Freed of its massive load, the sampan surged forward and one of the men staggered and fell to the deck. The other man happily waved a wine bottle at the guards, who suddenly realised that the crew of the sampan were drunk. The guards laughed with understanding and called out again. This time the order was much more relaxed,
“Get out of here you drunken buggers before you do yourselves some damage.”
With the crew still waving merrily, the sampan slowly chugged back across the basin and vanished from sight.
It was almost dark now and the loading of the containers was well under way; the men had been warned: “The ship must leave with the tide at first light. So we will have to work late to complete the loading in good time!”
There were arc lights all over the warehouse and loading area but the sea side of the ship remained in complete darkness. Alex and John, using one of the large self-propelled underwater sledges from the tug, crossed the basin and settled in the soft mud near the stern of the cargo boat. They found the trawl boards without any difficulty; the problem was that they were still about thirty yards away from the propeller. The boards were actually the metal hydrofoils used to splay out a large fishing trawl. About two metres long and about one metre wide, each had eight metres of twelve-millimetre chain attached. All attempts to move the heavy boards failed and their frantic attempts were sending up clouds of silt, which were clearly visible from the surface. John signalled Alex and swam back to the sledge where they had secured a coil of old nylon rope. Alex understood the meaning and swam back to help John towing the rope and made it fast to the two loose ends of chain. Then, towing the easily handled rope, he swam back to the propeller and tied it securely around each of the three blades.
The plan was simple. When the vessel manoeuvred to leave the dock, the rope would wind itself around the propeller and drag the rope and chain around the prop, hopefully causing damage to the bearings or possibly even the gearbox back inside the engine room. Either way, divers would be needed, first to check the damage and then if possible to repair it. Alex hoped that the damage would be sufficient to warrant dry-docking the vessel.
Ideally they needed a two-week delay.
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The crew of the cargo ship worked hard and fast, unloading the last of the crates from the warehouse into the containers and on to the ship, to finish by two in the morning.
“OK Philippe, you can let the guards go now. The crew will finish up and batten down,” The man with the clipboard ordered.
Philippe spoke to the leader of the dog patrol relieving them of their duty.
“Thanks. We appreciate you're being able to help at such short notice!”
“Our pleasure,” the guard dog leader acknowledged, cheerfully checking the wad of notes Philippe had handed over. “Double rate soothes a lot of pain!” Satisfied, he nodded his head, gave a half salute, turned and signalled the rest of his team to walk the dogs back to their vans.
Soon afterwards, the gangplanks were pulled in and the warehouse locked up but the arc lights still illuminated the starboard side of the ship and the quay.
“The tide is low now so we'll have to wait until dawn. I want a double deck patrol until we sail - the rest of the crew may as well grab some sleep,” the captain ordered his duty officer and vanished into the bridge.
Ming-Ho, watching from the shadows of the warehouse, waited a little longer and then slipped quietly away. As soon as he arrived at the café, he telephoned and reported to Alex.
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Oscar didn't expect any real difficulty in persuading Dick to accept the proposed financial package, which would release him and his sister-in-law from their liability in the boat. The main obstacle, he knew, was always going to be Dick's wife and the child.
Marion moved into the saloon with Annie while the men, seated around the cockpit in the canvas deckchairs, were soon deep in conversation.
Annie fussed nervously with a plant swinging in a macramé basket. “Oscar and Greg sent me this as a thank you for looking after them on their fishing trip.” She brightened up a little. “It was a lovely gesture and tells me something of the sort of genuine people that I believe you are.” She looked at Marion. “I told a bit of a lie yesterday about Dick's wife, my sister!” Annie looked disgusted with herself. “It has made me feel very guilty. You see, she's an addict all right but doesn't work in the rope factory any more - hasn't for a long time - because she's already working in the nightclub. I can tell you she does a lot more than dancing.” She folded her arms and shook her head in disgust. “The other thing you should know is that the baby Dick's so convinced is his could be anybody's!” She placed a hand on Marion's arm. “Dick's one of these old fashioned people who, no matter what, feels he has to care for his so called wife and the child.” She looked away. “Dick just doesn't want to believe the truth. You see he was always away at sea fishing, often for weeks at a time. She was sleeping with any and every man who would buy her a fix. Yes they are separated now, but he still thinks the child is his!”
Marion had not spoken for fear of interrupting the flow as Annie unburdened her pathetic story.
“Are you and Dick lovers?” Marion asked honestly.
“No we are not but I confess it's not my fault. He treats me with respect as his partner and sister in law and has never made the slightest suggestion otherwise - unfortunately,” she replied, admitting she had always had a “soft spot” for him and was bitter about the way her sister had abused his generous nature.
“You see Annie, Oscar can find the funds to solve your debts and obligations on the boat. However you have to realise the reason for that is that we need a boat to organise a dive on the gold ship everybody seems to be talking about,” Marion said bluntly.
Annie was suddenly alert.
“That's going to be very dangerous. The man my brother works for is doing the same thing at this very moment; they were his boats who chased us yesterday. There'll be big trouble if he thinks someone else is trying to race him to the treasure!”
Marion nodded with understanding.
“Yes I can see there could be. Why don't you tell me what you know about this warlord and the treasure? It may help us to solve the problem.”
Annie poured herself another glass of the fruit juice and started,
“There have been many tales of gold-laden treasure ships sinking around the coast but most of them are pure fantasy, evolving like folk stories based on the general fact that a few vessels, which at that time were genuinely were transporting highly valuable treasures, were tragically sent to their watery graves. One story in particular refers to a German submarine, known to have sailed from Manila loaded with several tonnes of gold during the last days of the occupation. Now apparently there are recorded reports of a ship or something exploding off Corregidor that same night. There do not appear to be any records of the submarine being seen again. Support for the story was enhanced when about two years ago a fishing boat, trawling near Corregidor and the generally accepted location of the explosions, pulled up a bar of crudely cast gold in his trawl. Because this fishing boat was not equipped with GPS navigation equipment the exact position of his remarkable find was never properly logged.
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.
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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.
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