But they were going to have to cut themselves free soon, reverse their courses, re-anchor themselves to the rear section, and sail west as hard as they could for as long as their ships would stand the strain, trying to slow the giant down. And, according to Colin’s figures, even if the berg remained stable now, it would almost certainly tip over as it slowed. That was the backbone of their contingency plan. They proposed to slow the berg and test its stability over the next thirty-six hours. Then they were due to swing it round onto a more southerly heading, in preparation for running it directly into the mouth of Mawanga harbour. They reckoned — he and Colin and the mathematicians in the United Nations — that this would be the best time to tip it over if they could, rolling it south-westwards so that the waves it caused would run away harmlessly out to sea.
Well, that was out of their control at the moment. Right now Richard was like the skipper of a small ship watching for the arrival of a storm. There were limits as to what he could do other than to batten down, head for a safe haven, and prepare to ride it out if it hit. They had made all the preparations they could. They knew what their objectives were, short term, medium term and long term. They all had a clear set of orders which would cover everything that could conceivably go wrong. They would just have to get on with things and hope for the best.
‘Right,’ he said to Peter Walcott. ‘That’s it, I think. The line watches fore and aft can tie off on that.’ He raised the walkie-talkie to his lips and issued the orders. It was as though they could all feel Psyche begin to settle contentedly and take up the full strain once more.
‘Well done, all of you,’ said Richard, for this had been a long, complex, stressful job. He looked around the bridge. All the watch officers were nodding to themselves; he hoped it was with approval. ‘I’ll go back down to the isolation ward now,’ he continued a little ruefully. ‘The doctor wants me to keep reporting in for observation for a while. Apparently she’s preparing a paper on the effects of the harmattan.’ He paused. A chuckle ran round the bridge. Good, he thought. Things aboard Psyche were getting lighter at last. He turned back to Peter. The late morning light caught the ointment with which his hands and face were still covered and made them gleam. Unconsciously he rubbed a still itchy area of his wrist against his leg, leaving a smear of yellow on the white cotton of the boiler suit he was wearing. On his way out through the door, he turned back and added, ‘When everything has settled down, we’ll start to reduce speed. See what happens then.’
He had no sooner left the bridge than the radio officer stuck his head out of the radio room. ‘Titan’s just been on,’ he reported to his captain. ‘There’s a small squadron of helicopters coming over fast and low from the south-east.’
The others in the isolation ward had settled into a relaxed routine now that they knew there was no immediate danger. They looked upon it as a week’s welcome if unexpected holiday. To a man they were very pleased to be off duty and out of their watch responsibilities. It was really only Richard who found the place so irritatingly restrictive, but he was not the sort of leader who insisted on special treatment and although he was quite capable of exerting a great deal of pressure on Asha whenever it seemed to him that she was keeping them under observation for too long, he was in the end prepared to remain in her charge until she declared that he was fully fit for duty. There was, as he observed with some bitterness, no sense in keeping a doctor and diagnosing yourself. Just the way he said it put his listeners in mind of dogs and barking.
He came into his makeshift command headquarters cum ping-pong room almost at a run. He wanted to get through to Colin first and discuss his thoughts about the solidity of the iceberg. He also wanted to go through the records which John had made of their Geiger counter readings on their last visit to the berg, on the day he had found Henri LeFever and regained his memory. He was still worrying at a half-formed plan to try and use the movement of the berg when it rolled somehow to break off the irradiated section of the ice, if that was possible. Lost in thought, he crossed to his desk and began to sort through the papers there, looking for the pages full of John’s neat script and careful drawings.
Behind him, outside and away towards the bow of Manhattan, a small section of ice cliff broke free and slid into the roaring sea. The noise it made covered the sound of five helicopters touching down on the high ice three hundred metres up and five kilometres west.
Thank God the ships had moved out from under the overhangs, Richard thought, pausing in his search and listening to the thunder of ice and water in conflict. The constant rain of meltwater was being more regularly supplemented by chunks of sheer cliff face now. They would really have been in trouble if the large sections of ice had started to collapse directly onto the decks, or, heaven forfend, the bridgehouses themselves. It would have been as dangerous as being hit by high-powered missiles.
They touched down in diamond formation and all the men were out in moments, lined up and ready for final briefing. Gogol walked slowly to the front and looked over the expectant ranks. ‘What these people in their gigantic ships are being asked to do is very dangerous and almost impossible,’ he began. The dreamlike state which excitement, the promise of action and the massive dose of morphine engendered held him firmly in its grip. ‘The iceberg they are towing is too large for adequate control. Their ships are too puny to dictate its course by more than a degree or so. The waters through which they are sailing are shallow and fanged with coral; the channel they have chosen is deep but narrow and hard to follow. The slightest error or deviation will completely upset their pathetic plans. How easy it would be for an accident to happen. How almost inevitably must disaster strike!’
He looked at them, remembering how his voice used to boom and rumble like sonorous thunder at a time like this. He almost imagined that it could do so again; that it was doing so again.
‘We are that disaster! We are the force of the storm which will turn them one degree to the north. We are the wind and the waves which will drive die ice onto the reefs and wedge it there to melt and run away.’
He listened, imagining he could hear his ringing words echo away westwards on the wind. That it should have come to this, he thought. That it should have come to this for him of all men.
‘What we will do is this,’ he said. ‘The four helicopters detailed will place themselves where their armaments can cover the ships either individually or in pairs. The fifth, my command helicopter, will deposit on each ship a commando of half a dozen men who will seize the bridge and take the captain hostage. Then we will take over the engine rooms and hold the engineers so that we can dictate both course and propulsion. There will be no resistance under the guns of the Hinds. We will not even need to round up the crews. They will be helpless without their officers to guide them. And, once we are in place, we will order the change in course required. Before the end of the day, the iceberg will be wedged immovably on the coral reefs which reach out south and west from the shores close by here. When the iceberg is thus disposed of, we will return to our helicopters and vanish. No one will ever know who we are or why we did what we did. But I know, and I will tell you.’
He leaned forward, narrow-eyed, intense. ‘It is for Russia we do this! Make no mistake, our orders come directly from Moscow and we cannot hesitate. This iceberg which they call Manhattan must never arrive in Mau. If it does, the damage to our beloved country will be incalculable. There may even be a civil war! Imagine it: Moscow itself reduced to another Sarajevo! Our parents, brothers, wives and children reduced to destitution. Starvation. Death. It will happen if this iceberg comes safely to Mawanga harbour. It must be destroyed, and it is we who will destroy it, for the glory of our country and no matter what the cost!’