He muttered to Francis, “I suppose all this is necessary, but…"
“But you’re itching to be airbound for Sydney?”
Shaw said tautly, “That’s right, Major, I am.”
Francis looked at him shrewdly but said nothing more. When all was found to be in order the men were told curtly to get back in, and one of the armed guards jumped on to the running-board. Then the barrier was lifted and they were waved ahead, told to follow the directions of their escort.
Driving slowly in Shaw was amazed at the place which was to be REDCAP’s permanent home — if ever it got there — the place which MAPIACCIND had created out of the Australian desert. It must be about the biggest power station in the world — the biggest of all time; Shaw knew that it was planned to meet civilian needs as well as military, that it produced electricity for general consumption, like a genuine power station, as well as plutonium. In the centre of the huge area towered the four gigantic reactors, tall rectangular structures which were the core of the whole station, each with a dozen or so smaller buildings grouped around in a circle and linked to the main tower by frameworks which looked like bridges or grain elevators. The truck drove slowly past the ancillary buildings — buildings which made the place into a completely self-supporting unit: there were arcades of shops; there were sports grounds, canteens, full-scale restaurants, a theatre, bars. There were schools, and comfortable-looking staff quarters, neat bungalows each set in its own well-kept garden. It was just like a town in itself, a little chunk of culture and civilization hewn out of the desert, and it seemed to cover an area as big as a medium sized English provincial town.
Their guide directed them towards a big building which, he told them, was the Administrative Headquarters, and they stopped at the foot of a flight of steps. Francis, telling his lieutenant to keep the men by the truck for the time being, jumped out with Shaw and they went inside a big hall.
A hall-porter came forward and once again their papers were examined. Francis said, “I have orders to report in person to the Commandant.”
“Very good, sir. If you will please wait a few moments?”
For five minutes Shaw fretted and fumed in a waiting-room and then the hall-porter came in and turned them over to a messenger who led them down a long, rather bare corridor. The messenger stopped at a door at the end and tapped. They went into a high, plainly-furnished room with large windows looking out over what appeared to be the courtyard of a kind of Civic Centre. A man in MAPIACCIND grey, a young officer with a thin, dark face, came towards them. Shaw couldn’t place his nationality.
He greeted them smilingly, politely. He said, “I am the A.D.C. to the Commandant, gentlemen. I hear you have had a troublesome journey. I am sorry. Major Francis, perhaps you will be good enough to give me a full report of all that happened?”
He turned, went over to a desk and sat down. Francis said, “But look, I’ve got orders to report to the Commandant. I’d better make my report direct to him.”
The A.C.D. said diffidently, “That will not be necessary. The Commandant, you understand, is a very busy man. Commander Shaw he wishes to see, but you, Major — no.”
“But my orders—”
Still smiling, the A.D.C. raised a hand. “I am so sorry. I too have my orders. May I have your report, please?”
“Oh — very well, then. There’s not much to it.” Briefly Francis sketched in the events of the night before and the A.D.C. made his notes on a sheet of paper. Then he said,
“Thank you, Major Francis. I shall have this typed for your signature, and then your job is done. You will refresh yourself and your men and then after a night’s rest you will return to your unit. We shall be delighted to entertain you in the Mess, Major.”
“Well, thanks… Francis looked puzzled and put out, but he shrugged and turned to Shaw. He said, “Well, Commander, that’s that, I reckon. See you later, maybe?”
“If I’ve got time. I’ll have to get to Sydney as fast as possible.”
Francis grinned and stuck out his hand. “Right you are, then. Good-bye — nice to have had you along.” They shook hands, and then the A.D.C. rang for a messenger to take Francis back to the truck. He accompanied the Major to the door and when he came back he asked,
“Commander, have you any weapon?”
“Why, yes.” Shaw tapped his armpit.
“Then you will please leave it here. The Standing Orders say that no one is to enter the Commandant’s private office with arms. You will appreciate, of course, that there is the question of security.”
“Well… yes, I suppose so.” A little surprised, Shaw removed the revolver from its holster and laid it on a table. “That’s all I’ve got.”
“It will be returned to you on leaving. And now — you will excuse me.” The young man came forward, ran his hands quickly — and, Shaw fancied, with some reluctance — over the agent and then stood back apologetically. “Orders,” he murmured. “I am so sorry.”
Just a little angrily, Shaw followed the A.D.C. towards a door at the end of the room. The MAPIACCIND man knocked, threw the door open, stood aside, and announced Shaw, who walked forward to a big desk before a wide window at the end.
A squat, thick-set man rose to greet him, stretched out a hand. “Welcome to Bandagong, Commander Shaw. Welcome! My name is Mirskov. Please sit down.”
“Thank you, Commandant.” Shaw took a chair at the side of the desk. He coughed, said: “I’m sorry to sound pushing and impatient, Commandant, but it’s rather urgent I get to Sydney as soon as possible…"
Mirskov waved a hand. “In good time, Commander Shaw. First, there are just one or two matters which we must naturally discuss.”
Shaw said crisply, “There’s not much to tell you, I’m afraid, beyond what I said in my signal from the truck back down the road from Fremantle. You’ve got that?”
“Oh, yes, indeed—”
“Apart from that, there’s just this.” Shaw brought out the envelope handed him by Sir Donald Mackinnon, the envelope with the MAPIACCIND seal. “That’s the list of signals. If you wouldn’t mind giving me a formal receipt, sir?”
He handed the envelope over, and as Mirskov took it he seemed to catch his breath a little. He asked, “These are the signals — the operating signals for REDCAP?”
Shaw nodded. “Yes. As I understand it, they were to have been handed over to you by Colonel Gresham, by order of Geneva. And these are the genuine ones.” He explained briefly about the fake set held by Gresham, adding that he believed they might have been copied aboard the ship.
Mirskov’s eyes seemed to glitter oddly, and he said: “Indeed? Thank you very much, Commander Shaw.” He slid the envelope into a drawer and pressed a bell-push beneath the desk. He said nothing further, and almost immediately the door from the ante-room opened and a man came in.
Shaw glanced over at the doorway, and gave an exclamation, half rising from his chair. The man was — Sigurd Andersson. Admittedly he called himself a Swedish agent, but to find him walking gaily into the Commandant’s room at Bandagong was the last thing Shaw had ever expected. When he looked back in incredulous query at Commandant Mirskov, he saw that the squat man had a gun in his hand.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN