A Bridge Of Magpies Read online

  'Fit for independent command,' murmured Byron.

  'You're stuffed full of other people's cast-off phrases'

  He shrugged. 'If the cap fits So, because you' don't like other people's querying your actions and decisions, you pulled

  up stakes and quit– to Santorin? An ex-Navy captain sailing aimlessly from nowhere to nowhere?'

  'Just that. I was fed to the back teeth with the whole bunch of them: inquiry, Navy, lawyers, the lot. Anyway, who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn't do?'

  He touched my hand wonderingly. 'A million dollars up the spout!'

  'If you go on fiddling with my hand I'll begin to think I'm

  Lady Macbeth or you're a lady-boy:

  'Not in front of Gigi, please Struan!'

  The wine–it had that fire which seems to be at the heart of all wines from volcanic soils –started to give me a warm feeling about Gigi; and I was wondering how to get rid of Byron, who was concentrating on the whisky, when Gigi exclaimed:

  'Here's Ari now!

  'Telegram for you, Boss. You must hurry.' He was puffing and grinning as if he'd run all the way down Thera's eight hundred steps. He clutched a buff envelope Only drachmas would loosen his grip.

  'How'd you know, you little bastard? – you can't read.' '

  Mister Tsaras said hurry. It's from overseas,' He offered the envelope. 'Money in advance, Boss.'

  'Cape,' said Byron. 'I'll bet on it.'

  He was right. Although I was half ready to accept that it might be, I nevertheless felt an odd contraction in my stomach 17

  when I saw that the office of origin was Cape Town.

  It had been sent two days previously and read: 'Your mother critically ill. Imperative you come at once. Groot Schuur hospital.'

  'It's my mother,' I told them. Ìt says, come at once.' '

  Where is she, Boss?' asked Ari.

  'Cape Town. It's five thousand miles away. I can get a plane direct front Athens.'

  'Is she bad, Struan?'

  I caught myself staring at Gigi's breast and wondering when I'

  d see her again. For a beach-comber Santorin hadn't been a bad bit of beach.

  'Critical. That was two days ago.'

  Byron said. 'First you've got to get to Athena It's 150

  miles. It'll be a hell of a beat right into the teeth of the meltemi. My boat's got an engine and I'd take you except I'

  ve got an appointment on the Turkish coast ...'

  'Thanks all the same, Byron. I'll make out under sail. Pity Santorin doesn't run to a steamer service,'

  'Does it say what's wrong with your mother?' Gigi persisted. `

  No. I'd guess a stroke, at her age.'

  'The other brothers and sisters can be with her ... in case.

  You needn't go.'

  'There aren't any other brothers and sisters. I'm the only son.'

  'And your father?'

  'Killed in the war.'

  'I'll come and help you sail the Orga, Boss,' Ari chipped in. 'Free. No charge.'

  I looked at the pinched, pert face, surprised and touched at the generous gesture. He'd miss me–for a day or two. '

  Thanks, no, Ari. You'd be left stranded in Athens after I'd gone. I can't tell how long

  be away.'

  Byron assessed the sky. 'You'll have to make a long haul towards Therasia before you'll weather the entrance to the bay, Struan.'

  'Yes, the sooner I get cracking, the better. Right now . .

  there's nothing to keep me.'

  Gigi turned the light away so that I couldn't read her eyes.

  'No, there is nothing to keep you.' She went on, speaking almost to herself, 'I wish you'd been drunk tonight then 18

  you couldn't have gone. Tomorrow, when you surfaced again, it would have been too late.'

  I'll come back, Gigi. The Cape doesn't hold anything for me any more.'

  But she wouldn't reply: just went and prepared some food for my trip to Athena

  Gigi, Byron and Ari waded into the warm sea and pushed the Orga clear of the flange of rock which made the easy mooring. Ari chattered excitedly, while Byron passed on some local sailing lore; but Gigi simply stood there with the water swishing round her bare legs. When I brought the stern round and called goodbye she didn't wave or say anything. The meltemi was ripping directly into the great bay and I set out, as Byron had indicated, on the long pull towards Therasia Island in order to strike through the bay's entrance to the open sea. The business of getting sail on the clumsy old calque took time and when I looked back all I could see were the lights of Gigi's bar shining against the backdrop of the great cliff.

