He ran now towards the chief yeoman, found that he was only knocked out and had a smashed jawbone. Then he saw that the foremast had cracked, was canted forward over the bridge itself. He ran back and grabbed Wilson with his good arm, dragged him into the port wing with the yeoman, and just got him clear before the foremast went. It came down on the bridge with a crash; a tangle of steel-wire rigging and wireless aerials and yards trailed forward on to the gaping fo’c’sle. And then something else happened: the remnants of the Lord Cochrane's fo’c’sle seemed to drop, down and down and down… and suddenly Shaw realized why. The impact had cracked and split not only the top of the tower but it had also smashed the structure far below and now, under the strain, under the tremendous pressure of ship and water, the riven blocks were disintegrating, plunging down the hole itself behind the descending sea. As he had planned, millions upon millions of tons of the Barents Sea were rushing, cascading down into the fissure. It was a mad nightmare of debris and bodies as the Russian soldiers were hurled away into the plunging water, drawn by the movement of that water into the vortex of a whirlpool, down that terrible deep hole, legs and arms flailing, spinning like tops to vanish into the chaos of smashed lift-shafts and concrete and girders, to drop and drop until they hit the bottom and were swept into the fissure itself. Some of them were trapped, as their bodies swirled downward, between the twisted girders and the lift-shafts, and they remained there as the water and debris dropped past to skin and flay their bodies so that they were left as near-skeletons, skeletons which themselves began to break up. The water swirled and roared beneath the fragments of what had been the control-room where the indicator, still intact on an isolated steel beam, showed the great lower door as only half closed. That water would go on swirling and filling the fissure for a very long time, would go on and on until that enormous length was entirely filled with the sea and then, and only then, when the Barents Sea reached England, the mad whirlpool would stop.
Shaw felt dazed, light-headed; all that he was conscious of in that moment was that one hundred per cent, success had been achieved and the Vulcans would not be needed now. The rocket-batteries were silent, no doubt obeying an order to refrain from any further hostile acts until more was known… and there wouldn’t be any more trouble, of course; the whole organization behind the coup d’état would already be crumbling just like that tower…
Meanwhile the Lord Cochrane was breaking up; there was a roar of escaping steam from the engine-rooms and boiler-rooms, pipes and gauges blowing off all over the place; the decks were buckling and splitting still, all the superstructure slowly caving in. Then Shaw heard a noise overhead and he looked up and saw the helicopters coming in from the flagship, and he realized he had to do something about helping the injured; and for a start he got hold of the Captain and the chief yeoman and dragged them painfully towards what was left of the bridge ladder.
Ten days later Shaw was in Room 12 at the Admiralty, having left the carrier in Portsmouth whence he travelled up in a fast official car with Triska Somalin. After he had made his full personal report to Latymer the Old Man said, “I suppose I need hardly tell you, Shaw, I was sweating drops of blood. As it is, though, the explanation of an accident appears to have been accepted with as good a grace as possible.”
“Grace!” Shaw laughed. “There wasn’t much grace about our reception at Moltsk, sir!”
“So I gather from Carleton’s report. However, the official line is reasonably graceful. They haven’t much choice, of course, unless they want to come out with the story in full.” Latymer grinned. “What about that Defence Minister — how did he take it?”
“Badly, sir! He was in a hell of a froth. There was some little bloke with him who seemed to be putting the fear of God into him. Has there been much news out of Russia since, sir?”
“Precious little that’s reliable. Quite a crop of rumours. All we know for certain is that the Kremlin’s made a formal protest to our Government, asking for action to be taken against those responsible for letting such an accident happen. To keep the peace, Russia will be informed that such action is being taken, but that’s just as far as it will go, I need hardly add.”
“And the coup d’état boys?”
Latymer shrugged. “The official line is that there’s been a reshuffle, which I take to be an euphemism for a purge or bloodbath. As a matter of fact I’ve just an idea your friend the Minister of Defence has already departed this life, together with a few other highly placed personages. I think we can assume that the Kremlin’s back to normal and there’s nothing more than usual to worry about — oh, and you’ll be glad to hear that Chaffinch is in the clear. He managed to slide out from under. Also they never did link you with that business on the Hungarian border, and I assume — I don’t know — that your man there got away with it. I’m pretty sure they’d have made him talk if he was arrested… The only pity about all this is that Lawrence Carew died. A lot of people in this country would have liked a chat with him — but you couldn’t help that, I know.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Now, what about that young woman of yours, what’s-her-name? You’d better wheel her in and I’ll see her — alone, I think. I’ve got to make certain she doesn’t talk… we’ve got to keep faith, if that’s the word, with the Kremlin. Hoodlums are hoodlums the world over, but the Kremlin is the Government, if you follow. Tact, that’s what’s needed now. No point in exacerbating anyone’s feelings.”
“I entirely agree, sir.” Shaw got to his feet. “By the way, what about the Foreign Ministers’ Conference?”
“What about it, Shaw?”