“Well here goes.” He called into his helmet and lowered himself into the water. His legs were immediately gripped by the current and slammed against the side if the hatch.
“Christ the current's still very strong,” he cursed.
Undeterred, he dropped through the hatch and trailed like a hooked fish attached by his supplementary safety line.
“It's too bloody strong to swim. I won't reach the safety line from this angle - you'll have to lower some ballast down my line.”
“Stand by,” Rod acknowledged the request.
A five-kilo weight was attached to the line.
“First one's on its way.”
The weight dropped smoothly down the line to the waiting diver.
“Got it. I reckon I'm going to need at least four of those.”
“Yeah you're probably right.” Rod slipped the extra weights onto the line.
The sharks looked on with interest from the shadow of the wreck; this was a different movement for the alien creatures.
Eventually with sufficient weights to counter the effects of the current John secured himself and the safety line to the wreck.
“OK boys you can join the party now.”
With “Big Blaster” in tow, the others followed down the tethered line. They hoped that “Big Blaster”, combined with the extractor hose working in unison at full rate, would enable them to work their way into the stern section of the submarine with maximum effect. This part of the wreck was far more badly damaged than the forward section, making it all the more difficult to explore.
At first there was no sign of any more gold. Eventually they came to another bulkhead, its door jammed open with possibly just enough room for a small man without any equipment strapped to his back to squeeze through. John shone his lamps into the space but the cloudy water was still impenetrable.
They tried the hydraulic jack on the rust encrusted door without success.
“How about if I rig one the spare air hoses from to my helmet. I'm sure I could get in without the air pack.”
“Always the improviser eh Slim? Well at least you're the smallest. If you're happy, it's worth a try,” John agreed.
Big J rarely interfered with the men when they worked underwater; they were all experienced and were constantly improvising to resolve problems for which there were no set procedures.
“Take it easy Slim, we've never worked with more than ten-metre extensions before,” he suggested discreetly
“Don't panic Boss. I intend to spend my share of all this lovely gold,” Slim chuckled as he made his way back to the bell to collect a spare hose.
Equipped with the extension and carrying his gas-air mixes pack. He returned to the bulkhead.
“Right boys, let's be getting to it.”
Slim slithered through the narrow gap, sending up another cloud of rusty silt. He could see less than one metre into the murk so waited impatiently as the pump sucked at the water. As it slowly cleared he recognised the mass in front of him as a rock. The bottom of the submarine must have either rusted away or been blown away when it was torpedoed and settled on the rocky seabed. Something moving on the edge of his vision caught his eye. He swung his powerful lamp but found nothing until he saw the jagged hole leading out of the hull.
“I don't know what kind of fish there could be down here but we may have just invaded their home,” he joked humourlessly into his microphone.
Slim, wanting to get out of the claustrophobic embrace of the compartment, moved with determination towards where he believed logically the next bulkhead should be. Heavy with silt, the cloudy water obscured his route. With only his second step, he was pulled up sharply by his safety line, causing him to roll sideways and fall against the mound of coral. The encrusted rock, to his surprise, gave way under his weight, as if it were a pile of loose stones. He steadied himself as a new cloud of silt erupted all round him.
“You OK in there Slim?” John asked.
“Just slipped. I'm OK. Can you give me any more line?”
John pushed the last metre through the door.
“That's the lot. Any good?”
“Can't see anything for the moment but its clearing. What's this?” he muttered before gasping, “Oh boy, this isn't rock - it's a bloody great pile of gold!”
All those years ago the torpedo that sank the submarine hit the main cargo hold; the intensity of the explosion blew open the bottom of the hull while the submarine was still on the surface. Most of the gold stored there was scattered into the sea, shimmering like golden autumn leaves tumbling in the wind, as it cascaded to the ocean floor to be lost forever; however some of the gold melted into a solid mass and only a few ingots remained intact.
Once the water cleared, Slim gazed transfixed at the golden reflections.
“It's a mountain of gold!” he gasped in hushed wonder.
The tiger sharks were becoming increasingly irritated.
w
Half a mile or so from a small Corregidor fishing harbour, the Japanese dive boat rode quietly at its anchor. The thin-faced expedition leader of the group paced the deck in silence. His assistant, a shorter Japanese man, followed like his shadow; eventually they turned and moved towards the helipad.
“The lawyer has reported that our informer's regular message failed to come through. It must mean that he's been compromised,” the thin-faced man spat without turning around. “The eventual failure of his regular messages had of course been anticipated. Well at least the lawyer has been able to confirm that Franco Ebola and his men have arrived safely and are to act as our security screen. We will rendezvous at dusk.”
He looked out towards the setting sun; a thin smile while lit his face.
“Of course I also realise that Ebola's group will probably attempt to take the gold for themselves. Our advantage however,” he looked happily for the first time at his timid companion, “is that we know that they intend to try. Yes it is going to be a very interesting day.”
f
Both of Big J's dive teams were working on the wreck in a desperate attempt to recover the last of the gold. Slim was inside the hold gathering up as many of the loose ingots as he could find and passing them laboriously to John and the other divers waiting beyond the jammed door. The other team was working outside the hull, urgently trying to make an entrance at least large enough to extract, with the aid of the ships powerful derrick, the huge lump of gold which had been fused together by the initial explosion.
Slim was exhausted and John ordered him out.
“You've done your bit Slim and we're all well over our time limit so we're all going up now. The others will have to see if they can do any more.”
Slim didn't argue; he knew the danger of extending the real pressure time to far.
“Hal,” John called, “it's all yours now. We're going up - the bell will come straight back for you. Good luck.”
They had just transferred to the pressure vessel when Alex raised the alarm; he'd always suspected that there had to be another mole on the ship.