  I set course for Athens–and the Cape.

  19

  C H A P T E R T W O

  The Boeing jumbo jet banked for the landing at Cape Town and I had a glimpse of Table Mountain through the overcast. A fine, cold rain was blowing off the ocean on a south-westerly gale-a typical, miserable Cape winter's day. The sight of the great mountain pitched a load of associations at me and made me depressed. The long tiring air journey -

  Athens, Lisbon, Las Palmas, the Bulge of Africa, Angola-added its own quota of discouragement. I wondered if I should have come: I would probably arrive too late to find my mother alive. The rain splashed against the plane's windows, a reminder of days at sea on the bridge. I made a derisive comparison between that Cape of Storms sea -a cold, grey, wicked mass, throwing a punch of three thousand miles of open water behind it-and the Aegean. The meltemi was a woman's wind compared with a Cape buster, and the tideless waves breaking on the picture-postcard islands had no more guts than a junkie.

  Maybe my contempt for the classic sea had showed itself by the way I had hurled my old calque into the meltemi after I'd left Santorin; I used a dozen seaman's dodges to avoid the deadly tack and tack-about into the teeth of the same wind which once had blown the Greek heroes from Troy. I had finally reached Athens only a few hours before a Cape flight was due to leave. In the rush I hadn't managed to have my one thin tropical suit smartened up, and it sat crumpled and untidy on me. I hadn't a tie but had bought a black string bootlace thing off a plane steward. The other passengers' eyes told me I looked like a kinky beach-boy.

  After the landing, I was checking through the usual formalities. The sluicing rain on the way across the tarmac from the plane to the terminal building hadn't acted as the best of valet services to my suit and hair. They were soaked. I stood by while an immigration official examined my pass.

  port. He gave me a considering look, reverted to my photograph, regarded me again, then went off to an inner office.

  20

  Mother official appeared and also considered me. Both disappeared for some time and returned with a third man wearing a cap and plastic raincoat over his uniform.

  'War is die Moeilikheid –what's the trouble?' I asked.

  `No problem,' answered the desk official. The raincoated man eyed me.

  'You are Mr Struan Weddell?'

  `Yes. It's all there, in the passport'

  'It's hard to tell from the photograph. The hair and the beard are new.'

  'It was taken two years ago when I left South Africa.'.

  He stamped the passport and handed it to me.

  'This gentleman would like a word with you.'

  I then noticed the third man's cap under its plastic covering. He was a naval officer. He grinned at my surprise. '

  Captain Weddell?'

  'Yes.'

  'Compliments of the C-in-C, sir. We've been waiting hours for the jet: she's late. Transport is laid on for you.' `

  How did the C-in-C know I was coming?'

  'I don't ask questions, sir. I was detailed to meet you and fly you to the hospital.'

  'Fly?'

  'Helicopter, sir. She's out on the apron.'

  'Hold it. You mean to say the C-in-C actually . . .?'

  `You must ask the C-in-C why, sir. I don't know. My orders were to meet the Athens flight and fly you to the hospital.'

  I was touched. He'd no call to be generous after the way I'd thrown his job in his teeth as a result of the Walewska business. As I told Byron, the tanker tore out her bottom on a reef off South West Africa and I sank her. Her skipper was trying to cut corners when making a landfall at Panther head, which is the main landfall for ships heading up the Sperrgebiet, or forbidden diamond coast. The land looks like an old bone that's been gnawed and thrown away. It is desert and has the world's richest diamond fields. That is why it's forbidden territory– all eight hundred miles of it. I'

  d commanded a fisheries patrol frigate, and part of my job was to police the Sperrgebiet from the sea. On land there are motorized patrols and helicopters. The other part of my job was to keep an eye on the trawlers of all nations 21

  which frequent the coast. The Atlantic here matches the land for riches. Even the Grand Banks can't beat the fishing.

