West from Singapore (Ss) (1987) (24 page)

"Jim! What's happened?" Arnold's face was tense. "When Selim found me he said all calamity was to break loose today. What do you know?"

As the car raced across town, Ponga Jim told his story quickly and concisely.

"Ptolemais Theron is the man behind it all," he said. "He's a bad one, William! I've known of him for years. He and I played poker once with two other men in the place of Mahr-el-din in the Kasbah. Ring Wallace was there and Ski Jorgenson. Theron had just sidestepped a term on the breakwater for illicit diamond buying and was working on a deal to sell a lot of world war rifles to the Riffs. We were talking of the Red Sea, and Ski"

Ponga Jim stopped short, and his face went blank. "By heaven, William, I've got it!"

"Got what?" Arnold's face was tight, stiff.

"William"-Ponga Jim's voice was low with emotion-"Ski Jorgenson had been working a salvage job in the Gulf of Aqaba, near Tiran Island. He told us of finding some huge caverns under the cliffs of the islands-one room five hundred yards long, with a dozen chambers opening off from it, and water in that main chamber. He told us about what a swell smuggler's hangout it would be. And the entrance is deep. A ship could come and go-if it had no masts!"

"You mean that's the base of that mystery battlewagon?" Arnold's face lit up. "By the Lord Harry, if it is we'll blast the place in on them!"

"That's the base. Theron wanted me killed because I knew too much. When Ski told about the caverns he also told some stuff about the ancient tombs at Adulis, and the chances are Theron's been robbing them for the gold to put this deal over. That would be where Rudolf Burne got the emerald ring he had. Probably he was in on the deal, got cold feet, and came to me because he knew I wouldn't turn him over to the police. But he was shot before he could talk."

The car slid to a halt, and Arnold dropped out.

"Don't worry about us," he said drily. "We'll be all set." "Wait!" Ponga Jim put a hand on Arnold's arm. "Don't say a thing about yourselves-I mean you and General Kernan. I've already arranged for that. I'm going to have Selim, Sakim, Big London, and Longboy standing by. They'll get the men who'll be sent to kill you.

"Don't trust anyone. Somebody high up is in this, somebody close to you." He paused.

"Oh, yes! Remember Carter? He built the Khamsin.

Built the plant for it for the Nazis."

"Okay." Arnold smiled suddenly and held out his hand. "I don't know what you've got up your sleeve, but good luck. And in case something slips up-it's been a grand fight!"

Ponga Jim grinned. "Listen, pal. Just to keep the record straight. Keep Zara Hammedan under cover. She means well, and- "

"Who?" William grabbed Ponga Jim's arm. "Why, you didn't mention her! Where did you"

"Shh!" Mayo said, grinning. "It's late, William, and you'll wake up the neighbors.

Zara? Oh, we're just like that!" He held up two fingers. "A honey, isn't she?"

Selim stepped on the gas.

"I hope you get shot!" Arnold yelled after him.

Tiran Island, at the southern end of the Gulf of Aqaba, is six and a half miles long and in the south part is about five miles wide. Chisholm Point is steep and cliffy, but Johnson Point, the northwest tip of the island, is low and flat, of sand and dead coral. South of the point, two flat, sandy beaches afford good landing, but the coast elsewhere consists of undercut coral cliffs.

It lacked but a little of daylight when Ponga Jim Mayo stepped ashore on one of those sandy beaches. Slug Brophy scowled at him in the vague light.

"I don't like it, Skipper. I don't like shooting at no ship when you're aboard it.

And if they catch you they'll fill you so full of lead you'll sink clean through to China."

"Forget it," said Mayo. "I've got my job to do-you've got yours. Have the boats and life rafts ready, see? We've got one chance in a million that the Semiramis will come out of this, but a chance. All I'm figuring on is crippling the Khamsinthat's the name of the mystery battleship-so she can't move fast. Then maybe she can be kept busy until the convoy escapes. Have the sub over right away. Jeff and Hifty from the engine room can handle it."

