‘Such as?’
Fleck said, ‘I was gaining the confidence of my old friend Keiler, in pretending also to be a convert to Communism.’ He made a derogatory movement of his hands, the strong, hairy-backed hands of a man of action. ‘Keiler was a naïve fellow, a fool except in his own work. He was not… worldly wise. He was so very easily convinced of anything of which one wished to convince him and especially, as with so many of us, when he himself wished to believe it. Poor, deluded Keiler, whom I had grown to hate because of his changed creed!’ Fleck’s eyes blazed at Shaw across the quiet saloon, obsessively. ‘However, to be brief and to the point, Keiler confided in me what he meant to do — to defect to Russia. I gave him my blessing, with my tongue in my cheek of course, and in return he gave me… do you know what he gave me, Commander Shaw?’ He was gloating now, the not-quite-handsome face alive with emotion.
Shaw said, ‘Well? What did he give you?’
Fleck leaned heavily forward again, his elbows on the table, and stared at Shaw. ‘He gave me,’ he said, ‘microfilm copies of the Warmaster blueprints, and of all the documents pertaining to the project — as well as his own counsel and guidance in the matter. And what better than the distilled mind, the personal advice of the very man who had invented the missile?’
Shaw asked, ‘But why did Keiler give it to you?’
‘He gave it to me because his big to enter Russia — or to leave U.S.A — might conceivably have been thwarted, might it not? Such attempts are by no means all successful. He wanted, as a result of my own prompting, of course, to leave a duplicate set of this full information and know-how behind him with an old friend — myself — who would see that they reached the right hands if anything should happen to him.’ He looked down at his fingernails, eyebrows raised. ‘A kind of second string, you would say, perhaps? The reason I wanted these blueprints was, naturally, to see that they did reach the right hands… my own conception of the right hands, that is.’
‘What did you do with them?’
Fleck smiled reminiscently, looking across the messroom. ‘One day a colleague of mine in the Party, an Englishman, arrived from Southampton aboard the Queen Elizabeth. He was, and is, a big man, the head of an important British industry. He came to my offices in the Massachusetts State Life, to consult me on certain matters pertaining to American company practice, and next day he flew out from Idlewild for London. With him he carried the Warmaster microfilms, well concealed.’ Fleck shrugged. ‘He had no trouble… well-known men, V.I.Ps, seldom do. He in turn was visited shortly afterwards by a big German industrialist, who conveyed the mircofilm back to Headquarters in Germany. Those microfilms were then passed to Hans Schillenhorst… and again I will be brief. Dr Schillenhorst got to work on the blueprints, and he—’
‘Produced another Warmaster?’
‘By no means!’ Fleck gave a throaty laugh and then, as the messroom door opened, he glanced sideways; Shaw followed his glance. A tall, very thin man, whose stiff walk and stick indicated the artificial limbs, had entered the room. At a guess this man was around forty-five years of age, with narrow, stooping shoulders and grey hair cropped almost to the point of baldness. And his eyes… they were greenish and hard as ice, magnified by powerful lenses, the eyes of a fanatic.
Chapter Nineteen
Fleck had got to his feet, almost, it seemed, with reverence.
He said, ‘Dr Schillenhorst, it is kind of you to come along. This is Commander Shaw of the British Navy, currently acting, it would appear, for the Pentagon. He is for the time being our enforced guest.’
The scientist’s gaze swept coldly over Shaw and he bowed stiffly. ‘Dr Hans Schillenhorst, at your service.’ he said with prim correctness. His voice was harsh, grating, ugly. He sat down and turned to Fleck. ‘There is something I can do for you, Herr Fleck?’
Fleck nodded and resumed his seat on the settee. He said, ‘There is something, yes. Commander Shaw suggests that you have produced another version of Warmaster.’ There was a gleam in his eyes, a curious quality in his tone. ‘I thought perhaps you would yourself like to explain about what you have perfected, Doctor.’
Briefly Schillenhorst smiled, a chilly smile, which didn’t reach his eyes. Then he gave a cold, formal nod. He laid his hands precisely in his lap and looked at Shaw. Without any emotion, any feeling at all in his voice, he said, ‘You are mistaken, Commander Shaw. What I have perfected, this is not a missile in any sense at all. It is entirely the reverse. What I have made is a system by which Warmaster can be interfered with. I have built a radio beaming procedure, a signal system if you like, which can cut out Warmaster’s controls — in effect, withdraw the missile from the control of the launching-site. And all the necessary equipment for doing this, is here on board the Moehne.’
Shaw’s breath hissed between his teeth. This was exactly what he had begun to fear, maybe what Pullman had had in mind without formulating it exactly. Some interference with Warmaster on test. Quietly he asked, ‘So?’
‘So — the Moehne remains here, on station where no one will find us or even, indeed, think of looking. Herr Fleck tells me that the Americans have no knowledge of a ship being involved at all.’ Shaw was depressingly aware of the truth of this statement. ‘We can remain here as long as we wish, and in complete security. And since we have been converted to nuclear propulsion, we have not even an oil-fuel problem.’
Fleck said, ‘Talking of which, I should perhaps explain that the Moehne was once a British warship, however much she may be disguised now—’
‘Not all that well disguised,’ Shaw said. ‘I’d already rumbled that.’
‘Very clever of you, Commander. Well, to satisfy your curiosity still further, she was once the fast minelayer Wightman, which you may remember was sold five years ago, or so the British believed, to — a certain foreign country. In point of fact, she passed into the hands of Gottlieb Hauser,’ Fleck said smugly, ‘and they refitted her. She is very different now, but she is still fast if she has to be. She can still do her thirty-three knots if necessary, I am told. So, you see, we are very nicely organized all round.’ He shrugged heavily, ‘Certainly it is a pity about that floating dock and your interfering Trinity House people… we needed dry-docking facilities to keep us always fully fit to go to sea at short notice should it ever become necessary, also to act as a wireless and radar maintenance base and so on. But time will send us another one — if indeed we are in need of it at all soon, which I take leave to doubt! Meanwhile we are managing very nicely. Am I not right, Captain?’
‘Yes, Herr Fleck.’ Lindrath’s voice was short. Shaw wondered what was up with him; there was something wrong between him and Fleck, that was obvious.’
Fleck was going on again. ‘The theory has been so far that we stay here, where we can control any eventualities in the missile field… but I am sorry, Doctor. This is your story.’ He turned apologetically to the scientist. ‘Please go on. You know so much more about this than I, my dear fellow.’