Part 2 (1/2)

Katie was touchingly young, glowing with the same idealism that illuminated the pleasant features of her husband. Emily possessed a natural wisdom and endearing warmth. Together, the women provided a circle of cheer and kindness that was relished in an otherwise hard and demanding man's world. Somehow, thought Sarah, she must find a way of weaving their feminine strand into the fabric of her story.

Just as the dinner chimes were trilling, the men appeared, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with high spirits. Captain Price himself extended his arm to Sarah and escorted her into the dining room.

'I've been hearing nothing but praise for you today, Captain,' she said.

'A loyal crew,' he quipped. 'I've trained them well!'

'You're too modest,' she teased. 'I didn't detect a hint of coercion. They seemed to speak from their hearts.'

The Master pulled back a chair for her. 'The hearts I leave entirely to my wife, Miss Grey,' he said, and Emily beamed shyly at him.

He took his place at the head of a long table set with a damask cloth and fine china. Tony sat at the foot with Katie and Sarah at either side. Shop talk was goodnaturedly banned, but the conversation returned to the voyage time and time again anyway. Toasts were raised repeatedly to its success.

Katie had joked to Sarah that Tony terrified her at their first meeting, with his urbane, almost haughty manners. But now, as he turned his considerable charm on to the women, and Katie's tinkling laughter rose above the hum of conversation, it was evident that she was captivated by him.

Sarah felt the spell, too. It was difficult not to believe they were caught up in a fairy-tale world. Even the food, from the fine consomme and grilled sole to the rich pastries for dessert, contributed to the feeling of privilege and fantasy.

Coffee was being poured and a silver platter of cheese and fruit pa.s.sed when a cadet appeared and apologetically approached the Master.

'A radio communication from London, sir,' he said, standing stiffly at his side. 'It's from head office, for your attention only.'

Tony elevated a dark brow and shot a quizzical glance the length of the table. Conversation was politely muted as Captain Price accepted the sheet of paper, read, and nodded his dismissal of the messenger. His face was expressionless, betraying no hint of what he was thinking.

'Patrick,' he said, 'perhaps you would be good enough to read this aloud for the benefit of the officers... and Mr Freeland, of course. It will affect all of us in the days to come.'

Patrick took the paper, cleared his throat selfconsciously, and read. 'To the Master, Arctic Enterprise. Prepare to accept the arrival by company helicopter, out of Southampton Harbour, of Captain Guy Court, for the purpose of carrying out safety inspection procedures. Please radio harbour authorities when you are pa.s.sing within range. Signed, Julian Freeland.'

Patrick pursed his lips as if to let out a long, silent whistle, then laid the paper neatly before him and looked quickly left and right. After a stunned silence, a reaction grew and rippled around the table. The men shook their heads and exchanged quiet, alarmed comments. Only the Master seemed unruffled and calmly sliced a wedge of cheese for his biscuit.

Tony's response, however, was immediate and a good deal less restrained. Crumpling his napkin roughly and sc.r.a.ping his chair back, he was visibly disbelieving and angry.

'This is d.a.m.n poor judgement on someone's part, Captain!' he snapped, pulling the gold lighter out of his breast pocket with an irritable gesture. 'You and the men don't need any more problems right now-were you aware that this kind of nonsense was going to happen?'

'I was not, Mr Freeland,' the Master replied easily, sipping his coffee. 'It's as much a surprise to me as it is, I take it, to you.'

'My uncle said nothing to me,' Tony retorted, his lips thin with anger. 'Perhaps he himself didn't know until now. This sort of shabby tactics is more Guy's style than his.'

'You may have something there, although I don't think I would have characterised it in quite those terms.'

'Whatever,' said Tony dismissively. 'But since I estimate we must be just about below Southampton now, may I suggest that you do something quickly to put a stop to this?'

The Captain folded his hands before him and looked steadily at Tony. 'I'm sure I don't need to point out to you, Mr Freeland, that your uncle himself established the office of Safety Master as an independent authority within the company. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't prevent Captain Court's arrival.'

Tony shook his head vehemently. 'But it's insanity on a maiden voyage of this complexity!'

'Perhaps,' said Captain Price, shrugging, 'this is the very time when we should be welcoming Captain Court.'

Their Master's comments seemed to inspire debate among the officers, and whispered arguments broke out around the table.

Captain Price's tone became more conciliatory. 'I'll grant you,' he said, raising his hand for silence, 'that I hadn't been expecting Guy to appear until our second trip. But perhaps there's some method in his madness.'

He smiled, but it was not returned. The atmosphere in the room had altered irretrievably. The men sat silent and ill at ease. Emily tactfully busied herself with refilling coffee cups from the silver service in front of her. Katie was wide-eyed.

