Dust On the Sea Read Online Free Page B

waitin’!’
    Blackwood turned to thank his driver, but he had gone without further word.
    He was led to an ornate lift that looked like something from his schooldays; the gates were closed, the button pressed. The big lift gave a jerk and started to descend. For some reason, he had expected it to be going upwards.
    It was unreal, going down, past another floor where he caught a glimpse of two civilians having a quick smoke, before the lift came to a shuddering halt and the gates opened automatically.
    After the dull sky over London, and the dank air, it was another surprise: white walls and hard lighting, the clatter of teleprinters, and several telephones ringing. Wrens in shirts hurried past with their arms filled with signal folders and files; even the air was different, warm, but moving like some secret breeze.
    A tall Wren greeted him. ‘Good morning, Captain Blackwood.’ She smiled. ‘Traffic bad up top?’
    He saw a clock on the wall. It was three minutes past the hour.
    She seemed to sense his resentment, and added, ‘I’ve been here in the Pit for so long I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like up there!’
    He forced a smile. Her casual question had jarred him, like a criticism. Greeting the new boy . . .
    She said, ‘I’ll take you straight in. Commander Diamond is expecting you.’
    They walked past several other rooms, she setting a brisk pace, and he noticed how solid the dividing walls were; they must have stored a few million bottles here in happier times. It was a good choice; London could fall on top of it, and you wouldn’t feel a thing.
    A new door, cheap plywood and painted grey. There was a small board which read,
Commander Roger Diamond, S.O.(O).
The name rang a vague bell, but nothing more.
    â€˜Captain Blackwood, sir.’
    It was like hearing a stranger being announced.
    There were two men seated at a table. Neither of them moved as the door closed behind him. One he recognised as the harassed-looking major who had been with Vaughan at Achnacarry; it seemed like months ago, instead of weeks. The other man was big, heavy-jowledand formidable. His fingers were resting, clasped, on a pile of papers, and the interwoven gold lace on his sleeves showed that he was a commander in the Royal Naval Reserve. The R.N.R. were mostly professional sailors who served in the merchant navy in peacetime, on the condition that they trained at intervals with the Royal Navy, and they had been a godsend to the overworked and expanding wartime fleet. Because of their experience they were usually navigating officers, or commanders of smaller vessels; Blackwood had never before encountered one on any naval staff.
    Diamond nodded. ‘Sit down. Glad you got here in one piece. Sorry about your father.’ All in one breath, or so it seemed, like one of Vaughan’s verbal telegrams. He had dark, deepset eyes and thick, greying eyebrows; the eyes were inscrutable. He glanced over Blackwood’s uniform, perhaps noting the newly attached rank, or that he had shaved despite all the haste. If so, he gave nothing away.
    Somewhere a telephone jangled, and then a small hatch slid back behind the table and a voice murmured, ‘Chief of Staff, sir.’
    Diamond did not turn. ‘Wait.’
    More murmurs. Blackwood took the opportunity to glance around. He heard the voice say, ‘Ten minutes, sir.’
    Diamond relaxed and waited for the hatch to close. ‘Like a bloody confessional, isn’t it?’
    Then he looked at his companion. ‘Major Porter can carry on.’ He grinned;
bared his teeth
might be a better description. ‘Tell him, Claud.’
    Porter said, ‘You were selected at Major-General Vaughan’s suggestion, and your recent experiences seem to have given foundation to his arguments.’ He was neither cold nor severe, but matter-of-fact, professional.‘Since your return from Burma and your employment with the