Wilbur Smith's Smashing Thrillers (30 page)

From Warlock's navigation bridge, he could look across the main harbour
basin and see the tall, snowy superstructure glistening in the bright
hot summer sunshine, towering as high as the giraffe-necked steel wharf
cranes; and in gloating self-indulgence, David dwelt on a picture of the
liner, wreathed in snow, half obscured by driving sleet and sea fume,
staggering in the mountainous black seas off Antarctica. It gave him a
solid feeling of achievement, and he thrust his hands deeply into his
pockets and whistled softly to himself, smiling and watching the liner.

The Trog thrust his wrinkled head from the radio room.

‘
There's a call for you on the land-line
,’
he said, and David picked up
the handset.

‘
David?
’

‘
Yessir.
’
He drew himself to his full height as he recognized
Nicholas Berg's voice.

‘
Are you ready for sea?
’

David gulped, then glanced at the bulkhead
clock.
‘
We discharged tow an hour and ten minutes ago.
’

‘
Yes, I know. How
soon?
’

David was tempted to lie, estimate short, and then fake it for
the extra time he needed. Instinct warned him against lying
deliberately to Nicholas Berg.

‘
Twelve hours
,’
he said.

‘
It's an oil-rig tow, Rio to the North Sea, a semi-submersible rig.
’

‘
Yessir,
’
David adjusted quickly, thank God he had not yet let any of his
crew ashore. He had arranged for bunkering at 1300, hours. He could
make it.
’
When are you coming aboard, sir?
’

‘
I'm not
,’
said Nick.
‘
You're the new Master. I'm leaving for London on the five o'clock
flight. I won't even get down to shout at you. She's all yours, David.
’

‘
Thank you, sir!
’
David stuttered, feeling himself flush hot scarlet.

‘
Bach Wackie will telex you full details of the tow at sea, and you and I
will work out your own contract later. But I want you running at top
economic power for Rio by dawn tomorrow.
’

‘
Yessir.
’

‘
I've watched you carefully, David.
’
Nick's voice changed,
becoming personal, warmer.
‘You're a damn good tug-man. J
ust keep
telling yourself that.
’

‘
Thank you, Mr. Berg.
’

Samantha had spent half
the afternoon helping with the arrangements for taking off the remaining
passengers from Golden Adventurer and embarking them in the waiting
fleet of tourist buses which would distribute them to hotels throughout
the city while they waited for the London charter flight.

It had been a sad occasion, farewell to many who had become friends and
remembering those who had not come back from Cape Alarm with them - Ken,
who might have been her lover, and the crew of raft Number 16 who had
been her special charges.

O
nce the final bus had left, with the occupants waving for the last time
to Samantha,
‘
Take care, honey!
’
‘
You come and visit with us now, hear!
’
she was as lonely and forlorn as the silent ship. She stood for a long
time staring up the liner's high side, the damage where sea and ice had
battered her - then she turned and picked her way dejectedly along the
edge of the basin, ignoring the occasional whistle or ribald invitation
from the fishermen and crew members of the freighters on their moorings.

Warlock seemed as welcoming as home, rakish and gallant, wearing her new
scars with high panache, already thrusting and impatient at the
restraint of her mooring lines. And then Samantha remembered that
Nicholas Berg was no longer aboard her, and her spirits sagged again.

‘
God!
’
Tim Graham met her at the gangplank.
‘
I'm glad you got back. I
didn't know what to do with your gear.
’

‘
What do you mean?
’
Samantha
demanded.
‘
Are you throwing me off the ship?
’

‘
Unless you want to come
with us to Rio.
’
He thought about that for a moment, and then he
grinned,
‘
Hey, that's not a bad idea, how about it, old girl? Rio in
Carnival time, you and me
.’

‘
Don't get carried away, Timothy
,’
she warned
him.
Why Rio?
’

‘
The Captain
-‘

‘
Captain Berg?
’

‘
No, David Allen, he's the new
skipper
,’
and she lost interest.

‘
When are you sailing?
’

‘
Midnight.
’

‘
I'd best go pack up.
’
She left him on
the quarter-deck, and Angel pounced on her as she passed the galley.

‘
Where have you been?
’
He was in a flutter, all wrists and tossing hair,
‘
I've been beside myself, darling.
’

‘
What is it, Angel
?’

