It should all have been over and finished with. They should have been running deep with the damaged screw whining at full pitch to carry them all to safety. Instead they were still searching, still tied to this damned and mocking Wantsai Valley with all its horrors and nightmare memories.

  Jermain had crossed the control room to speak with Mayo who was standing above the open hatch at the far end. He had been staring down the shining ladder, his face set like a mask. Jermain had been about to speak, but had suddenly looked down to follow his glance.

  At the foot of the ladder Griffin’s first-aid party were just passing aft with a stretcher. Jermain knew that their sodden, lolling burden had once been Lieutenant Trott. He knew this fact from the uniform. Otherwise there had been no sort of resemblance. No sense of belonging, no part of something once familiar. Just a thing. A staring, open-mouthed remnant.

  Now the last of the corpses had been removed from the pumped-out tube space, and there was a smell of disinfectant on the damp air.

  Drew had gone forward with Lieutenant Kitson to check the damage to the delicate firing mechanisms and to repair any faults in the circuits. He could hear their tools and hammers rattling through the hull at top speed. At least it was an improvement on the clanging chains, although even now he seemed to hear them, mocking him … rebuking him….

  He realised that his head had fallen almost on to the chart, and he stood up angrily, shaking himself awake like a dog.

  If he gave up the search for Wolfe and the others now he knew he could never forgive himself. The cost was already too high. He had to hold on a little longer.

  Even if he was praised for getting the Pyramus clear, he would not be able to accept the satisfaction for himself. Sarah’s happiness, even the longed for unity with Jill, would be clouded by his own knowledge that he had left his own men to die without reason.

  Drew appeared in the doorway. ‘Kitson is still working on the circuits, sir. The inrush of water must have cut through some of them like a saw!’ He shook his head heavily. ‘I’ll never forget it!’

  Jermain walked past him. It was as if he could no longer stand personal contact. Not yet. Not until the search was over.

  ‘Periscope depth again!’ His voice was hard. ‘Anything from sonar?’

  Mayo shook his head. ‘Do you think the seaplane will still be there?’

  ‘How the hell do I know?’ Jermain ignored the look on Mayo’s face.

  ‘Up periscope!’ He leaned on the handles and squinted as his eyes received the full glare of the waiting sun.

  The sea was once more clear. Only a few gulls swooped angrily above the periscope, outraged by its intrusion. Jermain watched their grimacing protests as he swung the handles to full power. Tonight these gulls will sleep safely in their nests and crannies ashore. Where will he be? He ground his teeth together with sudden despair. What had happened to the fishing boat? Sunk or captured? Or had Wolfe decided to act independently after all?

  He snapped, ‘Raise the radio mast! See if you can hear anything.’ He thought of the boat’s powerful radar, unused and impotent. With that he might find the small boat within minutes. It was tempting, but he knew it was an empty thought. Any such transmission might be instantly detected, then any chance of saving Wolfe and his companions, if there still was one, would be lost for good.

  Mayo reported, ‘Nothing on sonar, sir.’

  ‘Well, keep trying!’ He kept his eyes to the periscope and did not see Mayo’s face as he looked at Drew. The latter shook his head very slightly. But the gesture seemed to sum up his understanding and his pity for what Jermain was trying to do.

  The big lenses moved slowly around the glittering seascape as Jermain searched horizon and sky alike. If an aircraft dived suddenly from the sun there might be precious little time to act. With the sea so clear and calm the Temeraire’s bulk would stand out as sharply as if they had been basking on the surface.

  Harris burst from the radio room, his lined face alight with excitement. ‘Captain, sir! Signal from Flag!’ His voice was shattering in the stillness. ‘Pyramus has made her contact! She’s out of danger!’ He held out the signal pad as if he had to remind himself it was not a dream. ‘Flag must have been calling us regularly, sir. This is our recall!’

  ‘Down periscope! Two hundred feet!’ Jermain looked coldly at Harris and then moved to the chart table. ‘Thank you. You may lower the mast now.’

  Harris looked lost. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I just thought …’ His voice trailed away as Mayo shot him a warning frown and, still mystified, he returned to the radio room.

