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Martinsen shook his head. ‘They drew the wrong conclusions. Probably the unusual hull configuration. That extension to the fin, and the tail pods.’

‘Any idea about those?’

‘No. Our scientists admit defeat.’

‘Anything unusual happening on the island?’

‘A lot of odds and sods have drifted in.’

Lund said, ‘Such as?’

‘Mostly media people. We’re managing to keep them away from the submarine. The Ordforer’s got word round that boats are not to be hired to them. So they can’t get out to where our sweeper would stop them anyway.’

‘There’s no law on that.’

‘He’s his own law on Vrakoy, sir. A tough cookie. And the air is well under control. Nothing can get in close. There’s still some high altitude stuff about. Difficult to control. Too high and too fast for fighter interception. But the weather’s making life difficult for them. Our fighters are getting all the photos we need.’

‘Good,’ said Lund.

‘Among recent arrivals — apart from the media — are two US types. Ornithologists. Came in yesterday. Sponsored by the Ornithological Society of America. Headquarters in New York. Come to investigate the nesting and breeding habits of Laillard’s Tern.’

‘I should have thought spring was the time for that. At least the terns would be there then.’

Martinsen nodded. ‘Their story is they’re going to survey last season’s nesting sites. Make plans for next season’s count and ringing.’

Lund puffed at the cheeroot. ‘That takes them along the cliffs and down the beaches.’

‘And on to Hausen I expect. Ornithologists have an excuse for carrying powerful binoculars.’

‘Who else of interest?’

‘Apart from the two Russian officers — Krasnov and Gerasov — you know about them — two Frenchmen arrived yesterday at the hospits. From Bordeaux. Cod buyers.’

‘Sounds reasonable. France buys a lot of cod from the islands.’

‘Their credentials are okay. But they’re keen mountaineers. Seems a little odd. Got their equipment with them. Anxious to climb Bodrag. If it’s a close-up of the Zhukov they want, they’ll be disappointed. Our cordon will see to that.’

Lund said, ‘A lot of people seem anxious to climb Bodrag just now. Is that all?’

‘Not quite. A yacht came in early this morning with engine trouble. Three men and a girl. English. On a fortnight’s yachting holiday. Doing the islands.’

‘Anything unusual about them?’

‘Nothing that I know of. The Ordforer’s quite happy. Gunnar Olufsen from Bodo — you know of him — the press and tourist agent? He’s among the media men on the island. He’s well in with the Ordforer. Old friends. Olufsen told him the yacht party are okay. They hired it through his agency. They intend to move on as soon as they can fix the engine. Olufsen’s sent for a spare part.’

Lund shook his head. ‘Don’t know how you get this stuff so quickly.’

‘A lot of it comes from the Ordforer. He knows just about everything that happens on Vrakoy. And he likes co-operating with us. Enhances his status.’

‘What’s Kroll like? His deputy.’

‘Cheerful, good-natured old boy. Lazy I’d say.’

Lund said, ‘So staying in the Ordforer’s house has worked out well?’

‘Excellently. They’ve given me a comfortable room, she’s a good cook and he feeds me information. Couldn’t be better.’

‘Splendid.’ Lund left his desk and joined Martinsen at the window. ‘It’s a great view, isn’t it?’

‘Marvellous. I don’t see it often enough.’

Lund changed the subject. ‘Freddie Lewis called on me earlier today.’

‘Lewis from Whitehall, RAF intelligence?’

‘Yes. You’ve met him. We’re old friends. We had a long chat. Whitehall wants to know what we’re doing about the Zhukov. They’re afraid we’re going to miss a fabulous opportunity.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Said I couldn’t give him chapter and verse but we weren’t standing by doing nothing. Towards the end he told me something interesting. Very interesting. Something you should know,’ Lund paused, turned away from the window and smiled at Martinsen, ‘and your contact.’ Unnecessary though it was Lund dropped his voice. ‘Lewis says they’ve had a tip-off from an unusually reliable source that a great power is laying on something special by way of intelligence gathering on Vrakoy.’

‘Which power and in what way special?’

Lund lit another cheroot. ‘I asked him that. I said was it a NATO power? He said, “Look Roald. The words used were definitely great power. That puzzled us too. It’s rather old-fashioned. But that’s all I know. Absolutely all. Shouldn’t really have mentioned it. Far too vague. Only worry you. It could be something. Could be nothing.” That’s all Lewis said. I couldn’t get anything more out of him.’

Martinsen made church steeples with his fingers. ‘Not very helpful. I imagine it’s the CIA. After all we’ve tipped them off in the hope that they’ll do something.’

Lund said, ‘I’m pretty sure it is the CIA. The ornithologists could well be their advance guard. Though how Whitehall gets into it that fast I can’t imagine. But there’s just the chance — a very remote one — that it’s the French or British themselves. They’re neither really great powers today, but I wouldn’t put it past them. They’d love to steal a march on the States. You know the CIA’s not exactly flattering about French and British intelligence. Particularly in its militant form.’

Martinsen thought for a long time. ‘D’you trust Freddie Lewis, sir?’

‘In this game one trusts no one, Martinsen. But he’s a good friend. He tipped us off that it was the Zhukov within a few hours of her stranding. We know now that he was right.’

‘D’you think he knows we’re doing a feedback to the CIA?’

‘Good God! I hope not. How could he? We daren’t have that known. Imagine if the USSR got wind of it.’

Martinsen ran his hands through his tousled brown hair. ‘So I feed Freddie’s tip back through Karen.’

Through your contact,’ corrected Lund.

‘Sorry, sir. I meant contact.’ His grin made the strong white teeth in the sun-tanned face look like a TV ad for toothpaste.

‘The CIA must know,’ said Lund. ‘Just in case it’s not them.’

* * *

The rain stopped in the late afternoon but the north-westerly wind persisted, and with it the rough sea and fast-moving clouds that darkened the sky.

Milovych came in late in a fast launch provided by one of the Nepa vessels, the fishing boat hired for the Russians having been returned to its Norwegian owners. The commissar called on the Ordforer to report formally the arrival of the salvage ships. Two-way voice radio, he said, had been established between the submarine and the Nepas. Messages could now be transmitted between Kolhamn and the submarine, using the salvage vessels as link.

‘So you will no longer require your officers to remain ashore in Kolhamn?’ the Ordforer inquired.

‘We have considered that,’ said Milovych. ‘We feel they must remain ashore for the present. Both to represent us and to handle messages which may arrive through your postal and telegraphic services.’ Milovych had not added that their principal duty would continue to be one of surveillance. To keep him and Yenev informed of what was going on ashore and what the local people knew.

He said, ‘I have to request that your authorities intensify the seaward and landward patrols. You must know that Vrakoy is now full of Press, television reporters, photographers and other busybodies. Our lookouts have on several occasions seen observers on the mountain watching the submarine through glasses.’