"Well, would you look at that, now?" Durand said admiringly. "You'd think she was used to being kidnaped every morning of her life."

"This is a kidnap?"

'Tin afraid so." Durand sounded genuinely apologetic.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Vacation. Little island hi the sun." Durand smiled. "You won't be needing any swimsuit though. Please get up and get dressed."

"And if I refuse?"

"We'll dress you."

"I'm not going to get dressed with you two watching me."

Durand was soothing. "My friend will stand out in the corridor. I'll go into the bathroom there and leave the door open just a crack-not to watch you, but to watch the window, to make sure that you don't leave by it. Call me when you're ready and be quick about it."

She was quick about it. She called him within three minutes. Blue blouse, blue slacks and her hair combed. Durand nodded his approval.

"Pack a traveling bag. Enough for a few days."

He watched her while she packed. She zipped the bag shut and picked up her purse. "I'm ready."

He took the purse from her, undid the clasp and upended the contents on the bed. From the jumble on the bed he selected a small pearl-handled pistol, which he slipped into his pocket "Let's pack the purse again, shall we?"

Marina did so, her face flushed with mortification.

A somewhat similar scene had just taken place in Melinda's bedroom.

Twenty-five minutes had elapsed since the arrival of Durand and his men and their departure with the two girls. No one had been hurt, except in pride, and the intruders had even been considerate to the extent of seating Jenkins in a deep armchair in the front hall. Jenkins, as he was now securely bound hand and foot, did not appreciate this courtesy as much as he might have done.

About ten minutes after their departure, Lord Worth's helicopter touched down beside his 03.Boeing in the city airport. There were no customs, no clearance formalities. Lord Worth had made it plain some years previously that he did not much care for that sort of thing, and when Lord Worth made things plain they tended to remain that way.

It was during the second leg of this flight that the second unfortunate occurrence happened. Again, Lord Worth was happily unaware of what was taking place.

The Tiburon's (now the Georgia's) helicopter had located the Torbello. The pilot reported that he had sighted the vessel two minutes previously and gave her lat.i.tude and longitude as accurately as he could judge. More importantly, he gave her course as approximately 315 degrees, which was virtually on a collision course with the Georgia. They were approximately forty-five miles apart. Cronkite gave his congratulations to the pilot and asked him to return to the Georgia.

On the bridge of the Georgia Cronkite and Mulhooney looked at each other with satisfaction. Between planning and execution there often exists an unbridgeable gap. In this case, however, things appeared to be going exactly according to plan.

Cronkite said to Mulhooney: "Time, I think, to change into more respectable clothes. And don't forget to powder your nose."

Mulhooney smiled and left the bridge. Cronkite paused only to give a few instructions to the helmsman, then left the bridge also.

Less than an hour later the Torbello stood clear over the horizon. The Georgia headed straight for it, then at about three miles distance made a thirty-degree alteration to starboard, judged the timing to a nicety and came round in a wide sweeping turn to port. Two minutes later the Georgia was on a parallel course to the Torbello, alongside its port quarter-the bridge of a tanker lies very far aft-paralleling its course at the same speed and not more than thirty yards away. Cronkite moved out onto the wing of the Georgia's bridge and lifted his loud-hailer.

"Coast Guard. Please stop. This is a request, not an order. We think your vessel's in great danger. Your permission, please, to bring a trained research party aboard. For the safety of your men and the ship, don't break radio silence on any account!"

Captain Thompson, an honest sailor with no criminal propensities whatsoever, used his own loud-hailer.

"What's wrong? Why is this boarding necessary?"

"It's not a boarding. I am making a request for your own good. Believe me, I'd rather not be within five miles of you. It is necessary. I'd rather 85.come aboard with my lieutenant and explain privately. Don't forget what happened to your sister ship, the Crusader, in Galveston harbor last night."

