"To find new sources of oil. We have a perfectly equipped laboratory here – "

"You could have saved your time. Can we search your bag and your friend's?"

"Have I any choice?"

"No."

"Go ahead."

"Aaron."

Aaron carried out a quick examination of Mitchell's bag. "Clothes. Some scientific books and scientific instruments. Is all."

Dr. Greenshaw clambered down the ladder, reached up and relieved the pilot of various bags and boxes. Durand looked at the door and said: "Who the hell is he?"

"Dr. Greenshaw," Lord Worth said. "A highly respected doctor and surgeon. We did expect a certain amount of violence aboard the Seawitch. We came prepared. We do have a dispensary and small sick bay here."

"Another wasted trip. We hold all the cards, and violence is the last thing we expect. We'll examine your equipment too, Doctor."

"If you wish. As a doctor, I deal in life and not in death. I have no concealed weapons. The medical code forbids it." Greenshaw sighed. "Please search but do not destroy."

Durand pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Send one of Palermo's men across here with an electric truck – there's quite a bit of equipment to pick up." He replaced his walkie-talkie and looked at Mitchell. "Your hands are shaking. Why?"

"I'm a man of peace," Mitchell said. He crossed his hands behind his back to conceal the tremor.

Roomer, the only man to recognize the signals, licked his lips and looked at Mitchell in exaggerated nervous apprehension. Durand said: "Another hero. I hate cowards."

Mitchell brought his hands in front of him. The tremor was still there. Durand stepped forward, his right hand swinging back as if to strike Mitchell open-handed, then let his hand fall in disgust, which was, unwittingly, the wisest thing he could have done. Durand's mind was incapable of picking up any psychic signals: had it been so attuned, he could not have failed to hear the black wings of the bird of death flapping above his head.

The only person who derived any satisfaction, carefully concealed, from this vignette, was Lar-sen. Although he had talked to Mitchell on the telephone he had never met him – but he had heard a great deal about him from Lord Worth, more than enough to make him realize that Mitchell would have reduced Durand to mincemeat sooner than back down before him. Mitchell had taken only seconds to establish the role he wished to establish – that of the cowardly nonentity who could be safely and contemptuously ignored. Larsen, who was no mean hand at taking care of people himself, felt strangely comforted.

Lord Worth said: "May I see my daughters?"

Durand considered, then nodded. "Search him, Aaron."

Aaron, carefully avoiding Lord Worth's basilisk glare of icy outrage, duly searched. "He's clean, Mr. Durand."

"Across there." Durand pointed through the gathering gloom. "By the side of the platform."

Lord Worth walked off without a word. The others made their way toward the accommodation quarters. As Lord Worth approached his daughters, Heffer barred his way.

"Where do you think you're going, mister?"

"Lord Worth to you, peasant."

Heffer pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Mr. Durand? There's a guy here – "

Durand's voice crackled over the receiver. "That's Lord Worth. He's been searched and he's got my permission to speak to his daughters."

Lord Worth plucked the walkie-talkie from Heffer. "And would you please instruct this individual to remain outside listening range?"

"You heard, Heffer." The walkie-talkie went dead.

The reunion between father and daughters was a tearful and impassioned one, at least on the daughters* side. Lord Worth was all that a doting parent reunited with his kidnaped children should have been, but his effusiveness was kept well under control. Marina was the first to notice this.

"Aren't you glad to see us again, Daddy?"

Lord Worth hugged them both and said simply: "You two are my whole life. If you don't know that by this time, you will never know it."

"You've never said that before." Even in the deepening dusk it was possible to see the sheen of tears in Melinda's eyes.

"I did not think it necessary. I thought you always knew. Perhaps I'm a remiss parent, perhaps still too much the reserved highlander. But all my billions aren't worth a lock of your black hair, Marina, or a lock of your red hair, Me-linda."

"Titian, Daddy, titian. How often must I tell you?" Melinda was openly crying now.

It was Marina, always the more shrewd and perceptive of the two, who put her finger on it. "You aren't surprised to see us, Daddy, are you? You knew we were here."

"Of course I knew."

"How?"

"My agents," Lord Worth said loftily, "lie thick upon the ground."

"And what is going to happen now?"

Lord Worth was frank. "I'm damned if I know."

"We saw three other men come off the helicopter. Didn't recognize them – getting too dark."

"One was a Dr. Greenshaw. Excellent surgeon."

Melinda said: "What do you want a surgeon for?"

"Don't be silly. What does anyone want a surgeon for? You think we're going to hand over the Seawitch on a platter?-"

"And the other two?"

"You don't know them. You've never heard of them. And if you do meet them you will give no indication that you recognize them or have ever seen them before."

Marina said: "Michael and John."

"Yes. Remember – you've never seen them before."

"We'll remember," the girls said almost in chorus. Their faces were transformed. Marina said: "But they'll be in great danger. Why are they here?"

"Something to do, I understand, with then-stated intent of taking you back home."

"How-are they going to do that?"

Again Lord Worth was frank. "I don't know. H they know, they wouldn't tell me. They've become bossy, very bossy. Watch me like a hawk: Won't even let me near my own blasted phone." The girls refrained from smiling, principally because Lord Worth didn't seem particularly perturbed. "Mitchell, especially, seems in a very tetchy mood." Lord Worth spoke with some relish. "Near as a whisker killed Durand inside the first minute. Would have, too, if you weren't being held hostage. Well, let's go to my suite. I've been to Washington and back. Long tiring day. I need refreshment."

Durand went into the radio room, told the regular operator that his services would not be required until further notice and that he was to return to his quarters and remain there. The operator left. Durand, himself an expert radio operator, raised the Georgia within a minute and was speaking to Cronkite thirty seconds later.

"Everything under control on the Seawitch. We have the two girls here and Lord Worth himself."

"Excellent." Cronkite was pleased. Everything was going his way, but, then, he had expected nothing else. "Lord Worth bring anyone with him?"

"The pilot and three other people. A doctor – surgeon, he says, and he seems on the level. Worth seems to have expected some blood to be spilled. I'll check his credentials in Florida in a few minutes. Also, two technicians – seismologists, or something like them. Genuine and harmless – the sight of a machine pistol gives them St. Virus's Dance. They're unarmed."

"So no worries?"

"Well, three. Worth has a squad of about twenty men aboard. They look like trained killers and I'm pretty sure they're all ex-military. They have to be because of my second worry – Worth has eight dual-purpose antiaircraft guns bolted to the platform."

"The hell he has!"

"Yeah – also piles of mines on the sides of the platform. Now we know who heisted the Mississippi naval arsenal last night. And the third problem is that we're far too thin on the ground. There's only me and four others to watch everybody. Some of us have to sleep sometimes. I need reinforcements and I need 'em fast."