by Albert Able
They marched past him and flung open the inner office door. “That’s him,” the European said, pointing triumphantly at the man sitting behind the desk, still holding a coffee cup in his hand.
“What the hell is going on?” Reinhardt demanded, coffee spilling from his cup as his hand trembled with fear.
“I believe you put out a contract on me and my colleague,” Alex barked and indicated Ling.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reinhardt protested.
“Oh yes you do, because I’m the man your agent contracted to do it!” the European spat out, trying to maximise his usefulness.
Alex tossed the photographs onto the man’s desk.
“Seems you are also responsible for the death of a lady. I suppose you know they decapitated her?” Alex added.
The man cringed.
“I had nothing to do with that!”
“Oh? So how did you know about it?” Ling burst out.
Reinhardt threw the cup at Ling and barged towards the door but he never had a chance - Ling easily tripped him up and fell on top of him. The European looked hopefully at the door and made as if to move, until he felt the hard dig of the silenced machine pistol in his ribs.
“Not yet my friend,” Alex hissed menacingly.
They tried without success to extract details about the man’s Syndicate colleagues and their controller. Alex of course realised it was unlikely that there was anything he could divulge simply because he wouldn’t know. The one thing he did know however was that the cargo of armaments was going to a militant terrorist in the Southern Philippines.
“Well thank you for your cooperation. As promised you are free to go,” Alex addressed both men
The European looked cautiously from Alex to Ling then towards the door. The Syndicate man stood up nervously.
Alex, still holding the machine pistol, reversed to the door; Ling picked up the photographs from the desk and then stepped back alongside Alex.
Without looking at him, Alex said to Ling, “Did I ever tell you that I tell fibs sometimes?” The machine pistol coughed twice in the direction of the European. A second double discharge slammed into the Syndicate man.
“That’s for David’s wife and the host of other deaths you are responsible for.”
Ling opened the door; the secretary was hovering outside, wringing his hands. They moved towards him. Alex, angrily slamming the door behind them, barked at the cringing man.
“You better go now and look for a new job. You’ve just been made redundant!”
f
If there was to be any chance of finding the submarine and its golden cargo, it was imperative that they employ the services of some competent divers with the very latest equipment as well as a good boat with efficient sonar equipment. Oscar and Greg had agreed that Moby Dick and his sister-in-law were their best bet for the diving boat but realised that to guarantee their services, they would not just have to buy their boat, quite literally. More importantly they would also have to release wife and child from the grip of Annie’s crooked brother.
“The only way Moby Dick and his family are going to break the grip of their masters is to get clear away from this place.” Greg paused “I just wonder where they could safely start a new life.” He checked his watch. “Anyway, if we’re going to put our proposal to them, I think we should do it now so they can think about it overnight and let us have their decision tomorrow at the latest. Then we’ll all know where we stand, at least with the boat!”
Oscar agreed.
“You’re right. Let’s go and see them now eh? We can think about the wife problem on the way. Do you think we should we take Marion with us?”
“Why not - if she’ll come. Besides, she may have some thoughts on how to solve the wife and child problem,” Greg smiled, wondering if there wasn’t possibly another potential wife problem in the wings.
“I’ll go and see.” Oscar hurried next door.
Moments later, Marion appeared, followed by Oscar.
“OK let’s go,” he commanded lightly.
Marion chatted with Greg as they walked.
“I know that the plan is to buy the boat - that is wonderful of course - but I fear it won’t work unless we can also rescue his wife and child.”
“I agree, so we must deal with that first,” Greg reasoned.
They’d decided to take the short cut across the sandy beach.
“I was wondering how she came to be a drug addict,” Marion mused, and shook her head sadly. “There must have been a tragic series of events that put her into that state so it might help us to solve the problem if we knew a bit more about it.”
Oscar walked close to Marion. He wanted to hold her hand again but couldn’t quite pluck up enough courage in front of Greg.
“Why don’t you talk to Annie and see what she thinks, while Greg and I sort out the finances with Moby Dick?” Oscar touched her hand briefly; she responded with a gentle squeeze.
“That’s a good idea, I’ll do that.” Marion reluctantly released Oscar and they walked the rest of the way to the fishing harbour in silence as each mulled over their own thoughts about the problem.
It was dusk when they reached the fishing quay. They found Dick and Annie sitting on the stern deck talking to a man. He was dressed in a city suit and looked out of place on the boat. When the little deputation arrived on the quay, the man picked up his Panama hat and left without acknowledging their presence. It seemed to Greg, who was first to appear at the ship’s side, that the man appeared to be in a rather ill humour.
