' Raz de Marees!'
Only Andre, a foot away, heard my terror-deadened cry.
All I knew was that I was pointing frantically at the awesome thing rushing down on the cutter.
' Raz de Marees!' yelled Andre.
Peace turned in disbelief. But MKG saw and the tiller went hard over so that the bow-our only slight chance pointed at the advancing wall of sea. Peace cleated home the sheet and whipped a bight of it round the mast and his chest. I stood staring stupidly at the living grey death bearing down until Andre's hard hand jerked me under the bow decking.
Adele emerged and stared, wide-eyed.
Raz de Marees! I croaked. 'Brace your feet-hang:-on-for God's sake, anything-it's almost here!'
It seemed as if our backs rose vertically. The cutter's bow went up and up. I heard the low moan of the giant wave before I felt the hammer-blow of the water against the hull. If the boat's head fell off now
– ! But MKG had her, holding the tiller amidships with both hands. Up! Up!
She yawed, faltered. MKG's hands worked the rough tiller.
She came back-reluctantly, with awful lethargy. She was making out!
Then Peace shouted, pointing.
Away to port were the lights of a ship.
Bellatrix!
The DNI had chosen his man well. Trevor-Davis had put on all the yacht's lights, including the masthead ones, before it was fully dark, in anticipation of being intercepted-as Peace had told him-before Bellatrix reached St Brandon. We watched, awestruck. The graceful yacht canted steeply under the huge wave, shuddered, rose, broke free.
Peace lit the cutter's acetylene light and fired a flare. My admiration for the quiet Trevor-Davis increased still more as Bellatrix swung round towards us-alone in the wheelhouse, he was keeping an eagle's-eye watch all round the compass.
Within half an hour we were drinking Glenfiddich in Bellatrix's sycamore-panelled lounge, the cutter towing safely behind the yacht. Mac had come through on Peace's invitat ion and met MKG. He seemed much better pleased to see Peace than the American leader. I was reminded again of his gutter-gang loyalties, his unquestioning devotion to the submarine ace.
Peace took over from the exhausted Trevor-Davis-except for a few cat-naps while steering on the Sperry auto, he had been almost continuously in the wheelhouse, he told us. The only sign of the long shifts on Mac was his moroseness as he downed a half-tumbler of straight Scotch.
Bellatrix drove north into the wild night-for Semittante, for Love-Apple Crossing.
1 1 THE CUTTING – OUT OF LITTLE BEAR
A hard hand was on my shoulder. I was awake and sitting up, my reflexes ahead of my senses. For a moment I saw only a man in paint-streaked overalls. It was Mac.
' Skipper's orders,' he said briefly, in his harsh Glasgow accent. 'It's after midnight. He wants you in the wheelhouse.'
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The tough Scots engineer seemed as tireless as Peace-or was it his devotion to him that would not allow him to let up while the submarine ace still remained on his feet? The only outward sign was his moroseness and hangover-like shadows under his eyes.
What the hell are you doing painting at this time of night?' I asked.
Air-sea search-hunter-killer group-I've heard it a' till I' m sick. So the skipper decided to camouflage
Bellatrix-' 149 he spat uninhibitedly on the carpet. 'Paint the bluidy ship in a flippin' cyclone! Aye, so I painted her.'
My watch said a couple of minutes after midnight. A new day had been born.
February 9th-seven days to go.
' They'd spot the old white for miles,' Mac went on. ' So now she's grey-mixed with sea-water.' He gave a grunt and went.
Adele, MKG, Trevor-Davis and I had all gone to bed immediately after a lash-up dinner, but Peace, tireless, took command. MKG had insisted on drawing up a message to be signalled to the President via the DNI. Peace had objected to its length-it was only a few sentences-and I felt the undercurrents as MKG was obliged to cut it down. MKG had wanted Adele to send it off right away, but again Peace had intervened. He had reminded MKG that although he had agreed to send a message, the time was his to choose. Silently MKG had agreed, but it was clear that Peace was hanging on to the mission, whatever it might cost.
I had taken a liking to Trevor-Davis, and Peace, putting him in the picture about MKG, had congratulated him on his insight, for without Bellatrix our plan would have been hamstrung. How exhausted Trevor-Davis had been was apparent over drinks-once or twice his head had fallen forward on his chest and it was only his will-power which had jerked him awake again. MKG, reserved because of Peace's attitude, went off to the luxurious guest suite in the stern which Peace had allocated him. I was next door and Adele in the adjoining big cabin.
I pulled on fresh clothes from among those I had left behind when-it seemed years ago-Devastation had intercepted the yacht. The deck vibrated under my feet as the waves jounced her. Peace was pushing her very hard. I was thrown against the lintel as I opened my door. Holding a grab-rail, I started along the passageway. Adele's door was swinging with the yacht's motion. I reached for it, jamming myself in the opening in order to secure it.
Her cabin, like mine, was panelled in sycamore, but the colour scheme was pale green and gold. A bed was near the door. Over its foot the blankets had been thrust back so that only the sheet remained. A pair of red silk pyjamas lay carelessly on the pile. Adele slept on the white pillow, the sunbleach of her hair making an undefined shadow in the darkened room. Her eyes were closed. She was completely naked. The lift of the ship moved her breasts gently. Her knees were drawn up and her hands, palm to palm, were clasped between
them. I shut the door and went to her, darkness blurring the sleeping form. I bent over her. The warmth of sleep and fragrance of her perfume brought the blood drumming in my ears. I kissed one eyelid, and then the other. She stirred a little and said something in Creole. For a long moment I stood looking at the lovely, naked body. Then I secured the door behind me and ran quickly for'ard to the wheelhouse.
Peace was steering. The yacht's motion seemed wilder and all three revolving viewers were on to try and keep the screen clear. The wheelhouse was dark, except for the concealed compass light. The gyro compass, radar and radio were off. Peace wore his favourite black turtle-necked sweater and black Dacron pants; stubble emphasized the hard line of his lips.
He said, without preliminary, ' They've got Devastation.' He jerked his head at some signals clipped together. That's u.s. Navy stuff. Take the wheel, will you-mind, she's a bit dicey.'
I took the spokes, kicking and bucking under the cross-sea from the north-east.
Steer three-four-five degrees magnetic,' said Peace. '
What about the gyro?'
I've got all unnecessary electrics off. I daren't risk any transmissions being picked up. Same goes for radar. So you haven't sent MKG's message, then?'
I decide when,' he snapped. The opportune moment hasn't arrived yet. I don't intend to give away Bellatrix's position as I did Devastation's. You can bet that every direction-finding aerial in the Seventh Fleet is working overtime.'
You're riding him pretty hard,' I went on. MKG can call off his mission any time, remember.'
His eyes blazed in the dark wheelhouse. ' It's my mission as much as his! Remember that, too!'
I shrugged and checked the log. Thirteen knots-not bad in this sea, if she'll hold together.'
I'll drive the bitch right under,' he retorted.
' How did Tyler locate Devastation-radar, sonar?'
Neither. Peters simply broadcast here I am-loud and clear, right into Tyler's ear, who was waiting outside the reef. He made the excuse that Devastation's radio had been damaged during my-er-little escapade in breaking through the coral.'