The inflatable was there of course, but at least a mile behind, Kurt at the wheel, his eye occasionally looking down at the GPS navigation screen that showed an intermittent blip of light that was Dillon’s power cruiser. Pierre stood beside him, and Mazzarin and Zola busied themselves with their diving equipment in the stern. Pierre didn’t look good. He had two black eyes and his nose was swollen and bruised.
“We won’t lose them, will we?”
“Definitely not, Frenchman,” Kurt said. “Here let me show you.” He spun the wheel and raced off in the direction they’d just come from. The GPS adjusted to this change, and automatically reset the course. “See how easy it is?” Kurt said, and took the inflatable round in a wide arc, straightened and sped off towards Dillon and the others.
“Good.” Pierre said.
“Anyway, how are you feeling, Frenchman?”
“Well, let’s put it this way. I’ll feel a whole lot better when we’ve sorted out Dillon and his friends, once and for all.” He said, and went back to join the others.
Chapman brought the twenty-six foot power cruiser about in a wide arc, cut the engines and drifted in the heavy deep water.
“What’s going on, Rob? Why are we drifting?” Dillon shouted up from below in the cabin. A moment later, he came out onto the deck.
“No problem, Jake. We’re about a mile off shore here. I’m just taking a moment to get my bearings, that’s all.”
After about a minute, he powered up the engines, pushed the throttles half way forward, and started to make their way back to shore. All the time Chapman kept one eye on the depth finder and sonar screens.
Dillon went back up to the wheelhouse, they were about a quarter of a mile offshore. Chapman pulled back on the throttles, and continued at slow speed towards the dangerous looking coastline.
“This is about as far as we can safely go,” Chapman said. “Any closer and we’ll run the risk of gouging the hull on those rocks.” He manoeuvred the boat, and engaged the automatic anchor winch. The line slid out, and down into the crystal clear water below. Chapman cut the engines, and then went below to get changed into his dive suit.
“What’s the plan, Rob?” Dillon asked as he fastened his weight belt.
“Well, I don’t reckon we’re going to find anything down there, but if we search the bottom methodically, we may still get lucky and find the channel that runs up to the tunnel entrance. But be warned, there’s a thick forest of sea kelp on the seabed, and that’s going to make it far more difficult for us to spot anything out of the ordinary.”
“What’s the depth here?”
“It’s about fifty-five feet on average, but drops down to around eighty in places. We’ll do a sweep around the general area first, and then move in towards those rock formations and the general reef area. The visibility looks excellent, and as long as this heavy swell keeps up, we’ll be safe enough down there. Now where’s my knife?”
“You put it in the locker on board the Wave Dancer yesterday.” Dillon said.
“Damn, I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare one, have you?”
“There’s one in my bag. Help yourself.” Dillon said.
Chapman rummaged in Dillon’s kit bag and found the MP5 carbine. “Holy cow, what’s this?” He said, holding it up in both hands.
“That’s insurance,” Dillon said as he rinsed out his mask.
“A Heckler & Kosh, is considerably more than that.” Chapman unfolded the stock and looked at it thoughtfully.
“I’d remind you, Rob, that Malakoff’s henchmen fired the first bullet, that night they attacked me.”
“Are you familiar with this type of weapon, Rob?” LJ asked, taking a long pull on his cigar.
“Only from what I’ve read, Edward. They’re favoured by the UK police and the Special Air Service, I believe. But, I’ve never fired one, and don’t have the wish to do so, either.”
Chapman folded the stock, replaced the weapon back in the kit bag, and then finished getting his diving gear on. He stepped down onto the dive platform and sitting down at the edge, he dangled his legs in the water. After slipping on his fins he stood up again and turned.
“I’ll see you down there,” he said to Dillon, inserted his mouthpiece and stepped off the dive platform into the water.
Kurt watched Chapman, and then Dillon enter the water from about one thousand meters away through a pair of high powered binoculars. Mazarin and Zola were both wearing dive suits, and sitting on the starboard side.
“What are they doing?” Pierre said.
“They’ve dropped anchor, and Dillon and Chapman are now in the water. Only Levenson-Jones and the overweight computer geek are on deck.”
“What do you intend to do now?” Pierre asked.
“Now, Frenchman. We’re going to get close up and personal. I’ll move in fast, catch them by surprise; you make sure that those two are ready to go over the side on my command.”
Kurt pushed the inflatable rib up to twenty knots and as it got under way, Mazzarin and Zola got the rest of their equipment on.
Chapman hadn’t been exaggerating. There were jewel anemones in every shade of the rainbow on the reef, soft coral and sea fans, and fish of every description, but it was the clarity of the water that was so remarkable. It was sparkling crystal clear, and the visibility was excellent, even at fifty feet. A school of small blue fish drifted lethargically with the swell overhead as Dillon followed Chapman and a couple of reef congers that had shot out of the rocks to one side of them.
But Chapman had been right about the forest of kelp growing on the seabed. It made looking for anything, even a twenty-five foot wide channel, big enough to take a submarine almost impossible. Dillon followed him along the reef and then back around the base of the rocks until Chapman turned and made a thumbs up sign, and then pointed in the direction of the boat. Dillon understood the gestures and started to make his way back up to the boat, and at the same time saw Mazzarin and Zola to their right and closer to the surface. He and Chapman hovered motionless; watching them, and then the archaeologist gestured forward and led the way back to the anchor line. They paused twenty feet below the surface, and looking up saw the keel of the inflatable rib moving at speed in a wide circle. Chapman started up the line with Dillon following close behind, and a moment later they surfaced at the stern.
“How long have they been here?” Dillon asked LJ as he took off his dive jacket and draped it over a safety rail.
“They appeared about five minutes after you went down. Came out of nowhere at a hell of a speed, didn’t even stop, just dumped those two divers over the side and has been circling ever since. Looks like it’s the big German at the wheel.”
“We saw the divers just now.” Dillon took the rest of his gear off, and stared across at the inflatable. “Yes, that’s the German alright. Doesn’t look very happy, does he?”
“That as maybe, but I’ll give them full marks for staying out of sight and for finding us.” LJ said, adding. “Any luck down there?”
“No, nothing. Rob was right, but it was worth a look anyway.”
“Jake, while you’ve been down there. I’ve had another look at the chart for this area, and I’m convinced that we’re on the right track. Maybe not right here, but definitely along this stretch of coast.” Vince said enthusiastically.
“What do you think, Rob?” Dillon asked.
“I agree with Vince. Mainly because this whole area, would have been out of bounds during the years of Nazi occupation. And that would have enabled them to carry out all manner of things up here completely unobserved.”