late middle-aged man and a woman had emerged and boarded the ship quickly. One of the Americans looking down on the gangway grabbed his wife by the arm.
'Jesus, honey! That's the US Secretary of State, Waldo Schulzberger.'
'I do believe it is,' she'd replied with a note of awe.
The Secretary of State had been ushered by the captain himself to their most luxurious stateroom. The wire services were already buzzing with the report filed by an eagle-eyed German reporter on the dockside. Schulzberger was taking a brief respite from his arduous duties.
Approaching Europort from the south the 500,000-ton tanker had received from Rotterdam Marine Control a further signal warning that there might be a delay before it could dock. The master of the Cayman Conqueror acknowledged receipt of the signal, gave the order for a slight reduction in speed.
Twenty miles astern the 350,000-ton tanker, Easter Island, also received the same warning. Its skipper issued the same instruction to lose speed. Captain Williams shrugged and gave his First Officer a wry grin. 'It's going to be Piccadilly Circus at Europort. Business as usual. Keep an eye on that freighter astern…'
Captain Salvi aboard the 10,000-ton freighter Otranto reacted to his signal with resignation. It probably meant a further addition to the penalty clause for delay in delivery of his cargo. Well, that was not his problem. Let the lawyers sort it out when the time came. That was what they were paid their fat fees for. A uniformed waiter rushed on to the bridge and paused. Salvi asked what was the trouble now?
'The Director's wife is wondering where you are. She likes to have you at the dinner table.'
'Is that fat cow in love with me? All right, I'm coming…'
Astern of the Otranto the three large container vessels from Africa were manoeuvring for position, each trying to get ahead of the others to offload at Europort first. To get the best price for their cargo of soya bean meal. The signals caused a furious reaction from all three skippers, but they stopped the race, slowing down reluctantly.
**
Klein drove back under the river through the Maastunnel, passed through Rotterdam and speeded up outside the city on the way to Delft. He glanced at Marler who had not said a word since they left the North Sea breakwater. The Englishman was gazing out of the window.
'See any signs of unusual activity?' Klein asked.
'Exactly what I've been looking for. Negative. I thought we were going to eat.'
'We are. They have no idea we're here.'
'I should damn well hope not.'
Klein glanced at his watch, saw they were early for his rendezvous with Grand-Pierre, changed his route. Instead of by-passing the town of Delft he turned into its maze of old cobbled streets lining the canals. Crossing a humpbacked bridge, he headed north out of the town and past a series of camp sites crammed with camper vehicles. He pulled up outside a single-storey building with a crooked roof and a view of tables laid for meals beyond the windows.
'We eat here,' he announced.
'About bloody time.'
They were half way through the main course when a large man wearing denims and a windcheater strolled past. Klein said he'd be back shortly and went outside. Grand-Pierre stood by the entrance, lighting a cigarette.
The street was deserted. Beyond the restaurant was a handful of small shops which served the camp sites as their main customers. The sun shone down out of a cloudless sky.
'Is everything going according to plan?' Klein demanded. 'I presume everyone is in position?'
'The scuba divers who will attach the mines to those ships are scattered along the coast, waiting in their dinghies.'
'I saw one fishing at the end of the breakwater near the dredger. The others join him later?'
'As planned. I still think we should have used underwater sleds to carry the divers and the mines to their targets – it would be quicker, less risk of being spotted.'
'We've argued that out earlier,' Klein said coldly.
Grand-Pierre showed an unusual trace of excitement. 'Have you seen the papers? A stop press item reports Schulzberger, the American Secretary of State, is aboard the Adenauer with his wife.'
'Yes. Which is good news and bad.'
'I don't understand,..'
'Good because it will put more pressure on Washington not to interfere. Bad because there's likely to be extra security aboard the Adenauer. American security – and they may use sonar. Which shows I was right not to use those sleds – sonar would pick them up. Dinghies they'll miss. What about the fishing boats?'
Two are marked for our use. In each case the skippers' wives have been located. They'll be grabbed just before we seize the fishing boats, taken on board. With a knife at their throats the skippers will do what we want. One is allocated to take the dinghies close to the Adenauer, then drop them overboard. Later it deals with the Cayman Conqueror tanker. The second fishing boat mines the other vessels.'
'And the sea-mines are aboard these dinghies?'
Grand-Pierre checked his watch. 'They will be within the hour.'
'And Legaud's CRS command vehicle?'
'Tucked away inside that garage we hired in Rotterdam.'
'What about the team which will assault Euromast?'
'Inside another resprayed van on the camp site. They will be leaving soon now.'
Klein frowned. 'A bit early, surely?'
'My idea. It will park close to Euromast. The driver and one of the team inside will pass the time apparently changing a wheel.'
'Not a bad touch, that,' Klein admitted grudgingly. 'And they all have their weapons and plenty of ammo?'
'Uzi machine-pistols, grenades, rifles – automatic. All we took from that raid on the Herstal armaments depot in Belgium a couple of days ago.' Grand-Pierre went on quickly before Klein could ask the question. 'And we dropped that piece of paper with the faked details for robbing a bank.'
'I think that's it. I'd better get back.'
'You have someone with you -I saw him as I passed the window.'
'A man you may have heard of – coming from Paris. The Monk.'
'You have him?' Grand-Pierre couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. 'My God! You must be paying him a fortune.'
'He's a key figure in the operation.' Klein ignored the implied question as to how much Marler was being paid. He was watching the Englishman over Grand-Pierre's shoulder as Marler tucked into his meal.
Til go now then,' the Frenchman said.
'Do that.' Klein clapped a hand on his shoulder. 'One more thing. The bombs for the refineries?'
Grand-Pierre was used to this ploy. Klein had a habit of finishing a conversation and then throwing him a leading question.
That team is already inside the oil complexes. They slipped in when the security guards changed duty rosters. We intercepted the new guards before they reached the gates, grabbed their uniforms and our men explained the normal guards were ill with flu. There's a lot of it about.' He grinned wolfishly.
'What about the passwords?'
'Obtained at knife point – before the knives went home – as I'd planned. Bodies dumped into a waiting van and dropped into the sea later. Weighted with chains as you instructed.'
'And the two Sikorsky helicopters at Schiphol?' Klein went on.
'I met Victor Saur, that Austrian pilot. He's flown them to Rotterdam Airport. They're supposed to be waiting to pick up top Royal-Dutch Shell executives.' He put a large finger to his hooked nose. 'Very hush-hush.'
