Twelve Seconds to Live (2002) Read Free Page B

from around the teapot; he did it with great care. Then he said quietly, ‘Took you long enough.’
    Masters waited. He could sense Fawcett’s uncertainty, irresolution. Like discovering a secret about somebody you thought you knew as well as he would ever let you.
    ‘You’re certain, then? Critchley?’ He nodded once. ‘Keep me posted.’ He handed the telephone to the Wren officer without expression.
    Masters turned. Critchley . . . Commander John Critchley. This same room. The smile. Persuasive, encouraging. His charm.
    Fawcett walked to the window and stooped to peer out at the sky.
    ‘Use the other office, will you, Sally?’
    The door closed, and Fawcett turned to face him.
    ‘You knew him, of course? A good officer. A leader, and an example, especially to all the green young types straight out of civvy street. He could charm anybody.’
    It was as if Fawcett had read his thoughts.
    ‘How did it happen, sir?’
    ‘When I know
that
. . .’ He looked up, angry and impatient. ‘I was at the Admiralty. People listened, for once.’ He walked across the room, but Masters knew he was unaware of the movement. It was like seeing a complete stranger. ‘He was the man for the job. My choice.’ He lowered his voice and said, almostoffhandedly, ‘A mine. Type Charlie, apparently. Army Bomb Disposal were involved. When I discover . . .’ He broke off again and stared at the telephones. ‘He must have been out of his bloody mind! Should never even have been there, for God’s sake!’ He paused by the other desk and patted his pockets. ‘Don’t have a cigarette on you, I suppose?’ He glanced at the Wren’s handbag hanging from the chair. ‘I forgot, you’re a pipe man. Now, a good cigar . . .’
    Masters waited, watching him trying to come to terms with it. Like watching a hurricane, and trying to predict its course.
    Fawcett said, ‘At first I thought we’d never get along together. Not my style. Part-time sailor, R.N.V.R., plenty of money, he had no need to be in the service at all.’ He stared at the neat lines of signals. ‘Electronics, that was his business. I’ll lay odds that half the equipment which ends up here began life in one of his factories.’ He swung round and looked at him directly. ‘Yet he was an
adventurer
, enjoyed taking risks. Used to race that bloody great Bentley of his, Monte Carlo, right? A fair yachtsman too, I believe.’
    The pale blue eyes wandered, then settled on Masters again. The storm was passing.
    ‘Taught
you
a lot, eh?’
    ‘Everything, sir.’ He had often thought about it, driving himself or being driven by something he could not contain. Because of
Tornado
, because of guilt, or a need for revenge. It was madness, and yet he had forced himself to do it. From an open bridge to the confined world of fuses and intricate mechanisms, theirs or ours;it all had to be studied, and learned by heart. There were rarely second chances.
    In his heart, he had not expected to succeed. Perhaps he had even come to terms with it. Until that first incident, the mine which had fallen in Southampton Docks, and had been recognized as something quite new and different. His first ‘beast’.
    He said, ‘He had the touch with people. Civilians especially, the ones who had to take it day after day, and nights as well in some places. That was his strength, and they loved him for it.’
    Fawcett nodded. ‘I agree. It’s different for us in the Andrew. We obey orders, we do as we’re told, we live, we die. It’s what we are, what we do.’ He gazed at the girl on the mirror. ‘The civilians get another war entirely. Somehow they go off to work each day, worrying about the family, the bloody rations, not even knowing if the office or the factory will be standing when they arrive. More to the point, not knowing if their homes and families will still be there when they come back.’ He pounded one fist into his palm without making a sound. ‘Without that sort of strength, faith if you