“Not many people go wreck fishing. It’s mostly game fishing around here!” the man he approached claimed. “Anyway if that’s what you want, I know more good wrecks in this area than any other fisherman. You will catch many fish OK?” He gestured with his hands indicating large fish in the traditional way. “You must pay me each day before we leave OK!”
“Agreed,” replied Greg. “See you tomorrow morning then, here on the quay — at what time?”
“Eight-thirty sharp,” the man instructed.
They shook hands and then Greg and Oscar strolled back to their car.
“He seems a pretty confident sort of fellow,” Greg commented as he opened the passenger door for Oscar.
“Thank you. Well we’ll soon see how good a wreck finder he is won’t we!” Oscar smiled and ducked into the passenger seat.
The fisherman watched them leave and then wandered back to the warehouse on the other side of the quay. Entering the scruffy little office, he picked up the wall-mounted telephone and dialled. After a few moments his call was answered.
“Hi, it’s me,” he addressed the person at the other end. “I’ve got another request for some wreck fishing. Japanese by the look of him. Old feller may be genuine. Just I thought I should call; it seemed odd to have two similar requests in the same month.” He listened. “No he didn’t mention diving; he was with a younger man who paid the deposit and made the deal but they only seemed to want the fishing.” He listened a moment longer. “OK, I’ll keep you posted,” he concluded and replaced the receiver.
Since the end of the Second World War there have been several conflicts, particularly in the Far East, each attracting the attention of the super powers. Russia and China rattling their sabres in the name of ‘The People’, the United States of America in the name of democracy, while all sides welcomed the opportunity to exercise their military skills and test their ever-growing variety of military hardware. All of these conflicts end, once the super powers have lost their appetite for the cause.
In the aftermath of these conflicts, thousands of tonnes of armaments, which should have been destroyed or returned, are in fact simply abandoned and soon become available for sale to other ambitious combatants. The main problem for purchasers and vendors is usually the transportation of such illegal hardware.
This is where the more sophisticated players like the infamous Syndicate become involved. Over the last few years the Syndicate had established, an efficient worldwide network of transport routes for the shipment of a variety of contraband goods. Supplying criminal organisations, terrorist groups, private armies or independent Nations, barred by International treaty from trading in certain goods. Naturally those goods included arms and ammunition.
The IRA was a major client for guns and explosives as were the al Qaida network and the Taliban. Tamils in Sri-Lanka, Basques in Northern Spain…The list was long and hungry.
The Philippines sadly, is also an area rife with trouble. Several ambitious warlords still controlled certain areas of the country, sprawling as it does over some two thousand islands. The southern area in particular was controlled by a fanatical breakaway Islamic group Abu Sayyaf, said to have been linked with the infamous Osama bin Laden’s al Qaida terror network.
Added to that, roaming groups of independent bandits cause mayhem from time to time and if that weren’t enough, various political fractions frequently use force to make their views heard. The net result is that one of the world’s most delightful peoples are frequently being held to ransom by these selfish and dangerous factions.
In such an environment, the Syndicate eagerly fulfils all requests and to all sides, regardless of the consequences of the application of the ’goods’.
In an abandoned and semi-derelict corner of Manila’s sprawling docks, two Syndicate guards or enforcers as they are known, were supervising the discreet unloading of a shipment of crated arms. One of the enforcers, unusually philosophical, commented casually to his colleague, “Strange how things work out isn’t it? The Americans supply arms to someone like the Vietnamese and they are eventually abandoned there. The Vietnamese sell them to us, and then we sell them to the Taliban at the time of their fight against the Russian occupation. They are paid for, with money supplied by the Americans.” He looked at his friend for agreement.
“Are you still with me?”
The other enforcer nodded vaguely.
“The Americans fall out with the Taliban and chase them out of the country. The weapons are abandoned again. Now the Afghan warlords collect them up and sell them back to us. I just wondered who the Americans are financing to buy them this time?”
He thought quietly shaking his head gently.
“I know it’s not for me to question but it all seem a bit crazy doesn’t it?”
“You’re bloody right it’s not for you to question; the best thing you can do my friend is to stop thinking and concentrate on the unloading or you’ll be pushing up the daisies before you know it!”
They looked understandingly at each other and continued in silence.
Soon the last lorry was fully loaded; the ocean-going junk cast off it mooring lines and then motored slowly through the crowded waterway back to the open sea and on to its next mysterious destination.
John Lawrence and his wife Nancy had miraculously survived a major earthquake in Northern Greece. She wasn’t Mrs Lawrence at that time but that is where and how they met. It was during the course of their amazing adventure that they discovered a cache of smuggled diamonds. But that was only the beginning of another and even more frightening series of events.
Claiming to be the rightful owners, the Syndicate relentlessly pursued John and Nancy to find the diamonds. Against all the odds they survived several frightening attempts on their lives and escaped with the diamonds.
After much soul searching they eventually sold all the stones for the benefit of the earthquake victims. Their extraordinary generosity was justified when they were awarded a significant percentage of the street value of the diamonds as a reward for recovering them. Perhaps even more importantly, SONIC arranged to place them in a special ‘protection programme’ to ensure that they could enjoy the rest of their lives without fear of further persecution from the Syndicate.
Grateful for anonymity, they’d eagerly started their new life in Australia. The reward money provided them with ample financial resources to set up their home and allowed John to take up his passion of scuba diving. A willing student he progressed quickly to the sophisticated gas mixture diving technique, which allows for longer and safer free diving in greater depths, essential for the full time commercial diving he planned. Once fully qualified, he was accepted to work with a team of specialist offshore oilrig divers.
Eventually he and Nancy planned to set-up their own commercial dive business but wisely recognised the need to achieve as much commercial experience as possible with an established operation “before taking that last giant step” as his devoted Nancy used to warn, ever wary of the high commercial risk of such a venture.
Greg and Oscar reported to the harbour as arranged. The fisherman was standing on the boat eating a bowl of food with his fingers, sucking each one greedily as he relished the stray bits of rice left sticking to them. He greeted them with a beaming smile. “On time I see. Good, come aboard,” he gestured with a sticky hand.
They climbed down to the deck of the tidy little vessel.
“Put your kit below.” He gestured towards the cabin entrance. At a little over sixteen metres overall, with sweptback miship wheelhouse and large cockpit, she was low and sleek, a strikingly elegant looking craft. Unlike almost every other boat of the type in the region she did not have a fly bridge.