“Could anything you or Walsh have done recently be the reason for you getting shot?”
The question went straight to Marsh’s heart. Like a bullet finding its target. The answer was yes, Marsh was convinced of that now, but he couldn’t say why, nor could he explain to Francesini what was running through his mind right then, and the seeds of panic growing inside him.
He decided to get rid of his visitor and try desperately hard to recall some of the many conversations and arguments between him and Walsh within the last few months. Only then would he be able to understand the surprising turn of events his life had taken. He made his excuses to Francesini.
“Look, I’m tired. Can we continue this some other day?
Francesini nodded and stood up. “Sure thing.” He put his hand out. Marsh shook it. “You take care now and I’ll see you again.”
He closed the door behind him as he left and Marsh stared at it for ages.
Whoever he said he was, thought Marsh, he was not from the immigration department, and the web that he was convinced Walsh had been weaving was beginning to unravel with disastrous and dangerous consequences.
Khan stepped into the access hatch through the upper, watertight door on the submersible, the Challenger. It was in the centre of the submersible and opened into a vertical shaft. At the bottom of this shaft was a watertight door. It was locked mechanically and while the Challenger was submerged, the door could not be opened against the pressure of the water until the shaft was flooded. It was the same with the upper hatch door through which Khan was now descending.
He climbed down the ladder and stopped beside a small platform which could be raised into a recess in the curved bulkhead wall of the shaft. Just above him was a small door set flush into the curved wall. He opened it. Inside was a steel snap-hook attached to a metal cable, half an inch thick. This cable snaked round two pulleys and dropped vertically into a concealed cable drum.
Attached to one of the pulley wheels was a strain gauge. It was a self-contained, waterproof electronic unit converted to read a distance in feet. Khan examined the assembly carefully. It was pivoted so that it could be swung out into the vertical shaft. The pivot and locking pins were as thick as a man’s thumb.
Looking down, Khan slipped his feet into two, recessed openings in the chamber wall and raised the platform, carefully latching it into place. He continued his descent until he was at the bottom of the shaft. He spun the locking wheel of the lower door and allowed it to swing open against a small counter weight.
Beneath him he could see the metal plates of the Taliba’s forward deck. A small ladder had been attached to the underside of the Challenger’s hull at the point where an underskirt would normally be fitted. He went down the ladder and ducked beneath the ballast tanks, then straightened and looked into the brilliant sunshine.
Julio Batista, his chief diver was standing there. He could see that Khan was satisfied with the modifications that had been carried out. Batista was smiling. He was always smiling. A young man, twenty eight years of age, he had lived most of his life in or around the sea. It was his life. Whether he was surfing, belly boarding, scuba diving or just swimming, he was never happier. He was a little over six feet tall, well-muscled because of his lifestyle and, unusually for a Spaniard, he had tight, blond curly hair.
Julio Batista had worked for Khan now for about three years and was very fond of his boss. Khan trusted him, and he trusted Khan. As much a professional as Batista was, he was also unscrupulous and would work for anybody if the money was right. And as far as he was concerned, Hakeem Khan was the most generous man he had ever worked for. He waited for his boss to speak.
“The modifications are fine, Julio. Perfect.” He put his arm round Batista’s shoulder. “Now I have to ask you to do something for me. I want you to go to Freeport at Grand Bahamas, to Greg Walsh’s boatyard. I am hoping you will find Harry Marsham there. There has been an accident that cannot be explained, and his partner, Walsh is dead. I want you to ask him to pilot the Challenger.”
Khan knew that Marsh had survived the sinking of the Ocean Quest because the news of his rescue had been reported in the Freeport Press and on the web site of that newspaper.
Batista arched his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought you would be piloting the Challenger.”
Khan nodded. “I know, I know. But my heart will not allow me to risk it. Marsham is the only man who can do it without training. And you know him; you have worked with him.”
Batista had worked on deep dives with both Marsh and Greg Walsh, several years earlier. He was already an experienced diver when he met them and had always got on well with them. He didn’t know that Greg Walsh had died.
“As you say; I know him. I knew Walsh too, of course. I didn’t realise he had died.”
Khan gave Batista a friendly pat on the shoulder and looked up at the Challenger.
“This is a dangerous business, Julio. Men die.” He looked at the Challenger again. “You have done well, Julio. Allah will sing your praises as he does with all his soldiers. Now go and get Marsham.”
Chapter 5
Marsh opened his eyes and immediately thought of Helen. He had been dreaming about her and was now able to give substance to the dream. He had always had affection for Helen, but because she was married to Walsh, he had only ever been able to show the normal signs of friendship towards her, despite wishing that he could have known her more intimately. And now he felt guilty because he was giving free rein to his feelings for her despite the fact she had been a widow barely a few days.
It was true that Helen and Greg had argued a great deal lately. Marsh usually put this down to the fact that there was something of a cash flow problem in the company. Although the three of them were partners in the business, there had never been any formal contracts drawn up between them, and it had always been accepted that Greg was the senior partner.
There had been talk, a few years earlier, of getting round to sorting out their respective roles and legalising them, but they hadn’t been in any hurry. The company had grown from a small outfit to the reputable business it was now. The uniqueness of Ocean Quest, and their extreme professionalism lent itself to the company’s success.
Their prize possession was the submersible, Helena. It had been named after Helen and built by the MacDonnell Douglas Aircraft Corporation in America. Designed by Marsh and Walsh, it had been built for use in the field of geological marine exploration primarily, particularly around deep water wellheads and deep sea rigs.
To recover some of the substantial amount of the cost which had been initially borne by the bank, they had sold the designs to the MacDonnell Douglas Corporation after their successful sea trials. Despite that, they still owed the bank a great deal of money.
Now Marsh lay in bed, thinking of Helen and wondering what they were going to do. Once the two of them had got over Greg’s death, if that was ever possible, he knew they would have to address the problem of how to continue with the business before the banks foreclosed on them. Their yacht, the Ocean Quest had been an essential part of their assets and would have to be replaced. Another diver would have to be recruited and trained. Contracts would then be required to protect the new recruit.
But more importantly, and only Marsh knew this, how was he going to deal with the fact that someone on that freighter, in league with Khan, was responsible for Greg’s death. And there was no way he could tell Helen.