Abbot was becoming increasingly edgy. He had not been able to get out of Jeanette anything concerning the operation on the American side. He badly wanted to know the place and the time, but that valuable information she kept to herself. He did not think that Eastman knew, either. Delorme played her cards very close to her beautiful chest.
Ever since the night he had taken her to the Paon Rouge he had been confined, like Parker, to the shed. He had seen a copy of the newspaper and knew that his advertisement trick had worked, but what good it would do he did not know. He frowned irritably and turned his head to see the Arab, Ali, leaning on the rail at the top of the stairs and watching him with unblinking brown eyes. That was another thing—this sense of being continually watched.
He became conscious of a sudden stillness in the workshop and looked at Parker who had his head down and was looking at the warhead. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Step over here,’ said Parker quietly.
He joined Parker and looked down at the warhead, and at Parker’s hands which trembled a little. Parker put down the tool he was holding. ‘Don’t make a scene,’ he said. ‘Don’t do anything that’ll attract the attention of that bloody Arab—but this thing is full.’
‘Full of what?’ asked Abbot stupidly.
‘TNT, you bloody fool. What do you suppose a warhead would be full of? There’s enough in here to blow this whole place a mile high.’
Abbot gulped. ‘But Eastman said they’d be delivered empty.’
‘Then this one got through by mistake,’ said Parker. ‘What’s more—it has a detonator in it which I’m hopin’ isn’t armed. It shouldn’t be armed, but then, it shouldn’t be there at all—an’ neither should the TNT. You’d better do your walkin’ around here very quietly until I take it out.’
Abbot looked at the warhead as though hypnotized, and Parker did the necessary operation very carefully. He laid the detonator on a bench. ‘That’s a bit better—but not much. I don’t know why this hasn’t blown before. To leave a detonator in a warhead is criminal, that’s what it is.’
‘Yes,’ said Abbot, and found himself sweating. ‘What do you mean—it’s not much better?’
‘TNT is right funny stuff,’ said Parker. ‘It goes sour with age. It’s not so stable any more. It becomes that sensitive it can explode on its own.’ He looked sideways at Abbot. ‘It’s best you don’t go near it, Mike.’
‘Don’t worry; I won’t.’ Automatically Abbot took a cigarette packet from his pocket, and then changed his mind at the unspoken look in Parker’s eyes. ‘No smoking, either, I suppose. What do we do about it?’
‘We get it out. In the service they’d steam it out an’ flush it away, but I want to hold on to this little lot—it could come in useful. I don’t want Ali to know about it, either.’
‘It’s hardly likely that he’d know,’ said Abbot. ‘He’s not a technical type. But Eastman might if he came in and saw what we were doing. What you want the stuff for, Dan?’
‘It’s in my mind that a torpedo ought to explode,’ said Parker. ‘That’s what it’s made for, an’ it don’t seem right it shouldn’t. When these fish are launched I want them to go off wi’ a bang. That this one is full o’ TNT is an act o’ providence to my way o’ thinkin’.’
Abbot thought of four torpedoes, each loaded with heroin worth $25,000,000 and each exploding on the American shore before the unbelieving eyes of the waiting reception committee. It would be a good ploy. ‘What about your weights? You’ve bitched about the difficulties often enough.’
Parker winked. ‘Never tell the whole truth. I’ve been keepin’ somethin’ in reserve.’
‘You have only one detonator.’
‘A good artificer can always make do,’ pronounced Parker. ‘But like as not I’ll probably blow us both to hell gettin’ the stuff out, so let’s leave that problem until later. It may never come up.’ He studied the warhead. ‘I’ll need some brass tools; I’ll start makin’ those up now.’
He went away, and Abbot, after looking at the warhead for some time, also left—walking very quietly.
Four days later Eastman surveyed the torpedoes with satisfaction. ‘So you reckon we’re ready to go, Dan,’
‘All ready,’ said Parker. ‘Bar loadin’ the warheads. Then you can stick the fish in the tubes an’ shoot.’
‘Putting that other tube in the
Orestes
improved her handling,’ said Eastman. ‘The skipper says she’s not as cranky.’
Parker smiled. ‘It equalized the turbulence. I’m ready to begin loadin’ if you’ve got the stuff.’
‘The boss is a bit worried about that,’ said Eastman. ‘She wants to do it herself—just to make sure.’
‘Well, she can’t—an’ that’s flat,’ said Parker abruptly. ‘It’s a tricky job. I have to see that the centre o’ gravity comes in the right place because if it doesn’t I can’t guarantee how the fish will behave. They have to be balanced just right.’
