Free Seawitch by Alistair MacLean

something were the matter. Instead he said in a quiet voice: "Suppose you tell us, Lord Worth?"
    Lord Worth, with no little effort, composed himself and said: "It seems that Cor—" He broke off and corrected himself: it was one of his many axioms that the right hand shouldn't know what the left hand doeth. "I was informed—all too reliably, as it now appears— that a couple of countries hostile to us might well be prepared to use naval force against us. One, it appears, is already prepared to do so. A destroyer has just cleared its Venezuelan home port and is heading in what is approximately our direction."
    "They wouldn't dare,'* Palermo said.
    "When people are power- and money-mad they'll stop at nothing." It apparently never oc-
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    curred to Lord Worth that his description of people applied, in excelsis, to himself.
    "Who's the other power?" said Larsen.
    "The Soviet Union."
    "Is it now?" Larsen seemed quite unmoved. "I don't know if I like the sound of that."
    "We could do without them." Lord Worth was back on balance again. He flipped out a notebook and consulted it. "I think Til have a talk with Washington." His hand was just reaching out for the phone when it rang. He lifted the instrument, at the same time turning the switch that cut the incoming call into the bulkhead speaker.
    "Worth."
    A vaguely disembodied voice came through the speaker. "You know who I am?" Disembodied or not, the voice was known to Worth. Corral.
    "Yes."
    Tve checked my contact, sir. Tm afraid our guesses were only too accurate. Both X and Y are willing to commit themselves to naval support."
    "I know. One of them has just moved out and appears to be heading in our general direction."
    "Which one?"
    "The one to the south. Any talk of air commitment?"
    "None that I've heard, sir. But I don't have to tell you that that doesn't rule out its use."
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    "Let me know if there is any more good news."
    "Naturally. Goodbye, sir."
    Lord Worth replaced the instrument, then lifted it again.
    "I want a number in Washington."
    "Can you hold a moment, sir?"
    "Why?"
    "There's another code message coming through. Looks like the same code as the last one, sir."
    "I shouldn't be surprised." Lord Worth's tone was somber. "Bring it across as soon as possible."
    He replaced the phone, pressed a button on the small console before him, lifting the phone again as he did.
    "Chambers?" Chambers was his senior pilot
    "Sir?"
    "Your chopper refueled?"
    "Ready to go when you are, sir.**
    "May be any second now. Stand by your phone." He replaced the receiver.
    Larsen said: "Washington beckons, sir?"
    "I have the odd feeling that it's about to. There are things that one can achieve in person that one can't over the phone. Depends upon this next message."
    "If you go, anything to be done in your absence?"
    "There'll be dual-purpose antiaircraft guns arriving aboard the Roamer this afternoon. Secure them to the platform."
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    "To the north, south, east but not west?"
    "As you wish."
    "We don't want to start blowing holes in our own oil tank."
    "There's that. There'll -eAso be mines. Three piles, each halfway between a pair of legs."
    "An underwater explosion from a mine wouldn't damage the legs?"
    "I shouldn't think so. We'll just have to find out, won't we? Keep in constant half-hourly touch with both the Torbetto and the Jupiter. Keep the radar and sonar stations constantly manned. Eternal vigilance, if you will. Hell, Commander, I don't have to tell you what to do." He wrote some figures on a piece of paper. "If I do have to go, contact this number in Washington. Tell them that Tm coming. Five hours or so."
    "This is the State Department?"
    "Yes. Tell them that at least the Under Secretary must be there. Remind him, tactfully, of future campaign contributions. Then contact my aircraft pilot, Dawson. Tell him to be standing by with a filed flight plan for Washington."
    The radio operator knocked, entered, handed Lord Worth a message