Sea of Fire

disturbingly confident and untroubled.

'What is the status of the lab?' Kannaday asked.

'The hole has been welded shut,' Hawke replied. 'The area is free of leakage.'

'Leakage of seawater or radiation?' Kannaday asked.

'Both,' Hawke replied. 'However, damage to the processing equipment has been extensive.'

'Are you saying the materials cannot be processed by the time we reach Cairns?' Kannaday said.

'That is correct,' Hawke informed him. He waited a moment, then asked, 'Is there anything else?'

'Yes. You don't seem very upset,' Kannaday said.

'I cannot change what is,' Hawke said.

'The chief did not want us ever coming into port with the cargo,' Kannaday reminded him.

'The only other option is to dump the drums,' Hawke said. 'We have already radioed ahead for new equipment. It will be waiting at the compound when we arrive. We will sail in, collect the gear, then sail out.'

'Are you certain there are no other options?' Kannaday demanded. 'Nothing we can jury-rig?'

'The destruction was extensive. You can get a radiation suit and go to the laboratory and look for yourself.' Hawke removed the headset from his shoulder. He held it forward. 'Or you can ring Dr. Mett and ask him.'

'I'm asking you,' Kannaday said.

'Asking? It sounds as if you are accusing me,' Hawke said.

'Perhaps you're feeling guilty,' Captain Kannaday said. 'What is the problem, exactly?

Hawke's unhappy gray eyes were fixed on the captain. He replaced the headset. 'Even crude reprocessing requires nitric acid to dissolve the spent elements,' Hawke replied. 'All of our containers were shattered in the explosion. We also need a functioning centrifuge to separate the remaining materials into daughter products. The blast dented the swing arms. They will not turn correctly. Our partner is expecting three pounds of enriched uranium in pellet form. Three hundred and fifty pellets, roughly. If we cannot distill the material, we cannot turn it over to our partner, nor he to his clients.' Hawke paused. He was beginning to seem restless, annoyed. 'I feel obligated to add, Captain, that the crew feels we are lucky to still be afloat.'

'I agree, Mr. Hawke. And I don't much care for luck,' Kannaday said.

'We took every reasonable precaution,' Hawke pointed out.

'Apparently not,' Kannaday said. 'Our hull was breached.'

'Once again, did you order me here to take some of my skin off?' Hawke asked.

'No, Mr. Hawke,' Kannaday replied. 'The truth is, I asked you here for something else. I'd like your resignation as head of security.'

The shifting light fell full upon Hawke's face. After a few moments, his expression changed. He no longer appeared to be impatient. He seemed almost amused by Kannaday's pronouncement.

'You expect me to fall on my sword for what happened?' Hawke asked.

'Those are your words, not mine,' Kannaday said.

'But that's what you're asking.'

'We were unprepared. The men who attacked us were not novices,' Kannaday said. 'There must have been reports of previous raids.'

'Quite possibly,' Hawke agreed. The amusement vanished as swiftly as it had come. He was growing angry now. 'But whenever our computer boys hack about for classified information, they risk leaving a trail. Every time we pay someone to look up police records on a particular sea lane or harbor, we bring someone else into our circle. It is more efficient and ultimately more secure to deal with a rogue or two if and when they show up.'

'That's an excuse, not an answer,' Kannaday replied. 'I want your resignation.'

'And if I choose not to give it?'

'Then you will be dismissed,' Kannaday said.

'With or without the chief's approval?' Hawke asked.

'When we sail into the cove with those drums of raw nuclear waste on board, the chief will not dispute what I have done.'

'Are you so sure, Captain?' Hawke walked forward. 'I work for him, not for you.'

'The chief dislikes failure,' Kannaday said. 'He'll back me.'

'Because you're the captain?' Hawke pressed.

'Because I'm looking out for his interests,' Kannaday replied.

'I see. This decision has nothing to do with your being a full-blood?' Hawke demanded.

'That's irrelevant,' Kannaday said.

'Because you say so?' Hawke asked.

'Because it's true!' Kannaday replied. 'I have never judged you by your background.'

'But when you have your audience with the chief, you will tell him that I was inattentive and uncooperative,' Hawke said. 'White shorthand. Those are the usual charges against native Australians. You might even get him to believe you. He has never been a friend to Aboriginals or their issue.'

'Your background has nothing to do with my decision,' Kannaday insisted. 'You failed in your responsibility. That is not something we can afford. You will be paid for the work you have done thus far. That's a considerable sum, I should add. With a resignation, you can run security for another operation. This won't affect your career.'

Hawke drew the wommera from his sash. The four-inch-long darts were in a closed canvas sack that hung beside it. Kannaday was not concerned. There was not enough room to use them in here. And the stick was neither solid nor thick enough to use as a club.

'I refuse to resign,' Hawke said. There was steel in his jawline, in his voice. 'Now. How will you enforce your decision?'

'I have weapons, too,' Kannaday said. 'And I have the men to use them. More men than you have.'

'You have sailors,' Hawke said. 'I have killers.'

'Half of them are Aboriginal and half of them are white,' Kannaday said. 'How do you know they won't turn against each other in a showdown?'

'My people are loyal to me,' Hawke said.

'Your people? Your killers still work for the chief, and they will want to get paid,' Kannaday assured him. 'Now get out. I have to inform the Indonesians that we will not be making the rendezvous in the morning. Then I'm going to turn over security operations to one of my people, Mr. Henrickson. You may have free run of the ship as long as you agree not to work any mischief.'

'I will not resign,' Hawke said.

'Then you are dismissed,' Kannaday said. He glanced at the wommera as he rose. 'And if you're thinking of taking me on personally, I've tangled with monkeys like you my whole life. Up and down the islands, in bars and down alleys, on and off board ship.'

'Monkeys,' Hawke said contemptuously.

'Yes,' Kannaday said. 'Annoying little creatures. Now leave before I throw you out.'

'Like trash,' Hawke said.

Kannaday had had enough of this. Everyone felt oppressed these days. He reached for the security chief's shoulders. As he did, Hawke jerked the wommera as though he were cocking a shotgun. The top quarter of the stick flew off. Beneath it was a scalpel-sharp five-inch steel blade. Hawke thrust the slender knife forward. He pressed it into the soft flesh just below Kannaday's larynx. The blade was pointed up. Hawke forced Kannaday to the balls of his feet. Kannaday had not known the wommera had a concealed blade. He felt stupid. That was worse than feeling helpless.

'Don't ever assault me,' Hawke said. 'I'm not your dog… or monkey.'

Kannaday said nothing. At moments like these it was best to listen. That provided information as well as time.

'Maybe you're telling the truth,' Hawke went on. 'Maybe you hate me for myself, not for my background. Or maybe you were just protecting your ass like you've done before. For your information, I did conduct research before signing on. I looked up your personal history. I know about the lawsuit your former partner Mr. March filed when you stole this ship by changing national registries. He could not get you into court because he could not find you. I know about the counterfeiters you betrayed in Auckland to save yourself from a smuggling charge, and I know about the wife you abandoned in Sydney. The chief needed someone to run this route, and you were the