Beyond the Poseidon Adventure Read Free Page B

behind him. “She went down in that wave.”
    “We nearly did too,” said Coby. She could hardly believe it. Even in her girl-woman dreams she had hardly dare imagine finding a handsome stranger in the middle of the sea at night. And here he was, talking easily, without any apparent concern over what had happened. She was fascinated.
    The American hooked his thumbs in his jeans pocket and with a nod towards the flag at the stern said, “But if I know my flags, this looks like just the sort of place where a fella could get himself a Bols. Right?”

THE FRIGHTENED MEN
    2
    The New Year was little more than two hours old when teleprinters in every major city began clattering out the first details of what looked like the greatest disaster in the history of shipping. But the wave of shock and fascinated horror that the news engendered was felt nowhere with the impact it had in two boardrooms thousands of miles and six international time zones apart: in the offices of the Ionian International Shipping and Finance Consortium in Athens and the International Conglomerate and Worldwide Trust Company in New York.
    The scenes were almost interchangeable, save for the clocks. The discreetly muted tones of the decor, the heavy gloss of the polished tables, the dull photographs on the walls of paper mills, factories, distilleries, and industrial plants that indicated the reach of their commercial tentacles. Even the principals had the same plump, well-fed look that comes from the seldom disappointed expectation that doors will always open, and wine come at the correct temperature. They were among the most influential men in the world. They were also among the most frightened.
    In Athens, Mr. Stephanos Stasiris stood beside a detailed model of the S.S. Poseidon which was on a table in the corner. The giant passenger liner was the Consortium’s latest acquisition, and it was Stasiris himself who had organized something unique in big ship operations. His ship visited ports in which, unknown to the passengers, substantial shipments of cargo could be transported to the next landing. That caused frowns among those who valued the old liner’s unimpeachable reputation for passenger service and quality, but it was a lucrative trade, made more so because the company was not too insistent that the details listed in the manifest should accurately reflect the cargo itself. This pleased the accountants, and that, as Mr. Stasiris liked to say, was what business was all about.
    One brief telephone call had brought him from a New Year’s Eve party to the top-floor boardroom in the seven-story office building, and he still shivered in his thin dinner jacket from the cool night air. He watched as the others straggled in. Several were shiny-eyed from drinking; one, he noted with displeasure, was quite unsteady on his feet. They all came dressed in the silk and frilled shirts of the celebrations. So did the two specially invited guests to that exceptional board meeting: the hard-eyed, hard-nosed Minister of Defense, Pularnos, and, his chest coruscating with medals and ribbons, General Dravos.
    Stasiris took his seat at the head of the table and rested plump jowls on one broad palm. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I think you all know what has happened.” His voice was steady, but the rustling of the sheet of paper in his hand betrayed his anxiety.
    He continued, “We only have the sketchiest of reports so far, but it appears that at midnight the Poseidon was capsized by some form of freak wave. If our latest information is correct, she is floating upside down.”
    The man who had walked so unsteadily through the door furrowed his brow and tried to work out the significance of the statement. He belched. Stasiris gave a slow, tired blink of the eyes. It was an older man on the president’s right who put into words the one question that troubled them all. “Are there . . . ahem . . .” he coughed and looked round apprehensively, “I mean, how many