To have someone prying into the warheads was the last thing he wanted. ‘She can stand over me an’ watch while I do it,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t mind that.’
Abbot said, ‘Dan was telling me that if the balance isn’t right the torpedo might dive to the bottom.’
‘It would affect the steering, too,’ said Parker. ‘They’d be bloody erratic.’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Eastman, holding up his hands. ‘You’ve convinced me—as usual. Jeanette will be here pretty soon with the load for one fish. See if you can convince her.’
Jeanette took a lot of convincing but at last she agreed, bowing to the superior weight of technical know-how which Parker dazzlingly deployed. ‘As long as I’m here when you do it and the warhead is sealed,’ she said.
Abbot grinned. ‘You don’t trust us very much.’
‘Correct,’ she said coolly. ‘Help Jack to get the stuff in here.’
Abbot helped Eastman to haul a big cardboard box into the shed and down the stairs, and then they went back for another. Jeanette delicately tapped the box with a neatly shod foot. ‘Open it.’
Parker took a knife and ripped open the top of the box. It was full of polyethylene bags, all holding a white powder. ‘Those bags hold half a kilogram each,’ she said. ‘There are five hundred of them—one torpedo load.’
Parker straightened. ‘That’s not on. I said five hundred pounds—not two hundred and fifty kilos. I don’t know if I can do it—it’s fifty pounds over the odds.’
‘Just put it in,’ she said.
‘You don’t understand,’ he said exasperatedly. ‘I’ve balanced these torpedoes for a five hundred pound load. If you stick an extra ten per cent right at the nose it’s goin’ to alter the leverage arm—alter the centre o’ balance.’ He rubbed the side of his nose. ‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ he said doubtfully.
‘For another hundred thousand dollars?’ she asked. ‘Just for you. I won’t tell Abbot.’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll give it a go.’ He did not want to leave any heroin behind if he could help it, and it did not really matter a damn about the balance as far as he was concerned. He would make a song and dance about it and go through the motions, baffling her with science, just to avoid suspicion. ‘For another hundred thou’, you’re on.’
‘I thought you could do it,’ she said, and smiled.
He thought she was getting it cheaply. A further two hundred pounds of heroin worth $10,000,000 for a mere $100,000—if he was ever paid at all. God, the profits to be made in this business!
Eastman and Abbot came back bearing another load, and Parker began to stow the packets into the warhead very carefully. ‘It’s a matter o’ density, too,’ he said. ‘This stuff isn’t as solid as TNT. It takes up more room, especially in these plastic packets.’
‘You’re sure the warhead is waterproof?’ demanded Jeanette.
‘You needn’t worry about that,’ he assured her. ‘It’s as tight as a duck’s arse.’
She looked mystified and Eastman chuckled. He began to poke about on the bench which was littered with tools and bits of metal. He picked up something and began to examine it, and Abbot froze as he saw it was one of the detonators Parker had been making up. ‘What’s this?’
Parker looked at it, and said casually, ‘Contact breaker for the “B” circuit. That one wasn’t working very well, so I made up another.’
Eastman tossed it in the air, caught it, and replaced it on the bench. ‘You’re pretty good with your hands, Dan. I think I could find you a good job over in the States.’
‘I wouldn’t mind that,’ said Parker. ‘Not if it pays as well as this one.’ He worked in silence for a long time with Jeanette hovering over him and peering over his shoulder. At last he said, ‘That’s the last packet. I’m surprised—I really am. I didn’t think we’d get ‘em all in. I’ll screw it down tight an’ you can put your seal on if you want to.’
He checked the heavily greased gasket and clamped the small hatch down, then said, ‘Get the block an’ tackle ready, Mike. We’ll couple it to the torpedo body an’ then it’ll be ready to go to the
Orestes.
’
The warhead was swayed up on the block and tackle and run across to the body where Parker bolted it down firmly. ‘There, miss,’ he said. ‘Are you happy wi’ that? I feel I ought to ask for a receipt, but I doubt I’d get it.’
‘I’m satisfied,’ she said. ‘Have it taken to the
Orestes
tonight, Jack. There’ll be another load tomorrow, Parker. The
Orestes
sails the morning after.’ She smiled at Abbot. ‘A nice sea cruise for all of us.’
Warren felt dispirited when they met in Hellier’s suite to compare notes. He had had an unproductive day. ‘The pickle factory is closed up tight as a drum. There’s a sign outside saying it’s closed for alterations.’
‘How do you know that’s what it said?’ asked Metcalfe. ‘Wasn’t the sign in Arabic script?’