Captain Thompson, clearly, had not forgotten and was, of course, completely unaware that Cronkite was the man responsible for what had happened to his sister ship: a ringing of bells from the bridge was indication enough of that. Three minutes later the Torbello lay stopped in the calm waters. The Georgia edged up alongside the Torbello until its midships were just ahead of the bulk of the tanker's superstructure. At this point it was possible to step from the Georgia's deck straight onto the deck of the deep-laden tanker, which was what Cronkite and Mulhooney proceeded to do. They paused there until they had made sure that the Georgia was securely moored fore and aft to the tanker, then climbed a series of companionways and ladders up to the bridge.

Both men were quite unrecognizable. Cronkite had acquired a splendidly bushy black beard, a neatly trimmed mustache and dark gla.s.ses and, with his smartly tailored uniform and slightly rakish peaked cap, looked the epitome of the competent and dashing coast-guard-cutter captain which he was not. Mulhooney was similarly disguised.

There was only Captain Thompson and an idle 06.helmsman on the bridge. Cronkite shook the captain's hand.

"Good morning. Sorry to disturb you when you are proceeding about your lawful business and all that, but you may be glad we stopped you. First, where is your radio room?" Captain Thompson nodded to a door set in back of the bridge. "Fd like my lieutenant to check on the radio silence. This is imperative." Again, Captain Thompson, now feeling distinctly uneasy, nodded. Cronkite looked at Mulhooney. "Go check, Dixon, will you?"

Mulhooney pa.s.sed through into the radio room, closing the door behind him. The radio operator looked up from his transceiver with an air of mild surprise.

"Sorry to disturb." Mulhooney sounded almost genial, a remarkable feat for a man totally devoid of geniality. "I'm from the Coast Guard cutter alongside. The captain told you to keep radio silence?"

"That's just what I'm doing."

"Made any radio calls since leaving the Sea-witch?"

"Only the routine half-hourly on-course, on-time calls.'*

"Do they acknowledge those? I have my reasons for asking." Mulhooney carefully refrained from saying what his reasons were.

"No. Well, just the usual 'roger and out' business."

Allstair MacLean "What's the call-up frequency?"

The operator pointed to the console. "Preset."

Mulhooney nodded and walked casually behind the operator. Just to make sure that the operator kept on maintaining radio silence, Mulhooney clipped him over the right ear with his pistol. He then returned to the bridge, where he found Captain Thompson in a state of considerable and understandable perturbation.

Captain Thompson, a deep anxiety compounded by a self-defensive disbelief, said: "What you're telling me in effect is that the Torbello is a floating time bomb."

"A bomb, certainly. Maybe lots of bombs. Not only possible but almost certain. Our sources of information-sorry, Fm not at liberty to divulge those-are as nearly perfect as can be."

"G.o.d's sake, man, no one would be so crazy as to cause a huge oil slick in the Gulf."

Cronkite said: "It's your a.s.sumption, not mine, that we're dealing with sane minds. Who but a crazy man would have endangered Galveston by blowing up your sister tanker there?"

The captain fell silent and pondered the question gloomily.

Cronkite went on: "Anyway, it's my intention-with your consent, of course-to search the engine room, living accommodations and every storage s.p.a.ce on the ship. With the kind of search crew I have it shouldn't take more than half an hour."

"What kind of preset time bomb do you think it might be?"

"I don't think it's a time bomb-or bombs- at all. I think that the detonator-or detonators -will be a certain radioactivated device that can be triggered by any nearby craft, plane or helicopter. But I don't think it's fixing to happen till you're close to the U.S. coast."

"Why?"

"So we'll have maximum pollution along the sh.o.r.es. There'll be a national holler against Lord Worth and the safety standards aboard Ms- ah-rather superannuated tankers, maybe resulting in closing down the Seawitch or the seizing of any of Worth's tankers that might enter American territorial waters." In addition to his many other specialized qualifications, Cronkite was a consummate liar. "Okay if I call my men?" Captain Thompson nodded without any noticeable enthusiasm.

Cronkite lifted the loud-hailer and ordered the search party aboard. They came immediately, fourteen of them, all of them wearing stocking masks, all of them carrying machine pistols. Captain Thompson stared at them in stupefaction, then turned and stared some more at Cronkite and Mulhooney, both of whom had pistols leveled at him. Cronkite may have been looking satisfied or even triumphant, but such was the abundance of his ersatz facial foliage that it was impossible to tell.

