Dark vendetta, p.2
Dark Vendetta, page 2
The Admiral rose slowly to his feet and cleared his throat.
“Gentlemen,” he began, “I think most of you were sitting at this very table some forty-eight hours ago when we discussed the proposition to send H.M.S. Vigilant to investigate the ominous amount of activity at Choohow Bay on the north coast of China. As you know the Communists are constructing some kind of shore installations there which we suspect to be of a military nature. And as it would be impossible for an aircraft to get near the area without being detected we decided to send Vigilant into Chinese waters in the hope that her Commander could learn something through her periscope. I regret to inform you, Gentlemen, that Vigilant was detected and attacked by the Chinese. She is missing and feared lost with all hands.”
There was a tense silence. Expressions of shock and disbelief were registered on every face. The seven men seated around the conference table seemed frozen into immobility. No one moved or spoke. Then the pencil in the agitated hands of the Rear-Admiral snapped clean in two with a brittle crack.
The sound killed the silence and a grey-bearded Vice-Admiral asked slowly. “How did it happen?”
The Admiral drew a deep breath, and then explained all that he knew of Vigilant’s fate from her last signal which had been passed back to him by the submarine Relentless.
When he had finished the Vice-Admiral on his left said slowly: “I take it that there’ll be an enquiry?”
His grey-bearded colleague said grimly. “There’s sure to be. Vigilant was Britain’s latest and most expensive nuclear submarine; she represents a hell of a lot of the tax-payer’s money, and you can’t hush up a loss like that.” He stopped for a moment and then added. “There’ll be trouble from the press too; once they discover that we’ve been using Vigilant to snoop around the Chinese coast it will make the stink that the Americans caused with their U2 spy-plane smell like a rosebud in a sewer bed.”
The full Admiral nodded. “That’s true, and I’ve no doubt that myself and one or two others who backed me up will feel the sharp edge of the axe. But that is not our immediate problem, gentlemen. It’s too late to reconsider old decisions. Vigilant’s telegraphist was cut off in the middle of a word when he made her last signal, so we know that whatever happened to the submarine it happened very suddenly and very fatally. From that we can only assume that Vigilant is lying on the seabed at approximately the same position from which she made that signal. That fact is going to provide us with a far greater problem than the eventual fate of our private careers.”
He paused again and leaned forwards slightly with both hands pressed down on the table. His forehead was deeply lined and in the shaded light of the conference room he looked suddenly and incredibly old.
He continued. “I have spent the last few hours studying the charts appropriate to that section of the Chinese coastline, and it appears that Vigilant is lying less than three miles off the coast and in not more than 240 feet of water. The problem of salvaging her will not prove a difficult one and the Communists will most certainly make the attempt once they locate her. Vigilant was carrying all the most up-to-date developments in underwater navigation, her design is still listed as top secret, and she is also equipped to fire Polaris missiles; she will provide invaluable information for the reds if they can bring her back to the surface. Somehow, gentlemen, we must ensure that Vigilant is totally destroyed. She must not be salvaged.”
For a brief moment they digested his words and then the grey-bearded Vice-Admiral said grimly, “I believe Relentless is carrying a full armament of torpedoes; couldn’t she creep along the bottom and fire the lot into Vigilant? The reds wouldn’t learn much from the wreckage that would be left.”
The Commodore jerked his head up sharply, speaking for the first time. “We can’t do that! If Vigilant is down on the bottom then there may be men alive inside her. It would be murder!”
The grey beard bristled. “I obviously didn’t mean that such action should be taken straight away. Enough time must elapse for us to be absolutely sure that Vigilant’s crew are dead and not still trying to escape.”
The Rear-Admiral spoke, also for the first time. “By that time it will be too late. Once the Chinese locate Vigilant they will most certainly station a surface vessel over her until such time as they can start salvage operations. It will be impossible for us to take any action then.”
The Commodore’s hands clenched but he held himself in check. The angry silence was broken by the sound of a door opening.
The Admiral’s personal secretary came inside. She was a tall, efficient-looking woman, and the set of nervous determination on her face indicated that she knew exactly what sort of reception to expect.
The Admiral glared at her angrily and his voice barked out like the roar of a gun.
“I thought I gave orders that I was not to be disturbed — not in any circumstances.”
The woman winced but came resolutely forward. She held out a slip of white paper.
“A signal from Relentless, sir.”
The Admiral hesitated. “My apologies. Thank you.”
The secretary risked a half smile and then made a swift exit.
The Admiral read the signal and then glanced around the table. He said quietly, “Relentless reports increasing activity in the area, gentlemen. At least six destroyers are now patrolling the twelve mile limit, and are apparently trying to locate Vigilant. Relentless has retreated from the area.”
The grey-bearded Vice-Admiral grimaced. “Then we definitely can’t risk sending another submarine into Chinese waters.”
“It seems that the destruction of the submarine is of more importance than the lives of her crew,” returned the Commodore bitterly.
The full Admiral said sharply, “That is not so, Commodore — and you should know it. We are simply trying to face this problem rationally. Vigilant went down so fast that there can be very little possibility of any of her crew remaining alive. But even so no action of any kind will be taken until even the remotest possibility has vanished.”
