Hungry as the Sea (33 page)

“You’re going to get me into trouble one of these days, Nicholas Berg,” she told him primly as she hung up.

“Now there is a happy thought,” Nick agreed, and she hit him with her pillow.

Chapter 19

The telephone rang at two minutes past nine the next morning. They were in the bath together and Nicholas swore and went through naked and steaming and dripping suds.

“Mr. Berg?” James Teacher’s voice was sharp and businesslike. “You were right, Christy Marine petitioned for postponement of hearing late yesterday afternoon.”

“How long?” Nicholas snapped.

“Ninety days.”

“The bastard,” grunted Nick. “What grounds?”

“They want time to prepare their submission.”

“Block them,” Nick instructed.

“I have a meeting with the Secretary at eleven. I’m going to ask for an immediate preliminary hearing to set down and confirm the return date.”

“Get him before the arbitrators,” said Nick.

“We’ll get him.”

Samantha welcomed him back to the tub by drawing her knees up under her chin. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but damp wisps hung down her neck and on to her cheeks. She looked pink and dewy as a little girl.

Careful where you put your toes, sir, she cautioned him, and he felt the tension along his nerves easing. She had that effect on him.

“I’ll buy you lunch at Les A if you can tear yourself away from your microscope and fishy-smelling specimens for an hour or two.”

“Les Ambassadeurs? I’ve heard about it! For lunch there I’d walk across London on freshly amputated stumps.”

“That won’t be necessary, but you will have to charm a tribe of wild desert Sheikhs. I understand they are very sympathetic towards blondes.”

“Are you going to sell me into a harem – sounds fun, I’ve always fancied myself in baggy, transparent bloomers.”

“You, I’m not selling – icebergs, I am. I’ll pick you up at the front gate of the museum at one o’clock sharp.” She went with laughter and a great clatter and banging of doors and Nicholas settled at the telephone.

“I’d like to speak to Sir Richard personally, it’s Nicholas Berg.” Sir Richard was at Lloyd’s, an old and good friend.

Then he called and spoke to Charles Gras. There were no new delays or threats to Sea Witch’s completion date.

“I am sorry for any trouble you had with Alexander.”

“That’s life, Nicholas. Good luck at the hearing. I will be watching the Lloyd’s list.” Nicholas felt a sense of relief. Charles Gras had risked his career to show him
Golden Dawn
. it could have been serious.

Then Nick spoke for nearly half an hour to Bernard Wackie of Bach Wackie in Bermuda.
Warlock
had reported on the telex two hours previously; she was making good passage with her oil-rig tow, would drop off at Bravo 11on schedule and pick up her next tow as soon as she had anchored.

“David Allen is a good youngster,” Bernard told Nick.

“But have you got Levoisin for Sea Witch?”

“Jules is playing the prima donna, he has not said yes, but he’ll come.”

“You’ll have a good team, then.”

“What’s the latest date for Sea Witch?”

“End March.”

“The sooner the better, I’ve got contacts to keep both tugs running hard until the iceberg project matures. I’m having lunch with the Sheikhs today.”

“I know. There’s a lot of interest.”

“I’ve got a good feeling.”

“There is something big brewing, but they are a cagey bunch.“The inscrutable smile on the face of the sphiinx.”

“When do we see you?”

“‘I’ll come across just as soon as I’ve got Duncan Alexander into the arbitration court – end of the month, hopefully.”

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, Nicholas.”

Nick hesitated for the time it took to smoke the first cheroot of the day before he called Monte Carlo – for the call would cost him at least fifty thousand dollars, probably closer to seventy-five.

The best is always the cheapest, he reminded himself, picked up the receiver and spoke to a secretary in Monte Carlo, giving his name, While he waited for the connection he thought how his life was complicating itself once more. Very soon Bach Wackie would not be enough, there would have to be a London branch of Ocean Salvage, offices, secretaries, files, accounts, and then a New York branch, a branch in Saudi, the whole cycle again. He thought suddenly of Samantha, uncluttered and simple happiness, life without its wearisome trappings – then the connection was made and he heard the thin, high, almost feminine voice.

