“When I was last here I thought he might have. Right now, I know he did.”
“Can I know how?”
“Not in any great detail, I’m afraid,” said the lieutenant commander. “But he was not Israeli. We think he was Iranian. But he could have been Libyan, or Syrian, or an Iraqi. His identity has baffled even the Mossad.”
“Iain thinks he could have been Iranian. Especially after Laura told him about that strange visit they made to the mosque in Cairo.”
Just then the telephone rang. Lady MacLean hurried away to answer it across the room. “Yes…yes…he is here…I’ll get him.” She beckoned to Bill and told him to take the call in the admiral’s study across the hall. “It’s probably top-secret,” she said, smiling. “It’s my husband’s old office.”
Bill found Lieutenant Waites on the line. “Hello, sir. Hold on a moment. I have Captain Greenwood for you.”
“Good afternoon, Bill.” The deep, somber voice of FOSM’s Chief of Staff was unmistakable. “Just a short progress report. First, we’ve been cleared politically. The mission is to proceed immediately. The boss ran Admiral MacLean to ground at some office in Edinburgh and Sir Iain’s coming. That’s all decided.
“The submarine we want,
“How about the landowners?” asked Bill, avoiding naming the Turks on the telephone. “Are we spilling the beans?”
“No, we’re not. I believe the admiral is going to talk to their boss tonight in very guarded terms. He has already spoken to Admiral Dunsmore at the Pentagon, and, so far as I can tell, you are the only American on board. Admiral Elliott is naming the captain tomorrow. I expect it to be the former
“Sounds good to me.”
“Oh yes, two other things. Tomorrow we are sending the chopper over to take you and Sir Iain down to Barrow to get a look at the boat. And will you expect a call in a half hour or so from Admiral Morgan?”
“Okay, sir. I’ll be here, enjoying my little vacation in Scotland.”
“Not for long, I hear. Admiral Morgan said he was sending you to Russia on Thursday. You have to pick up a special visa at the embassy in London before you go.”
“Jesus,” said Bill. “There’s no peace, right?”
“Not if you want to catch your man. No, Bill, there’s not.”
A half hour later the lieutenant commander had just lowered himself into the steaming spare-room bathtub, along with the other half of the jar of blue crystals, when he heard a tap on the door.
“Sir, there’s a call for you. I’ve put it through to the phone by your bed.”
“Thanks, Angus, old buddy,” he said. “Be right there.”
Cursing the exquisite timing of Arnold Morgan, he wrapped himself in a towel, and picked up the telephone, warning immediately, “Admiral, this is not a secure line.”
“Okay, Bill. Gottit. I hear we’re all set. I spoke to Scott Dunsmore this morning and he says the President is definite. The minute he hears you’re through the slot, he’ll authorize a massive search for the Kilo. Meantime, I want you to get out to Sevastopol and spend a little time with Admiral Rankov.
“He’s as anxious as we are to locate his employees. But he’ll show you around, so you can get a feel for the area, and the families of the crew. Sorry to turn you into some kind of detective, but everyone is anxious not to expand the circle of people who actually know about this. So I guess you’re doing nearly everything.”
“What about my travel arrangements to Russia?”
“Admiral Elliott’s office is taking care of it all. You need to pick up tickets, visa, and cash in London before you go. I thought Thursday or Friday, after you’ve taken a look at the submarine. Anyway call the admiral’s Flag Lieutenant in Northwood. They got it covered.”
“Okay, Admiral. Will I come back to the States after Sevastopol?”
“I guess so. You’ll be through with Rankov by around August 13. You might just want to meet the guys working up the submarine after that. Then there may be something else over there for you.
“If not, you might as well come back, and we’ll go on playing detectives together. Anyway, you’ll be ready to go aboard on September 8, I understand with Admiral MacLean.”
“Guess so, sir.”
“Good. See you, Bill.” The line went dead.
Back in the hot, scented water, Bill Baldridge reviewed the situation. The fact was, the “search-and-destroy” operation was on hold pending the successful transit of the Bosporus. Thereafter the President would be relentless in the pursuit of Adnam. It was curious how certain he was that the Israeli officer had made that journey. Even more curious that Ben’s Teacher was now trying to follow him.
Downstairs he was just walking across the hall when he heard the tires of the Range Rover on the drive. He opened the front door and saw the admiral step out of the car, pursued by the omnipresent Fergus, Muffin, and Samson. God knows what those Labradors had been doing in Edinburgh.
He noticed the spring in the step of the admiral as he walked briskly toward him, smiling in greeting. He noticed too, the gentle wave of the driver through the windshield, as she gathered up her jacket and bag. “Hello, Bill. Delighted you’re here. Understand we’re going on a little jaunt together?”
Bill shook hands with the admiral, fought off the dogs as they leapt all over him. “Coupla days sailing off Istanbul, paid for by Uncle Sam, shouldn’t be so bad, sir?”
“Certainly not. I’m rather looking forward to it, tell you the truth.”
By now Laura was out of the car and walking over to join them. “My God, she’s beautiful,” thought Bill. And he grinned rakishly as she held out her hand. “Hello,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see my inquisitor so soon.”
Lady MacLean emerged through the front door. “Hello, darling,” she said. “Good journey?”
“Yes, fine, except when Daddy loosed off the dogs in the forest about an hour from here. That ridiculous Fergus wouldn’t come back. Found a rabbit or something. Cost us twenty minutes. I don’t know why we had to take them in the first place. They were sitting outside a lawyer’s office for two hours, and in the car for five, with only two breaks.”
“You know how your father is with those dogs. They go everywhere with him. Except London. And they behave like lunatics most of the time.”
In the distance Bill could see them right now. A boisterous black trio of running, barking, rolling, pushing energy, two of them having already rushed into the loch. “Don’t let those wet Labradors into the house,” Lady MacLean called out to her husband.
Laura took Bill by the arm. “Come on, Inquisitor, let’s have a drink. It’s almost half past seven.”
It was a good start to a long evening. Angus had cooked yet another Tay salmon, and the wines were identical. Admiral MacLean expounded more on the Bosporus and how he intended to guide
Strapped by the rigid propriety of their surroundings, the lieutenant commander and the admiral’s daughter retired to their separate rooms, forty feet and a thousand miles apart on the second floor. Bill himself wondered if he would ever see her again. In two days he would be gone, and he might not return. He could never telephone her here, and he sure as hell was not anxious to call her husband’s house in Edinburgh.
He knew he would have to wait, to find out if she would call him in the States. And where could such a course of action take her? Nowhere, except to Kansas. And he hardly knew her. Christ, he didn’t even know if they had any
The Royal Navy chopper arrived precisely on time. The lieutenant commander and the admiral strapped themselves in for the one-hour ride to the sprawling home of Vickers Shipbuilding and Engineering Ltd., the British corporation which had constructed all of the Royal Navy’s nuclear boats, from Polaris to Trident.
Most shipyards in northern Europe were situated in bleak, windswept areas, and this was no exception. The Vickers yard sat on the southernmost peninsula of Cumbria, on the northwest corner of Morecombe Bay, opposite