Sarah was fascinated by the dramatic change that had been wrought by one brief radio message. She stared at her companions with undisguised curiosity. Who was it who could so easily snarl the smoothly purring operation of the Enterprise and provoke such intense disagreement among its previously harmonious crew? The others obviously shared Tony's shock and disapproval.

She took a deep breath and plunged bravely into the awkward silence around her. 'Would I be out of line,' she began, 'if I asked just who this person is who's coming aboard?'

It was Patrick who found his tongue first. 'Guy Court,' he explained, 'is Freeland's Executive Director for Marine Safety. He visits all our s.h.i.+ps, from time to time, to run drills, give seminars on the latest developments. Other companies use him as well as a consultant and trouble-shooter. He's a naval architect and engineer by training-in fact, he designed the Enterprise. He usually schedules his inspections in advance, but he also... drops in, as I guess you've gathered.'

'But I still don't understand,' Sarah persisted. 'If his presence will be so disruptive, why doesn't someone from Freeland's management forbid it just this one time?'

'Captain Court has complete freedom of movement on all our s.h.i.+ps-he doesn't really report to anyone. It was felt that in this way he could maintain complete objectivity and the highest standards. And anyway, Captain Court is...' He looked up, distressed, and his voice petered out.

'What Mr McQuade is trying so tactfully to say,' cut in Tony, 'is that Guy is Freeland management, although his name is different from mine. He's my cousin. His mother, Diana, is Uncle Julian's youngest sister. Aunt Diana never took an active role in the company, the way Julian and Charles, my late father, did. Guy a.s.sumed her position, just as I did my father's.'

'Oh,' said Sarah quietly, 'I see... I see.'

Darkness had blanketed the sea. Only the running lights, twinkling in the distance, indicated the point where the bow sliced steadily through the water. The bridge was lit by the pale red of the night lights. Sarah leaned back against the chart table and watched as the navigation officer studied the quivering blips that moved ceaselessly across the radar screen.

Suddenly he turned to the Master. 'Radar shows aircraft approaching from the north, sir,' he said.

'Very well. Dead slow, helmsman,' Captain Price ordered. And to the duty officer: 'Floodlights on the landing pad, please, and prepare to a.s.sist the pilot.'

Sarah straightened and walked to the windows. In the distance, a pinpoint of green light blinked. If she hurried, she could make it to the deck that hung over the circular pad. Pulling her raincoat about her, she slipped out on to the open bridge and quickly scampered down the steps.

On the lower deck, she stopped and went to the rail. In the intense white glare of the lights the helicopter grew large, its lights flas.h.i.+ng and jet engines screaming. For a brief moment it hovered above the giant bulls-eye, then dropped with amazing gentleness and precision to the deck.

Sarah clung to the rail as a blast of air from the throbbing rotors pushed her back, whipping her hair wildly about her face. With the jets still whining, the side door slid open. A figure jumped out and, bent low to avoid the slicing of the blades, ran quickly off the pad. He clutched a briefcase under one arm and was followed by a scurrying crewman carrying a suitcase and duffle bag.

As soon as the two were safely clear, the motors rose again to a deafening wail. The helicopter climbed steeply, swung sharply away from the Enterprise, and was rapidly swallowed by the night.

Sarah stood on tiptoe on the first rung of the railing and strained to catch a glimpse of the newcomer who stood directly beneath her, shaking hands with Patrick. Their words did not rise to her, but in the floodlights, the man was clearly visible. This member of the Freeland clan, unlike Tony, was in uniform-the full dress blues with cap and gold trim that identified him as a senior officer.

Sarah frowned as she studied his features, deeply shadowed in the harsh overhead beams. Part of his face was obscured by the peak of his cap, but the strongly defined nose and jaw were striking. A slight brutalness in the features seemed at odds with the refinement of the uniform. This contradiction between face and clothes was vaguely familiar to her. Hadn't she seen that stern profile somewhere else?

Of course! she thought, with a gratifying flash of recognition. In the Herald's file room... the picture of the Freeland executives at the contract signing. He had been the scowler in the back row. Then, too, the ruggedness of the face had seemed at war with the expensively tailored business suit. Sarah extended her lower lip in a thoughtful pout as she studied him. Evidently venomous looks were a permanent characteristic of the man.

Sarah's impractical dinner shoes skidded on the mist-slicked rail. Struggling to keep her balance, she jammed her foot against the bar, and the delicate spike heel snapped, falling to the deck below and clattering to a stop in front of Guy Court.

'd.a.m.n!' she said into the startled silence. She held her breath as he stared down at the ridiculous little thing at his feet. Wordlessly, he bent, picked it up, and turned it over in his large hand. Slowly he tilted his head back and saw her. His eyes held hers in a cold and strangely knowing gaze.

Sarah felt her heart thud.

He slipped the heel into his pocket and was gone.

CHAPTER THREE.