^ 'You're sick,' Winter repeated, 'so you'll want to get off the phone. You've got to convince Mackay in as few words as possible that Kinnaird is all right, that you've known him in the past, that he'll find his papers in order – because he will…'
^ This man is a good wireless op.?' Swan asked unhappily. 'A ship's survival can depend on the wireless operator…'
^ 'He's absolutely competent and he did once work for the Marconi pool. Mackay will be in a spot,' Winter repeated. 'He sails at midnight and he'll be ready to be convinced.' Part of the problem, Winter had realised beforehand, would be to convince Swan that he could get away with the deception. He repeated his earlier warning. 'In case you've thought of some clever little phrasing to help Mackay catch on, remember we'll have both yourself and your wife for one week after you make that call.'
^ 'What ships has this Kinnaird been on? He's bound to ask me that…'
^ 'Ellesmere-Luckman Line,' Winter said promptly. 'He spent three years on the tanker ^ Maltese Cross, ^ two years aboard the ^ White Cross ^ before that. That was a few years ago but make it sound recent. They're on the Persian Gulf to West Coast run.'
^ 'I know.' Swan stared directly at Winter. 'What is Kinnaird going to do?'
^ 'A reasonable question,' Winter replied. 'We have to get a man into the States, a man already known to the American police. The safest way is to put him on a ship as a crewman and let him walk off at the other end. Kinnaird is not his real name, of course…'
^ 'Get on with it!' Winter checked his watch. 'Dial the Westward now. And make it work – for Julie's sake.'
^ It was less than five minutes since they had entered the house when Swan made the phone calclass="underline" enough time for Winter to persuade Swan, not enough time for Swan to think too much. Winter wanted the call made while the wireless operator was still in a state of shock.
^ Swan handled the call to Mackay well. He even talked through his nose to fake an impression of flu. The call lasted less than three minutes. Swan put the phone down and turned to Winter. 'He swallowed it – hook, line and sinker…'
^ 'Excuse me…' Winter carried the phone across the room to a sideboard, stood with his back to Swan and dialled a number. 'Forrest here. Make the call. Now!' He broke the connection, dialled a fresh number. Again the phone at the other end was answered immediately. 'Forrest here. Get moving – it's all right…'
^ ^ gren would then wait for five minutes before he put in a call to Captain Mackay at the Westward. The second call had been to Kinnaird, already outside Anchorage and well on his way to Nikisiki. Winter put down the phone and saw that Swan was standing up with LeCat close to him, his pistol aimed at the wireless operator's heart. The Frenchman was showing sense: with the gun aimed at her husband there was no need to watch Julie Swan.
^ 'Leave my wife here,' Swan pleaded with Winter. 'She won't say anything to anyone – not if I come with you…'
^ 'Not possible.' Winter shook his head. 'It would be too much of a strain on her – wondering what was happening to you.'
^ 'I'd sooner go with him.' Julie Swan was standing up now, a plucky woman Winter had come to admire during the short time he had been with her. 'Can I get a few things – for my face and…'
^ 'You'll never meet him,' Winter observed. 'Go with her and check what she takes – no nail files. Take Swan with you, too.' He waited until he was alone with Pierre Goussin, who had remained silent at the back of the room. He didn't like either Goussin or Bazin, the two men who would stay with the Swans, but both had lived in Quebec after the Algerian debacle and had the advantage of speaking good English. He stared at the Frenchman, a grim-looking man of the same age as LeCat. 'Let me remind you, with LeCat you will take them to the barn in Swan's Rambler outside…'
^ 'You're going to hear it again. You use the Rambler – it would look funny if it was found here by some nosey neighbour when Swan is supposed to have driven back to the airport. One week from today you leave them locked up inside the barn. You fly to Canada and phone the police here telling them where to find the Swans. If anything happens to them I'll come and find you myself…'
^ 'What could happen to them…' Goussin couldn't hold Winter's gaze and the Englishman was troubled by a flicker of doubt, then LeCat returned with the Swans and Winter was distracted by the next thing to do.
^ 'One more phone call,' he told Julie Swan, 'and this time you make it. You're in a rush – Charlie has just told you Mackay has softened on his rule that no women must travel aboard his ship. So you're travelling aboard the ^ Challenger ^ on her next trip to San Francisco. That will explain your absence from the house. I'm referring to your neighbours, the Thompsons…'
^ 'So now you're phoning to say you won't be able to make it.' Winter looked at LeCat. 'Take Swan out to the car – we'll be with you.' He waited until they had gone. 'Mrs Swan,' he said quietly, 'you just have to get this right – for your husband's sake.'
^ He watched her dialling the number with a steady finger. She had nerve, this American girl. Why was it that so often women grasped a spine-chilling situation faster than men, realised that the only way to survive was to cooperate?
^ Julie Swan handled the call perfectly; she even managed to get a hint of excitement into her voice as she talked about the prospect of her trip aboard the tanker with her husband. So far as Winter could see, Mrs Thompson suspected nothing. 'That was fine,' he assured her as she put down the phone. 'If you carry on like that everything will be all right.'
^ 'Will it?' She looked at him over her shoulder as she put on her heavy coat. 'You're British, aren't you? Or shouldn't I ask?'
^ 'You shouldn't ask.' He took her by the shoulders as she prepared to leave and saw her mouth tighten. 'It's going to be all right – just so long as your husband does nothing stupid. Another guard will arrive later today and replace the man you dislike. But remember, the men who stay with you will be armed.'
^ 'My husband thinks too much of me to do anything stupid as you put it,' she snapped. Her voice wavered. 'It's no good – I'm scared…'
^ Captain James Mackay, wearing a parka he had hurriedly put on, carrying the overnight bag he had thrown his few things inside, left the Westward Hotel and went out into the night at 3.30pm.
^ The street lamps were blurred with mist as he ran to where his car was parked by a meter.
^ Within less than five minutes of receiving the phone call from his wireless operator, Swan, warning him that he was ill, telling Mackay that he had found a replacement called Kinnaird, the phone had rung again. This was in response to the first urgent call Winter had made from the Swans' home.
^ Walgren's American-sounding voice had complained of a bad connection, saying he could hardly hear Mackay, and the caller had been in one hell of a hurry. A fire had broken out at the oil terminal, close to the ^ Challenger. ^ 'You'd better get down here fast,' the man on the phone had warned Mackay, then he had rung off before the captain could ask any questions.
^ Mackay did not realise it, but he was being subjected to shock treatment by Winter to keep him off balance – to get him moving out of Anchorage, to stop him thinking too much about the substitute wireless operator who was also on his way to the terminal.
^ Mackay reached his parked car, then swore. 'Bloody kids…' The power cable from the meter he had plugged into the immersion heater under his bonnet had been hauled out from the socket, lay useless amid the frozen slush. Useless, quite useless. The radiator and sump would be frozen, the battery dead. Swearing again, he climbed out, locking the vehicle as a car cruised towards him. Walgren pulled up and stuck his head out of the window. 'Trouble?'
^ 'It happens,' Walgren commented sympathetically. 'All part of the good neighbour policy. Where to?'