“Mr. Berg – Claud Lazarus.” No other greeting, no expressions of pleasure at the renewal of contact. Nick imagined him sitting at his desk in the suite high above the harbour, like a human foetus – preserved in spirits, bottled on the museum shelf. The huge bald domed head, the soft putty-coloured rudimentary features, the nose hardly large enough to support the thick spectacles. The eyes distorted and startled by the lens, changing shape like those of a fish in an aquarium as the light moved. The body underdeveloped, as that of a foetus, narrow shoulders, seemingly tapering away to the bowed question mark of a body.

“Mr. Lazarus. Are you in a position to undertake an indepth study for me?” It was the euphemism for financial and industrial espionage; Claud Lazarus’ network was not limited by frontiers or continents, it spanned the globe with delicately probing tentacles.

“Of course,” he piped softly.

“I want the financial structuring, the lines of control and management, the names of the nominees and their principals, the location and inter-relationship of all the elements of the Christy Marine Group and London European Insurance and Banking Co. Group, with particular reference to any changes in structure during the previous fourteen months. Do you have that?”

“This is being recorded, Mr. Berg.”

“Of course. Further, I want the country of registration, the insurers and underwriters of all bottoms traceable to their holdings.”

“Please continue.”

“I want an accurate estimate of the reserves of London and European Insurance in relations to their potential liability.”

“Continue.”

“I am particularly interested in the vessel
Golden Dawn
, presently building at the yards of Construction Navale Atlantique at St Nazaire. I want to know if she has been chartered or has contracted with any oil company for carriage of crude and, if so, on what routes and at what rates.”

“Yes?” Lazarus squeaked softly.

“Time is of the essence – and, as always, so is discretion.”

“You need not have mentioned that, Mr. Berg.”

“My contact, when you are ready to pass information, is Bach Wacky in Bermuda.”

“I will keep you informed of progress.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lazarus.”

“Good day, Mr. Berg.”

It was refreshing not to have to pretend to be the bosom comrade of somebody who supplied essentials but nonetheless revolted him, Nick thought, and comforting to know he had the best man in the world for the job.

He looked at his watch. It was lunchtime, and he felt the quick lift of his spirits at the thought of being with Samantha.

Chapter 20

Lime Street is a narrow alleyway, with tall buildings down each side of it, which opens off Leadenhall Street. A few yards from the junction, on the left hand side as you leave the street of shipping, is the covered entrance to Lloyd’s of London.

Nicholas stepped out of James Teacher’s Bentley and took Samantha on his arm. He paused a moment, with a feeling of certain reverence, As a seaman, the history of this remarkable institution touched him intimately. Not that the building itself was particularly old or venerable. Nothing now remained of the original coffee house, except some of the traditions: the caller who intoned the brokers names like the offertory in the temple of some exotic religion, the stalls in which the underwriters conducted their business and the name and uniform of the institution’s servants, the waiters with brass buttons and red collar tabs.

Rather it was the tradition of concern that was enshrined here, the concern for ships and for all men who went down to the sea in those ships and did their business in great waters.

Perhaps later, Nicholas would find time to take Samantha through the nelson rooms and show her the displays of memorabilia associated with the greatest of Britain’s sailors, the plate and letters and awards. Certainly he would have her as lunch guest in the big dining-room, at the table set aside specifically for visiting sea captains.

But now there were more important considerations to demand all his attention. He had come to hear the verdict given on his future – within a few hours he would know just how high and how fast the wave of his fortune had carried him.

“Come,” he said to Samantha, and led her up the short flight of steps into the lobby, where there was a waiter alerted to receive them.

“We will be using the Committee Room today, sir.”

The earlier submissions by both parties had been heard in one of the smaller offices, leading off the high gallery above the vast floor of the exchange with its rows of underwriters stalls. However, due to the extraordinary nature of this action, the Committee of Lloyd’s had made a unique decision – to have their arbitrators give their findings and make their award in surroundings more in keeping with the importance of the occasion.