The second Vice-Admiral added, “We can only pray that any men who survived will be able to make their own escape from inside. And meanwhile we must find some way of destroying the submarine after they have had their chance, but before the Chinese can commence salvage operations.”
There were slow nods of assent, and even the Commodore was forced to agree.
The full Admiral looked slightly relieved at these first signs of unity, and when he spoke again his voice was fully authoritative.
“Gentlemen, this situation has developed exactly as I expected, but fortunately Naval Intelligence has come up with at least one idea which I think deserves some consideration.” He looked towards the blunt-jawed Naval Commander who had so far remained silent at the end of the table. “Commander Maclean, perhaps you will outline the plan you suggested to me before this conference began.”
Maclean exchanged a momentary glance with Lieutenant-Commander Alan Kendall, his second in command, and then rose to his feet. A stray shaft of sunlight caught the silvery gleam of his temples and flickered over the hard set of his face.
He said flatly, “As you all know it was my suggestion that Vigilant should undertake her last mission, so naturally I’ve been keeping in close contact with the Admiral in regard to her movements. While we were waiting for you all to arrive we discussed the question of destroying Vigilant. We anticipated heavy surface patrols by the Chinese, for they will obviously prepare for any attempt on our part to ensure that Vigilant does not get salvaged. That means that to send in another submarine, or any kind of Naval vessel, would only mean more trouble. The use of aircraft is also out of the question, for Vigilant is too deep to be reached by bombing even if we dared risk such violation of Chinese air and sea space. That only leaves one other front for attack — the land.
“I propose, gentlemen, that we land a picked strike party of underwater saboteurs on the Chinese mainland. They can be landed well south of the patrolling destroyers from a fishing junk: That stretch of coastline is pretty barren and thinly populated, and providing the strike party keeps to the hills and moves only at night they should stand a good chance of circling north to the spot where Vigilant is assumed to be sunk. It should take them five or six days to get into position, and I think that if no survivors have been reported from Vigilant by that time then we must acknowledge the fact that they will all be dead. The strike party will then have to swim out and place a series of high-powered explosives around Vigilant’s hull, positioning them so that they totally wreck the equipment most likely to be of help to the Chinese. Afterwards they must retreat the way they have come. There is no other way of ensuring that Vigilant’s secrets do not fall into Communist hands.”
Maclean finished his speech and waited for the storm.
Almost a thousand miles away in one of the large new buildings at Choohow Bay a similar conference was taking place. Another group of high-ranking officers were seated around an almost identical table, their faces fixed with solemn stares on the arrogant features of the Admiral addressing them. On the wall behind the Admiral’s back hung a large flag bearing the emblem of Communist China. The Admiral was speaking in Chinese and his voice was thick and harsh.
“As you know, Comrades, yesterday afternoon an unidentified submarine was detected while spying in Chinese waters and was attacked by a fighter of our glorious air force. One of our destroyers continued the attack but the submarine escaped. At first it was thought that the enemy had fled into the open sea, but now we have reason to believe that this was not so. Last night a radio signal was intercepted from that submarine which informed us that she is still in Chinese territorial waters. She did not finish her signal so it seems most likely that she finally sank due to the terrible punishment inflicted on her by our glorious navy.”
He reached for a glass of water by his right hand and swallowed half of it in one greedy movement of his throat. Replacing the glass he continued. “Unfortunately we missed the first part of that signal, so we do not know exactly where this submarine is located. What we do know is that she is a nuclear submarine and probably British. The very speed with which she escaped from our destroyer proves that she must have been atomic powered; and the fact that every top naval officer in Hong Kong was seen rushing into British Naval Headquarters in Victoria this morning seems to leave little doubt as to her nationality.”
He stopped and gulped again at the glass of water.
He smacked his lips and went on. “That submarine will make an interesting prize, Comrades, and we are going to salvage her. At the moment we have destroyers patrolling the whole of this stretch of coastline to guard against any more intruders, and we have salvage vessels standing by to go into operation as soon as the submarine is located.”
An aide came swiftly forward and re-filled the water glass as the Admiral’s hand reached out for it. The Admiral swallowed deeply and then faced his audience again.
“There is just one more point. Our highly-respected Comrades of the Soviet Union are also interested in the salvaging of this submarine. And just in case it should prove difficult to locate they have sent two of their most highly-trained agents to approach the problem from a different angle.”
The Admiral extended one hand towards the far end of the room and said grandly. “I introduce to you, Comrades Dressler and Reutall.”
All eyes turned towards the two men who were standing with their backs to the wall. Dressler was a tall, bony creature wearing a neatly cut grey suit, his eyes were hidden behind thick horn-rimmed glasses and he held a silver-topped cane loosely in his right hand. Reutall was shorter and chubbier. He wore a suit of charcoal black and his hands and wrists were covered with long, tight-fitting black leather gloves. Both men smiled and nodded towards the circle of officers around the conference table.
The Admiral slopped more water into his throat and then said, “Comrades Dressler and Reutall are going to Hong Kong. Their job will be to try and find out the exact position of this spy-submarine from the British. I am told that in their line of work they are considered experts.”
