Marsh sighed. If he was supposed to dance with joy at the prospect of piloting the submersible for what would prove to be a lucrative salary, it wasn’t going to work; Khan would be disappointed.
“I told Batista that I didn’t want a job.”
Khan nodded and put his hand up. “I know, I know. But perhaps Julio did not explain to you the reason why I have asked you.”
“No, he didn’t,” Marsh agreed. “Neither did he tell me why you can’t pilot the Challenger yourself. You’ve done it before.”
“That’s true, but I would be risking too much. I have a serious heart condition, Marsh. I’m sure you can appreciate the dilemma I’m in. I need an experienced pilot, and there are very few available. If any,” he added
“I didn’t know about your heart condition,” Marsh answered honestly. “Perhaps the result of too many deep dives?”
Khan smiled. “Old age, I think. But the truth is that I could not risk piloting the Challenger in my condition.”
“But why me? Surely there are others that can be trained?”
“Why is not important, Marsh,” Khan replied. “You are the man I want.”
“Suppose I am already under contract?”
“You are not. If you had been, I would have bought the contract out.”
Marsh whistled softly at the breath-taking arrogance of the man. “What else do you know?”
“I know that the Helena is not ready for sea. And without Walsh you cannot operate her and your company cannot function.”
Marsh shook his head. “Helen Walsh has worked on saturation dives with me before. We could cope.”
“That is academic,” Khan interrupted. “You need a good team on the surface. Together the three of you might have been good, but now you are only two.”
Marsh knew he was right. There would be no commissions from the oil companies or ocean survey institutes until he had recruited and trained somebody to take Greg’s place. Without money to back the yard, it would be difficult for them to operate again unless he worked for Khan. But Khan was linked to the death of Greg. Even if the man did not pull the trigger, Marsh knew that there was some kind of conspiracy going on and Khan was heavily involved in it. To walk into Khan’s lair could be like walking into a lion’s den, and from that there would be no way out.
At that moment there was a gentle knock on the door. It opened and Malik came into the room with Batista. Marsh had noticed before that Malik was completely bald, but now it put him in mind of the eunuchs he had seen as a child in the Hollywood films of Arabian adventures.
Malik walked over to Khan, leaned close and whispered something in his ear. Khan’s eyes widened in what looked like triumph to Marsh. Naturally he was curious but he could do nothing about it. Then Khan’s expression changed and he returned his attention to Marsh.
“Now, what is your answer; do we have an agreement or not?”
Marsh felt uncomfortable. Khan hadn’t been listening to him. He glanced at Malik and wondered just what kind of chance he had of bolting for the door. But it was an impulsive thought and he didn’t really believe there was any threat in Khan’s manner. He pushed the impulse from his mind and concentrated on arguing his way out.
“Khan, you know these kinds of arrangements can take time to work out. Contracts have to be drawn up by lawyers; schedules have to be worked out, contract options, timescales. It isn’t simply a question of turning up at the shop and starting work”.
Khan interrupted him. “We don’t have time for that Marsh. My word is my bond and you will be well paid, I can assure you.”
Marsh bit the bullet. “The answer is no, I never take on a commission without a legally binding contract. I’m sorry.” He stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do.”
As he made a move for the door, Malik stepped forward and put his hand on Marsh’s chest. Khan gestured to Batista who pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and dialled a number. Marsh looked on, bewildered. Suddenly, Batista thrust the phone at Marsh.
“Take it,” he ordered.
Marsh hesitated and Malik took the phone from Batista and handed it to Marsh. There was no need for Marsh to be told a second time. He held the phone to his ear and listened. For a while there was just a hollow silence. Then he heard the unmistakeable sound of a woman’s cry of anguish and suddenly she was breathing down the phone. Marsh didn’t know what he was supposed to do, so he said hello. It sounded inane.
“Who’s that?” the woman gasped. “Please, what’s happening?”
Marsh felt the pain of recognition strike him like a knife. “Helen?” His eyes opened wide, still unable to grasp the impact of what he heard.
“Helen?” he called again. “It’s Marsh.”
“Oh Marsh, Marsh,” she cried. “Tell me what’s happening, for God’s sake. Why are they doing this to me?”
Her voice stopped instantly and the phone went dead.
“Helen!” Marsh shouted. “Helen, answer me!”
Malik took the phone from Marsh’s hand as easily as taking a toy from a child. Marsh looked at him with a pained expression in his face. Then he looked at Batista and finally at Khan, who was sitting quite calmly and unconcerned.
“You bastard!” Marsh shouted and launched himself at Khan, but Malik’s speed was so quick that he caught Marsh before he could finish the first step and swung him away from Khan bringing him crashing to his knees with a resounding slap to the side of Marsh’s head. The pain roared through his body and took the strength from his legs. He went down like a bag of cement.
Khan got up from his chair and knelt beside Marsh.
“Now you understand Marsh what is required of you. The woman will remain our guest until it is finished.”
Marsh knew then that he really had stumbled into the lion’s den and that his life was probably forfeit. The thought frightened him, but what scared him even more was that Helen’s life probably was too.
Chapter 8
Helen felt the man’s hand encircle her mouth. With the other he took the phone from her hand and put it back in its cradle. Without any thought for her comfort he dragged her into a separate room and threw her on to a bed. Then without saying a word he turned round and walked out, closing the door behind him. She heard the key turn in the lock.
Although Helen was afraid and bewildered, she had been able to control her fear up until the moment she had heard the sound of Marsh’s voice on the telephone. It had affected her deeply, and now she was shaking badly. She squeezed her knees together and hugged them tight to her body until the shaking stopped. She knew that whatever was happening, she would not help herself by losing control.
Helen had no way of knowing who her kidnappers were or why they had taken her. They were both black and almost certainly local Bahamians. She didn’t know what they wanted because neither of them had spoken to her, but she suspected that it had something to with whoever had searched her villa.
Since his return, Marsh had been fairly withdrawn about the accident and how Greg had died. And his instant refusal at the boatyard to consider a job offer from Batista was not typical of Marsh; he would always have given it careful consideration before turning the work down. But whatever answers Helen tried to come up with, she knew that it was all guesswork and conjecture. The only thing that she kept coming back to was the sinking of the Ocean Quest, and she was certain that Batista and the men who had snatched her were connected with it.
As she sat huddled on the bed, Helen looked around the room. It was obviously a man’s room; the pictures of naked women were testament to that. There were a lot of books and magazines lying on top of a tallboy. A television at the end of the room was still on, but the sound was turned down. There was also a wardrobe with its doors half open, and Helen could see the paraphernalia associated with witchcraft hanging inside it.