“LJ, can you hear all of this.” I said.
“Loud and clear, Jake. Dammed strange all these packages floating about though, I’ll get on to our friend at the ministry and find out why the hell we were not advised about this. I was certainly not told about them being on board. I’ve heard and seen enough for the time being. Either Tatiana or I will call you back later with an update on the situation. Charlie thank you for this information, you’re all doing a good job.”
He broke the connection, but Charlie continued: “The boat is lying at a slight angle, just as Mr Rumples’ photographs showed. As I’ve already said, it’s lucky for us that she is intact. But where the current has dragged it around; some of the deck areas have some extremely sharp and jagged projections, as I found out to my cost. The way in is straightforward enough as we can go through the main cabin hatch. But there is one potentially hazardous problem. If she has been rolled around the ocean floor in that storm last night, her hull may have been crushed or she may now be upside down in the trench. We’ll find out later, when we dive back down to her.”
Chapter 6
We decided to dive during daylight hours. Charlie and I went down first, and found the Gin Fizz in the position she had been the night before. Charlie worked methodically, checking her entire structure for any signs of further damage. Using our comm, we kept in touch with Rumple on the surface.
We soon came to the decision that pussyfooting around and being cautious wouldn’t do, especially with the potential hazards waiting to greet us.
Charlie went in through the main cabin hatch and I followed moments later.
On entering the boat, the packages that Charlie had seen through the portholes the night before were everywhere, floating like inert jellyfish. I gently pulled one towards me, for a closer examination; it felt like Semtex, but I couldn’t be sure through the coarse material covering it. “I’m taking this one up to the boat for a closer look,” I said, my voice sounded metallic through the microphone.
On deck Rumple and Miss Price looked on as I took my knife and proceeded to carefully cut away the wax covered material that sealed whatever was inside. I unfolded layer after layer until the contents were displayed. No one spoke for a full minute, as we took in what was laid out before us. Miss Price was the first to speak, in just above a whisper. “Well, Mr Rumple, since we’ve not been blown into space, would it be safe to assume that it’s not a highly volatile explosive? So, what is it?”
“That, Miss Price,” Rumple said matter of factly, “if I’m not mistaken, is raw opium. Once this dark brown chunk is processed in a lab and ‘cut’ ready for distribution onto the streets as heroin, I’d guess this pack would be worth approximately a million pounds. But that is only a guess, you understand.”
“I would say that was a fairly accurate guess, Rumple. There are probably fifty of these inside the main cabin area. I think someone has some explaining to do back in London.” I looked up. “Don’t you Miss Price?”
The three of us spent the next half-hour bringing the waxy packages up to the surface where Rumple stowed them safely in lockers out of sight. After this was completed, I located the safe. LJ’s information about where it was positioned and the entry codes were correct. Fortunately for me it had a backup battery power source. I punched in the numeric code but nothing happened. I took off one of my gloves, tried again and this time my bare fingers carefully tapped in the numbers correctly. I could hear the lock mechanism click into place.
Pulling at the door, a large bubble of air escaped as I strained it open and water gushed inside. I shone my torch in. We had been told there were two flattish packages wrapped in what looked like black velvet. I assumed these were the counterfeit plates — together with two small white brick-shaped parcels. The cocaine packs were both in clear waterproof bags, everything was present and correct, so I placed all the items into the clear zip top bag that I had with me and hooked it on to my belt.
The only other item tucked right at the back of the safe was the boat logbook. Looking around I made sure that the others had gone back up to the surface, and then pushed it carefully inside my wetsuit for safe keeping, and a little light bedtime reading later.
As I pulled myself through the hatch into open water, Charlie and Miss Price reappeared over my left shoulder. Over the comm I told Charlie that everything we’d come for was accounted for.
“What about the log book?” Miss Price broke in. “Well, it wasn’t in the safe, and I’ve had a thorough look round the entire boat, but it doesn’t appear to be here. Be my guest take a look for yourself — you have exactly ten minutes.”
She slipped through the hatch and inside the boat.
We had one last thing to do, and that was to get rid of the existence of the Gin Fizz. Charlie started packing the charges on to the hull as Miss Price swam back out, searching the surrounding area.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
Charlie was first to respond. “Our instructions are quite explicit Fiona. We have to blow it, once we have what we came for.”
“But I don’t have the logbook.” The panic in her eyes and edginess to her voice said it all. “I must have that logbook. London will not be happy if I don’t take it back with me.”
“Miss Price,” I said, “we have looked inside and out, as you have. We do not have the time to mess about further, so would you please surface now.”
We watched her ascend, and then turned and continued to place the charges over the deck area. “By having the charges on the deck as well as the hull,” said Charlie, “we should be able to create a blast that will generate the minimum disruption on the surface, although there will still be a fair bit of spray. Or that’s the theory, anyway.”
“If you say so,” I replied.
We broke the surface and I passed the clear bag up to Rumple, who took it from me, disappearing below. He carefully placed the contents in an aluminium briefcase. I changed into a pair of khaki trousers and an open neck shirt, going back up on deck where the others were congregated in the cockpit. Miss Price was obviously not happy at the thought of having to return to London without the logbook.
Ignoring her I went straight over to Charlie, “What’s the maximum range on the Detonator?” I asked.
“About half a mile, in these conditions,” he replied.
“Good, that should be far enough away from the explosion not to attract too much attention from any other craft that may happen along.”
It was four thirty by the time we had stowed all the equipment away. The sun was still shining, clouds were flitting around it like moths around a candle, and there was a bite in the air whenever the sun vanished.
In the distance, a small powerboat was coming towards us at speed.
Through the binoculars I could just make out three occupants dressed in dark clothing behind the windshield. Rumple had seen it too; he had increased our speed and altered course by a few degrees as a precaution.
They came straight at us, moving quickly over the water. Everything happened in a flash as they opened fire with machine pistols aiming for the cockpit but strafing bullets everywhere. We all slammed ourselves down on to the deck as the windows exploded into infinity above our heads. Glass shattered everywhere; air rushed through the opening with such a force, the noise was deafening. They raced past on our starboard side, emptying their magazines as they went.
“Who the hell is that?” shouted Charlie, his body pressed tight to the deck, covered in debris.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I shouted. “What I said on the beach, remember — goats in a tiger trap.” I looked up. “Rumple, are you all right.”