loafers.
Keilty returned to the terrace and stood watching the magnificent scene superimposed on the placid waters of the harbor below, then left the room and hotel quickly.
Twenty minutes later, he was aboard the Australian cruiser Vigilant, sitting at a highly polished dark walnut table. An orderly placed a tall glass of scotch and water on the table and handed him an ornate menu.
Seated at the table with Keilty were Rawingson in neatly pressed whites, the gold braid gleaming inconspicuously; the captain of the Vigilant, Commander Whittlson; and a Michael J. Hallan, to whom Keilty had just been introduced. Hallan was a member of the CIA stationed in Indonesia. Next to Hallan was his opposite number in Australian Naval Intelligence in Djakarta, Ralston Hutchins. They were an oddly contrasting pair, Keilty thought; Hallan, short but spare, looking more like a small-town druggist than either a CIA operative or the sales representative for a farm equipment manufacturer, which was his cover. Hutchins, on the other hand, was very James Bondish — of medium height and rather a dark complexion, but with green eyes instead of blue, and Scandinavian features —with the exception of dark hair. His hair was brushed informally straight across and was dry looking. On meeting him, Keilty had immediately suspected that he was a good swimmer. As it turned out, Hutchins had taken two bronze medals and a gold one in the 196o Olympics — the 100-meter freestyle, 100-meter dash and backstroke.
Also sitting at the table was a representative of the newly reformed SEATO alliance —representing the U.S.,, United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, and the Philippines — Lieutenant General James Phillips, USAF.
Among so many uniforms, Keilty, Hutchins, and Hallan looked out of place, and as they took their seats at the table, they drew up chairs next to each other, as if for mutual'sup-port.
Vice-Admiral William Collins bustled into the cabin, nodding and muttering apologies for his lateness as he took his seat at the head of the table.
'Very sorry, gentlemen, unexpected delay. Hope you've been keeping our guests entertained, Commander,' he said jovially, turning to face the others, who nodded.
'Well in that case, shall we order lunch before we get down to cases.' He picked up his menu, then promptly put it down again, waving to the orderly hovering about the table with an order pad. 'My usual, Leslie.'
He swung round to Keilty, 'We meet again, Dr. Keilty. How do you find your stay in Singapore, sir? Rather delightful place, I have always thought, especially for a bachelor.'
He laughed at the expression on Keilty's face.
Keilty let the smile come through. Peter Owterry, an old Singapore hand, had shown him the town before he shipped out two days before, and unknown to Keilty, had arranged with several establishments to keep Keilty well supplied with company. He had managed to get the latest one sent off less than two hours ago.
'Ha, I do see you find Singapore very congenial.' The admiral roared with laughter at his own cleverness.
The conversation degenerated into desultory small talk from there. The luncheon was served and Keilty found the Royal Australian Navy cooking – at least for admirals – to be excellent. The sole was baked to perfection and the seafood sauce had just the right amount of tang, suggesting a chef who knew the value of certain spices with seafood.
Later, brandy and cigars were produced and the seven men lit up, the admiral explaining that this was an eccentricity of his, preferring a hearty midday dinner and a light supper at night.
'Well, gentlemen,' the admiral said, 'we all – with the exception of Dr. Keilty – know why we are here.' He beamed around the table.
`Leslie,' he shouted to the orderly. 'Take yourself ashore for the afternoon, never mind cleaning up. We'll get to that later.
'Oh, and see that a guard is detailed for the hatch, if you please,' he called to
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