Nuclear Captain: The war may be over but the fight for Naval supremacy continues... (The Submariner Sinclair Naval Thriller Series Book 4) by John Wingate

Author:John Wingate [Wingate, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2021-03-06T22:00:00+00:00

The softening-up treatment started that night. Each man was in a separate hut and each suffered the agony of not knowing the fate of the others. For two days, when the temperature inside the corrugated iron roof became intolerable, the prisoners roasted in solitude; for two nights they rolled and twisted on the dirt floor, trying to sleep. Although they could not have slept because of the discomfort, they were balked mainly by a large police light that came on at dusk, the huts becoming as bright as day. Each of them, unknown to the others, tried to smash the lights, but this proved impossible because of the strong glass and the wide grille in which they were fitted. A greasy tin of water and two limes were pushed through the door in the morning, and this banquet made up the day’s ration.

On the evening of the third day Peter was lugged to his feet by a huge jailer. The door was thrown open and Peter was dragged into the sunlight. He stood blinking and swaying in the sudden brightness and, quickly collecting his senses, he turned towards his guard. But the man was striding towards the next hut, and a few seconds later Peter saw Bill Hawkins come staggering out. A hundred yards farther down, a tall American tottered from his tin shack and stood blinking beneath a group of palms. Peter shouted and his voice was strange and cracked. To their amazement they found themselves left alone, and their surprise was complete when they discovered they were allowed to roam through the beautiful grove.

“Like Southend holiday camp, sir,” Bill grunted, grinning hugely.

“Listen, you two,” Peter muttered. “I’ve a hunch they’re going to try and soften us up now with pleasantries. Don’t give anything away, but act ‘wet’. We’ll know their game soon enough, but of one thing you can be quite certain…”

“Uh-huh?” Hank grunted.

“These birds are experts at brainwashing and they know what they’re doing. They aim to turn us into Commies. Remember George Blake?”

“Way back in the sixties?” Hank muttered. “Yes, I remember him. But he was notorious only because he was the first of thousands more like him. You Limeys even began to sympathise with them, remember?”

“Giddy optimists!” Bill swore. “Hullo! What’s this?”

The path led between two clumps of limes, and they came upon a low-pitched building nestling beneath the shade of a group of palms. They stopped in their tracks as a group of Europeans by the steps turned to watch them. The leaves of the palms rustled above them in the silence.

“Come on, boys! Come and join us!”

Peter looked down at his hands and his clothes and shook his head. He and his friends were filthy.

An elderly planter strolled towards him, extending his hand.

“My name’s Patterson, Harry Patterson,” he boomed. “Come on in and get cleaned up. Have these idiotic guards forgotten about you?”

“Yes, they have.” Hank swore violently.

Patterson shook his head. The guards were a forgetful lot: they’d done the same to him.

“Well, forget it now, boys.

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