. The boat shoved off into the darkness, and Ponga Jim climbed the gradually shelving beach. He paused there, looking over the island: sand, decomposed coral, and rock, with here and there some grass. He was going on a memory of what Ski Jorgenson had said several years before, that there was an opening of the cave to the island itself, aside from the huge mouth that opened into the gulf.

He found it by sheer good luck, after he had looked for an hour. It was already daylight when he saw the small hole Ski had mentioned. Surprisingly, there was no one near it. He slid through and found himself in a passage where he could stand erect. He hurried, hesitated at a branching passage, and then chose the larger. It opened into the huge cavern so suddenly that he almost walked right out into the open.

Even so, he stopped in his tracks, staring. He stood in the darkness at one side of a huge cavern, its domed roof lost in the shadows overhead. But what held his gaze was the warship.

It was at least five hundred feet long, painted black, but glistening with metallic luster. The hull seemed to be built like that of any battleship, but above deck the ship was covered with a turtleshell covering. There were two turrets forward and one aft, each looking much like slightly less than half a ball where the rounded surface lifted above the shell. The turrets, obviously, could turn to cover any point from dead ahead to a complete right angle on either side.

Between, in three tiers, like guns in a fort, were smaller guns. Nowhere on the ship was there any exposed deck, any open space. The ship was completely covered with a steel housing from stem to stern.

There were lights around the ship, and men working. Ponga Jim could hear the clangor of metal and could see a great moving crane, and obviously the branch caverns were fitted with shops for the building and upkeep of ships.

Keeping in the shadows, Ponga Jim worked his way to a place where the cavern narrowed.

His plan was to get aboard and keep the quarter pint of nitroglycerine he had intactwhich meant keeping himself intact.

Dozens of men were working and sweating. Armed guards patrolled the area near the ship, and at any moment Ponga Jim knew he might be seen. Warily, he dodged behind a pile of oil drums, waiting.

The German who came around the corner of the pile came without any warning, and Ponga Jim looked up to see the man staring at him. He saw the man's eyes widen, saw his mouth open, and then Ponga Jim took a chance and smashed a right hand into the man's belly. If the fellow knocked him down with that nitro in his pocketThe big German's breath was knocked out of him, but he swung a wicked punch while trying to yell.

And somehow he got out a knife. Mayo ducked the punch, and smashed both hands into the man's wind, but then the knife came down in a vicious stabbing cut. Ponga Jim started to duck, but the knife struck him, and he felt the blade bury itself in his side. He grabbed the man's wrist and tore his hand loose. Then he smashed his fist into the German's throat, smashed and smashed again.

Fiercely, in darkness and silence, their breath coming in great gasps, the two fought.

A terrific punch rocked Ponga Jim's head, and that smoky taste when rocked by a bad one came into his mouth. Then he smashed another punch to the Nazi's windpipe and hit him hard across the Adam's apple with the edge of his hand. The German went down, and Ponga Jim bent over him, slugging him again.

There was no choice. Even now if the man were found, they would search and Ponga Jim would die. And not only he would die, but fifty thousand soldiers would die, men would die in Alexandria, Cairo, and Port Said; for the news of the attacked convoy was to be the signal for the beginning of the slaughter. Innocent people would die and brave men. Worse, a tyrant as evil as Hitler would come to power here in the Near East, a killer as ruthless as a shark of the sea, as remorseless as a slinking tiger.

The Nazi sank at Ponga Jim's feet. Behind the piled drums as they were, they had remained unseen. He picked the big German up and felt a white-hot streak of agony along his side.

Remembering a huge crack in the cavern floor back about fifty feet, he carried the man over to it and dropped him in. He did not hear the body strike bottom.

"Sorry, pal," he muttered, "but this is war. It was you or them."

Creeping back, he studied the ship. There was no activity in front of him. That meant a chance. He walked out of the shadow and calmly went up the gangway into the ship.

A man glanced up, but at the distance Ponga Jim must have looked like any other officer, for the man went on with his work.