Allstalr MacLean Captain Thompson, in a stupefaction that was slowly turning into a slow burn, said: "What the h.e.l.l goes?"

"You can see what goes. Hijack. A very popular pastime nowadays. I agree that n.o.body's ever hijacked a tanker before, but there always has to be a first time. Besides, it's not really something new. Piracy on the high seas. They've been at it for thousands of years. Don't try anything rash, Captain, and please don't try to be a hero. If you all behave, no harm will come to you. Anyway, what could you possibly do with fourteen submachine guns lined up against you?"

Within five minutes all the crew, officers and men, including the recovered radio operator but with one other exception, were herded into the crew's mess under armed guard. n.o.body had even as much as contemplated offering resistance. The exception was an unhappy-looking duty engineer in the engine room. There are few people who don't look slightly unhappy when staring at the muzzle of a Schmeisser from a distance of five feet.

Cronkite was on the bridge giving Mulhooney his final instructions.

"Keep on sending the Seawitch its half-hour on-time, on-course reports. Then report a minor breakdown in two or three hours-a fractured fuel line or something of the sort-enough that would keep the Torbello immobilized for a few hours. You're due in Galveston tonight and I need time and room to maneuver. Rather, you need time and room to maneuver. When it gets dark keep every navigational light extinguished -in fact, every light extinguished. Let's don't underestimate Lord Worth." Cronkite was speaking with an unaccustomed degree of bitterness, doubtless recalling the day Lord Worth had taken him to the cleaners in court. "He's a very powerful man, and it's quite in the cards that he can have an air-and-sea search mounted for his missing tanker."

Cronkite rejoined the Georgia, cast off and pulled away. Mulhooney, too, got under way, but altered course ninety degrees to port so that he was heading southwest instead of northwest. On the first half hour he sent the rea.s.suring report to the Seawitch-"on course, on time."

Cronkite waited for the Starlight to join him, then both vessels proceeded together in a generally southeasterly direction until they were about thirty-five nautical miles from the Seawitch, safely over the horizon and out of reach of the Seawitch's radar and sonar. They stopped their engines and settled down to wait.

The big Boeing had almost halved the distance between Florida and Washington. Lord Worth, in his luxurious stateroom immediately abaft the flight deck, was making up for time lost during 101.

Alistatr Mui-l.oan the previous night and, blissfully unaware of the slings and arrows that were coming at him from all sides, was soundly asleep.

Mitch.e.l.l had been unusually but perhaps not unexpectedly late in waking that morning. He showered, shaved and dressed while the coffee percolated, all the time conscious of a peculiar and unaccustomed sense of unease. He paced up and down the kitchen, drinking his coffee, then abruptly decided to put his unease at rest. He lifted the phone and dialed Lord Worth's mansion. The other end rang, rang again and kept on ringing. Mitch.e.l.l replaced the receiver, then tried again with the same result. He finished his coffee, went across to Roomer's house and let himself in with his pa.s.skey. He went into the bedroom to find Roomer still asleep. He woke him up. Roomer regarded him with disfavor.

"What do you mean by waking up a man in the middle of the night?"

"It's not the middle of the night." He pulled open the drapes and the bright summer sunlight flooded the room. "It's broad daylight, as you will be able to see when you open your eyes." '

"Your house on fire or something, then?"

"I wish it were something as trivial as that. Fm worried, John. I woke up feeling bugged by something, and the feeling got worse and worse. Five minutes ago I called up Lord Worth's house. I tried twice. There was no reply. Must 102.

have been at least eight or ten people in that house, but there was no reply."

"What do you think-"

"You're supposed to be the man with the intuition. Get ready. Til go make some coffee."

Long before the coffee was ready, in fact less than ninety seconds later, Roomer was in the kitchen. He had of course neither showered nor shaved but had had time to run a comb through his hair. He was looking the same way the expressionless Mitch.e.l.l was feeling.

"Never mind the coffee." Roomer bore an almost savage expression on his face, but Mitch.e.l.l knew that it wasn't directed at him. "Let's get up to the house/'

They took Roomer's car; it was nearer.

