Juggernaut. Desmond Bagley
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Geddes smiled without mirth at my unintended pun.
‘Anyway, no army commander will take that chance. I’d say that if it happens, it will be within the month or not for another six months.’
‘And if you had to bet?’
I tapped the table with my forefinger. ‘Now.’
‘And us with a three year contract,’ mused Geddes wryly. ‘What the hell’s happened to Shelford and his department? He should know about all this?’
‘How could he when he doesn’t take the trouble to go and find out? I’d kick him out on his ass if I had my way.’
‘We don’t do things that way,’ said Geddes stiffly.
I grinned. No, Geddes would shaft Shelford in the well-bred British fashion. There’d be a report in the Financial Times that Mr Shelford was going from strength to strength in the hierarchy of British Electric and his picture would smile toothily from the page. But from then on he’d be the walking dead, with his desk getting emptier and his phone more silent, and eventually he’d get the message and quit to grow roses. And wonder what the hell had hit him. A stiletto under the third rib would be more merciful.
‘But Sutherland should have known,’ Geddes was saying. ‘He should have told us.’
Although I had put the frighteners into John Sutherland myself I did not think he ought to share Shelford’s imagined fate – he had much to learn but a great deal of company potential and I wanted him kept on the job. So I let him down lightly.
‘He tried, back in that boardroom, but Shelford shouted him down. He’s a good man and learning fast. It’s just that he works too hard.’
‘Oh yes?’ Geddes was acidly polite. ‘Is that possible?’
‘It surely is. He should take out more time for his social life. He should get around more, do some drinking: drinking and listening. How the hell do you think I got all the dope I’ve just given you? I got it by damn near contracting cirrhosis of the liver drinking with a lot of boozy old colonial types who know more about what makes Nyala tick than the President himself. They’re disillusioned, those men. Some have lived in Nyala all their lives but they know they’ll always be on the outside because their skins are white. They’re there by grace and favour now, discounted by the country’s new masters, but they look and listen. And they know.’
‘That’s a précis of a Somerset Maugham story,’ said Geddes sardonically. ‘Does Sutherland know all this? Has he got the picture now?’
I shook my head. ‘I thought I’d have a word with you first. Meantime I wouldn’t be too surprised if he doesn’t put some of it together for himself, while I’m away. I jumped on him a bit to frighten him but I don’t think he’s the man to panic.’
Geddes pondered this and clearly approved. Presently he said, ‘Is there anything else I ought to know?’
‘Kigonde’s used half the army to help the rig along its first journey. I’ll tell you more about that later; it’s off to a good start. And I believe he’s moved an infantry brigade up to Bir Oassa.’
‘Quite natural to guard an oilfield. Does he expect sabotage?’
‘The Government is leaning heavily on our operation for propagation purposes, as you’ll see in my full report. There was the damnedest celebration you ever did see when the first transformer left Port Luard. If it should not get to Bir Oassa, or if anything happened to it up there, the Government would be discredited after all the hoopla they’ve made. Which makes it a prime target for the opposition.’
‘Christ!’ Geddes was fully alert for the first time. ‘Have you told Kemp all about this?’
‘No, I haven’t. The guy is under a lot of strain. I had a feeling that if any more piled up on him he might fall apart. The man to tell, the man who can take it, I think, is Geoffrey Wingstead.’
‘He’ll be down here tomorrow, to hear your report to the board, Neil. Then he’s flying out to Nyala.’
‘Good. I want time with him. In fact, I’d like to fix it so that we can go out together. Why the hell did you pick this shoestring operation in the first place?’
Geddes said, ‘They could do very well. Geoff has a good head on his shoulders, and a first-rate team. And their figures tally: they’ve cut it to the bone, admittedly, but there’s still a lot in it for them. They’re building more rigs, did you know that?’
‘One more rig. I met the guy who developed their prototype. He seems fast enough on the ball, but what happens if something goes wrong with Number One? Collapse of the entire operation, for God’s sake.’
‘Wingstead has a second rig on lease from a Dutch company which he’s planning to send out there. He and Kemp and Hammond have been pushing big loads all their lives. They won’t let us down.’
He thought for a moment, then said, ‘I’ll arrange things so that you go back out with Wingstead, certainly. In fact, I’ll give both of you the company jet. It’s at Stansted right now, and you can get away tomorrow, after the briefing.’
It was the speed of his arrangements that made me realize that the prickle at the back of his mind had turned into a case of raging hives.
Port Luard was cooler when we got back – about one degree cooler – but the temperature went down sharply when I walked into John Sutherland’s office. It was evident that he’d been hoping I’d disappear into the wide blue yonder never to return, and when he saw me you could have packaged him and used him as a refrigeration plant.
I held up a hand placatingly and said, ‘Not my idea to turn around so fast – blame Mister Geddes. For my money you could have this damn place to yourself.’
‘You’re welcome, of course,’ he said insincerely.
‘Let’s not kid each other,’ I said as I took a can of beer from his office refrigerator. ‘I’m as welcome as acne on a guy’s first date. What’s new?’
My friendly approach bothered him. He hadn’t known when to expect me and he’d been braced for trouble when he did. ‘Nothing, really. Everything has been going along smoothly.’ His tone still implied that it would cease to do so forthwith.
It was time to sweet-talk him. ‘Geddes is very pleased about the way you’re handling things here, by the way.’
For a moment he looked almost alarmed. The idea of Geddes being pleased about anything was odd enough to frighten anybody. Praise from him was so rare as to be nonexistent, and I didn’t let Sutherland know that it had originated with me. ‘When you left you implied that all was far from well,’ Sutherland said. ‘You never said what the trouble was.’
‘You