‘
It's probably too
late already.
’

‘
What is it?
’
She caught his urgency.
‘
Tell me.
’

‘
He's still
in town.
’

‘
Who?
’
But she knew, they spoke of only one person in these
emotional terms.

‘
Don't be dense, luv. Your crumpet.
’
She hated it when he referred to
Nick like that, but now she let him go on.
‘
But he won't be very much longer. His plane leaves at five o'clock, he
is making the local flight to Johannesburg, and connecting there for
London.
’

She stared at him.

‘
Well what are you waiting for?
’
Angel keened.
‘
It's almost four o'clock
now, and it will take you at least half an hour to reach the airport.
’

She did not move.
‘
But, Angel
,’
she almost wrung her hands in anguish,
‘
but what do I do when I get there?
’

Angel shook his head and twinkled
his diamonds in exasperation.
‘
Sweet merciful heavens, duckie.
’
Then he
sighed.
‘
When I was a boy I had two guinea pigs, and they also refused
to get it on. I think they were retarded, or something. I tried
everything, even hormones, but neither of them survived the shots. Alas,
their love was never consummated
.’

‘
Be serious, Angel.
’

‘
You could hold him
down while I give
him
a hormone shot
-’

‘
I hate you, Angel.
’
She had to
laugh, even in her anxiety.

‘
Dearie, every night for the past month you have tried to set him on fire
with your dulcet silvery voice - and we haven't even passed "GO" and
collected our first $200.
’

‘
I know, Angel. I know.
’

‘
It seems to me,
sweetie, that it's time now to cut out the jawing and to ignite him with
that magic little tinderbox of yours.
’

‘
You mean right there in the
departure lounge of the airport?
’
She clapped her hands with delight,
then struck a lascivious pose. 'I'm Sam - fly me!
’

‘
Hop, poppet there
is a taxi on the wharf - he's been waiting an hour, with his meter
running.
’

There is no first-class lounge in Cape Town's DF Malan
Airport, so Nicholas sat in the snake-pit, amongst the distraught
mothers and their whining, sticky offspring, the harassed tourists
loaded like camels with souvenirs and the florid-faced commercial
travellers, but he was alone in a multitude; with unconscious deference
they allowed him a little circle of privacy and he used the Louis
Vuitton briefcase on his knee as a desk.

It occurred to him suddenly how dramatically the balance had swung in
the last mere forty days, since he had recognized his wave peaking, but
had almost not been able to find the strength for it.

A shadow passed across his eyes, and the little creased crows foot
appeared between them as he remembered the physical and emotional effort
that it had taken to make the Go decision on Golden Adventurer, and he
shivered slightly in fear of what might have happened if he had not
gone. He would have missed his wave, and there would never have been
another.

With a small firm movement of his head, he pushed that memory of fear
behind him. He had caught his wave, and he was riding high and fast.
Now it seemed that the fates were intent on smothering him with
largesse: the oil-rig for Warlock, Rio to the Bravo Sierra field off
Norway - then a back-to-back tow from the North Sea through Suez to the
to the new South Australian field, would keep Warlock fully employed for
the next six months. That was not all, the threatening dockyard strike
at Construction Navale Atlantique had been smoothed over and the
delivery date for the new tug had come forward by two months - At
midnight the night before, a telephone call from Bach Wackie had
awakened him to let him know Kuwait and Qatar were now also studying the
iceberg-to-water project with a view to commissioning similar schemes;
he would have to build himself another two vessels if they decided to
go.

‘
All I need now is to hear that I have won the football pools,
’
he
thought, and turned his head, started and caught his breath with a hiss,
as though he had been punched in the ribs.

She stood by the automatic doors, and the wind had caught her hair and
torn it loose from its thick twisted knot so that fine gold tendrils
floated down on to her cheeks - cheeks that were flushed as though she
had run fast, and her chest heaved so that she held one hand upon it,
fingers spread like a star between those fine pointed breasts.
She was poised like a forest animal that has scented the leopard,
fearful, tremulous, but not yet certain in which direction to run. Her
agitation was so apparent that he thrust aside his briefcase and stood
up.

She saw him instantly, and her face lit with an expression of such
unutterable joy, that he was halted in his intention of going towards
her, while she in contrast wheeled and started to run towards him.

She collided with a portly, sweating tourist, nearly flooring him and
shaking loose a rain of carved native curios and anonymous packets which
clattered to the floor around her like
ri
pe fruit.