Mitch.e.l.l said: "G.o.d, we're really bright! Hit us over the head often enough and maybe-just maybe-we'll begin to see the obvious." He held on to his seat as Roomer, tires screeching, rounded a blind corner. "Easy, boy, easy. Too late to lock the stable now."

With what was a clearly conscious effort of will, Roomer slowed down. He said: "Yeah, we're real clever. Lord Worth used a threat of the girls' abduction as an excuse for his actions. And you told him to offer the threat of the abduction as an excuse for our being there last night. And it never occurred to either of our staggering intellects that their kidnaping would be both logical and inevitable. Worth wasn't 1O3.

Allstair MacLeaa exaggerating-he has enemies, and vicious enemies who are out to get him. Two trump cards- and what trumps! He's powerless now. He'll give away half his money to get them back. Just half. He'll use the other half to hunt those people down. Money can buy any co-operation in the world, and the old boy has all the money in the world."

Mitch.e.l.l now seemed relaxed, comfortable, even calm. He said: "But we'll get to them first, won't we, John?"

Roomer stirred uncomfortably in his seat as they swung into the mansion's driveway. He said: 'Tm just as sore as you are. But I don't like it when you start talking that way. You know that."

"I'm expressing an intention-or at least a hope." He smiled. "We'll see."

Roomer stopped his car in a fashion that did little good to Lord Worth's immaculately raked gravel. The first thing that caught Mitch.e.l.l's eye as he left the car was an odd movement by the side of the driveway hi a clump of bushes. He took out his gun and went to investigate, then put his gun away, opened his clasp knife and sliced through MacPherson's bonds. The head gardener, after forty years in Florida, had never lost a trace of a very p.r.o.nounced Scottish accent, an accent that tended to thicken according to the degree of mental stress he was undergoing.-On this occasion, with the adhesive removed, his 1O4.

language was wholly indecipherable-which, in view of what he was almost certainly trying to say, was probably just as well.

They went through the front doorway. Jen-kins, apparently taking his ease in a comfortable armchair, greeted them with a baleful glare. The glare was in no way intended for them; Jenkins was just in a baleful mood, a mood scarcely bettered by Mitch.e.l.l's swift and painful yanking away of the adhesive from his lips. Jenkins took a deep breath, preparatory to. lodging some form of protest, but Mitch.e.l.l cut in before he could speak.

"Where does Jim sleep?" Jim was the radio operator.

Jenkins stared at him in astonishment. Was this the way to greet a man who had been through a living h.e.l.l-s.n.a.t.c.hed, one might almost say, from the jaws of death? Where was the sympathy, the condolence, the anxious questioning? Mitch.e.l.l put his hands on his shoulders and shook him violently.

"Are you deaf? Jim's room?"

Jenkins looked at the grim face less than a foot from his own and decided against remonstrating. "In back, first floor, first right."

Mitch.e.l.l left. So, after a second or two, did Roomer. Jenkins called after him in a plaintive voice: "You aren't leaving me too, Mr. Roomer?"

Roomer turned and said patiently: 'Tm going to the kitchen to get a nice sharp carver. Mr.

1O5.

All stair Mitch.e.l.l has taken the only knife we have between us."

Jim Robertson was young, fresh-faced and just out of college, a graduate in electrical engineering in no hurry to proceed with his profession. He sat on the bed ma.s.saging his now unbound wrists, wincing slightly as the circulation began to return. As tiers of knots, Durand's henchmen had been nothing if not enthusiastic.

Mitch.e.l.l said: "How do you feel?'*

"Mad."

"I don't blame you. Are you okay to operate your set?"

"I'm okay for anything if it means getting hold of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

"That's the general idea. Did you get a good look at the kidnapers?"

"I can give you a general description." He broke off and stared at Mitch.e.l.l. "Kidnapers?"

"Looks as though Lord Worth's daughters have been abducted."

"Holy Christ!" The a.s.similation of this news took some little time. "There'll be all h.e.l.l to pay for this."

"It should cause a considerable flap. Do you know where Marina's room is?"

'Til show you."