Hans, poring over his complex scanning equipment in London, had not until now been able to pinpoint the exact source of the radio signals. Then suddenly he'd managed to override the code. The calls were coming from the bridge of the cargo ship La Vielle. He called Alex immediately.
Alex crept cautiously up to the bridge. As he quietly eased open the door he saw the captain huddled over the satellite telephone engaged in a whispered conversation. It was loud enough for Alex to understand that they were about to be attacked.
Alex stepped onto the bridge as the captain replaced the receiver.
“Good evening Captain,” he announced himself cheerfully.
The captain practically jumped out of his chair in surprise. “What do you want?” he demanded.
“Simple really. Just the name of the person you were talking to?” Alex smiled. That was when the captain noticed the thirty-eight revolver pointing at his stomach. He stood up slowly.
“What's this all about?” the captain bluffed.
Alex leaned casually against the doorframe facing the captain. “I think you should be telling me don't you? After all you're the one attempting to betray this operation!” Alex's tone became harder, the revolver pointed steadily at the captain's stomach. “But of course you cannot tell me who your controller is, because you don't know who he is, do you!” Alex seemed to weigh the gun in his hand. “Let me see now, what did they promise you? "First the return of your ship and then a substantial share of the gold. Yes?”
The captain slumped back into his chair.
“Not just for me you understand but for the engineer too” he confessed, defeated.
“You bloody fool. You of all people should know they would never keep such a promise. Damn it man, you know too much. You've just signed your own death warrant!”
There was a sound outside. Alex turned. The engineer and Greg stood at the entrance.
“What have you done man?” the old engineer said as he moved across to his captain and only friend.
“I'm afraid I didn't think very clearly and I've given our position away to my controller; he promised to return the ship and a big share of the gold if I cooperated!” He was close to tears.
The old engineer placed a gnarled hand on the captain's shoulder. “ Don't worry Cap. It'll be OK, you'll see.”
“Greg I want you to lock him in his cabin.” Alex turned to the old engineer. “So what do we have to do about you then?”
“Don't worry about me boss - you see I'm not that greedy, but it's up to you?” He shrugged his skinny shoulders.
Alex thought for a minute and picked up the microphone.
“OK boys it seems as though we are to receive unwelcome visitors. So let's get ourselves ready to repel boarders!” he commanded over the ship's intercom system.
Then he slapped the old engineer lightly on the back.
“Let's see if we can save something to argue over eh?”
Alex slipped across to the tug, where Big J and the deck crew were busy preparing to send the dive bell back down to collect Hal's team.
“Hold that for a minute please. J, I need a quick chat before that goes back down.”
It was almost twenty minutes later before the bell finally started its decent to collect the other divers; but it was not empty. John's face grinned from the tiny pressure window; he gave the OK sign as it vanished into the water. Attached to the bell were three of the special depleted uranium magnetic mines.
Johns job was to place the mines strategically on the submarine ensuring that “any uninvited visitors receive a warm welcome”, as Alex had put it.
John clamped the first of the mines at the bow of the submarine, adjacent to the protruding torpedo and hopefully he calculated, near the other ordnance inside the torpedo room. The second he placed on opposite side of the hull, near to where Hal and the other divers were still feverishly working. The last one he intended to place as close to the stern of the wreck as he could get.
Hal's divers had finally made a big enough opening in the outer hull and attached the lifting chains to the heavy lump of gold. Satisfied that it was well secured, Hal called to Greg on the surface.
“OK to take the weight on the derrick now.” There was no response. “Wake up you buggers,” Hal called again frustrated.
It was Marion's trembling voice they eventually heard as she responded to Hal's frustrated calls.
“We've been boarded by dozens of armed men. I don't know what to do. Alex and Oscar have disappeared and the rest of the crew are on deck under guard. I don't know what to say but be careful; they've launched one of their submersibles. I'll try to find someone who knows what to do.”
Marion had taken a tray of steaming mugs of coffee to the control room and was surprised to find it empty. The unfamiliar shouting on deck attracted her attention to the small control room porthole, where she watched unnoticed as the drama on deck unfolded.
She had not seen the other dive boat, escorted by one of the high-powered motorboats, as they banged roughly alongside the tug disgorging about fifteen armed men who had been hidden below their bulwarks. The other two motorboats pulled alongside the outboard side of La Vielle.
Armed men swarmed all over the two vessels. Big J and his unarmed crew had no option but to surrender. Big J was immediately identified as the tug's captain by the thin faced Japanese who swaggered across the deck to face him; in spite of the fact that Big J towered at least a foot above him, the thin faced Japanese stood arrogantly hands on hips.
“So, you must be the leader of this project yes?” He didn't wait for Big J to answer. “You can see that I have twenty-five armed men who are very keen to test their weapons and there are more in the other two motor launches.” As if it were needed he indicated their presence with a casual sweep of his hand. “First thing to remember, they all hate westerners. Secondly they are seriously upset of by the loss of their promised new weapons. So I thought it might help to sharpen their interest if I were to tell them exactly who was responsible for the loss of their toys.” The thin-faced man looked towards the derrick, its slack cable swinging gently in the light swell. His head snapped back to glare at Big J. “So you will tell me what you have found and co-operate fully, then there will be no trouble. Otherwise I will let my men loose, is that clear?”
Big J should have been an actor, for he played his part with professional style. He looked about the deck and at his nervous crew.
“OK. I have no plans to endanger my crew or my vessels.” He looked at some of the men as if asking for their blessing before continuing. No one spoke they just looked at he floor in apparent fear. Big J looked back at the thin-faced man. “So far, after searching about twenty other locations, we believe that we may have finally found the wreck of the cargo submarine. To date we have recovered only a few gold ingots. But we are convinced that the bulk is still down there.” He looked again at the others than back at the thin faced Japanese.