Triple (49 page)

TJUPLE

"almost certain" was not enough in an operation of this importance. If

anyone should suspect, now or later, what he was really up to ...

He put on a sweater, trousers, sea boots and an oilskin. The thing had

to be done, and it had to be done now. He pocketed the key to the store,

opened his cabin door and went out. As he made his way along the gangway

he thought: I'll say I couldn't sleep so I'm checking the stores.

He unlocked the door to the store, turned on the light, went in and

closed it behind him. Engineering spares were racked and shelved all

around him-gaskets, valves, plugs, cable, bolts, filters . . . given a

cylinder block, you could build a whole engine out of these parts.

He found the spare oil pump in a box on a high shelf. He lifted it

down-it was not bulky but it was heavy-and then spent five minutes

double-checking that there was not a seoond spare oil pump.

Now for the difficult part.

I couldn't sleep, sir, so I was checking the spares. Very good,

everything in order? Yes, sir. And what's that you've got under your

arm? A bottle of whiskey, sir. A cake my mother sent me, The spare oil

pump, sir, I'm going to throw it overboard ...

He opened the storeroom door and looked out.

Nobody.

He killed the light, went out, closed the door behind him and locked it.

He walked along the gangway and out on deck.

Nobody.

It was still raining. He could see only a few yards, which was good,

because it meant others could see only that far.

He crossed the deck to the gunwale, leaned over the rail, dropped the oil

pump into the sea, turned, and bumped into someone.

A cake my mother sent me, it was so dry ...

'TI/ho's thatr' a voice said in accented English.

"Engineer. You?" As Koch spoke, the other man turned so that his profile

was visible in the deck light, and Koch recognized the rotund figure and

big-nosed face of the radio operator.

"I couldn't sleep," the radio operator said. "I wasget

ting some air."

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Kon Folleff

Hes as embarrassed as I am, Koch thought. I wonder why?

"Lousy night," Koch said. "Im going in."

"Goodnight."

Koch went inside and made his way to his cabin. Strange fellow, that radio

operator. He was not one of the regular crew. He had been taken on in

Cardiff after the original radioman broke his leg. Like Koch, he was

something of an outsider here. A good thing he bad bumped into him rather

than one of the others.

Inside his cabin he took off his wet outer clothes and lay on his bunk. He

knew he would not sleep. His plan for tomorrow was all worked out, there

was no point in going over it again, so he tried to think of other things:

of his mother, who made the best potato kugel in the world; of his flanc6e,

who gave the best head in the world; of his mad father now in an

institution in Tel Aviv; of the magnificent tapedeck he would buy with his

back pay after his assignment; of his fine apartment in Haifa; of the

children he would have, and how they would grow up in an Israel safe from

war. .

He got up two hours later. He went aft to the galley for some coffee. The

cook's apprentice was there, standing in a couple of inches of water,

frying bacon for the crew.

"Lousy weather," Koch said.

"It will get worse."

Koch drank his coffee, then refilled the mug and a second one and took -

them up to the bridge. The first officer was there. "Good morning," Koch

said.

"Not really," said the first officer, looking out into a curtain of rain.

"Coffee?"

"Good of you. Thank you."

Koch handed him the mug. 'Where are we?"

"Here." The officer showed him their position on a charL "Dead on schedule,

in spite of the weather."

Koch nodded. That meant be had to stop the ship in fifteen minutes. "See

you later," he said. He left the bridge and went below to the engine room.

His number two was there, looking quite fresh, as if he had taken a good

long nap during his nighfs duty. "Hows the oil pressureT'Koch asked him.

"Steady."

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"It was going up and down a bit yesterday."

"Well, there was no sign of trouble in the night," the number two said.

He was a little too firm about it, as if he was afraid of being accused

of sleeping while the gauge oscillated.

"Good," Koch said. "Perhaps it's repaired itself." He put his mug down

on a level cowling, then picked it up quickly as the ship rolled. "Wake

Larsen on your way to bed."

"Right."

"Sleep well."

The number two left, and Koch drank down his coffee and went to work.

The oil pressure gauge was located in a bank of dials aft of the

engine.'Tbe dials were set into a thin metal casing, painted matt black

and secured by four self-tapping screws. Using a large screwdriver, Koch

removed the four screws and pulled the casing away. Behind it was a mass

of many. colored wires leading to the different gauges. Koch swapped his

large screwdriver for a small electrical one with an insulated handle.

With a few turns be disconnected one of the wires to the oil pressure

gauge. He wrapped a couple of inches of insulating tape around the bare

end of the wire, thm taped it to the back of the dial so that only a

close inspection would reveal it was not connected to the terminal. Then

he replaced the casing and secured it with the four Screws.

Wben Larsen came in be was topping up the transmission fluid.

"Can I do that, sir?" Larsen said. He was a Donkeyman Greaser, and

lubrication was his province.

I "I've done it now," Koch said. He replaced the filler cap and stowed

the can in a locker.

Larsen rubbed his eyes and lit a cigarette. He looked over the dials, did

a double take and said. "Sirl Oil pressure zerol"

ozeror,

"Yes!"

"Stop enginest"

"Aye, aye, sir."

Without oil, friction between the engines metal parts would cause a very

rapid build-up of heat until the metal melted, the parts fused and the

engines stopped, never to go again. So dangerous was the sudden absence

of oil pressure

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Ken Folleff

that Larsen might well have stopped the engines on his own initiative,

without asking Koch.

