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lly needed close to the turbines； for they were monitored from a separate room； full of dials； VDUs and switches。
Blackstone was probably the only man on Invincible； outside the Captain； senior officers and security people； who knew what was going on。 He did not question how his two 'friends' Harry and Bill had got hold of the information； nor did he have any moral qualms about what he was to do。 After all。 it would get him off the hook； both financially and domestically。 In any case； they had told him it was really a Greenpeace operation； limed to cause great embarrassment to the Americans and Russians； also to the British Establishment； and 'Blackie' had always had a lot of sympathy for Greenpeace。
He had thought for a long time about the job； but once he weighed the positive and negative sides； he realised there was no real danger。
'Blackie' had gone to a lot of trouble in arranging his shifts。 The first one just after these nobs e aboard； they had told him。 Then the second one would require action in the middle of the following forenoon。 'Blackie' Blackstone would have access to the turbines on both required shifts。 He had seen to that； just as he knew the other men on the watch were content to let him do the physical check on the turbines。 Even now； just after the visitors had arrived on board； he was alone in the Engine Room； while a Chief Petty Officer； another Petty Officer； like himself； and a 〃Killick〃 … a Leading Seaman； so called because of the anchor…badge he wore： killick being the old slang term for anchor … lounged their way through the watch； occasionally checking the pressures and speeds of the turbines。
The Second Engineering Officer was； as ever； in the officers' caboose； just behind the control room。 Nobody would require him unless something went terribly wrong。 Changes of speed； and other such things could be acplished at the touch of a buiton； or a couple of clicks im the small levers which acted as throttles。 So the Lieutenant who was the Second Engineering
Officer was left to do a little 'Egyptian Physical Training' as they called it。 In other words； the Lieutenant was sleeping。
Petty Officer Blackstone tjuielly moved to the far side of Number One Turbine。 He pulled a screwdriver from a leather toolkit attached to his belt； and tucked away behind his right hip。 He then removed a cylinder； wrapped in Kleenex； from his pocket。 The cylinder； which was made of strong wire gauze； had an opening at one end and was rounded at the other。 Anyone； from Midshipman to Ordinary Seaman； could have identified the cylinder； us a straightforward filter for the turbine's oil system。
Blacksione quickly unscrewed the two lugs that held down a small panel； roughly six inches by six； and lifted it on its hinge。 Above the panel the words Filter One were stencilled。
Ouietly； he placed the screwdriver on Ihe deck； by his feet。 and took an abnormally long pair of tweezers from the toolkit on his belt； at the same time gathering another wodge of Kleenex into his left hand。 Gently； Petty Officer Blackstone inserted the tweezers into the open panel of Filter One； extracting the identical heavy； dirty； gauze cylinder from within … though this one was hot and dripphig with oil。 He placed it into the wodgc of Kleenex and put it carefully on the deck； beside the screwdriver。 It would take three minutes for any sign of the change to be registered on the instruments in the control room； and it took less than thirty seconds to slide the new filter into place； and another minute to close the panel and strew the lugs back in place。
Blackstone next returned the screwdriver and tweezers to his toolkil。 picked up the bunched Kleenex which held the recently removed filter； and made his way through the bulkhead door； aft and leading to the Engine Room heads。
There he unbolted one of the ports； opened it up and hurled the filter and Kleenex out to be whipped away by the wind。 He closed up the round port； washed his hands； clearing away all traces of oil； and returned to the Engine Room； casually walking around all the turbines； taking his time before returning to the Control Room。
'They all still running； Blackie？' the CPO asked with a grin。
'Difficult to say。 Chiefy。 I went and had a smoke in the heads。'
'You jammy bugger；' the other Petty Officer said。 'I was just telling them about how you sloped off that time when we last docked in Gib。 She was a corker； wasn't she？ Black…haired beauty； that one。'
'You're full of shit；' said Blackie； and the conversation continued on this high intellectual plane for the next hour or so。
The turbines all ran smoothly； but Blackie knew that it wouldn't be smooth running at about eleven in the forenoon tomorrow。 For one thing； the oil temperature on Number One turbine would start to rise spectacularly； and he would be there to deal with it。
'Gentlemen。 thank you for your time。 I'll be as quick as possible；
though it's essential that you all know exactly what's at stake here。' Sir John Walmsley was full of himself： sitting back in his chair in the crowded day cabin； with all his senior officers around him。 he almost overflowed with his own responsibility。 Bond viewed the man with pity rather than awe。 Walmsley was a pompous ass； full of self…importance； and； therefore； from Bond's viewpoint； not really suitable for the job he had to do。 'Now； Stewards' Meeting。 This is a very clear name for what is happening aboard Invincible。'
The Rear…Admiral cleared his throat and continued。 'You all know who's on board。 The three most powerful heads of state in the world； and they sec themselves attending a real Stewards' Meeting； for they regard themselves as ＇rue Stewards。 Stewards in whom the world puts its trust。 Two men and a woman who can truly hold the world in their hands。' This； Bond concluded； was going to be a sermon； not a briefing。 Nor would it be a sermon to the wholly converted。
Walmsley was still talking。 'You'll also realise one important factor。 They are all here with close protection squads but wiihout their normal advisers … apart from the sinister bagman； with President Bush； who is required to have the nuclear alert codes wiih him at all times。〃
He paused； as though pleased with his own knowledge and the ability for him to share it。 Then he continued。 'As some of you already know； they are here under highly classified code names。 The PM is Shalott … Lady of； 1 presume； not just because she knows her onions。' He paused again for the obligatory chuckle to pass around the room。 'The President of the United States is Dancer； and Secretary Gorbachev is October。 You will refer to them by those names； both in conversation and any radio messages you might be called upon to give。 But； as 1 have said； the one unique thing is that they're here with no advisers； or assistants。 As far as their colleagues are concerned； Shalott has a touch of the 'flu； October is resting in his country dacha； and has left orders that he should not be disturbed for five days； Dancer has requested no Press； and no calls to his hunting…lodge where he is quail…shooting。'
Again he waited for a laugh； but the jest was。 if not dying； at least fatally ill。 The point is that all three chose to