They rode up in silence, all of them too tense to make the effort of small talk, and the waiter led them down the wide corridor, past the chairman’s suite of offices and through the double doors into the grandeur of the room designed by Adam for Bowood House, the country home of the Marquess of Lansdowne. It had been taken to pieces, panel by panel, floor, ceiling, fireplace and plaster mouldings, transported to London and re-erected in its entirety with such care and attention that when Lord Lansdowne inspected it, he found that the floorboards squeaked in exactly the same places as they had before.

At the long table, under the massive glittering pyramids of the three chandeliers, the two arbitrators were already seated. Both of them were master mariners, selected for their deep knowledge and experience of the sea, and their faces were toughened and leathery from the effects of sea and salt water. They talked quietly together, without acknowledging in any way the rows of quietly attentive faces in the rows of chairs facing them – until the minute hand of the antique clock on the Adam fireplace touched its zenith. Then the President of the court looked across at the waiter who obediently closed the double doors and stood to attention before them.

“This Arbitration Court has been set up under the Committee of Lloyd’s and empowered to receive evidence in the matter between the Christy marine Steamship Co. Ltd. and the Ocean Salvage and Towage Co. Ltd. This Court finds common ground in the following areas Firstly, a contract of salvage under Lloyd’s Open Form ‘No cure no pay’ for the recovery of the passenger liner
Golden Adventurer
, a ship of 22,000 tons gross burden and registered at Southampton, exists between the parties.

“Secondly, that the Master of the
Golden Adventurer
, while steaming on a south-westerly heading during the night of December 16th at or near 72
^o
16’ south and 32
^o
12’ west –” The President let no dramatics intrude on his assembly of the facts. He recounted it all in the driest possible terms, succeeding in making
Golden Adventurer’s
plight and the desperate endeavours of her rescuers sound boring. indeed, his colleague seemed to descend into a condition of coma at the telling of it. His eyes slowly closed, and his head sagged gently sideways, his lips vibrating slightly at each breath – a volume not quite sufficient to make it a snore.

It took nearly an hour, with the occasional consultation of the ship’s log books and a loose volume of hand-written and typed notes, before the president was satisfied that he had recounted all the facts, and now he rocked back in his chair and hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat. His expression became decisive, and while he surveyed the crowded room, his colleague stirred, opened his eyes, took out a white linen handkerchief and blew two sharp blasts, one for each nostril, like the herald angel sounding the crack of doom.

There was a stir of reawakened interest, they all recognized the moment of decision, and for the first time Duncan Alexander and Nicholas Berg looked directly at each other over the heads of the lawyers and company men. Neither of them changed expression, no smile nor scowl, but something implacable and clearly understood passed between them. They did not unlock their gaze, until the President began to speak again.

“Taking into consideration the foregoing, this Court is of the firm opinion that a fair and good salvage of the vessel was effected by the salvors, and that therefore, they are entitled to salvage awards commensurate with the services rendered to the owners and underwriters.”

Nicholas felt Samantha’s fingers groping for his. He took her hand, and it was slim and cold and dry; he interlocked their fingers and laid their hands upon his upper thigh.

“This Court, in arriving at the value of the salvor’s services, has taken into consideration, firstly, the situation and conditions existing on the site of operations. We have heard evidence that much of the work was carried out in extreme weather conditions. Temperatures of thirty degrees below freezing, wind forces exceeding twelve on the Beaufort scale, and extreme icing.

“We have also considered that the vessel
Golden Adventurer
was no longer under command. That she had been abandoned by her passengers, her crew and her Master. She was aground on a remote and hostile coast.

“We have further noted that the salvors undertook a voyage of many thousands of miles, without any guarantee of recompense, but merely in order to be in a position to offer assistance, should that have become necessary. Nicholas glanced across the aisle at Duncan Alexander.