  There is a third source of riches on this God-forsaken shore: a string of rocky little inshore islands coated in bird guano–white gold, they call it. The Walewska's oil would have killed off the bird and marine life of these islands if I'd allowed her to stay afloat. So I'd blown her up with special charges so that the oil was destroyed– rather than send her to the bottom and risk seepage from the wreck. The danger was compounded by a strong current which flows through the guano isles. I'd acted fast, and on my own initiative.

  I meant what I said: 'Thanks. Thanks for coming?

  His grin behind the beard made him look ridiculously young.

  'Let's go,' I said.

  'First, I'll go and borrow you a coat from the chopper, You'll get soaked.'

  'It doesn't matter?

  'It was told to look after you. You must be bloody cold, if I may say so, sir.

 
'I hadn't noticed– not after the Navy's warm reception.'

  He smiled, then strode out to the helicopter and brought me back a weatherproof. I felt good. I hadn't been looking forward to the cheerless process of landing unmet and making my way to a deathbed. We fell into step and made for the machine.

  I broke the companionable silence.

  'Is my mother still alive, Lieutenant?'

  A flicker passed across his face. His reply was neutral. 'I don't know, sir. I've told you what my orders are.'

  'She must be, otherwise all this wouldn't have been laid on.''I suppose so, sir:

  'Thank the C-in-C when you report, will you? I'll also call later and thank him personally.'

  He didn't answer as he held open the door of the Wasp. '

  Here we are, sir.'

  A thick-set petty officer gave me a hand up and took my case. The pilot nodded. There were the usual clattering preliminaries and then we were airborne.

  The international airport lies about fifteen miles out of Cape Town. Facing it, the city on your right and a chain of 22

  a

  suburbs and resorts stretches to the left as far as the naval base at Simonstown.

  We lifted. Thin rain cloud drifted past the Perspex. I settled back and wondered whether the helicopter would land at the hospital–they must have built a heliport there while I'

  d been away. The craft clattered and banged onwards; after a while we changed direction and altitude. We'd dropped below the main body of the overcast, but it was still very thick. Then, through a gap, I spotted a big Old Cape Dutch style farmhouse and vineyards. I couldn't recall vineyards near the hospital.

  Now I sat up with a jerk. I was sure I'd spotted a famous pass called Constantia Net If so, we weren't within a dozen miles of the hospital, but nearer the naval base.

  It was useless trying to question my guide, because of the earphone muffs we wore as protection against the machine's racket. I tapped him on the shoulder and gestured at the landmark, but all I got back was a thumb's-up signal.

  We sank lower and there were vineyards again. Then trees appeared below, together with a concrete landing-pad, a black-top road and security gates. Flanking the landing place were anti-aircraft batteries. Wetness streamed down the black barrels as they tracked the helicopter down.

  I waited until the rotors' clatter cut off.

  'What the hell gives, Lieutenant?'

  Armed Navy guards in wet oilskins opened the Wasp's door. '

  There's a security check. This place is banned to civilians.' '

  But ...'

  'This way, if you please, sir,'

  Near the guns was a sort of concrete cupola which housed a lift.'See here, Lieutenant, this Is no more a hospital than .. '

  The lift, sir.'

  The doors clashed shut and we dropped to ground level.

  They reopened to reveal a pair of massive steel sliding doors, about twice the height of a man and four times as broad, set into bunker-type concrete. My guide nodded to a guard, who used a red telephone standing in a niche. After a few words from him the big doors slid open as if operated Sy some hidden agency.

  'Inside, if you please,. sir'

  'I don't see why .. '

  23

  But I was already in; the doors thumped shut and we were in a bare brightly lit concrete chamber. Another pair of steel doors lay ahead. We might have been on a Mars science-fiction set, except for a Navy guard sitting facing us behind a bullet-proof window. His telephone was yellow.

  'The doors ahead can't open before those behind are dosed,' said my guide conversationally. 'And that can't be done without that bloke's say-so. Security's a hundred per cent.

  Those doors can also take a direct hit from a 500-kilo bomb, without a blink. This space becomes an airlock in the event of a nuclear attack.'

