‘How very perspicacious.’
Carrington sighed. ‘Then I must tell you, Jack, that the Navy will reconsider legal proceedings in respect of that cocaine report.’ He added: ‘I’ll deny I ever said that.’
Morgan wondered if he had heard right.
‘Jesus Christ … Not only does the Navy submit to blackmail, it now practises blackmail! … Jesus Christ,’ he said again. ‘Now I’ve heard everything.’
He grimly followed the Captain of Submarines into his office. A lanky middle-aged man with spectacles heaved himself up from an armchair as they entered. Carrington suddenly seemed in good humour.
‘Jack, this is somebody hardly anybody knows. Anthony Brink-Ford. In his indefinable way he’s one of the gentlemen who controls poor mortals like me. Anthony – Jack Morgan.’
‘How do you do?’ Morgan nodded briefly. He said to Carrington: ‘You’re mortal?’
‘Alas, I sometimes suspect so.’ He went behind his desk and picked up a form and a Bible. ‘Hold that, raise your right hand and repeat after me.’ He prepared to read the form.
‘You’re joking.’
‘Just the usual Official Secrets Oath, Jack, got to take it.’
‘But I’m no longer an official.’
‘As a retired Royal Navy officer, you’re still in the Reserves, Jack.’
‘Then if I’m still an officer I haven’t got to take the Oath again!’
‘We can require you to do so, under certain circumstances.’
‘Where my continued loyalty is questionable? Are you handing me my Call-up papers?’
‘No.’
‘Then if my loyalty is questioned, I’m going back to my boat.’ He turned to go.
‘Jack …’ Carrington sighed. ‘All right.’ He put the Bible down. He said wearily: ‘You’re still familiar with the Oath?’
‘I don’t suffer from amnesia!’
‘All right,’ Carrington sighed. He waved his hand. ‘Please sit down.’
Morgan sat, pleased with his little victory. ‘This doesn’t mean I’m going to do a bloody thing.’
‘Now, then.’ Carrington sat. He crossed his legs. ‘Officially Anthony draws the salary of a Permanent Under-Secretary of State. In fact, he’s one of the senior chaps in MI6. He wants to talk to you.’ He waved a hand. ‘And I want you to know I think it stinks. But it’s got to be done.’
Morgan frowned. ‘You think it stinks? …’ He sat back. ‘Boy, then it must be really bad.’
It was water off Carrington’s back. ‘I want you to know that I’m on your side, Jack.’
Morgan shook his head.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’ve really heard everything.’
Anthony Brink-Ford’s rimless spectacles made his eyes look unusually large. He sat forward and said:
‘You’ve heard about the state of emergency in Grenada, Mr Morgan? It’s been in the newspapers.’
Morgan felt his pulse trip. So it was about Grenada. He nodded. Brink-Ford went on:
‘In short, there’s been another coup. The Prime Minister, Maurice Bishop, who was a communist but changed his tune somewhat and began to make overtures to America again – he was placed under house arrest by his army. The hard-line communists in his cabinet wanted to get rid of him, but they dared not do so, because of his popular support.’
Morgan was trying to think ahead – and all he could think was Anna …
‘Well,’ Brink-Ford said, ‘today Bishop’s supporters stormed his house, and set him free. They marched into town. Bishop had four or five of his loyal cabinet ministers and advisers with him.’ He raised his eyebrows at Morgan. ‘One of them was a well-known financier called Max Hapsburg.’
Morgan stared at him. Brink-Ford went on: ‘They confronted the army. Then the hard-line communist leaders arrived. Bishop and five of his leading friends were seized. They were dragged into the army headquarters, and shot.’
Morgan stared. ‘And Max Hapsburg was one of those shot?’
Brink-Ford nodded. ‘Yes.’ He added significantly: ‘His wife was definitely not present.’ He paused, then went on soberly: ‘The United States of America is about to invade Grenada.’
America about to invade Grenada? Morgan’s mind was fumbling, with the beat in his chest. Brink-Ford continued:
‘The official reason is the safety of one thousand American medical students who are living on the island. In a state of siege in the university, while civil war’s raging. After the hostage crisis in Iran and Jimmy Carter’s bungling of that, and the recent bombing of American military in Beirut, President Reagan is not taking any chances with American lives. Or America’s reputation.’ He added: ‘Or his own. There’s a presidential election next year. Another reason is the usual one: the Russians. The Reds are on the island in a big way, Soviets and Cubans. Amongst other things, they are building a huge new airport, capable of taking any planes. Why? Little Grenada’s tourist traffic is handled quite satisfactorily by the existing airport. So obviously the Russians intend making Grenada another military base, like Cuba. America is not going to tolerate that.’
Morgan was thinking hard. ‘And the other reason?’
‘Those are good enough reasons, in our book. Even though Mrs Thatcher is going to scream blue murder about America’s interference – because Grenada is a member of the British Commonwealth. Just like Reagan made a big show of complaining about Thatcher’s Falklands War. So he could keep in sweet with Latin America.’ He paused. ‘There is no other reason for America’s invasion officially. But there is an important spin-off, as the Americans say.’
‘And that is?’
Brink-Ford pressed his fingers together. He said:
‘Max Hapsburg died today, with certain information in his head. Highly important, of a secret nature.’ He paused. ‘And we believe – that is to say, Her Majesty’s government, and the United States believe, that Max Hapsburg may have told his wife the information … That she either knows it, or knows where it is to be found.’
Morgan stared at the man. He could not believe this was happening. ‘What makes you think that?’
Brink-Ford said, ‘Suffice it to say that Max Hapsburg was a prominent man in banking circles. He was involved in many – or several – top level negotiations on behalf of certain Caribbean and Latin American countries, about their international
