Shaw nodded, faced her, said grimly: “Now just listen. This is tremendously important. Are you quite sure there’s nothing else at all you can tell me — anything that may help?”
She pursed up her lips, frowned. She said, “There’s absolutely nothing else, honestly.”
He rubbed his nose, shrugging helplessly. That answer had sounded convincing. The girl was perfectly genuine— but what an insane little idiot she’d turned out to be! He’d better cypher a message for Latymer and set his mind at rest — if that was the word — as to where the girl was. He said tautly, “All right. And now you’d better have my cover-story — just so you don’t go and put your foot in itl”
Shortly after the liner was past Capri, Shaw got his summons to the Captain’s quarters. He went along at once; and, as he reached the foot of the stairway leading up to the officers’ accommodation, he saw the man again, the man with the penetrating eyes. He gave Shaw only a cursory, uninterested look before going into the library. But once again memory vaguely stirred and Shaw felt just a little uneasy.
CHAPTER SIX
The liner’s Master — Commodore Sir Donald Mackinnon, K.B.E., D.S.O., R.D., R.N.R., senior Master of the A. and P. fleet — had dismissed his steward, and he poured the drinks himself. Colonel Gresham was up there as well, sitting in a bar of the lowering sun which came through the day-cabin’s after ports, touched Gresham’s sandiness to a growing bronze, ran on over the thick blue carpet, sparkled on brightly polished brass fittings and expensive panelling.
Ponderously Sir Donald crossed the cabin, the sun glinting now on the gold of the four stripes on either shoulder of his white, starched uniform. He handed Shaw a glass of gin-and-bitters, looking at him from under bushy white brows as he loomed, tall and heavy, above Shaw’s chair. Like his ship, he was massive, impressive.
He said in a deep, carrying voice: “I never did like having that article aboard, Commander. And then when that signal came in from London, saying you were joining …” He gave a friendly, rolling laugh. “That’s not meant to sound unwelcoming, of course.” He looked directly at Shaw as he sat down. “Well? All I know so far is what’s in that crate, and that you’ve got some connexion with it. Now, how much farther can you put me in the picture?”
“I’ll tell you what I can, sir, but you’ll have to excuse me if there are a few omissions.” Shaw told Sir Donald and Gresham about Lubin and the vague threat which Latymer believed existed to the ship as a result. He also mentioned the rumours about the Chinese troop movements, but said nothing about Donovan or the other sources. When the Captain had listened, attentively, to Shaw’s story he took a mouthful of gin, swallowed it. He took another, thoughtfully, draining the glass this time, then set it down rather hard on a small table beside his chair.
Smacking a heavy hand on the arm, he said: “You know — I don’t think they had any business to put that damned thing aboard a ship like this.” He added, “It’s been a queer voyage even this far.”
“In what way, sir?”
Sir Donald pushed out his lower lip and frowned. His eyebrows, drawn together, made a thick white line which stood out in contrast to his leathery face. He said slowly, “It’s hard to say, really. Oh — nothing concrete’s gone wrong, I don’t mean that. It’s just a feeling. You learn to sense these things after a few decades spent carting the rich around the world!” He laughed. “This time, they don’t seem to be enjoying themselves as much as they should when they’re surrounded by all the glamour of a maiden voyage.” He frowned again and shook his head. “They’re pernickety— much more so than usual. The Purser’s had a hell of a time.”
“D’you think anything’s spread, sir?” Shaw asked.
“Don’t think it’s that. Do you, Colonel?”
Gresham replied jerkily, “No. Certain there’s been no leak. Think the old spirit’ll come soon, Captain. Early days yet.” Sir Donald ran a hand over his jaw. “Possibly.” He pushed cigarettes across, said briefly: “Help yourself.”
“Thank you, sir.” Shaw took a cigarette, lit it, blew a cloud of smoke. He said, “It’s hard to know where to begin on this job. I know that doesn’t sound very professional, but there it is.”
“I suppose you can’t do much more than look and listen,” Sir Donald remarked. “However, you can count on any help you want from me. I’ll do all you think necessary to safeguard this confounded machine, shoft of hazarding my ship or endangering my passengers. I’ll be delighted to get rid of it, I can tell you,” he added with feeling. “Shaw, can you put this — er — threat into more concrete form?”
“I wish I could. It’d be easier to meet if we knew what it was. It’s all so vague. Largely, we’re working on conjecture, on sheer guesswork, but my chief seems convinced the ship’s in danger.”
Sir Donald asked sharply, “If he’s so certain, why don’t they off-load the thing en route? Why in heaven’s name go on possibly risking the lives of my passengers?”
Shaw lifted his shoulders. “Just because it’s so vague. Certain people in England aren’t taking it as seriously as they might. Come to that, we have to admit that our information could be wrong — but I’d swear it isn’t.” He took a deep breath, glanced at the Captain. “Personally, I think we have to face the fact that the threat could be one of two things— either some one’s planning to seize REDCAP, or they’re planning to do away with it altogether. Blow it up.”
“Blow it up aboard, d’you mean?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I think that could be the case. We can’t rule it out, anyway.”
“But it’s — it’s fantastic!” Sir Donald’s square, red-brown face was hard and angry. “Are they all dimwits at the Admiralty and the Ministry? Don’t those fellers at home realize what an explosion aboard this ship would be like? With that nuclear reactor down below — and the ship full of unsuspecting passengers — why, it’d be a holocaust!”
Shaw said grimly, “I’m certain my chief realizes all right, sir, and I know I do. But as I said, no one’ll believe us, or rather they won’t believe in our sources of information. It’s my job, partly, to convince them.”
“But who’d want to blow it up — where would that get them?” Sir Donald swung heavily round on Gresham. ‘What d’you think, Colonel? Think there’s anything behind this?” Gresham gnawed at his straggly moustache, then spoke in a clipped, abrupt voice. “Sounds awfully melodramatic, doesn’t it—”
Sir Donald rapped, “It certainly does!”
“Ah — one moment.” Gresham wagged a finger. “Didn’t mean to suggest we shouldn’t take it seriously. Think we should. Shaw spoke of the Chinese. Can’t afford to take a single chance with those blighters, y’know.” He drew in air and moustache in about equal quantities. “If Lubin’s gone over to them — well, one just can’t say, what?” Gresham fumbled in his pocket, brought out a pipe and pouch. He raised an eyebrow at the Captain, who nodded. Gresham took his time filling the pipe, then he looked up and said: “Always thought this REDCAP arrangement was too wide open. MAPIACCIND, of course, that’s a tremendous thing, but REDCAP’s far too vulnerable, d’you follow? Too much depends on it, too. It’s — er — too much in one place, if you see what I mean.”
Shaw murmured, “Too centralized?”
The Colonel’s eyes brightened and he waved his pipe eagerly. “That’s it exactly. Just my point. Everything’s centred on REDCAP. REDCAP goes — everything goes.” He lit the pipe, sucked noisily for a moment. “Let’s assume Shaw’s right and it is China that’s behind this. So happens I know the Chinese pretty well, their mental processes an’ all that. Brought up out there, actually. Lived in Shanghai as a child, went back there often before the war — my father was in business out there. Shipping agency.” The moustache was sucked in, blown out again. “It was obvious even then they’d try for world power one day. And now, d’you see, they’re a long way down the road on the nuclear tack… He broke off, shrugged expressively.