As they had been silent in the pilot’s boat for the most part, and silent since they came aboard, so they remained silent in the lift. It powered up to the bridge and the doors opened automatically. The two men stepped out and Emily followed because she didn’t know what else to do. She found herself in a long corridor which stretched away on either hand to end in a heavy door closed tight against the storm. The walls behind her were of painted wood or metal, but the wall in front of her, from the waist up, was glass. There were doors in it across on the right and left, standing open. But she could see what lay behind them by simply looking straight ahead. She knew it was the ship’s bridge but it was nothing like she had expected it to be. It was more like something out of a science fiction movie, all flashing lights and glowing screens. And it was so big. And so empty.
She jumped a little and hurried forward to join her two companions who had been moving forward as she had been standing staring. The three of them entered, to be greeted by one of the three people in charge of the massive, spacious bridge. The man who rose to greet them was tall and white-haired. He wore an overall but he carried himself with authority and although they were all on first-name terms, Richard and the pilot treated him with such respect that it was obvious to Emily who he was even before Richard turned courteously to say, ‘And this is Emily Karanga. Emily Karanga, meet Captain Tavistock. He’s in command at the moment but will be going ashore with the pilot after he’s handed over to me.’
The captain smiled and shook her hand warmly. ‘I’m in command,’ he said, ‘but here’s the officer who’s really in charge. First Officer Sally Bell.’
A second figure in white overalls looked up from a book in which she had been writing and flashed her a wide smile. ‘How’re you?’ she said.
Emily smiled back, ‘Exhausted, thanks.’
The first officer’s smile became a grin. Then her face became serious as she crossed to the captain, the pilot and the owner.
‘We’ve clearance to leave at once, as you know,’ said Richard. ‘I’ll drop the pair of you in due course, but the first order of business is to get under way.’
Emily watched the female officer cross to stand by the third boiler-suited occupant of the bridge. She spoke quietly to him and then spoke quietly into a microphone beside him. Emily looked more closely, her interest caught. The man was holding a tiny steering wheel — what did they call it? The helm? It was smaller than the steering wheel on her car, for heaven’s sake.
The first officer lifted a walkie-talkie radio and spoke into it. At once it hissed in reply and an indecipherable answer exploded noisily into the quiet air.
Sally Bell looked up at the three men standing silently observing her routine. ‘Casting off now,’ she said.
‘Right,’ said the pilot. ‘I have her. Slow ahead, if you please, and come to a heading of…’
Emily heard nothing more. Suddenly gripped by an excitement which was almost childish in its intensity, she crossed to the window and looked out. The lights of Galveston, so bright, so close, were trembling and beginning to swing away. The ship was moving. They were off.
Ultimately it was Richard’s own decision to go from New York straight on down to Titan. Titan was the first of the supertankers which it was proposed to lease to the United Nations and he had decided to make her his flagship, as though he was an admiral in command of a fleet. From the moment he had agreed the contract, he had effectively been working for the UN, and he had no doubt that even if the lawyers changed small details of the agreement, the project — now officially named Manhattan after the iceberg itself — would proceed full steam ahead. Titan would be his headquarters until he delivered Manhattan to Mawanga and it seemed to him that no matter what else he had to organise between now and then, he could do it best from here. The great ship had a communications centre which would enable him to communicate fully and easily with Heritage House and almost as fully by radio and telephone with the United Nations building, or anywhere else in the world for that matter. For die next few days he would be making his way back up the coast of the United States and he proposed to collect anything or anyone else he needed on the way.
Apart from her availability, Titan had three other advantages. Captain Tavistock was due for some furlough dirtside, so Richard would be able to assume command with a minimum of fuss. She had a good helicopter. This was important because now that he was on the ship and heading up towards his rendezvous with Manhattan, he had a week to arrange everything; maybe ten days before the tow got under way. If he had to be anywhere else physically during the next five days, then he could helicopter ashore to the nearest airport and catch a flight from there. And the third advantage lay in the fact that if he was forced to leave the ship for any reason, Sally Bell had the papers to assume command. She should have been captain of her own ship already, but there were simply no berths available and so she was, perforce, content to sit and wait. But he had no intention of leaving the ship unless he was forced to. He planned to bring people to him as he made best possible time to the rendezvous.
Before the tow got under way, they would all be there, on the ships or on the ice, summoned from all over the world if necessary. Men and women from any walk of life whose expertise could be of use to him in the execution of this project. Money was no object, practically speaking, and his power was absolute — and awesomely effective. He would call and they would come: onto Titan, onto Manhattan, into the offices on the 38th floor of the United Nations building, wherever they were required to be by him. Some were in place, like Colin, Kate and Emily. Some were on their way already. Some had no idea as yet that they belonged to his team, but they would find out during the next few days.
As nobody else was going to do so, Richard sat in the watchkeeper’s chair then dreamily watched the lights of Galveston disappearing into the murk. No, not a team, he thought to himself, contentedly, just on the edge of sleep, a Club. A United Nations Club. Like the famous Congo Club of the sixties. Like the Mau Club from which it was an offshoot. Richard’s Club.
The Manhattan Club.
‘No,’ said Charles Lee, his voice distant but all too distinct over the radio link. ‘It’s simply not possible, Richard. We cannot let them have Hero or Dido for this project.’
‘But we’re contracted to supply six supertankers, Charles. We can’t control the movement of one hundred kilometres of ice with less than six.’
‘I see that, Richard. I have read the schedule which the Secretary-General’s office sent with the contracts. All I am saying is that it is simply impossible for us to let you… let them have these two hulls.’
The ether between the two men went silent for a moment and Richard sat, lost in thought, deep in the grip of bitter frustration. It was eight o’clock next morning local time. The day beyond the windows was bright and clear, scrubbed clean by the storm last night. The pilot and Captain Tavistock had departed in the early hours and Titan had been making twenty knots under his command since then while he grabbed six hours’ sleep. Sally Bell had given over her watch to the second officer, grabbed four hours’ sleep herself and now stood behind the helmsman while the second officer handed over to the third.
Richard was able to see this activity through the open door of the radio shack while he considered his response to the executive chairman of his own company. He had not missed the way in which Charles had calculatedly linked Richard with them, as though he had traitorously joined the other side.