Dillon followed him a few seconds later, dragging his jacket with the air tanks attached, along with the heavy dive net behind him. It only took a moment to slip back into their equipment, zip up, and get back down into the water, pull on their fins and masks, and get away from the sinking hulk of the U-boat.
Moments later, the submarine had almost disappeared beneath the surface. It’s black barnacled hull lifting at the stern at the very end, and then it was gone. The tranquil calmness returned to the cavern, they swam into the centre of the underground lake and trod water while they checked their equipment one last time, before going back out through the tunnel.
“What the hell caused that to happen?” Dillon said.
“We did.” Chapman replied, “Opening those watertight hatches, allowed the water to flood through the entire sub when the tide turned. But at least it’s now out of sight, down there on the bottom.” Chapman adjusted his mask and bit down on his regulator, which hissed as he breathed out.
Dillon did the same, and was the first to jack-knife, and descend to the tunnel entrance. He shone his torch beam and could see clearly that the U-boat was now resting on the floor of the underground lake, some seventy feet below them. Chapman tapped him on the arm, and pointed towards the dark opening in the rock face. Dillon let him lead the way back to the underwater tunnel. Chapman went ahead, keen to get through, and up to the surface, leaving Dillon alone at the tunnel entrance.
Once he was sure that the archaeologist was far enough in front, Dillon took one of the two Semtex charges that he’d kept back, and carefully moulded it to the granite ceiling just inside the tunnel. Once he was satisfied that this was secure, he inserted a detonator that could be fired remotely from the surface. When he reached the other end, he did exactly the same with the other charge, but with a twenty minute detonator inserted, twisted the top, and a moment later tiny bubbles started to appear indicating the it was time to surface. He drifted up to meet Chapman who was hovering ten feet above him.
Chapman made the okay sign, Dillon responded, then followed him along the channel to the anchor line. He checked his computer. Another fifteen minutes which was adequate, and he started up the line slowly, but Chapman wasn’t going to take any chances. At twenty feet he stopped and looked down. Dillon understood what he wanted and moved up beside him, and held up the net in triumph. He could tell that Chapman was smiling.
They stayed there for five minutes then surfaced at the stern to find LJ and Vince leaning over the rail anxiously looking down.
“Thank goodness, you’re back. When we saw the tide changing, and heard those dreadful sounds coming up through the rocks over there.” LJ, pointed towards the Devil’s Hole. “Well, we started to think that something might have gone horribly wrong, down there.”
A moment later the charge at the tunnel entrance went off. There wasn’t any sound, only the surface of the water rose up, as if the devil himself was awakening.
“Good God, what was that?” LJ snapped, holding on to the railing as the power cruiser pitched and rolled on the increased swell.
“These waters are unpredictable and treacherous, LJ.” Chapman shouted up from the dive platform. And then added, “It’s most likely back-wash pressure coming through the tunnel.”
“Yes, I suppose you could be right.” LJ shot Dillon a look, before moving inside.
They got out of their dive suits and stowed the gear back in the large canvas holdalls, made sure everything was shipshape, and then went and changed into dry clothes. Dillon pulled on casual linen trousers and a T-shirt, Chapman his jeans and sweatshirt. LJ boiled a kettle, made everyone strong coffee and added a good measure of single malt whisky to each mug.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. The sea just started to swell, and then all hell let loose.” LJ said, as he handed the mugs around.
“You should have been on board that U-boat, LJ. When the tide started to turn, the water level rose so quickly that it completely caught us off guard. Had we not got out when we did, we’d have almost certainly have drowned down there.” Chapman commented.
“Good God!” LJ exclaimed.
Chapman drank some of his coffee. “Um, that’s good. Anyway, no harm done, but only an idiot would risk going back down there without a team of experienced divers, and a full support crew on the surface.”
“I always suspected you of having a death wish, Jake,” LJ told him.
“Well, we did get what we went for, I found it hidden under the remains of a silk shroud, and covered in sixty years of oily grime.” Dillon placed the silver chest on the table.
“And the gold?” LJ asked casually.
“Ammunition cases, about forty of them, also in the hold area.”
LJ held up one of the Nazi gold bullion bars. “And the sub is now lying on the bottom of the underground lake?”
“About another seventy feet down, I’d say.” Chapman said.
Dillon went out onto the deck, and leant against the rail, and lit a cigarette. Making a mental note to stop smoking the minute he returned to London. LJ went and stood by the doorway, smoking a slim panatella cigar. “The question is, old son. What happens now?” He paced around the main cabin, ending up standing over the chest.
“Well, no one will find the sub, that’s for sure, now that I’ve blown the outer tunnel entrance and sealed it off again.” Dillon said.
“Good thinking old son.” LJ picked up the silver chest, turning it three hundred and sixty degrees, thoroughly examining it, before placing it back on the table. “After all, we don’t want that gold falling into the wrong hands now, do we?”
There wasn’t any damage to the outer casing. LJ took a soft damp cloth and started to rub away the grime. The surface cleaned up surprisingly well, the Nazi swastika was etched in black into the silver. Unclipping the catches, LJ carefully raised the lid.
“Come on Boss, let’s see what’s inside then.” Vince said, his face reddened with excitement, and the effect of the single malt whisky that LJ had generously laced the coffee with.
LJ slowly lifted the lid, the hinges begrudgingly creaked and groaned all the way to the top. Everyone gathered around as he ceremoniously lifted the inner box out, and carefully placed it onto the table before them.
Silk of the most vivid purple, had been placed under the spear head, which lay in two sections. Alongside them, a single piece of crudely forged metal, used to connect them both together.
LJ, said thoughtfully as he picked it up, “According to some notable experts, it’s rumoured that this is one of the actual nails from the true cross, you know?”
And these were all that remained of the Spear of Destiny.
LJ probed around in the bottom of the silver case in search of anything else that might be inside. Seconds later he pulled out a bundle of envelopes. Picked out one at random, unfolded it, and raised an eyebrow. He was looking at a hand written letter, which he immediately passed to Dillon.
“Here, you read it Jake, you’re the multi-linguist.”
Dillon studied the German text, and then read it aloud, “From Adolf Hitler. Gross admiral Karl Donitz is acting under my personal orders in a matter of the utmost importance to the Third Reich. He is answerable only to me. It is imperative that he succeeds in this mission, and therefore all personnel, military or civil will assist him in any way he requests.” Dillon handed it back. “It’s signed by Hitler.”