There were nods all round. Marinetti said, “Last time there was a bonus.”
“Which will apply again,” said Grearson. “Twenty thousand each upon successful conclusion.”
“What do we have to do?” asked Sneider.
It took Grearson almost thirty minutes to outline what Azziz wanted done. Throughout the briefing the men showed no surprise and no one interrupted. When the lawyer finished, Evans said, “Do we have the opportunity to examine the ship?”
“Today,” said Grearson. “The captain is expecting us; I said about three.”
“No need for any particular explosives,” said Marinetti.
Jones stirred, stretching his long legs. “It’ll be simple enough if they’re by themselves,” he said. “What happens if they bring the boy and the woman for exchange on the spot?”
“There’ll need to be a contingency plan,” said Grearson.
“So we’ll have to wait until we’re sure?” said Melvin.
“Unless it’s made clear in the exchange terms,” agreed Grearson. “They’ll imagine you’re crew, of course. You’ll be sailing from Marseilles.”
“What if they’re watching the port?” said Hinkler.
“They won’t be,” said Grearson. “As far as they’re concerned, the Bellicose is on its way back from Dakar for the Algiers rendezvous.”
“Wonder what they want the arms for?” said Bartlett.
“It’s immaterial,” said Grearson. “We don’t intend they should have them.”
“No idea how many there’ll be?” queried Evans.
“None,” said Grearson.
“Presumably they’ll be armed?” said Hinkler.
“Presumably,” said Grearson.
“We’ve still got some stun grenades,” said Marinetti.
“They’re not as effective outside a confined space, but they might be useful.”
“Remember that Mr Azziz wants an example made,” said Grearson. “He doesn’t want to be a victim of terrorism again.”
“Not after we’re through,” promised Evans, getting to his feet. “There’s no need for us all to go to the ship. I’ll make the reconnaissance and come back to brief the rest of you here.”
Grearson followed the former major out to the car and got in the passenger seat beside him. Evans took the car out onto the main Marseilles highway but kept in the slow lane, letting even heavy lorries pass.
“There was a differential in the bonus last time,” said Evans, intent upon the road.
“You get $30,000 against the others’ $20,000,” said Grearson. “I didn’t think you’d want me to set it out in front of everybody.”
“Thank you,” said Evans. “In Brussels you spoke of other employment.”
“Permanent protection appeal to you?”
Evans allowed himself to shrug. “Never done it,” he said. “It’s getting more and more difficult to get proper paid soldiering.”
“Why don’t we talk about it afterwards?”
Evans entered the city, turning almost immediately towards the harbour. “Isn’t there a possibility they’ll anticipate your doing something like this?” said Evans.
“As far as they’re concerned,” said Grearson, “the ship’s been at sea since this whole thing began, with no opportunity of our getting anyone aboard. It’ll be a nice surprise for them.”
They were driving parallel to the sea now. There were several French warships in the naval section, grey and pompous at anchor, with a group of corvettes trailed one behind the other like a family of ducks. Nearer, the civil docks were crowded with vessels, from coastal fishing ships to ocean freighters.
At the dock gates Grearson produced the Levcos authority and was directed on to a peripheral road inside the walled area. The Hydra Star was alongside a jetty, already loaded, so there was little stevedore activity around her. Grearson led the way aboard and was directed by the gangway crewman to an outer ladder to reach the bridge. The metal felt oiled and greasy to the touch and Grearson thought being a sailor in a ship like this would be a distinctly unpleasant way to earn a living. There must have been some communication from the deck because by the time the two men reached the bridge the Greek captain had emerged to greet them.
“Nicholas Papas,” he said. The captain was younger than Grearson had expected, olive-skinned and dark- haired. Because of the heat he wore the insignia of rank on his shirt, so he could dispense with a uniform jacket.
Grearson took the proffered hand, introduced Evans and then produced his letter from Andreas Levcos. The captain read it and said, “There’s been a lot of communication from Athens about you.” He looked at Evans. “How many men have you?”
“Seven.”
“Accommodation will be a problem,” said Papas. “I’ve a full crew.”
“We’re used to difficult conditions,” said Evans.
To Grearson Papas said, “Everything is loaded. When do we sail?”
“Two days,” said the lawyer. “Maybe three. It depends upon the sailing conditions from Dakar to Algiers.”
Papas led them back into his cabin. Grearson saw there were several family photographs showing a pretty, darkhaired woman and two children. The captain offered drinks but Grearson and Evans declined. Papas poured himself ouzo.
“I am responsible for the safety of my ship,” he said.
“We understand that,” said Grearson. He put his hand on Evans’s shoulder and felt it tense. “These people are going simply to protect a cargo.”
“Where will I be sailing, after Algiers?”
“I don’t know,” said Grearson.
To Evans the Greek said, “I control this ship at all times.”
“Naturally,” said Evans.
“Nothing is to happen without prior consultation with me.”
“Of course.”
Papas studied the mercenary as if he doubted the quickness of the replies. Then he said, “Do you want to look over the ship?”
“Please,” said Evans, politely.
Papas took them down an inner stairway to the deck. The forward hold was still uncovered and Grearson and Evans stared down at the containers and crates.
“Could the ship’s derrick lift them out without the need for a heavier shore crane?” asked Grearson. Although there was no intention of parting with the weaponry, he had to be prepared for any question that might arise during their telephone contact.
“If necessary,” said Papas.
Evans was examining the decking, expertly assessing the cover available from the raised lip of the cargo hold and the other deck fittings.
“Just this hold?” queried Grearson.
“There’s a small overflow in number two hold,” said Papas. “Only about six tons.”
He led them back inside the freighter, towards the crew accommodations. The two cabins allocated for Evans’s men were small, normally only occupied by two people. “That’s all we’ve got,” said the Greek.
“That will be all right,” said Evans.
“How many crew do you carry?” said Grearson.
“Twenty-five,” said Papas. “Twenty-five good men.”
By a series of internal ladders and walkways, they got into both holds through the bulkhead doors, enabling Evans to inspect the cargo crates, and then returned to the bridge. Papas offered them drinks and again they refused. It was almost four o’clock when Grearson and Evans went back down the ladderway onto the quayside.
Evans paused, turning back to the Hydra Star; Papas was watching them from the bridge wing.