  Jermain said, ‘Alter course, Pilot. Bring her round to three three zero. Reduce speed to ten knots.’ His tone was clipped and final. ‘Periscope depth again in fifteen minutes.’

  He walked slowly back to the chart-room. The sudden signal had only added to his sense of urgency and despair. Now the whole boat would know that officially the mission was over. The only thing which kept the crew and the Temeraire in pressing danger was his own personal stubbornness. Or was it only pride?

  The intercom broke into his thoughts. ‘Very faint hydrophone effect bearing red four five. Range twenty thousand yards.’ Oxley added after a few seconds, ‘Could be a small diesel engine, sir!’

  Jermain took one quick glance at the chart. It was well away from the area selected for rendezvous but it could be the fishing boat. He felt suddenly sick from the controlled tension. It had to be!

  ‘Course to intercept, Pilot!’ He pushed past Mayo and snatched up the engine-room handset.

  ‘Captain here! How is the propeller noise, Chief?’

  ‘About the same, sir. But at this speed it’s not too bad. More like a whistling than anything.’

  He heard Mayo murmur, ‘Port twenty. Steady. Steer two eight five!’

  Ross added doubtfully, ‘If you have to clap on power you’ll need to run deep again, sir. The noise would certainly be detectable at present depths.’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ Jermain replaced the handset. So, if this was a false contact he might have to break off the search. Even the admiral, who remained sitting in the deserted wardroom like an old man, would never allow him to risk the boat further.

  Mayo said, ‘On new course, sir.’

  ‘Very good.’ Jermain turned his back on the looming possibility of failure. ‘Find out if Kitson has completed his work and then clear for action. There is nothing wrong with the boat’s hearing.’ He looked around their grim faces. ‘I want her teeth ready, too!’

  *  *  *

  Leading Seaman Haley climbed up the short ladder and eased his body into the wheelhouse. In spite of the fact that every window was fully lowered it was quite airless and as hot as an oven. Colquhoun was standing at the wheel, his slim body stripped to the waist, his skin gleaming with sweat.

  Haley said, ‘There’s some more smoke on the port beam, sir.’

  Colquhoun replied, ‘Take the wheel.’ He picked up the long, battered telescope which he had found in a locker and rested it on the sill of a window. After a few moments he said, ‘It’s one of those ships.’

  Haley knew what he meant well enough, but took the telescope as Colquhoun thrust it into his hands. The dark smudge on the horizon sprung alive in the big glass, and he saw the raked bow slicing through the calm water, the low plume of smoke from her funnel. Like a fast trawler. Like the ones which had hounded the Temeraire and had been responsible for Lieutenant Victor’s death.

  He said slowly, ‘The hunt’s still going on then. Let’s hope she doesn’t come over to take a look at us.’

  Colquhoun answered briefly, ‘They’ll have us spotted on the radar. They’re obviously not bothered.’

  Haley moved his legs uneasily. ‘Not yet!’

  Colquhoun ignored him. It was strange how calm he felt. Empty, and completely composed. Like another person.

  He said sharply, ‘Have you let the fishermen out of their cabin?’

  Haley nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’ The released Koreans were directly below the front of the wheelhouse, watched over by Cowley with his Stirling. Yet Colquhoun had apparently not even seen them. His eyes stayed either on the ancient compass or the harsh light of the horizon. He added cautiously, ‘The sun’s getting damned high, sir. Do you think we’ve missed the rendezvous?’

  Colquhoun shrugged. ‘The compass is well adrift, and the only chart available looks home made. It’s got a few crayoned areas for fishing, and not much else. But allowing for the alteration of course and the drift, we’re just about on the right track.’

  Haley persisted, ‘We could be miles off course, as I see it. Even if the skipper does come back for us he’ll not find, it easy to spot us.’ He watched the fast-moving smoke. ‘And there’s not much time left!’

  He stiffened as the black-haired Korean woman left the Small group by the hatch and moved quietly to the bulwark, Ignoring Cowley, she unwrapped an old blanket and laid it carefully across Lightfoot’s body which had been moved into the shade of the boat’s side. Haley shot a glance at Colquhoun’s stiff face, but apart from a quick blink of Jiis pale eyes there was nothing to give away his inner feelings.

