The other supporting piece of evidence came several years before that, when some repair work was being done in the old deep-water basin. It seems that a crate of gold bars was found on the harbour bed, exactly where eyewitnesses say the submarine was moored before its fatal voyage. For the last two years, a ragged army of divers had scoured every wreck in the area; many lives had been lost in the faint hope of making a fortune. The warlord my brother had teamed up with, however, is employing more sophisticated divers and equipment in a determined effort to find the gold.”
It seemed that Annie’s brother and sister had originally worked in the warlord’s rope factory. Her brother had been eventually been singled out for more responsible tasks and was eventually to become one of the warlord’s most trusted lieutenants. Annie’s sister married Dick, the honest fisherman, and remained at the rope factory. It was Annie’s brother who introduced her to the drugs and eventually to the bed of the warlord, who soon grew tired of her. So she ended up as a hostess in one of his nightclubs. That’s when she became pregnant. Dick at that time was a deckhand on an ocean-going trawler — on his return from a particularly long trip he discovered her condition. He was delighted, convinced that it must have been the result of his last visit; the alternative would never have occurred to him. He decided not to return to the rigours of the ocean-going trawler preferring, despite the reduced earnings, to work the coastal boats and be available to care for his expectant wife.
With little regard for her condition, however, she apparently continued to sell her body the minute Dick was out of sight. When the baby was eventually born everything appeared to be fine until one day as their boat was tying up after a trip, one of Dick’s fellow fishermen nudged him, pointing at the woman standing on the quay holding a baby in her arms.
“Look there’s Lucy,” the fisherman leered and waved, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. “Juicy Lucy, the best fuck in town. I wonder who gave her the kid?” he laughed happily. “Do you think it looks like me?” He presented his profile to Dick.
The blow smashed his jaw and knocked him senseless to the deck. Dick, overcome with shame, raced ashore and dragged his wife away. A couple of hours later Dick packed his few belongings and moved out of their modest home.
He spent the next few weeks in a near permanent state of drunkenness. That was when Annie came into his life. She had only met her sister’s fisherman husband on a couple of previous occasions. The rest of the family, who thought their daughters should be marrying into a better social status, shunned him but Dick didn’t care what they thought. He only had eyes for his Alice; when she made a mess of her life, the family shunned her as well.
Disgusted with her sister’s behaviour, Annie had tried to console Dick. The boatyard where she worked as the general help was for sale. Dick, she realised, was an intelligent man, so she tried to encourage him to take a fresh interest in life and eventually persuaded her brother to lend them enough money so they could go into partnership and buy the yard. Until recently she had never questioned where the money came from. Dick eventually dried out and eagerly accepted the unique opportunity to develop the business.
It all went well and when they proposed the idea of a charter fishing boat the brother readily agreed to assist. Blinded by the excitement of the potential business, they had all too easily and naively accepted the devious terms and conditions. Now they had been made painfully aware of the full consequences of their carelessness.
“I think we have to persuade Dick that working with us will be a good way of getting at the warlord. It will also give him the best chance of getting back what he believes to be his child!” Marion placed her arm comfortingly around Annie’s shoulder. “After all, the child needs a good safe and loving home, whoever sired it. Could you handle that?” Marion asked in conclusion.
“You bet I could!” Annie stood up with a look of determination.
Marion stood with her and then went to join the others on the aft deck.
“So what have you two been hatching up?” Dick reprimanded them lightly.
“Well actually we’re going treasure diving aren’t we Marion!” Annie exclaimed, looking happily at her new friend. “What are you boys going to do?” she challenged the three startled men.
The dive-training programme was well under way. Having carefully studied each dive log of the twelve Chinese divers, Big J divided them into three groups according to their own declared ambitions and his initial assessment of their suitability. The technical divers he started by making them assist his own specialist engineers with the complicated task of completely dismantle their neglected decompression chamber and then, after meticulously restoring this most vital piece of life saving equipment, obliged them to be the guinea pigs for the pressure tests.
The others started by methodically learning the latest and most complicated ritual of the gas-air re-breathing techniques — the system they would all have to master if they were to work safely at the greater depths being demanded of them. The shallow waters of the harbour basin were ideal for training the men in the use of the heavy specialist equipment but the real test would come when they were faced with the actual pressures of the deep.
“Two weeks is nothing like enough time to make these men fully competent and safe!” Big J complained to Manuel Pestana, the divers’ manager. “They should have at least another two weeks in deep water once I think they’re competent with the equipment.”
“I know Big J but you have to understand the mentality here. They,” he indicated with his thumb, meaning the political commissars, “They can’t afford to lose face and having decided that two weeks is enough, it is almost impossible for them to change their minds, especially as it would seem as though a western capitalist knew better than them!” Manuel was clearly exasperated by the mindless bureaucracy; nevertheless he was supposed to have these men adequately trained in all aspects of deep diving and able start work on the numerous outstanding repair and maintenance problems on the off shore rigs within two weeks.
The Chinese technicians under Big J’s men’s supervision soon completed the rebuilding of the decompression chamber and eagerly moved on to the repair and maintenance of the various submersible vehicles. In every instance the Chinese proved to be diligent and thorough students, totally dedicated to their tasks. They rarely displayed any emotion and appeared to have little if any social life.
It was just after first light when the cargo vessel moored at the other side of the basin cast off her lines. The captain ordered a full burst of the bow thruster in order to push the bow away from the quay. The thrusters’ hydraulically operated propeller thrashed angrily at the water and gradually the bow moved until it was several metres from the quay. Satisfied that the angle was sufficient, he ordered the main engine slow ahead. The big diesel turbine lumbered into life, pouring its pent-up power into the four to one gearbox to effortlessly spin the heavy stainless steel shaft. Outside the hull, the four-bladed bronze propeller swished around, lazily winding the nylon rope around the shank; the slack was quickly taken in as the shaft speeded up.
The captain knew immediately that something was wrong when the stern of the vessel, instead of moving forward, remained stationary and then gradually moved astern as the propeller winched in the ship on the anchored rope like a giant fishing reel. Suddenly the chain was also dragged into the spinning propeller clanging noisily around the shaft just before one of the dredging boards broke free of the harbour mud and smashed into the flailing propeller, wedging itself solidly between the shaft and rudder support. In the engine room the gearbox screamed in metallic agony and the pressure release valve blew a jet of hot hydraulic oil into the air, spraying the roof of the engine room and everything around it. The engineer shouted and rushed to the emergency stop control. The engine shuddered and stopped. Securely moored by the propeller to the second board, the cargo boat drifted, helpless and silent.