“Unfortunately not. Apparently we’re searching for a deep channel gouged out of the seabed, that’s big enough to take a V11C type U-boat. And that’s only for starters. Once found, this will then lead us to the tunnel entrance. According to Nathan, there’s only enough room for one diver at a time to squeeze between the falling rocks and into the tunnel. So you see, Mr Chapman. We really do need your help and expertise, if we’re to have any chance at all of locating that U-boat.” LJ said.
“Well, I can tell you now, it’s not going to be anywhere usual. By that I mean somewhere people dive, however regularly, and I’ll tell you something else. It would have to be within eighty to one hundred feet.”
“What makes you say that?” Dillon asked.
“Nathan is a recreational diver, and as you know Jake. At those depths, no decompression is necessary if you follow a few simple rules. For the benefit of Edward and Vince who are not divers I’ll tell you what that means. Let’s say that Nathan dived to one hundred feet, which is just about the maximum depth for that kind of sport diving. At that depth he would only have ten minutes of bottom time before having to go back up to the surface. Just think for a moment, he’d searched around the bottom, found the channel, squeezed through the tunnel entrance, and then had an arduous few minutes swim against a strong current to reach the other end.” Chapman walked around the table where they were all sitting, and shook his head. “It just isn’t feasible and Nathan is not a young man. He knows his limitations as a diver.”
“So what are you saying, Rob?” Dillon asked.
“To discover the channel and tunnel entrance, enter and swim through it and then discover that U-boat.” Chapman ran his hand through his spiky blond hair.
“I’d say twenty to thirty-five minutes bottom time so his depth would most likely have been seventy-five to eighty feet or there about. Now, there’s nothing unusual about diving at that depth around the island. But that’s why I say the location has got to be somewhere out of the ordinary, or considered to be so dangerous, that nobody ever dives there. Sitting back down, he stared at the map laid out before them and frowned.
“But surely, you must have some idea. After all you know these waters like the back of your hand, old son.” LJ said.
“The morning Nathan made his discovery must have been the day after that last storm we had. There was virtually no swell, water was like a mill pond in fact. I remember phoning Nathan that morning, to ask him whether he’d like to give me a hand at the war tunnels in the afternoon, but spoke to Annabelle instead. She’d mentioned that Nathan had gone out early in the Nautical Lady, for a dive. That’s his boat over there, by the way.”
“Did she say where he’d gone?” Dillon asked.
“Only that he’d be careful and for her not to worry. Nathan would often do that, go off without telling anyone where, though.”
“So where does that leave us?” LJ said.
“Well, I’d say we need to concentrate our search along the coast between Bonne Nuit and Greve De Lecq. That’s roughly four miles of coastline.”
“Can you narrow that down?” Dillon asked.
Chapman frowned. “I can narrow it down to whatever you want Jake. But, in reality, you’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”
LJ’s mobile phone started to ring, it was Annabelle. He listened without interruption for a moment, and then asked how Nathan was before breaking the connection.
“That was Annabelle; she was phoning to say that Nathan is making good progress. He’s not yet conscious, but the doctors are still optimistic.”
“That’s excellent news.” Dillon said. Vince and Chapman agreed.
“There’s something else. She’s come across a piece of paper with one of Nathan’s famous doodles on it. Maybe nothing, but it was tucked inside a pocket of that old battered brown briefcase that he insists on carrying around with him whenever he travels. The sketch she tells me is of a large mythical looking man with horns and hooves, who is holding a trident.”
“Did you say a trident?” Chapman asked.
“Yes why, does it mean something?”
“The Devil’s Hole.” Chapman said instantly, pointing to it on the chart.
“You ever dive there?” LJ asked.
“Only once since I’ve lived on the island. Trouble is if the sea’s rough, which is most of the time, you’ve got to anchor quite a long way out so that your boat’s not smashed into a million pieces on the rocks that are hidden just below the surface. It’s also quite a long trek from St. Helier, where I usually berth my dive boat. In the winter, well you can forget it. The whole area becomes a maelstrom of treacherous water.”
“So, why is it called the Devil’s Hole?” Dillon asked.
“Well, the scientific explanation for it’s existence, is that the sea has naturally eroded the granite over many hundreds of years, and that’s what’s created the tunnel that runs right through the granite. But, it’s when the tide turns, that’s when this place comes to life. You see the water races through this tunnel at such a rate, that it comes out of the opening on the other side with such violence, and with the most eerie of sounds. Of course, the locals will tell you a very different story though, about how the devil carved it out of the granite, and that the noise you here coming up from below, is in fact the devil himself!”
“Can you show us this place?” LJ asked.
Chapman looked down at the chart for a moment before answering. “I’m not sure; it’s the sort of place you stay well clear of.”
“What if we chartered you and your boat? I’ll happily pay you three times your going rate Rob, to make it worth your while.”
“It’s not the money,” Chapman said. “It’s the waters around that particular area. Like I’ve already said, you can only dive there when it’s really calm, otherwise you’re likely to be smashed and mashed against the rocks. Whoever called that place the Devil’s Hole, wasn’t joking, believe me.”
“Okay, I’ll accept what you’re telling us, Rob. But please listen to what I’ve got to say.” LJ said. “We’re not looking for that U-boat for personal gain or for that matter to desecrate a war grave. There is a religious artefact on U-683, or so we believe, which could cause problems for the British and American Governments if it fell into the wrong hands. All that we want to do is recover it as quickly as possible and no harm done.”
“Tell me, what is it that’s on board the sub?” Chapman asked.
“I’m afraid that’s classified, old son.” LJ said.
“What a load of old bollocks. I wasn’t born yesterday, Mr Levenson-Jones. I think I deserve to know, don’t you? After all you’re expecting me to get involved with three treasure hunters who I’ve only just met. Oh, and let’s not forget, that there’s good old lovable Hugo Malakoff and his thugs waiting in the wings ready to shoot whoever gets in their way. So either tell me, or I’m leaving right now!”
“Are you saying that you’ll help us if you know?” LJ said calmly.
“Maybe.”
“Have you ever heard of the Spear of Destiny?”
“You mean the ancient weapon, supposedly forged by the equally ancient Hebrew prophet, Phineas. Legend has it, that whoever owns it is invincible in battle.”
“Quite so, old son. I’d almost forgotten that you’re an archaeologist. However, you are correct, and that is what the U-boat was transporting for Adolf Hitler during those last few days of the Second World War.”
“And Malakoff, where does he fit into all of this?”
“He’s obviously after the same thing as we are,” LJ said. “His motive is a complete mystery at this time. But I’ll find out what it is, of that you can be assured.”