'So was Dr Crippen for all I know,' McKinnon said. 'I find it as baffling as you do, Mr Patterson. I have no idea what his motives could have been and I should imagine that we'll never find out. He was a very clever man, a very careful man who never took a chance, a man who totally covered his tracks — if it weren't for a trigger-happy U- boat gun crew we'd never have found out who Flannelfoot was. His treachery may have had something to do with his background — although he spoke of Pakistani descent he was, of course, an Indian, and I believe that educated Indians have little reason to love the British Raj. May have had something to do with religion, if he had Pakistani roots he was probably a Muslim. The connection — I have no idea. There are a dozen other reasons apart from nationality and politics and religion that make a man a traitor. Where did those cardiac arrest units come from, Dr Sinclair?'
'They were loaded aboard at Halifax, Nova Scotia.'
'I know that. But do you know where they came from?'
'I have no idea. Does it matter?'
'It could. Point is, we don't know whether Dr Singh installed the radio transceiver after the unit came aboard or whether the unit was supplied with the transceiver already installed. I would take long odds that the transceiver had already been installed. Very tricky thing to do aboard a boat. Difficult to smuggle the transceiver aboard, equally difficult to get rid of the cardiac unit that was inside the box.'
Sinclair said: 'When I said I didn't know where that unit came from, that's quite true. But I know the country of origin. Britain.'
'How can you tell?'
'Stencil marks.'
'Would there be many firms in Britain that make those things?'
'Again, no idea. Not a question that comes up. A cardiac unit is a cardiac unit. Very few, I should imagine.'
'Should be easy enough to trace the source — and I don't for a moment imagine that the unit left the factory already equipped with the transceiver.' He looked at Patterson. 'Naval Intelligence should be very interested in finding out what route that cardiac unit took between the factory and the San Andreas and what stopovers it made en route.'
'They should indeed. And it should take them no time at all to find out where it changed hands and who made the switch. Seems damned careless of our saboteur friends to have left themselves so wide open.'
'Not really, sir. They simply never expected to be found out.'
'I suppose. Tell me, Bo'sun, why did you take so long in getting around to telling us about Dr Singh?'
'Because I had the same reaction as you — I had to work damned hard to convince myself of the evidence of my own eyes. Besides, you all held Dr Singh in very high regard — no one likes to be the bearer of bad news.' He looked at Jamieson. 'How long would it take, sir, to fix up a push button on Sister's desk in Ward A so that it would ring a buzzer in, say, here, the bridge and the engine-room?'
'No time at all.' Jamieson paused briefly. 'I know you must have an excellent reason for this — what shall we call it? — alarm system. May we know what it is?'
'Of course — so that the sister or nurse in charge of Ward A can let us know if any unauthorised person comes into the ward. That unauthorised person will be in the same state of ignorance as we are at the moment — he will not know whether that transceiver is in working order or not. He has to assume that it is, he has to assume that we may be in a position to send out an SOS to the Royal Navy. It's obviously all-important to the Germans that such a signal be not sent and that we remain alone and unprotected. They want us and they want us alive so the intruder will do everything in his power to destroy the set.'
'Wait a minute, wait a minute,' Patterson said. 'Intruder? Unauthorised person? What unauthorised person. Dr Singh is dead.'
'I've no idea who he is. All that I'm certain of is that he exists. You may remember that I said earlier that I thought we had more than one Flanneifoot aboard. Now I'm certain. Dr Sinclair, during the entire hour before Lieutenant Ulbricht and his Focke-Wulf made their appearance — and indeed for some time afterwards — you and Dr Singh were operating on the two wounded sailors — now the two dead sailors — from the Argos. That is correct?'
'That's so.' Sinclair looked and sounded puzzled.
'Did he leave the surgery at any time?'
'Not once.'
'And it was during this period that some unknown was busy tinkering with junction boxes and fuses. So, Flannelfoot number two.'
There was a brief silence, then Jamieson said: 'We're not very bright, are we? Of course you're right. We should have worked that out for ourselves.'
'You would have. Finding Dr Singh's dead body and then finding out what he was is enough to put any other thought out of your mind. It's only just now occurred to me. More time to get over the shock, I suppose.'
'Objection,' Patterson said. 'Query, rather. If that set is smashed the Germans have no means of tracking us.'
'They're not tracking us now,' McKinnon said patiently. 'Battery leads are disconnected. Even if they weren't, smashing the transceiver would be far the lesser of two evils. The last thing that Flannelfoot number two wants to see is the Royal Navy steaming over the horizon. They may have another transmitter cached away somewhere, although I very much doubt it. Dr Sinclair, would you please check the other cardiac unit in the dispensary, although I'm sure you'll find it okay.'
'Well,' Sinclair said, 'there's at least some satisfaction in knowing that they've lost us.'
'I wouldn't bet on that, Doctor. In fact, I'd bet against it. A submarine can't use its radio underwater but you have to remember that this lad was trailing us on the surface and was almost certainly in constant contact with its shore base. They'll know exactly our position and course at the time of the sinking of the submarine. I wouldn't even be surprised if there's another U-boat tagging along behind us — for some damned reason we seem to be very important to the Germans. And you mustn't forget that the further southwest we steam, the more hours of daylight we have. The sky's pretty clear and the chances are good that a Focke-Wulf or some such will pick us up during the day.'
Patterson looked at him morosely. 'You make a splendid Job's comforter, Bo'sun.'
McKinnon smiled. 'Sorry about that, sir. Just reckoning the odds, that's all.'
'The odds,' Janet said. 'You're betting against our chances of getting to Aberdeen, aren't you, Archie?'
McKinnon turned his hands palms upwards. 'I'm not a gambler and there are too many unknowns. Any of your opinions is just as good as mine. I'm not betting against our chances, Janet. I think we have a fair chance of making it.' He paused. 'Three things. I'll go and see Captain Andropolous and his men. I should think that 'radio' is a pretty universal word. If not, sign language should work. Most of the crew of the Argos survived so the chances are good that there is a radio officer among them. He can have a look at this machine and see if we can transmit with it. Lieutenant Ulbricht, I'd be grateful if you could come up to the bridge when it's time and take a noon sight. Third thing — if the lights in Ward A fail at any time, whoever is in charge is to press the panic button immediately.'
McKinnon made to rise, stopped and looked at his un-= touched drink.
'Well, perhaps after all, a toast to the departed. An old Gaelic curse, rather. Dr Singh. May his shade walk on the dark side of hell tonight.' He raised his glass. 'To Flannelfoot.'
McKinnon drank his toast alone.
NINE
Less than ten minutes after McKinnon's arrival on the bridge the phone rang.
'Jamieson here,' the voice said. 'Things do keep happening aboard this damned ship. There's been another accident.'
'Accident?'
'Accident on purpose. Incident, I should have said. Your pal Limassol.'
'Limassol' was the name that McKinnon had given to the man whom he had discovered to be the radio