  Colquhoun saw Haley’s apprehensive stare and kept his own gaze fixed on the open sea beyond the gently corkscrewing bows. He had carried Lightfoot’s body to the bulwark himself. He had been surprised how light it had been. Now, as he let his eyes move to the blanketed shape, the shock seemed to affect him more deeply, and he was again reminded of his sense of loss. Before, as he had made himself stand rigidly’behind the wheel staring at the mocking horizon, he had been able to glance at Lightfoot’s body, to deceive himself for just a few more seconds. In the shade of the bulwark the boy had appeared to be asleep, or sheltering from the sun. The blanket made a stark difference. It was final.

  He realised that he was gripping the spokes so tightly his hands were throbbing with pain.

  Lightfoot had made him act. Had forced him to accept a role he had so long avoided. It was as if he had been betrayed and deceived by so many others in his short life that he was unable to see Colquhoun become another fallen idol. Even if it cost him his blood. He was suddenly conscious of the heavy watch in his trouser pocket, and he remembered Lightfoot’s determined and angry face as he had thrust it into his hands. ‘want you to have it, see?’

  He felt the pain rising again to prick at his eyes and he said eharply, ‘Take the wheel, Haley. I’m going to walk around for a bit.’ He stepped down from the wheelhouse and immediately felt the sun across his bare shoulders like the cut of a whip.

  Wolfe was sitting in the shade of the wheelhouse, his bound hands hidden behind his back. He looked up at Colquhoun’s taut features and said, ‘You’ll see that I was right! He’ll not come back for us now!’ When Colquhoun failed to reply he shouted loudly, ‘You’ll regret this, Mr. Colquhoun!’

  Colquhoun stopped and stared down at him. He still felt strangely calm, like a man under drugs, and he said, ‘The only thing I regret is that I did not shoot you! But I intend to meet the Temeraire’ He looked away. ‘If only to see you court-martialled!

  He walked slowly towards the bows where it had all started. As he passed the Koreans they bowed their heads, as if they too sensed his new and dangerous strength.

  The little boat steamed on steadily, each turn of the screw piling the distance between them and the distant shoreline. Only the jagged mountains were visible now, detached from the horizon by a low bank of haze. Soon they would be too far out. They would be seen and singled out for closer inspection. If he had allowed Wolfe to have his way they might still be sneaking down the coastline itself, lost and safe amongst countless similar craft. And Lightfoot would still be alive.

  He stamped his foot with sudden anger. No! It was not like that. Just this once he had to be right!

  Haley called from the wheelhouse. ‘Would you come up here, sir? I think there’s a small boat coming up astern!’

  Colquhoun ran up the ladder and groped for the telescope as Haley added, ‘Can’t make it out myself. The haze is too thick back there.’

  Colquhoun moved the telescope slowly and watched the glittering reflections playing across the water. A small boat might come too close for comfort. It might be as well to keep the Koreans in sight and let them know that they must behave quite normally, no matter what.

  Haley started as Colquhoun snapped the telescope shut and threw it on the locker. ‘What is it, sir?’

  Colquhoun stared past him. ‘Submarine! Dead astern! That was the conning tower you saw!’ He watched the compass. ‘Alter course slightly to port.’ He waited a few moments and then trained the telescope once again.

  This time he found it immediately. The submarine was moving fast, her hull trimmed down so low that it was lost in a welter of spray thrown back from the bows. Only the conning tower seemed real. It cruised above the water like some strange war-machine, the white hats of the men on watch like tiny flowers on a sea-washed rock. As he studied the submarine Colquhoun saw the conning tower changing shape and becoming wafer-thin as when he had first seen it.

  He said, ‘She’s altered course. She’s coming after us.’ There was neither surprise nor panic in his voice. Just a plain statement of fact.

  Haley swallowed. ‘I could go and tell the Koreans to act dumb, sir. I could make ’em understand!’

  Colquhoun turned and studied him calmly. There was almost’ a wistful look in his eyes as he said, ‘You really don’t understand, do you, Haley?’

  Haley shook his head. ‘We could bluff it out, sir!’

  ‘No. This is the same submarine which attacked the Malange’

  Haley stared at him. ‘How can you be sure, sir?’

