“I think that they’re just coasting.” Pierre said. “My thoughts exactly, Frenchman. In which case, we’ll let Herr Dillon get on with whatever it is he’s doing, while we do some running repairs to that deflated bow section. We can always pay them a surprise visit later.” Kurt said, with a malicious smirk.
“But, what if they find the location of the tunnel?”
“I doubt if they will. Armand informs me that all of the charted dive sites on this side of the island are visited on a regular basis. If that tunnel entrance was that obvious, it would have been found long before now.”
“I think Monsieur Malakoff is right. Chapman doesn’t know anything. He’s simply taking them along the coast, because he has nothing better to do.” Pierre said.
“Of course he’s right, Frenchman. Herr Malakoff is a wise man; he has the gift to look inside people’s minds. Be warned, if you doubt this, he will know and you will find yourself out of favour. He has always thought that Chapman is a nobody and that the Cunningham girl holds the key to this mystery.”
“I’d like to teach those sons of bitches a lesson they’d never forget.”
“You like being shot at, do you Frenchman? That was an MP5 carbine Chapman was firing, I’ve heard and seen them being used by the SAS. Believe me; he could have killed all of us with one burst if he’d known how to use it properly. Now, let’s get on and repair this boat, and I don’t want to hear any more of your foolhardy talk again. Do you understand?”
Pierre shrugged nonchalantly. “Well he didn’t, and we’ll be ready for them next time.”
The power cruiser was at anchor, lifting in a heavy swell, in a place not far from the Devil’s Hole called Les Reuses. LJ was sitting in the main cabin watching as Dillon and Chapman got into their dive suits. Chapman opened up his kit bag and took out a spear gun. “Going fishing?” LJ asked.
“No, this is just for insurance, Edward. You never know, we may have another visit from our friends again.”
“Well, Vince and I will keep our eyes peeled while you’re down. And Jake, have you reloaded that carbine?”
“Yes, I’ve also shown Vince how to open the stock, and change the clips should the need arise.”
“Good, we’ll see you in half an hour then.” LJ said as he went up to the wheelhouse.
Chapman went in first, stepping off the dive platform, swam to the line and went down quickly, the spear gun in one hand. He turned as he neared the bottom and saw Dillon following about ten feet above him. He pointed to his left, and then moved off in that direction, pausing as he approached an outcrop of rocks on the edge of a ridge.
The water was crystal clear and Dillon could see a long way ahead, the rocks rising all the way up to the surface. Chapman beckoned again, and they continued over the ridge and down the twenty or thirty feet on the other side. An undulate ray lethargically passed by in the distance and suddenly a reef conger shot out of the rocks and then disappeared as quickly when it saw the two divers. Chapman turned, made a gesture for Dillon to follow and started to make his way to the other side, skimming over the thick carpet of kelp growing on the bottom.
LJ and Vince had swapped the open wheelhouse for the comfort of the main cabin as the wind got up and the swell increased. Chapman had brought sandwiches and a thermos flask of coffee, and LJ poured them both a mug full of the hot black liquid. He stood looking out at the rolling sea, and in the distance a large sailing yacht could be seen, as it tacked its main sail billowing in the wind.
The inflatable kept close to the yacht, hidden on the port side. And as the forty-six foot sailing boat started to tack round the inflatable raced out from its cover, and made a straight line for the power cruiser.
LJ swore to himself, as he watched the inflatable break cover, and had immediately put down the mug of coffee. He shouted for Vince to get the MP5 from the kit bag and then went up to the wheelhouse to power up the engine and wind in the anchor. From his vantage point he could now see clearly that it was Kurt in control, with Pierre by his side.
The German pushed the inflatable up to full speed as it hurtled toward them and, as it passed by, he lobbed the grenade that he’d been holding in his hand over the side. At the same time the Frenchman opened fire with a machine pistol. LJ ducked down out of sight, and within seconds, Pierre had emptied the clip at the power cruiser. By the time Vince had the MP5 out they were long gone, the sound of the engine rapidly disappearing back in the direction they’d come from.
LJ said, “Well I’m damned. They’ve just emptied an entire clip of ammunition at us, and yet there’s not one single bullet hole to be found anywhere. How extraordinary!”
And then the grenade detonated, the explosion, even though it was deep underwater, was loud and sent a high plume of water up into the air just off the port side.
“Fucking hell, what was that?” Vince said, dropping to the deck.
“A hand grenade, if I’m not mistaken, Vince.” LJ said, from where he was crouching.
Vince stood up again, and watched the inflatable move away in the distance, and scratching his head, said. “Why have those nasty bastards just tried to kill Dillon and Chapman with a grenade in the pond? But, shot at us with blank ammo? It doesn’t make any sense, boss.”
“They’re not using live ammo, because Malakoff doesn’t want us dead. Well not yet anyway. He’s most likely told them to keep an eye on where we’re diving, and not to have any contact with us. It’ll be that first mate initiating these opportunistic attacks for a bit of sport, almost certainly.”
“You mean that the Frenchman is trying to get even with Jake for breaking his nose?” Vince said.
“Quite so, old son. But, we must always remember that Malakoff is merely toying with us, just as a cat would play with a mouse before killing it. I’m afraid that he’s very much underestimated his quarry on this occasion.” LJ walked off into the main cabin, poured himself a large tumbler full of whisky and emptied half of it in one gulp.
Dillon glanced up, and became instantly aware of something happening on the surface. He saw the keel of the inflatable moving fast towards the power cruiser, it circled the twenty-six foot craft once, slowed on the port side, and then raced off again towards the shore. He didn’t see the small object enter the water and start to drift down towards them.
But Chapman did see it, and knew exactly what it was. He tugged urgently at Dillon’s arm, pointed up at the falling object, and then gestured for him to get behind a large rock formation twenty feet away. The archaeologist moved like lightning, and it was as much as Dillon could do to keep up with him. As they reached the safety of the rocks, the grenade detonated near to the bottom.
Dillon felt the shock waves wash over him, and instantly felt the piercing pain in his eardrums. He glanced up, aware of movement overhead, and saw to his horror that the rocks directly above, were about to come down on top of them.
The two divers only just managed to get clear as the rocks started to tumble down on to the spot where they’d just been taking cover from the grenade blast. Chapman turned to Dillon, pointed at the anchor line, and motioned for him to follow and led the way. Dillon followed, keeping low to the kelp, and only rising as they reached the anchor.
Dillon surfaced at the dive platform beside Chapman and hauled himself on board. He pulled off his mask, and then the heavy buoyancy jacket complete with air tank.
“How’re the ears?” Chapman asked.
“Painful, but I’ll survive.” Dillon replied.
“I suppose that was our friends again?” Chapman asked, looking up at LJ.
“You suppose right, old son. The crafty bastards used the cover of a large yacht under full sail to get almost on top of us. And as it started to tack round, they shot out from behind it and came straight for us at full speed. By the time I’d realised what was about to happen, and Vince had got the MP5 out, they were already shooting at us. He didn’t even get the opportunity to fire a single round.”