Ponga Jim found himself in an electrically lighted tunnel. He could see the amazingly thick steel of the ship's hull as he went forward, walking fast. He passed several doors until he got well forward. Then he went into a storeroom.

He found a place secure from observation, slipped off his coat, and, taking a deep breath, drew the knife from the wound. It had gone into the muscle back of his ribs from front to back. He plugged the wound and then relaxed.

Chapter
VIII The Convoy Is Safe.

It was the throb of engines that awakened Ponga Jim. Dimly he was conscious they had been going for some time. By the feel of the ship he knew they were in open water.

Timing was important. The convoy's attempted destruction would begin it. Ponga Jim rolled back the sacks and stepped out into the storeroom. He glanced at his wristwatch.

It was early yet.

He went to the port and glanced out. The sea was calm, only white around the coral.

The sun was hot and the air clear except for the dancing heat waves over the rocky shore.

He looked again, and his hands gripped the rim of the port.

He felt his heart give a great leap. They were nearing Gordon Reef in the Strait of Tiran! He saw the small, iron ship plainly visible on the rocks of the reef; the wreck had been there so long it was hardly noticed anymore.

But today it meant more. Today, if all went well, a pocket submarine of a hundred tons would be lying there, waitingthe submarine he had captured in the Well of the Unholy Light, on Halmahera.

He was watching, yet even then he could just barely see the ripple of foam when the sub's periscope lifted. In his ears he could hear words as though he were there himself.

He could hear Jeff speaking to his one-man crew: "Fire one!" Then, after a few seconds, "Fire two!"

Ponga Jim saw the white streak of a torpedo and heard someone sing out above; then he saw the second streak. The big warship was jarred with a terrific explosion and then a second or two later, with a second. A shell crashed in the water only dozens of feet from the tiny sub. But the periscope was gone now.

Ponga Jim gripped his hands until the fingernails bit into his palms. How much damage had been done? Would Jeff and Hifty get away? Thank God the warship had no destroyer screen to pursue and drop depth bombs.

There was shouting forward, and he could feel the ship slowing down. He set his jaw.

Now it was up to him. Now he would do what he came for and end this scourge of the sea once and for all.

He found a uniform in the pile of junk in the storeroom and crawled into it. Then he stepped out into the passage again. No one seemed to notice him. Men were running and shouting in the steel tunnel. He joined those hurrying men. He gathered that the first torpedo had hit right where he had wanted it to. From the stolen blueprint, which covered a section of the bow, he had known that the extreme bow and stern of the warship were but thinly armored. Elsewhere, twenty inches of steel protected the waterline. The second fish had wasted itself against that steel bulwark.

As he dashed forward, a man passed him, and Ponga Jim saw a startled look come into the man's face. The fellow stopped, and Ponga Jim ducked into the passage leading down. A moment later he heard a man yelling, and swore viciously. To be discovered now!

At a breakneck pace he went down the steel ladder. Water was pouring in through the side into one of the blisters below. Into two of them. He heard a petty officer assuring another that the damage was localized, that the Khamsin would be slowed a little, but was in no danger of sinking.

Above them, Ponga Jim heard a shouted order. He ducked toward a steel door in the bulkhead. The petty officer shouted at him in German, but he plunged through. Then he stopped and placed the bottle of nitrogylcerine against the steel bulkhead.

The door swung open again, and Ponga Jim flattened against the bulkhead. Men dashed through. On impulse, Ponga Jim stooped, caught up the bottle and sprang back through the door and then ran for the ladder. A man shouted and grabbed at him, but he swung viciously and knocked the man sprawling into a corner. Another man leaped at him with a spanner, and Ponga Jim scrambled up the ladder and then wheeled and hurled the bottle into the corner near the damaged side of the ship!

There was a terrific blast of white flame, shot through with crimson. Ponga Jim felt himself seized as though by a giant hand and hurled against the wall. He went down with a jangle of bells in his head, and above him he could hear the roar of guns, the sound of shells bursting, and a fearful roaring in his head....