  ‘Do you think I’m ever likely to forget, Haley?’ Colquhoun looked emptily at Lightfoot’s blanketed body and then said crisply, ‘She must have been at the shallow end of the Wantsai Valley waiting for the trawlers to drive the Pyramus or the Temeraire across her sights!’ He gripped the seaman’s arm fiercely. ‘God, man, don’t you understand? The Temeraire will come straight into her! She’ll surface to take us aboard, and she’ll be a sitting target!’

  Haley’s face was drained of colour. ‘What’ll we do, sir?’ He looked around the wheelhouse like a trapped animal. ‘We can’t do anything!’

  Colquhoun picked up his Stirling and cocked it deliberately. ‘There is a dinghy lashed forrard, Haley. It belongs to the fishermen. Get it ready for launching.’

  Haley seemed dazed. ‘Launching, sir?’

  ‘I shall want the Koreans to leave the boat at once. We’ll put them over the side before the submarine gets up to us.’ He looked straight into Haley’s eyes. ‘You know what I’m asking, don’t you, Haley?’

  The man licked his lips and tried to grin. ‘It had to be us, didn’t it, sir?’ He straightened his cap and added, ‘I’ll tell the others.’ He turned to go and then said, ‘The Temeraire wouldn’t stand a chance, sir. We can’t let these bastards use us as the bait!’

  Colquhoun lifted the telescope and watched the submarine growing larger in the lens. It would be so easy to ‘bluff it out’ as Haley had suggested. Temeraire might not be able to make the rendezvous, and their deaths would be for nothing. Even if they delayed the approaching submarine, there was still the possibility that Jermain might not detect her presence in time. Again, their deaths would be in vain.

  He picked up the Stirling and stared at it savagely. Then he shouted, ‘Slow ahead, Nettle!’ As the engine’s roar subsided he added, ‘Now get that boat over the rail, and be quick about it!’

  He got a vague impression of the protesting fishermen and the stolid-faced woman with the baby hugged to her side as they were helped down into the tethered dinghy alongside. Then as a knife slashed away the line it grated down the side of the hull and curtsied astern on the fishing boat’s wake. Colquhoun watched them drop further and further astern. Small, lost people caught up in someone else’s struggle.

  ‘Full ahead, Nettle! I don’t care if you burst the engine apart now!’

  Then he yelled through the window, ‘The submarine will come up on our port quarter, Haley! You and Cowley keep in the bows out of sight. When I give the signal I want you to open fire on her conning tower with everything you’ve got!’ He looked down at Nettle who sat perched on the edge of the engine hatch swinging his legs. ‘You, too. Just concentrate on her bridge and keep her crew away from the deck gun!’

  He turned back to watch the submarine again. It had increased speed, the wash from the lean hull brushing aside the bobbing dinghy like a leaf. He clamped his jaws tightly together. Soon now. The submarine was moving so fast that she would be overhauling the fishing boat as if she had been stationary.

  Haley yelled, ‘Smoke on the horizon, sir! Bearing green four five! It’ll be that A/S trawler again, I expect!’

  Colquhoun lifted his hand in acknowledgement. It made little difference now. If he could lure the submarine close enough to attack her, he could make her submerge. It was unlikely that her commander would want to risk unnecessary damage to his periscopes, quite apart from possible casualties.

  Colquhoun felt the sweat running free down his spine. No, the submarine’s skipper would dive and finish off this irritating attacker with a single torpedo.

  He raised his Stirling very slowly and held it against the side of the window. He watched the low bows and then the front edge of the conning tower moving into his vision, but he made himself wait just a bit longer, counting the seconds like a runner under the starting gun.

  No matter how far from the rendezvous she was, Temeraire’s sensitive ears would detect the torpedo’s explosion. He had a sudden picture of the cramped sonar compartment alongside Oxley and with Lightfoot just below him at the controls.

  He rested his forehead on his wrist and wiped the mist from his eyes. When he looked up the submarine was drawing abeam, barely fifty yards away. He heard the squawk of a loud-hailer, saw the glint of sunlight on raised binoculars. There was no mistaking her now. She was the same boat.

  His despair gave way to sudden fury, and as his finger tightened on the trigger he yelled, ‘Open fire! Sweep her bridge!’