“We can assume that the hands concerned are perfectly trustworthy, I take it?”
“Yes, they’ll be all right, Shaw. I’ll have the best men on it, old Company’s trusties. And the job can be done entirely in the hold — no one not directly concerned need know anything about it. Nothing to worry about there. You can leave that side of it to me — I’ll see no one talks!”
“Right, sir.” Shaw hesitated. “I think the ship’ll be in the clear after this, and I could hand over responsibility for REDCAP to the senior MAPIACCIND man, he’s reliable enough, but I’d like to leave the keys with you, sir, if I may—”
“What d’you mean — are you leaving the ship?”
“Yes, sir, I think I’ll go along with that fake job myself. As I said, I’ve a feeling I’ll see something interesting — and that it’ll include Andersson. He’s disembarking at Fremantle anyway, remember. I believe this is where we really bowl him out, once he’s seen the crate going ashore.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. There’s just one other thing, though. It’s time we made sure there’s no danger to the ship — I mean, that bomb business we were worried about earlier. There could be something planted near Number One hold, and whether REDCAP’s there or not, I’m not risking my ship any further, Shaw.”
“I don’t think that’ll be the case, sir. Not now. They’re after something more lethal than that.”
“All the same,” Sir Donald insisted, “I’m going to make sure. It’s not practicable to make an exhaustive search and get everybody wondering, but I’ll pass the word quietly to all Heads of Departments to keep a careful watch in their own sections for anything that looks — well — out of place. That’ll be just as effective.”
When Shaw left the Captain’s quarters he drafted and despatched a long signal to Captain James in Sydney, and soon after that the naval and military commands in various parts of the Commonwealth got busy; there was much telephoning between Canberra, Sydney, Bandagong and Fremantle. Arrangements were made for a military convoy to pass from Fremantle to Bandagong and certain information to this effect was duly leaked by the various senior officers concerned.
During the afternoon, aboard the New South Wales, Siggings, in white but grease-stained overalls and carrying a bulky canvas bag of tools and other equipment, made his way towards the manhole into the double bottoms. Just before he got there he was intercepted by the Chief Engineer.
The Chief said, “Oh — Siggings. Going down the D.B.’s?”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Well, see, take a good look round.” The Chief tilted his cap and scratched his head. “There’s something up, I don’t know what. Captain’s passed the word that we’re to look out for anything that looks as though it oughtn’t to be where it is. He sounded a bit mysterious… anyone’d think we were going to blow up!” He smiled, put a hand on Siggings’s shoulder. “I don’t think any suspicious character’d ever get into the D.B.’s… but anyway, lad, if you see anything funny-peculiar, just let me know, eh?”
“Righto, Chief.”
Siggings, whistling between his teeth, went on towards the manhole and wormed his way down. Flat on his stomach in that long, shallow, fetid compartment at the very bottom of the ship, he crawled and dragged himself along to Number Five tank immediately below the vessel’s reactor, where he stopped and fumbled with his canvas bag. He brought out the square metal box. Rolling on to his back, he pressed the base of the box against the steel deckhead, ramming it home hard. The watertight, heat-resistant suckers gripped almost magnetically, and when Siggings gave the box a pull it remained perfectly firm, just as though it had always been there.
He crawled backwards along the tunnel-like space, and soon afterwards he reported to the Chief Engineer that everything was normal in the double bottoms.
At about the same time as Siggings reported all correct, the small thin man was going ashore in a motor-boat from the Tungtai, now lying off the north Australian coast. He was going ashore together with a bulky, encased object, a very heavy object which was being handled with great care, to land in a remote spot inshore of Melville Island.
Here, in due course, he was met by two men and escorted to an aircraft which took off immediately. A few hours after this the Tungtai, now steaming fast away from the coast, and — genuinely this time — bound once again for the Persian Gulf, was intercepted by a frigate of the Royal Australian — Navy out of Darwin and was searched from truck to keelson.
But by this time it really was too late, and there was absolutely no excuse for holding the tanker.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Early next morning the New South Wales made her first Australian landfall and slid into Gage Roads outside Fremantle.
Here she anchored to await the routine immigration and medical inspections by the Commonwealth authorities. These completed, she weighed and proceeded inwards, moving majestically up harbour along the breakwater to edge in to the jetty where she was greeted by a big, cheering crowd. The gangways were sent across. Soon after, Judith was leaning over the fore end of the veranda deck and watching as a big crane moved along rails on the jetty and got into position alongside Number One hold. Shortly after that, the hatch covers came off; a huge container was lifted carefully up and lowered gently on to an army vehicle waiting on the dockside. Shirt-sleeved soldiers in bush hats, big, rangy, sunburned men, started to lash the crate down with heavy rope.
Soon afterwards Judith contacted Shaw.
She said, “He’s seen it all right.”
“Did he see you?”
She shook her head. “No, not where I was watching. I only saw him coming down from the sports deck, but he couldn’t possibly have missed seeing the crate.”
“Good!” Shaw hesitated a moment, then he took her hand. He smiled down at her. “Look after yourself, Judith,” he said. “And don’t worry. I believe it’s going to be all right now. If… if you find yourself at a loose end in Sydney, or want any help, get in touch with a friend of mine at the Garden Island naval yard. His name’s Tommy Foster, and he’s a good chap. Promise?”
Puzzled, she said: “Why — yes. But I’ll see you in Sydney, won’t I?”
“Well, that’s the idea. But you know as well as I do, things don’t always work out according to plan in this game. It’s as well to be ready for that.” Rather uncomfortably he added: “Anyway, Judith, we’ve got to part company soon.”
She reached out, not looking at him but twisting her fingers round a button of his jacket. She said quietly, “Yes, I know that. But I’ll be thinking of you just the same, Esmonde. So you take care too.”
“I always do that.” He took her shoulders in a hard grip, bent down and kissed her lightly. Then he turned and strode away.
Sir Donald Mackinnon was talking to Shaw in his day-cabin when there was a tap at the door and the Staff Commander came in.
Stanford stood aside, said: “Major Francis, sir.”
“Ah — good morning, Major.” Sir Donald got up, shook hands with a tall, stringy, bronzed Australian in uniform. He asked genially, “I suppose you’re in charge of the road convoy?”
The Australian grinned widely, hitched at his drill trousers and the holster at his waist. “That’s about it, Captain.”
“Well — she’s all yours now, thank the Lord!” Sir Donald smiled. “Damn glad I am to be shot of it, I can tell you.