"How're you going to set Golden Bough ablaze? You got some special kindling to do that?"
Tarn gave a small bark of a laugh. "Yes. Yes, good. Kindling. Yes, I do have special kindling in the form of a somewhat ancient Russian submarine. She's old, rusty, noisy, I think a little leaky also, but I've put money into her as well."
"A submarine?" Rexinus's voice quavered.
"And torpedoes – two of them. Should have been three, but one was wasted. At least we know it works. I had a slight problem with the captain. He's a Scottish gentleman and I fear he bends his elbow a shade too much. On a trial run earlier this year he actually targeted one of my own cruise liners. He tells me that he didn't know the torpedo tubes were loaded, or whatever the expression is. My ship escaped with a little damage and no loss of life. In other circumstances I might have fired the man – preferably from one of his own torpedo tubes – but I think we can trust him to do the job thoroughly this time, can't we, Maurice?"
Goodwin grunted, and Tarn repeated, "Maurice?"
"Yes, Max, we can trust him now. I don't relish the job, but I'll be with him to make certain he doesn't go astray."
Tarn sighed. "It's a terrible thing when a man has to put his own watchdogs onto people he pays to do specialist jobs – pays handsomely, as well. I really wonder what the world's coming to."
"You're going to watch the display from here, then?" Felix was feeding him questions that might help Flicka and Bond.
"Not quite from here, Mr. Leiter. I prefer a grandstand view. I shall watch it all from the top of that grand old fortress they call El Morro. If you behave yourself, I might even let you come with me. No. No, I don't think that's a good idea. I'll leave you to the interesting charms of one of my other girls. You think Beth would like to play with this one, Anna?"
Anna gave a sound that lay somewhere between a cough and a laugh. "Beth would love to play with him. Probably remove his false arm and leg first. She likes pulling the wings off flies." There was something disgustingly sinister in the way she said it, and Bond reached for his weapon, turning as though to put his shoulder to the door, but Flicka caught his arm and shook her head silently.
He knew she was right. It was his old trouble, guilt from the past about Felix. Now he had put his friend in danger again. He looked down at Flicka, gave a sad little smile, nodded, and relaxed.
There was rustling from the main cabin. "This chart," Tarn said. "Heed me, Dr. Rexinus, you're going to have to follow my instructions to the letter. You will leave this berth at seven o'clock tomorrow night. On the dot of seven, so that you will reach here." He was obviously showing Rexinus a point on the chart, and aloud he gave a latitude and longitude. "This will bring you to within one nautical mile of the initial explosion. As soon as the fire begins to spread, you will take Mare Nostrum straight towards the outer edges of the flames and begin to operate the AAOPS. If I recall our previous conversations correctly, you will be able to move quite close to the center of both the fire and oil spill. Did you not explain that to me when we finalized our agreement?"
"Yes, that's what I said." Rexinus sounded resigned. "I think we'll take her for a run out tomorrow morning, just to go through the drill."
Good, Bond considered, he's going to make a dash for it.
"Why not do that, Rex? I didn't tell you that there'll be an extra hand on board. Well, he's one man, but he carries a great deal of weight. He's up on the deck at the moment. My man Connie Spicer. Martial arts expert, crack shot, carries all kinds of lethal things with him."
"We can always do with another pair of hands." Rexinus's voice betrayed his disappointment, and Bond mouthed a Damn. With Connie left on board, there was little chance of the three gullible scientists overpowering him. Come to that, if Connie stayed on the craft now, there might be difficulties in getting ashore themselves. He looked back along the passageway. There were cabin doors to left and right, and, at the far end, the passage seemed to connect with another, running across the breadth of the laboratory ship. A third door was visible. Three night cabins. If the craft had been properly designed, there had to be a way up to the main deck somewhere for'ard.
Felix had started to speak again. "Sir Max, what if something goes wrong with your fireworks display? What if Dr. Rexinus and his friends fail to contain the oil and gasoline?"
"I hate to even contemplate that, but I suppose one must face the possibility. First, Mare Nostrum will probably be consumed in the flames, and, second, I shall have to start all over again. But I have faith in these good people, Mr. Leiter. They'll not fail me. Now, back to the operation." More rustling. "This is where my submarine will be at eight o'clock. She will turn bow on to Golden Bough. The two tin fish, as I think they used to call them, will be fired. Heaven knows, I don't think even my captain, Jock Anderson, can possibly miss. The target is so large and he'll be quite close. After he's fired the torpedoes, he turns tail and runs for it. I have no doubts that part will go like clockwork. Maurice here will want to get out as quickly as he can."
"Too damned right," murmured Maurice Goodwin.
"Any further questions?" Tarn had become all businesslike. "I haven't got all night. No, Mr. Leiter, please, no questions from you. Cathy, take Mr. Leiter topside and put him in the car. It's time we were getting back if we're to have any sleep tonight."
More movement, then Tarn again: "Tell Connie to come down here, would you? I want to make sure that the gallant crew of Mare Nostrum understands that his orders are my orders, and they have to see what will happen should they disobey him."
More sounds of movement, then Connie's voice from the main cabin. "You wanted me, chief?"
"I would like you to impress upon these good people how important it is to stick to the timetable and jump when you tell them to jump." He paused, then addressed the others. "Connie is an amazing man. You should know that he can go without sleep for days at a time. In fact, he has promised me that he will not sleep until SeaFire is safely over. You understand?"
Bond signaled to Flicka, indicating that they should move back along the passage. She nodded and followed him, drawing her Beretta from under her skirt.
The door in the cross passage was flanked by two narrow companionways leading up to the deck. Bond took the one on the starboard side, Flicka behind him, covering the rear. At the top, he peered out, then whispered, "We're right by the wheelhouse. With luck we can slip off after Tarn leaves."
He could see Tarn's car – a low, sleek black Jaguar – pulled up near the gangway, and Cathy with Felix. She held a pistol and stood well back while he leaned against the car. For a second time, the thought of rescuing his friend flashed in and out of Bond's mind. No. There was no point in trying foolhardy heroics that could well put them out of action and ruin any further chance he had of stopping the madness of what Max Tarn called SeaFire.
They waited for what seemed to be a very long time, but finally Tarn came up on deck with Anna and Maurice Goodwin in tow. Bond smiled when he saw Sir Max, for he had entered into what he saw as the spirit of the affair, dressed in white ducks and a blazer, a yachting cap set jauntily on his head.
He stopped by the car, staying behind Cathy's right shoulder and talking to Felix for the best part of a minute, then Goodwin moved forward and opened the rear passenger door, roughly helping Felix into the car.
It was Tarn himself who took the wheel, and seconds later the Jaguar pulled away from the gangway.
He waited until the sound of the engine was far away, then motioned to Flicka, moving silently and slowly along the deck. From below voices were raised. He even heard Rexinus almost shouting at Connie Spicer, "But it won't work. We'll all be sailing out to certain death."