Waverley scowled in irritation at the unnecessary piece of advice.
‘There’s been no word from her,’ Bourlet continued, experiencing a perverse pleasure that what he was about to say would spoil the C-in-C’s evening.
‘But we think she’s been detected. Crossing the SOSUS array between the Faroes and Shetland, about five hours ago. Pretending to be a trawler. I’ve diverted a Nimrod to look for her.’
Waverley blanched.
‘What… what on earth’s going on in that boat?’
Bourlet explained further, and watched the C-in-C’s expression freeze as the implications sank in. When he’d finished, Waverley leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
‘This is appalling!’ he exploded, after what seemed like a full minute of silence.
‘I’ll have to brief the First Sea Lord; he’ll need to tell the Secretary of State tonight. This thing’s going to explode. The PM’ll be horrified. I’m having lunch with her at Downing Street tomorrow. Wants me to tell her all about Ocean Guardian. The Russians have lodged a formal complaint, calling it “provocative”. You’ll have heard on the news all that business about the Americans buzzing a Soviet merchantman bound for Cuba with MiG-29s on her deck? And the furious speech Savkin made this afternoon?’
‘I haven’t heard any news — been a bit busy…’
Waverley didn’t hear him, his mind running on what he would say to the Prime Minister.
‘If we’ve got a rogue submarine heading into the middle of all this, it’ll be like tossing a lighted match onto an oil spill. You will find her, won’t you?’
‘Sir, I don’t know. If Hitchens doesn’t want to be found, he’ll make it bloody difficult for us. We’ve got to face it, unless we can divert every ship and plane involved in Ocean Guardian to help with the search, we may not be able to stop him doing whatever he intends to do.’
‘Good God, man! We can’t do that! The whole world would know what’s happened. A Royal Navy nuclear submarine out of control? A British officer threatening a private war with the Soviets? This must never get out! You’ve got to stop him! I’m making you personally responsible for the operation. Set up a small command staff, give it a code name, and use your judgement. I’ll look after the politicians — leave them to me. You just get Hitchens back in line!’
Waverley stood up. His hands were trembling.
‘And now I’ve got to go back and entertain my guests without the editor of the Daily Telegraph suspecting anything!’
Andrew dropped three coins into the payphone, and dialled. He looked at his watch. It was nearly eleven o’clock.
‘Hello?’ Patsy sounded breathless when she eventually answered.
‘Hullo, darling. It’s me. Were you in the bath or something?’ he asked.
‘No, I’ve been out. Heard the phone when I switched off the car — came running in. Hence — breathless.’
‘Been somewhere nice?’
‘Hardly. Parents’ Association meeting. Bleagh! Usual stuff; anxious fathers wondering why their eight-year-olds aren’t being taught Shakespeare. Where are you? I thought you’d be at sea by now.’
‘Plan’s changed. I’m at Northwood. Can’t talk much. Just to say things are getting complicated. I still expect to be away for a while, so I shan’t be able to call you for a bit.’
‘It’s still this business with Philip?’
‘Yes, but I’m on a public phone, so I can’t go into details.’
‘Well…, all right, but when are you likely to be back? Have you no idea? The children’ll be home next weekend. You must be here then.’
Her voice sounded strained, angry even.
‘I just don’t know. A few days probably, that’s all.’
‘But it might be longer? Andrew, what is this?’
‘Look, I’ll ring you again when I can, but I may not be near a phone. Could you do something for me?’
‘What?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘It’s Sara. Could you keep an eye on her? Make an excuse to talk to her?’
‘What about?’
‘Well, you know — things. She’ll be pretty worried. And she hasn’t got anyone to talk to.’
‘Hasn’t she? I thought she had a knack of finding people…’
‘Patsy!’
He cursed the constraints of talking on an open phone line.
‘Darling, I can’t explain any more. But please do it. Say hello to Sara, will you? It’s deadly serious. And I chose that word carefully.’
There was silence from the other end, just the clicks and the hiss of the line.
‘Oh,’ she said, eventually. She sounded startled. ‘Oh, all right. I’ll look out for her.’
‘Good girl. And if she says anything which you think is important, then go and see Craig and tell him to pass it on to FOSM.’
‘How will I know what’s important?’
It was a reasonable question, but on the open phone he couldn’t explain.
‘You’ll have to use your loaf, love. Now I’ve got to go. I’ll see you… sometime.’
He wanted to be reassuring, but knew he had failed.
‘Be careful, won’t you?’
‘Don’t worry. Bye now!’
‘Bye. I love you, by the way.’
Andrew replaced the receiver, but left his hand resting on it. Could he have explained any better? Should he ring her back?
‘Ah, there you are!’ Admiral Bourlet’s gravel voice boomed across the reception area. ‘Let’s go into the bar for a moment. Just time for a nightcap.’
He led the way in. Only a handful of officers were drinking, most of them young and unattached. They stiffened at the sight of an Admiral but Bourlet waved at them to relax.
‘What’s yours?’
‘That’s kind of you, sir. I’ll have a horse’s neck.’
‘Make that two,’ the Admiral told the barman.
They retreated with their drinks to a far corner of the bar, where two large, leather armchairs remained unoccupied.
‘Right,’ Bourlet began softly. ‘The plan goes ahead as discussed this afternoon. I’m giving it the codename “Shadowhunt”. Trying to find a “T” class boat that doesn’t want to be found — it’s pretty apt.
‘Waverley’s given me carte blanche. Ops have talked to the Norwegians and they’re ready to help. Tenby’s been signalled and is on her way to a rendezvous with you. She’s got no clue what it’s about, of course. You’ll have to use your discretion how much you tell her.
‘The RAF’ll be ready for you at ten-thirty at Northolt. They want you there fifteen minutes before that. You’ve got your passport with you, I hope.’
‘Yes, sir. It’s in my bag. Standard kit. There is one thing I thought of, though. My job as I see it, apart from finding Truculent, is to talk to Philip on the underwater telephone. The trouble is, I’m bloody worried about what to say. I mean, it’s a bit like dealing with a gunman in a plane full of hostages.’
‘Damned good point,’ the Admiral growled. ‘And I know just the person you need to talk to. Young friend of mine…’
He cleared his throat noisily and rippled his eyebrows to indicate he was about to be indiscreet.
‘Surgeon-Commander Rush — Felicity Rush. Fleet psychiatrist. Based here at Northwood but travels all over the place dealing with mental problems. Delightful girl. Here…’
He reached into an inside pocket and pulled out an address book.
‘Look, I happen to have her home number — can’t imagine how.’ Bourlet smirked with self-satisfaction. ‘Why don’t you ring her — see if she can spare you an hour tomorrow first thing? I’d ring myself, but…, well, her husband’s around. Bit awkward, you know.’