‘I found someone to translate it into French,’ said Warren tiredly. ‘There was a bit of a vinegary smell, but not much. I didn’t see anyone go in or come out. It was a wasted day.’
‘I saw somebody go in,’ said Follet unexpectedly. ‘I followed the Delorme dame and she went in the back way. There was a guy with her—an American, I think—they spent about an hour there.’
‘It’s all linking up nicely,’ said Hellier, regarding Follet with approval. ‘This definitely ties up Delorme with Fuad. What about the shipyard?’
‘It’s not very big,’ said Metcalfe. ‘Impossible to get into, if you want to be unobtrusive about it. I didn’t see Jeanette at all. I hired a boat and had a look at the yard from the sea. Fuad’s yacht is anchored there, and there’s a scrubby old coaster flying the Panamanian flag—the
Orestes,
she’s called. That’s all. The yard itself looks run down; not many working types about, but plenty of toughs at the main gate.’
‘Perhaps it’s closed for alterations, too,’ said Tozier ironically. ‘If they’re ferrying millions of dollars’ worth of heroin about Beirut they’re going to be damned sure there’ll be no prying eyes at the staging points. It’s quite possible the
Orestes
is the ship we’re looking for. Could she make the Atlantic crossing?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ said Metcalfe. ‘She’s about three thousand tons. But there’s more. This afternoon a truck pitched up hauling a very long trailer. I couldn’t see what the trailer carried because it was covered with a tarpaulin, but it could very well have been a torpedo.’
‘I’m not so sure of this torpedo bit,’ said Warren. ‘Parker told me a torpedo can only carry about five hundred pounds, and we know there’s a ton to be smuggled.’ He frowned. ‘Even if Abbot and Parker scupper the first consignment that still leaves another three-quarters of a ton of heroin around. If the torpedo is sabotaged Delorme and her gang will go to ground and we’ll be worse off than we are now.’
‘If Jeanette can get one torpedo—which she can—then she can get four,’ said Metcalfe. ‘I know Jeanette—she’s a
go-for-broke type, and if she’s convinced that a torpedo will do the trick she’ll go for it wholeheartedly.’
‘That’s all very well,’ said Warren. ‘But we don’t even know if Parker sold her on the idea.’
‘Ah, but I have more,’ said Metcalfe. ‘When the truck and trailer came out of the shipyard I followed it. It went to another place on the coast which was also locked up tight and the very devil to observe. But I paid a lot of money for the use of an attic from which I could see about a quarter of what’s on the other side of the wall. There was an Arab who is apparently some kind of caretaker; there’s a shortish man with broad shoulders—very muscular—and who walks with a slight limp…’
‘Parker!’ said Warren.
‘…and there’s a tall young chap with fair hair. Would that be Abbot?’
Warren nodded. ‘It matches him.’
‘A car came in once, stayed a few minutes and drove away again. It brought a tall man with a beaky nose and hair receding at the temples.’
‘That sounds like the guy who was with the Delorme dame,’ said Follet. ‘Was it a black Mercedes?’
Metcalfe nodded, and Hellier said, ‘I think it’s quite clear we’re all moving in the right direction. The point is—what do we do now?’
‘I think Parker and Abbot are in a very dangerous position,’ said Warren.
‘And that’s an understatement.’ Metcalfe snorted. ‘Suppose the ship sails and the torpedoes don’t work because Parker has sabotaged them. Jeanette is going to be as mad as a hornet. Nobody loses that much money and stays civilized, and she’s a touchy girl at the best of times. Parker and Abbot will get the chop—they’ll go over the side of the
Orestes
and no one will ever hear of them again.’ He brooded. ‘Come to that, they might get the chop even if the torpedoes are successful. Jeanette has a passion for covering up her tracks.’
Tozier said, ‘Nick, I’m very much afraid you’ve boobed. This torpedo trick is all right as far as it goes, but you didn’t think it through. It’s all very well being in a position to dump the heroin, but what about Abbot and Parker?’
‘I think the point at issue here is very simple,’ said Hellier. ‘Do we attack the pickle factory or the ship?’
‘Not the pickle factory,’ said Warren instantly. ‘Supposing they’ve moved some of the heroin out already? Even if we attack the factory there’ll still be some of the stuff on the loose. I favour the ship where we’ll have a chance of scooping the pool and getting the lot.’
‘And of rescuing Parker and Abbot,’ pointed out Hellier.
‘That means attacking just before she sails,’ said Tozier meditatively. ‘And we don’t know when that will be.’