CHAPTER 3: STRIKE PARTY
It was late afternoon and the sun still blazed down from a perfect sky that was a patchwork quilt of downy white and brilliant blue. The ferries still buzzed across the turquoise waters of the straits, a few British and American warships lay at anchor in the harbour, grey and menacing in the harsh sunlight, and graceful junks with great square, coloured sails drifted lethargically by. The life of Hong Kong throbbed and pulsed through its garish streets and squalid alleys. Across the bay the hills behind Kowloon were a hazy purple in the distance.
Commander Charles Maclean was unaware of it all as he sat before the large desk in his bright, air-conditioned office. He was hatless and in his shirtsleeves and there was a trickle of sweat making its way slowly down the side of his face. The touch of silver at his temples made him look several years older than he really was, and at the moment his face was hard and strained.
The clash of wills over his proposed solution to the problem of Vigilant had been much tougher than he had expected, and some of the men he had had to convince had been openly hostile. He had been prepared for that to a certain extent, for the fact that the Intelligence department had requested that Vigilant investigate Choohow Bay could not help coming under criticism. But the weight and bitterness behind the attack had surprised and startled him, and his new proposition had met some stiff opposition.
Finally the support of the Admiral had helped him to push the plan through, for it was clear that there was no other way of preventing the submarine from falling into Chinese hands. He had eventually escaped from the conference room feeling mentally battered, but at least he had won his point. The strike party was to be formed and landed on the mainland with all possible speed, and it was left to the Intelligence department to work out the final details.
He had worked at the problem all day; studying charts of the coastline and selecting the right spot to land his men, arranging for the Captain of a broken-down fishing junk to smuggle them into Chinese waters, and contacting experts on everything from underwater sabotage to emergency battle rations. He had only to close his eyes and he could see the complete chart of the Chinese coast printed indelibly on the inside of his eyelids, and his brain was throbbing from the effort of trying to control the mass of facts and figures he had gathered.
He stared wearily at the mass of papers that littered his desk and realised that now there was only one major task left: he had to explain to the man whom he hoped would put his head not only in the lion’s mouth but halfway down its gullet.
There was a sudden knock on his office door and then Alan Kendall came in. The Lieutenant-Commander was a young man for his rank, but the set of his lips and jawline showed that he was fully aware of its responsibilities.
He said briefly, “I’ve located Captain Mason, sir. He was sunbathing on the beach at Repulse Bay.”
Maclean said quietly, “How did he react?”
Kendall grinned. “Quite amiably. There was a half-naked blonde with him, but he seemed to think that the hero-worship in her eyes was sufficient compensation for leaving her company. He quite enjoyed having a Lieutenant-Commander in full uniform come to fetch him.”
“Where is he now?”
“Waiting outside, sir. I brought him back with me.”
Maclean sighed. “Show him in will you, we may as well get it over with.”
Kendall nodded and went out of the room. He returned a few seconds later with a tall, bronzed man wearing casual fawn trousers and a bright red shirt. The shirt was short-sleeved and tucked elegantly in the throat was a light cravat of white silk.
Maclean stared and Kendall said quickly. “I brought Captain Mason straight up from the beach, sir. As the matter was urgent I didn’t waste time in getting him into uniform.”
Maclean hesitated, and for a moment he wondered whether he was entrusting this mission to the right man. Then he recalled Mason’s record and his doubts were dispelled. Paul Mason had the nonchalant manner of a sporting wastrel, and the cravat, which he habitually wore as a mark of his individuality, added a touch of dandified elegance that was highly deceptive. It was only after the second look that you noted the hard, muscular arms and the brisk movements of a man at the peak of physical fitness, and the unflinching clarity in his blue gaze indicated an easy self-confidence.
Paul Mason was a Captain in the Royal Marines, and despite the flamboyant touch to his nature he was a good officer. He was also an excellent swimmer and had been trained in the delicate art of underwater sabotage. He had the look of a man who knew exactly where he was going in life, the shortest route of getting there, and how to deal with any kind of trouble that might come up along the way.
Maclean answered Mason’s salute and then invited him to take a seat. Mason did so, sitting relaxed but attentive in a high-backed chair that faced the desk.
For a moment Maclean wondered where to start, and then he began quietly to explain about Vigilant. He outlined the full story and then detailed his own plans for the destruction of the submarine. Mason listened in silence, gradually absorbing some of the tension that infiltrated through the Intelligence man’s words.
When Maclean finished he gave the Marine Captain time to think. Then he said quietly,
“Captain Mason, I want you to lead that strike party on to the Chinese mainland. But I must warn you that you will be entirely on your own if your party is caught by the Chinese. You would undoubtedly be treated as spies and there would be nothing that I could do for you. We think that the attempt stands a good chance of succeeding because the country is so sparsely populated; providing you move only at night and stay hidden during the day there is no reason why you should not reach your objective unseen. However, you just might be unlucky; there are always some factors that can never be foreseen on a job like this.” He paused for a moment and then added. “It’s a volunteer mission, of course. Nobody outside this room will ever know if you turn it down.”
