“The last one and the worst by the look of it. It’ll be no diving and no wages for you today my boy,” the first man said.
“That’s for sure,” the other admonished the semi-conscious man good-humouredly.
Alex froze. He was certain that he recognised the first voice. He moved a little closer. It was too dark to clearly make out the features of the men so when just five metres away he called out cheerfully.
“Some people just can’t handle it eh boys! Do you need a hand?” he greeted them, moving closer. The two men looked up, surprised. They hadn’t seen Alex, their attention focused entirely on their wayward diver.
John stopped dead, looking up sharply, his own memory alerted to the voice.
“That’s OK sport. We can manage,” the one wearing the chequered chef’s trousers called back.
John looked around. He recognised Alex immediately. What was he doing here? His brain raced. Turning his back to Alex, he hauled the man onto the ship, and then furtively looked back from the shadow of the side deck.
‘What should he do?’ Alex thought as he strolled slowly away. Then, stopping once again, he sat on one of the large steel bollards with his back to the tug, apparently looking across the basin towards the warehouses where he knew the munitions were stored.
On board the tug, John made up his mind. “Can you get him below on your own now Chef?” he asked.
“Don’t worry mate I can manage; the next bit’s downhill,” he laughed.
John walked back ashore and approached Alex.
“Excuse me but are you OK?” John asked politely.
Alex turned around.
“I certainly am, thank you.” Alex recognised him now; his memory had not fooled him. “I’d have recognised that voice anywhere. The world is such a small place isn’t it?” He held out his hand.
John reached out, grabbing the hand enthusiastically.
“What the hell are you doing here Alex?” was all he could say, still stunned by the chance meeting.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Alex shook his hand firmly.
“Come aboard. Let’s find out what you’ve been up to — or am I allowed to ask?”
Eager to know what Alex was doing in Hong Kong, John led him up the companionway.
It was almost six in the morning as they sat in the wheelhouse, each with a large enamel mug of tea.
“This is incredible — just how did you happen to be here?” John enquired cautiously.
Alex smiled. “Oh you know how it is with us reporters, anything for a good story.” He sipped at the scalding hot tea and tried to look serious. “I’m sorry. Can’t fool you with that international reporter stuff can I!” He placed the mug on the table. “Perhaps I could ask what you are doing here? Forgive me but I thought you were in Australia.”
John sat back. “That’s right. Nancy and I went to Australia. If you remember I always wanted to have my own diving business. Well, now I have every qualification in commercial diving there is to have, so I’m working with Big J here. He’s the Captain and owner of this converted tug. I aim to gain loads of practical commercial experience here then, when the right moment comes along, we will invest in a rig like this one ourselves.” He thought for a moment. “Luckily Big J managed to land this contract to repair a damaged wellhead out in the bay and to give advanced training to some the local divers — so here I am. How about you then? I suppose you’re still doing your cloak and dagger bit?” John teased gently.
As Alex listened to John’s story — a plan to use the diving facilities to destroy the Syndicate’s ship and its cargo had formed in his mind. “Listen John, you guessed right. I am still doing the cloak and dagger bit as you call it and amazingly you’ve landed on my doorstep in the nick of time.”
“So what’s your problem?” John leaned forward. “Are you asking for some assistance?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Alex looked around. “Are we secure in here?”
“The crew went on the town last night including the skipper. They’ll sleep until seven thirty at least. The chef and me, we stayed aboard to guard the ship, so it should be quite safe.” He raised his hands. “Chef took that last man to his bunk and was going to get an hour’s kip himself before breakfast — so it’s just you and me, for a while at any rate.”
Alex played with the handle of his tea mug but did not drink.
“OK, I’m sure you’ll remember the Syndicate?”
John furrowed his brow anxiously. “Well they’re making a huge shipment of arms, including missiles and mountains of ammunition, to a rogue Islamic fundamentalist group in the Southern Philippines. From there they are expected to launch a series of terror attacks on western, especially American, interests in the region. Fortunately we know that the shipment is sitting in the warehouse just across the basin from here. Somehow I have to destroy that cargo; it must not get into the hands of those terrorists!”
Alex looked down at the chipped though spotless table.
“There is enough ordnance over there to start a major war; you have seen for yourself that the Syndicate do not care who gets in their way. Neither do they care who ultimately suffers as a result of their transactions. These arms are expected to be loaded on a boat and shipped to Manila in the next twenty-four hours.” He paused but John remained silent. “Now, I’ve thought about this from all angles and believe that the best and probably the only guaranteed way to destroy this deadly cargo is when the ship is at sea and in deep water.”
“You mean sink the ship and cargo? What about the crew?” John asked in alarm.
“Just remember this — I made some very good friends on my last case in the Philippines, as I did with you and Nancy in Greece. I was able to help you but I was not so fortunate with the others; they were tied up and thrown overboard to drown and feed the sharks. Now I can’t say whether this is the same crew, but I’ll warrant that if they are Syndicate men they’d do the same without any more thought than spit,” Alex rebuffed him sharply, unusually flushed with anger.
“I’m sorry Alex — it’s easy to forget what bastards they really are,” John confessed, remembering how they’d shot the helpless medical attendant, merely because he’d lied to protect him and Nancy; he shuddered as the regurgitated memories flushed over him.
“You know I think we could probably help to disable that vessel in some way.” John was almost talking to himself. “We’d have to let Big J in on the job. He’s a tough cookie but likes things to be simple and correct.”
“What does Big J like to be simple and correct about?”
They turned to see the big man; his huge frame almost filled the galley doorway. He was unshaved, and wearing a brightly coloured dressing gown — Alex thought for a moment he was some character from a Christmas pantomime. Looking decidedly bleary-eyed and scratching at his short-cropped, hair he stepped into the galley.
“I think a large cup of black coffee before any thing else,” He said and moved over to the hot water maker, apparently not noticing Alex. He spooned some instant coffee into his personal mug followed by a large helping of sugar. The water heater hissed, scalding water trickled into the mug; he picked up a spoon and stirred vigorously.
“Now then what have I missed?” He sniffed the mug; it was too hot to drink so he placed it gently on the table and looked up at his companions. “OK so who’s going to tell me the story?”