array of equipment – amplifiers, modifiers, input balancers, audio monitors, with signal-strength needles swinging across the dials the whole time.
He'd started editing and recording the moment I'd placed each transmitter and pushed the contact under the rubber shield; by the time I'd reached here at three this morning he'd filled three sixty-minute tapes, with nothing much on them in the way of voices: most of the crew and passengers had been asleep.
'You all right, are you?' he asked me.
'I'm fine.'
He'd noticed the shivering, then, but of course that wasn't alclass="underline" I must have looked like something out of a car crash when I'd got here. She'd said the blood loss wasn't critical but I'd need to have the dressings changed in twelve hours. That thing had ripped flesh off the whole of the upper arm and left the triceps exposed. 'I'm not a doctor,' she'd said, 'I could be up on criminal charges, practising medicine on you and not even reporting it.'
I don't think the shock was because of the wound; there was the lingering horror of having been out there with the huge dark shape of the vessel blotting out most of the surface overhead while those bloody things had come at me through the open expanse of water like the angels of death.
'More tea?'
Said yes.
He was looking peeky himself, hadn't slept since transmission had started nineteen hours ago, hadn't taken a break, because I'd told him we mustn't miss anything, mustn't miss a word.
'Don't fancy anything to eat?'
'No. Don't let me stop you.'
I didn't think I'd ever want to eat again; I was just this side of nausea, slumped here in the big lopsided armchair stinking of iodine and God knew what else. 'It's normally the dog's bed,' Parks had said, 'but I've put him in the kitchen.'
But you shouldn't have come here, darling. This is a terribly small ship. I told you, I'll come to your cabin whenever I can.
That had been in French. So far we'd heard English, French, German, Russian and Japanese coming in to the tapes. There were five women on board, three of them secretaries. We'd heard several people identified by name during conversations: Takao Sakomoto, Simitis, de Lafoix, Lord Joplyn, Abraham Levinski, Stylus von Brinkerhoff. We'd heard only the first names of the women, except for Madame St Raphael.
He said he'd cover that sort of thing at the meeting. I couldn't make him budge.
Parks was watching me, and I nodded. It was the third time we'd heard people mention a meeting.
'I wish they'd say when,' I told him.
'That's what we're after, is it? Some kind of meeting?'
'We're after anything we can get.'
'I see.'
His tone told me he thought I was playing it close, shutting him up, and that was true. Anything at all going onto the tapes from the Contessa was by its nature ultra-classified, except for the private conversations, and if the batteries held out long enough to give us the scheduled meeting we could be listening to material as vital as the briefing that Erica Cambridge had brought off the ship. It could give us the whole of Barracuda.
'If we get what I'm hoping for,' I said, 'they'll want you to come with me to London for special debriefing. Consider this stuff Ears Only for Bureau One, you know what I mean?'
'Crikey.' The kettle was whistling and he said, 'Look, could you -'
'Stay exactly where you are.' I got up and went over to the stool where he'd set up the makeshift canteen, and the ceiling came right down at an angle and I threw a hand out behind me and broke the fall and lay on the floor listening to the constant rush of static and voices, and Parks got off his stool at the console and I told him to sit down again and get on with what he was doing, we mustn't miss, floating in front of me, the canteen floating in front of me, miss a word, not a word.
Got up and tried again.
'You ought to have something to eat,' Parks said.
So I found some bread and made the tea and went back to the armchair. 'Bread?' I asked him.
'Not just now.' Sitting there like a leprechaun on his toadstool, face pinched with fatigue, eyes nickering as he monitored the signals, all I'd offered him was some bread, poor little bugger, as soon as I felt a bit better I'd go and find some eggs or something.
… He is to be eliminated.
But how can that be done? Toufexis is protecting him.
We own Toufexis. He will be given the task of eradicating crime throughout the United States, once the new order is established. He'll do as we tell him.
Interference came in and saturated the voices, then cleared a little.
… He's too dangerous now. We used him to work on the tapes for the selected commercials at the studios and that was fine, but then Apostolos brought him aboard here and gave him too much trust, in my opinion. He's now privy to very sensitive information on the whole project, and his behaviour is becoming a little irrational, as perhaps you've noticed. Brink agrees with me. He is to be allowed to go ashore once more, and Toufexis will be given instructions… This is… but no later than…
We were both crouching, Parks and I, watching the console, but static was coming in overwhelming bursts.
'Talking about Proctor?'
'It sounds like it,' I said.
Parks knew about him; Ferris had sent him in to search Proctor's flat for bugs the day after he'd cleared out and gone to ground. I wasn't surprised they'd decided to put him out of the way. The last time I'd talked to him he'd looked perilously near the brink, with his psyche undermined by cocaine and subliminal indoctrination, and by now he could be coming slowly apart.