“Please sit down,” I said coldly, “and listen carefully. If you think you’re coming on a rip roaring little fun-jaunt, I’d think again.”
“I’m a qualified open water diver, Mr Dillon, with experience in wreck diving.”
“You’ll find my expert knowledge for this job invaluable.”
“I will, will I?” I said. “Well, I don’t know what you call ‘expert’, but one of my men has spent several years as a royal naval diver. Let me tell you, Miss Price, he once saved the lives of an entire nuclear submarine crew by diving one hundred and fifty feet in sub zero temperatures to cut away a WW2 mine that had decided to hitch a lift. Not to mention the time when the Argentinian forces invaded the Falkland Islands. Along with two others, he managed to diffuse mines laid by the invaders while the Argentinian Navy threw every grenade they could find into the harbour. They only stopped after an hour because they calculated that no one could be alive down there after that much pounding. Then he and his fellow SBS team members swam up under one of their supply ships and fixed three large charges to it, that scattered corned beef all the way back to their mainland.”
“By the way, he did this while you were still at university — Miss Price.” I walked over to the window. The view was magnificent and very calming.
With my back to her, I said, “You’d better go and get your equipment. Please take it to Mr Rumple down at the boathouse.”
Charlie made some quiet remarks about Miss Price’s bright-green wetsuit, but it was much more professional than I feared it might be. I made a mental note to call an old friend at Special Branch later that day.
Rumple, Charlie, Miss Price and I had a conference. Rumple gave each one of us a file containing copies of various charts together with photographs and information showing us the position and way the Gin Fizz was lying.
“When were these images taken Rumple?” I asked.
“Yesterday morning, sir.”
I carefully studied Rumple’s images. The Gin Fizz was lying on the sea floor at a forty-five degree angle.
“According to Miss Price and LJ’s message, our Government Minister and the owner of that boat is keen to get the log from the Gin Fizz. That is — if the Captain didn’t dump it overboard before she went down,” I added casually.
Before anyone could interrupt, I carried on, “I assume you have been told where to locate the log book when you get inside the craft. We can’t afford the luxury of you wasting time rummaging around down there.”
“And if the captain did lob it over the side?” Charlie added.
“In that case, finding it depends on how far the boat travelled between the log being thrown over and sinking and if my equipment will detect such a small flat object, which will likely be submerged in the silt.” The gold ring on Fiona’s finger flashed in the bright sunlight, “I suspect the underwater currents are strong as well.”
Then Charlie asked Rumple about tidal movement at surface, absolute slack-water times and slack-water duration, and they discussed ways of setting out a diving timetable in order to use those facts to our advantage.
Everything said and done, I told everyone to relax for the rest of the day and said we’d have another briefing that evening, before we dived.
As the weather was unusually warm for the time of year, I decided to sit on the sand and think. The sea was kicking idly at the beach. Miss Price was nearly inside a black swimsuit, and Charlie was showing off with handstands, which were not impressing her one little bit. I asked Rumple to swim out to sea with the lovely lady from the ministry and let me know what sort of endurance she had.
“Go out about, let’s say fifty metres, and come in again. Don’t hurry her, but let her know you’re watching her.”
“Yes, I understand sir,” said Rumple, and went to tell Miss Price.
I watched them run across the soft damp sand, lengthening the curved imprints to the water’s edge. Rumple, although in his early fifties was as fit as any man half his age.
Charlie came up wanting to talk about the assignment. He paused, carefully designing a sentence that wouldn’t sound impertinent. “Why doesn’t this Minister go through official channels? Even if there is something dodgy about this boat, he could have used one of their spook departments to salvage and retrieve it for him, couldn‘t he?”
“The whole thing stinks, Charlie. To tell you the truth, I have an awful feeling that we are sitting out here bleating like a goat in a tiger trap. That message Miss Price brought about the logbook. It just doesn’t ring true.” I told Charlie about me being followed by the two cars. How one of them had been traced back to a security firm that our ministerial friend had hired and how an international playboy, Robert Flackyard, owned the other car from Bournemouth and that I thought they were all connected. “And what about this Fiona Price character?” I finished. “Why is she here and what is her real brief?”
As I said it, Rumple and Miss Price came out of the water. Rumple was tanned dark-brown and moving like he’d just stepped out of a shower. He wasn’t even out of breath. Miss Price had her mouth open and was gulping deep draughts of air, throwing her head back and running an open hand through her hair. They walked slowly up to where Charlie and I were sitting, Miss Price waited for words of praise.
“How do you feel, Miss Price?” I asked casually.
She was still gulping for breath. “O.K, thank you Mr Dillon… absolutely first rate.”
“Then I would like you to go out about twenty metres — but this time, please swim underwater there and back. Break surface only when you have to — I do not want to see a train of foam and bubbles. Should you experience any problems tell Rumple immediately. I’m not carrying dead heroes, I prefer live cowards. And Rumple stay close.”
“What is the purpose of this, Mr Dillon?” she asked defiantly, standing with hands on hips in front of me.
“The purpose — well now, Miss Price.” I kept my voice casual. “The purpose of this is to ascertain whether or not you are fit enough to dive with us tonight.” I got up and started back up the beach.
“Charlie and I are going up to that café to watch you and count the number of times you come up for air. Oh, and another thing, Miss Price you’re not in London, you know, so please try and look like an English holiday maker…”
I continued up the beach with my back to them… “That is to say, miserable.” Rumple knew me all too well, but Miss Price could not see the smile that was across my face as she stormed down the beach.
“Do you think you’re being a little hard on Miss Price, Jake?” Charlie asked. We walked up the steps to the café.
“Probably,” I said. “But I’ll give her credit, she’s got spirit and determination.” We sat and watched in silence and then Charlie said. “You may be worrying for nothing, you know. It might just be as easy and straight forward as it seems.”
I didn’t think so.
Chapter 5
Darkness brought its own welcome cloak to hide us with. The next green wave lapped at the boathouse, Charlie opened the heavy double doors, tied them back and then effortlessly leaped aboard onto the dive platform.
Rumple saw to the forward and aft lines. I gently eased the Phantom out into the harbour, both of her powerful inboard diesel engines gurgling, waiting to be unleashed. The water foamed at the stern and we headed out into the English Channel as the twin screws bit the sea. Once we were in open water I gave Rumple the helm and went down to the cabin. The jamming device that had been fitted was hidden from view in a locker, but the red activate light glowed faintly in the dark. I switched on the sonar and radar and went back up to Rumple. “I’ve activated both the sonar and radar, so keep an eye on them both especially as we approach the dive site. I’ll be below with the others, so if you need me, just holler.”