  'If you tell me this is Hitler's bunker and you're Eva Braun. I'll believe you.'

  `No dolls here, more's the pity. Males, rugged as they come. Hand-picked. Zip-lips.'

  'Listen! Before I move another bloody step . .

  'You'll have to now, sir. Can't stop here.'

  The huge doors rumbled open on their runners. Several concrete passages radiated on the far side. I was propelled into one of them and my escort fell into step with me.

  'Silvermine,' he said. 'It's called Silvermine. They found the metal here in 1687, I think it was.'

  'I hear your words but I don't know what the devil you're talking about! Silvermine! Nuclear attack! Airlock!'

  'It's new since your day, sir. It's the Navy's operational headquarters. It's sunk into the side of the mountain, storeys deep ..

  'The hospital, man! My mother's dying!'

  'The C-in-C will tell you about that, sir. We're almost at his -

  office.'

  -

  We turned into a side tunnel; a small pair of doors, now open, could seal off the passage. Nevertheless, we faced the same elaborate security paraphernalia. When finally we were admitted to an ante-room it looked less like outer space: I saw an ordinary office desk, a typewriter, filing cabinets and wall-to-wall carpeting.-

  'Hello, Godfrey,' said my escort. Well, here he is.'

  'Welcome to Silvermine, Captain Weddell,' replied the aide. 'The C-in-C's expecting you.' Inevitably he checked on the telephone before taking me in.

  The admiral sat at an outsize desk–the same tough, wiry little man with the boxer's broken nose and lopsided grin.

  24

  His eyes were welcoming now but I'd seen them on occasion shuttered and opaque. That was the time strong men ran.

  He rose, hand outstretched. 'Good to see you, Struan.' ' 'I half expected to find a little green man in a space suit.' `

  You get used to it pretty soon.'

  'It isn't a hospital, though,'

  'No, it isn't a hospital'

  `Look, sir, I appreciate what you did in sending a chopper to the airport for me. I don't know how you knew about my mother. But there's been a snarl-up somewhere: the lines must have got crossed. I've been brought here instead of to the hospital. I've got to get there– quick. Every hour may be vital'

  `Nothing got snarled up. She's alive. Relax Have a cigarette.'

  But I remained standing. He eyed me through the smoke. `

  You've put on weight, Struan.'

  Tor God's sake 1 I didn't come here to talk about my weight. My mother . .

  He nodded towards a cluster of three coloured telephones. '

  Use the blue one. You'll find her at home. There's nothing wrong with her.'

  The friendly eyes were starting to cloud up. But I told myself angrily I wasn't one of his subordinates any longer. `

  The hospital sent me a cable to Santorin , .

  Ì sent it. Your mother knows'

  `You sent it! For crying in a bucket! You mean to say you bluffed me into rushing back to South Africa–what the devil for?'

  'Sit down. Listen. I've a lot to say to you: Ì'll stand. I'm going soon.'

  He was leaning back in his swing chair, looking at me with a kind of amused contempt which needled me further, '

  This outfit is called Silvermine .

  'I've already heard.'

  . . It's probably the most modern naval operational headquarters in the world. Just behind me, through there–' he gestured – 'is the operations room. Top secret. Utmost top secret, in fact. So is this office. The whole place is bugged, monitored, lousy with devices, hidden beams and so on.'

  'I didn't come here to listen to all this bull.'

  He let go the chair and it came forward with a bump 25

  against the desk.

  `You didn't come here: you were brought. But you're an unauthorized civilian on top secret premises for which you can be locked away for a long, long time, simply at my say-so,'

  He grinned and I didn't care for it.

  `You couldn't go, even if you wanted to. Now shut up and sit down and listen to me.'

  I sat down. I also took a cigarette.

  'I had you shanghaied at the airport. I sent you the faked cable to bring you to Cape Town–with your mother's con-sent, I might add?

  `Why the devil couldn't you leave me alone?'

  'See here. A couple of months ago one of my officers was on holiday in Santorin.'

  'If I'd known I'd have given him a sail for old times' sake? '

  Spare the sarcasm. He was a junior in your day. You did meet him but you were too drunk to recognize him?