“Good show.” Beaumont’s eyes were moving busily over the people around him. “What was he saying, by the way?”
Drummond shrugged. “Said we’d be meeting soon.”
“Good. He told you. ” Beaumont grinned. “Nod’s as good as a wink, eh?” He followed Drummond to the door. “You’ll get your orders. The flotilla will be going round to a fjord on the east coast. Bit more private.” He was obviously eager to get back in the thick of the guests and added, “Paint up your stripe on Warlock’s funnel. You are officially half-leader.” He seemed to expect a display of emotion and said, “You should be pleased. Stick with me, and I’ll get you something worth while.”
He turned and pushed back into the cabin, his voice reaching ahead like a radar beam.
Drummond returned the salutes from the O.O.D. and side party and walked slowly along the jetty. How seriously could he take her? And was it fair anyway, with the raid becoming a grim reality?
An American jeep, with U.S.A.A.F. painted on the side, was parked by some Nissen huts, and he saw a lean sergeant sitting inside it, a cigar sticking dead centre of his mouth, like a gun. As he got nearer, the American climbed down and watched him thoughtfully, as if trying to decide something. He wore heavy flying boots over his uniform trousers, and on his head he had a fur-lined hat, the flaps of which were tied over the top like an Alsatian’s ears. He was very tall and tough-looking.
He said, “Can I ask you something?” The cigar moved slightly. “Sir?”
Drummond nodded. “Try me.”
The man grinned. “I never know where I am with Lime- I mean, the British, sir.” He became serious. “Sergeant Matthew Wagner. I was in H.Q. a while back and saw the name of our ship on the board. You are the Warlock’s skipper”
Drummond nodded. “Yes. What can I do for you?”
The American held out his hand. “I guess you think I’ve got one helluva nerve, but I have a problem. A serious one.” He seemed suddenly anxious. “You have a sailor aboard called Jevers, right?”
“Yes.” Something from the crowded events of Warlock’s private world came back to him. “A quartermaster. You must be the …?”
He nodded ruefully. “Yeh. I’m the guy who took his wife away from him. But don’t be too hard on me, sir. He treated her bad. And Janice is a good kid. I’m taking her back to the States when I get out of this outfit.”
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t do much for you. It’s not the sort of thing I deal with.”
“I know, sir. ” Wagner threw the cigar on the stones and jammed his boot on it. “I ain’t breaking too many secrets when I tell you I fly the milk-run from here to England once a week. I was planning to get Janice moved to an apartment up in Scotland near the field. So she wouldn’t have to worry. But when I took some time off to tell her, she wasn’t there, at her home.” He sounded as if he still didn’t believe it. “The neighbours ain’t seen her, and believe me, they’d tell me. They’re nice folk. Jevers wasn’t too popular whenever he was around.”
Drummond rubbed his chin. “There is the police enquiries department, she might have been injured in an air-raid.”
“She never went out in raids, sir. I’ve checked every goddamn thing. Our provost, yours, the police, the town hall. I’ve been going out of my mind, believe me.”
“Did she write to you?”
“All the time. The letters stopped at the same time she disappeared.”
“And you want to see her husband, is that it?”
“I’m not certain, sir. I might spoil the whole deal. And this is the thing which worries me most. He was seen near the house. Leastways, a railway porter swears it was him. ” He looked very worried. “Am I getting out of line, sir?”
Drummond eyed him gravely. “Leave it with me. I expect she’s gone away to think things out. It’s a bad time for this sort of thing to happen. Women have a lot to put up with in wartime.” He gestured to the warships along the jetty. “Not like you and me. Taking it easy all the time.” He wrote a number on a piece of paper from his notebook. “You can reach me through this office, naval security. They’ll keep our secret until we’ve found out something. And if you hear first, let me know.”
He strode off, his mind seeing the sad-faced Jevers in an entirely new light.
Behind him the American took out a fresh cigar and, lit it. His friend, another sergeant, came out of a Nissen hut carrying a carton of cigarettes.
“Hey, Matt, that a Limey officer you was shooting the breeze with?”
Wagner smiled grimly. “Quite a guy, too.” He swung his long legs into the jeep. “Let’s go!”
His friend grinned. “Jeez! So suddenly we’re feeling better already!”
Drummond reached the brow which led to Warlock’s iron deck and let his gaze move along her side, seeing each dent and scar like a separate memory. One day, probably sooner than he realised, he would have to let her go. The realisation never failed to move him.
Figures wandered slowly along the upper deck and forecastle, and below the triple torpedo tubes he saw Badger, the cat, pause in the business of washing one paw to watch him, yellow eyes without surprise or warmth.
Sheridan was at the head of the brow with the side party, and the silver calls shrilled in salute as Drummond stepped on to the metal deck.
Sheridan asked, “Everything all right, sir?”
Drummond nodded, watching him and wondering how much he had tried and how much she had resisted.
“Yes. Shore leave for all but the duty part of the watch. Tell the libertymen about careless talk ashore, and the fact that the locals understand more English than they let on. The base recreation officer has all the gen about the cinemas, cafes which are out of bounds, that sort of thing.”
Sheridan asked quickly, “Will you be going ashore, sir?”
“Probably.” He hesitated by the quartermaster’s lobby. “I saw Mrs. Kemp, by the way. Sends her regards.”
“Oh, thanks. ” Sheridan smiled awkwardly. “Quite a girl.”
Drummond walked through the screen door. She had not lied. It was as clear as day on Sheridan’s face.
He whistled quietly as he lowered himself swiftly to the wardroom flat. And it wouldn’t do any harm to meet her; he saw Owles peering from his pantry. He was smiling.
“You’ll be off ashore then, sir?” He hurried to the cabin. “Good, good. Just the ticket, sir. ” He never listened to anything.
9
A Slight Setback
The main operations room of Area Combined Headquarters, Iceland, was large and lined with steel cabinets and impressive coloured charts. Looking round, it was hard to believe he was inside yet another large Nissen hut, Drummond thought, and he was aware of the air of tense expectancy which had greeted his arrival and which was present in this room.
He felt vaguely self-conscious in his best shore-going uniform, especially as some of the other commanding officers looked as if they had come straight from their bunks to be here. He had been about to go ashore to discover Sarah Kemp’s billet when the shore telephone had summoned him and all the other destroyer captains to an unexpected early briefing.
Beaumont was bending over a chart at the top of the room, murmuring with the operations officer and his staff. Seated against the far wall, puffing a pipe with studied calm, was the captain he had met only that morning aboard Lomond. He caught Drummond’s glance and gave a brief smile before returning to his expression of detached indifference.
Several of the officers were chatting quietly together, and Drummond tried to ignore-his feeling of uncertainty. Perhaps he was more tired and strained than he had believed. And yet as he glanced round at the other familiar faces he felt it again. Like a barrier which had risen between them. They had greeted him well enough. But no more than they would a visitor. A stranger.