Everyone on the ship heard the engine die and felt the COparelli lose

way; even those dayworkers who were still asleep in their bunks heard

it through their dreams and woke up. Before the engine was completely

still the first officer's voice came down the pipe. "Bridgel What's

going on below?"

Koch spoke into the , voice-pipe. "Sudden loss of oil

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pressure.

"Any idea whyr

"Not yet."

"Keep me posted."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Koch turned to Larsen. "We're going to drop the sump," he said. Larsen

picked up a toolbox and followed Koch down a half deck to where they

could get at the engine from underneath. Koch told him, "If the main

bearings or the big end bearings were wom the drop in oil pressure would

have been gradual. A sudden drop means a failure in the oil supply.

There's plenty of oil in the system-1 checked earlier-and there are no

signs of leaks. So there's probably a blockage."

Koch released the sump with a power spanner and the two of them lowered

it to the deck. They checked the sump strainer, the fall How filter, the

filter relief valve and the ai relief valve without finding any

obstructions.

"If there's no blockage, the fault must be in the pump," Koch said.

"Break out the spare oil pump."

'7bat will be in the store on the main deck," Larsen said.

Koch handed him the key, and Larsen went above.

Now Koch had to work very quickly. He took the casing off the oil pump,

exposing two broad-toothed meshing gear wheels. He took the spanner off

the power drill and fitted a bit, then attacked the cogs of the gear

wheels with the drill, chipping and breaking them until they were all but

useless. He put down the drill, picked up a crowbar and a hammer, and

forced the bar in between the two wheels, prising them apart until he

heard something give with a loud, dull crack. Finally he took out of his

pocket a small nut made of toughened steel, battered and chipped. He had

brought it with him when he had boarded the ship. He dropped the nut into

the sump.

Done.

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rRiPLE

Larsen came back.

Koch realized he had not taken the bit off the power drill: when Larsen

left there had been a spanner attachment on the tool. Don!t look at the

drill! he thought

Larsen said, "The pump isn't there, sir."

Koch fished the nut out of the sump. "Look at this," he said, distracting

Larsen's eye from the incriminating power drill. "This is the cause of the

trouble." He showed Larsen the rained gear wheels of the oil pump. "The nut

must have been dropped in the last time the filters were changed. It got

into the pump and it's been going round and round in those gear wheels ever

since. I'm surprised we didn't hear the noise, even over the sound of the

engine. Anyway, the oil pump is beyond repair, so you'll have to find that

spare. Get a few bands to help you look for it."

Larsen went out. Koch took the bit off the power drill and put back the

spanner attachment. He ran up the steps to the main engine room to remove

the other piece of incriminating evidence. Working at top speed in case

someone else should come in, he removed the casing an the gauges and

reconnected the oil pressure gauge. Now it would genuinely read zero. He

replaced the casing and threw away the insulating tape.

It was finished. Now to pull the wool over the captain's eyes.

As soon as the search party admitted defeat Koch went up to the bridge. He

told the captain, "A mechanic must have dropped a nut into the oil sump

last time the engine was serviced, sir." He showed the captain the nut. "At

some pointmaybe while the ship was pitching so steeply-the nut got into the

oil pump. After that it was just a matter of time. The nut went around in

the gear wheels until it had totally ruined them. I'm afraid we can't make

gear wheels like that on board. The ship should carry a spare oil pump, but

it doesn't."

Ile captain was furious. "There will be hell to pay when I find out who's

responsible for this."

"It's 'the engineees job to check the spares, but as you know, sir, I came

on board at the last minute."

"That means it's Sarne's fault."

'Tbere may be an explanation----w"

"Indeed. Such as he spent too much time chasing Belgian whores to look

after his engine. Can we limp alongr

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Ken Felleff

"Absolutely not, sir. We wouldn't move half a cable before she seized."

"Damnation. Where~s the radio operatorr'

The first officer said, "I'll find him, sir," and went out.

"You're certain you can't put something together?" the captain asked Koch.

"I'm afraid you can't make an oil pump out of spare parts and string.

That's why we have to carry a spare pump."

The first officer came back with the radio operator. The captain said,

"Where the devil have you been?"

The radio operator was the rotund, big-nosed man Koch had bumped into on

the deck during the night. He looked hurt. "I was helping to search the

fofard store for the oil pump, sir, then I went to wash my hands," He

glanced at Koch, but there was no hint of suspicion in his look: Koch was

not sure how much he had seen during that little confrontation on the deck,

but if he had made any connection between a missing spare and a package

thrown overboard by the engineer, he wasn't saying.

"Aft right," the captain said. "Make a signal to the owners: Report engine

breakdown at ... What's our exact position, number one?"

The first officer gave the radio operator the position.

The captain continued: "Require new oil pump or tow to port. Please

instruct."

Koch's shoulders slumped a little. He had done it

Eventually the reply came from the owners:

COPARELLI SOLD TO SAVILE SHIPPING OF ZURICH. YOUR MESSAGE PASSED TO NEW

OWNERS. STAND BY FOR THEIR INSTRUCTIONS.

Almost immediately afterward there was a signal from Savile Shipping:

OUR VESSEL GIL HAMILTON IN YOUR WATERS. SHE WILL COME ALONGSIDE AT APPROX-

IMATELY NOON. PREPARE TO DISEMBARK ALL CREW EXCEPT ENGINEER. GIL HAMILTON

WILL TAKE CREW TO MARSEILLES. ENGINEER WILL AWAIT NEW OIL PUMP.

PAPAGOPOLOU&

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