San Andreas

'Yes, Mr McKinnon,' she said primly. She gave a slight smile. 'The way you put it, it doesn't leave much room for argument.'

'I'm sorry. No offence. Before you come up, put on as much warm clothing as you think you will need. Then double the amount.'

Janet Magnusson was in B ward when he passed through it. She took one quick look at his face and said: 'What's the matter with you?'

'Prepare thyself, Nurse Magnusson. The end is nigh.'

'What on earth do you mean, Archie?'

'The dragon next door.' He jerked a thumb towards A ward. 'She has just — '

'Dragon? Maggie? Yesterday she was a lioness.'

'Dragon. She's stopped breathing fire. She smiled at me. First time since leaving Halifax. Smiled. Four times. Unsettles a man.'

'Well!' She shook his shoulders. 'I am pleased. So you admit you misjudged her.'

'I admit it. Mind you, I think she may have misjudged me a bit, too.'

'I told you she was nice, Archie. Remember?'

'Indeed I remember. And indeed she is.'

'Very nice. Very.'

McKinnon regarded her with suspicion. 'What's that meant to mean?'

'She smiled at you.'

The Bo'sun gave her a cold look and left.

Lieutenant Ulbricht was awake when McKinnon returned

to the Captain's cabin. 'Duty calls, Mr McKinnon? Another fix?' 'Rest easy, Lieutenant. No stars. Overcast. More snow,

I'm thinking. How do you feel?'

'Well enough. At least when I'm lying down. That's physically, I mean.' He tapped his head. 'Up here, not so. well. I've been doing a lot of wondering and thinking.'

'Wondering and thinking why you're lying here?'

'Exactly.'

'Haven't we all? At least, I've been doing nothing else but wondering about it. Haven't got very far, though. In fact, I haven't got anywhere.'

'I'm not saying it would help any, just call it curiosity if you like, but would you mind very much telling me what's been happening to the San Andreas since you left Halifax? Not, of course, if it means telling me naval secrets.'

McKinnon smiled. 'I don't have any. Besides, even if I did have and told you, what would you do with them?'

'You have a point. What indeed?'

McKinnon gave a brief resume of what had happened to the ship since leaving Nova Scotia and when he had finished Ulbricht said: 'Well, now let me see if I can count.

'As far as I can make out there were seven different parties involved in the movements of the San Andreas — actually aboard it, that is. To begin with, there was your own crew. Then there were the wounded survivors picked up from this crippled destroyer. After that came the Russian submarine survivors you took from this corvette you had to sink. Then you picked up some wounded servicemen in Murmansk. Since leaving there you've picked up survivors from the Argos, the Andover and Helmut and myself. That makes seven?'

'That makes seven.'

'We can eliminate the survivors from the broken-down destroyer and the sinking frigate. Their presence aboard your ship could only have been due to sheer happenstance, nothing else. We can equally forget Commander Warrington and his two men and Helmut Winterman and myself. That leaves just your crew, the survivors from the Argos and the sick men you picked up in Murmansk.'

'I couldn't imagine a more unlikely trio of suspects.'

'Neither could I, Bo'sun. But it's not-imagination we're concerned with here, it's logic. It has to be one of those three. Take the sick men you picked up in Murmansk. One of them could have been suborned. I know it sounds preposterous but war itself is preposterous, the most unbelievable things happen in preposterous circumstances, and if there is one thing that is for certain it is that we are not going to find the answer to this enigma in the realms of the obvious. How many sick men are you repatriating from Russia?'

'Seventeen.'

'Do you happen to know the nature of their injuries?'

McKinnon regarded the Lieutenant speculatively. 'I have a fair idea.'

'All seriously wounded?'

There are no seriously wounded, far less critically injured patients aboard. If they were, they wouldn't be here. Poorly, you might call them, I suppose.'

'But bedridden? Immobile?'

'The wounded are.'

'They are not all wounded?'

'Only eight.'

'Good God! Eight! You mean to tell me that there are nine who are not injured?'

'It all depends upon what you mean by injured. Three are suffering from advanced cases of exposure — frostbite, if you like. Then there are three with tuberculosis and the remaining three have suffered mental breakdowns. Those Russian convoys take a pretty vicious toll, Lieutenant, in more ways than one.'

'You have no cause to love our U-boats, our Luftwaffe, Mr McKinnon.'

The Bo'sun shrugged. 'We do send the occasional thousand bombers over Hamburg.'

Ulbricht sighed. 'I suppose this is no time for philosophizing about how two wrongs can never make a right. So we have nine unwounded. All of them mobile?'

'The three exposure cases are virtually immobile. You've. never seen so many bandages. The other six — well, they can get around as well as you and I. Well, that's not quite accurate — as well as I can and a damned sight better than you can.'

'So. Six mobiles. I know little enough of medicine but I do know just how difficult it is to gauge how severe a case of TB is. I also know that a man in a pretty advanced stage can get around well enough. As for mental breakdowns, those are easy enough to simulate. One of those three may be as rational as we are — or think we are. Come to that, all three of them may be. I don't have to tell you, Mr McKinnon, that there are those who are so sick of the mindlessness, the hellishness, of war that they will resort to any means to escape from it. Malingerers, as they are commonly and quite often unfairly called. Many of them have quite simply had enough and can take no more. During the First World War quite a number of British soldiers were affected by an incurable disease that was a sure-fire guarantee for a one-way ticket to Blighty. DAH it was called-Disorder Affecting the Heart. The more unfeeling of the British doctors commonly referred to it as Desperate Affection for Home.'

'I've heard of it. Lieutenant, I'm not by nature an inquisitive person, but may I ask you a personal question?'

'Of course.'

'Your English. So much better than mine. Thing is, you don't sound like a foreigner talking English. You sound like an Englishman talking English, an Englishman who's been at an English public school. Funny.'

'Not really. You don't miss much, Mr McKinnon, and that's a fact. I was educated in an English public school. My mother is English. My father was for many years an attache in the German Embassy in London.'

'Well, well.' McKinnon shook his head and smiled. 'It's too much. It's really too much. Two shocks like this inside twenty minutes.'

'If you were to tell me what you are talking about — '

'Sister Morrison. You and she should get together. I've just learnt that she's half-German.'

'Good God! Goodness gracious me.' Ulbricht could hardly be said to be dumbfounded but he was taken aback. 'German mother, of course. How extraordinary! I tell you, Bo'sun, this could be a serious matter. Her being my nurse, I mean. Wartime. International complications, you know.'

'I don't know and I don't see it. You're both just doing your job. Anyway, she's coming up to see you