Greg gave a cheery, “Hi there folks! Sorry to interrupt!” Dick and Annie looked worried but relieved to see the man leave without reply.
“Come aboard!” Dick welcomed them, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders. “You’re just in time because I’m about to have a drink!”
Annie slipped below as usual and returned with a tray of glasses.
“I’ve just made a cool mixed fruit cocktail. You can help yourselves, and there is vodka or gin to go with it if you want.”
“After that bastard’s visit I think I’ll take the vodka neat!” Dick sounded miserable.
Annie reappeared with a large jug of richly coloured liquid brimming with ice, which clinked as it floated amongst the slices of tropical fruits.
“Problem?” Oscar asked innocently.
“That’s Annie’s bastard brother threatening us again. According to him, we’re not to take any more charters until further notice but he hasn’t an alternative contract. How does he think we get to eat?”
“Well actually Dick, we think we have a proposal that could solve all your problems!” Oscar reached across for a glass.
Marion took the hint and followed Annie into the saloon.
w
Ling went straight to the café to find his wife; she jumped up and fell sobbing into his arms when she saw him.
“These wonderful people brought me here; there was a man at the hotel asking for Alex. If you hadn’t called to warn me, he would have found me.”
Ling hugged her and calmed her.
“You’re safe now my darling. Later we’re going to join a ship which will take us to safety.”
“Anywhere please, just so long as we get away from all of this,” she sobbed.
Arriving at the hotel just in time to hear a man asking the receptionist for “”, Ming-Ho’s daughter’s plan to spirit Mui away from the hotel and to the safety of the café had nearly foundered. Too late to turn away without being noticed, she strolled casually across the lobby and into the little meeting room where she found Mui waiting as instructed. Ming Ho’s daughter immediately held her finger to her lips indicating silence while reaching out and holding Mui’s with her other hand.
They could hear the man arguing vigorously with the receptionist who in turn was righteously refusing to divulge her resident’s room number. Neither noticed the two ladies slip casually out of the hotel and around the corner to vanish into the maze of
cluttered alleyways.
f
Big J had finally agreed to give his full support to destroying the cargo of armaments and provide accommodation for Ling and his wife but only on two strict conditions: first that nothing interrupted their training contract and second, that while he agreed wholeheartedly that the munitions should not be allowed to arrive at their destination, the cargo ship was not to be deliberately sunk with all hands!
Earlier that evening, Alex had presented Big J with his additional guests. He cheerfully welcomed Ling and Mui aboard, escorting them personally to their cabin.
“It’s not quite a luxury liner so the cabins are a bit small but the grub’s quite good,” he smiled, acting like the traditional cruise liner captain.
The tug was quite limited for accommodation but two of the divers had agreed to double up, making a cabin available for the unexpected visitors.
“I have a twin cabin so you can bunk with me if you want. I don’t expect you’ll be wanting to return to your hotel now!” John invited Alex with a grin.
“Thanks, I appreciate that. Oh and did you agree the dive with Big J?”
“No problem! We’ll wait until dark then use the sled with the sonic tracker. It should be a doddle!” John confirmed the arrangement.
“Now tell me, how’s that woman of yours? Did you marry her?” Alex asked with genuine interest.
w
Ming-Ho telephoned Alex.
“We’ve found two old dredging boards with lots of heavy chain attached. I think it is exactly what you need. I’ve arranged for it to be delivered right up to the cargo boat’s stern!” he declared triumphantly.
“Aren’t the crew going to see what’s happening? Alex queried.
“Don’t worry. It will be tipped from a small boat on the other side of the basin - then the boat will simply tow it underwater and cut it free as it passes the cargo boat. All you have to do is dive and attach it to the propeller with some heavy nylon rope. Simple eh!” Ming-Ho was obviously very pleased with himself. “If you do your bit right, when the boat starts to move and that lot wraps itself around the propeller shaft, it has to cause the type of damage you need, yes?”
“You’re a living miracle my friend. I’m so glad you’re on my side!” Alex complimented his new friend.
Later that evening, a twelve-metre motorised sampan appeared at the entrance to the basin. It slowly worked its way around the perimeter, stopping briefly about one hundred and fifty metres from the warehouse and the moored cargo vessel. The men standing on its stern seemed to be struggling with some deck cargo. The splash as the heavy boards toppled into the water was brief and went unnoticed. After a couple of minutes, the sampan continued on its casual patrol. Now its engines had to work much harder as they towed the cumbersome boards across the muddy bed of the basin. As they approached the stern of the cargo boat, two armed men appeared at the rail gesticulating at the sampan. The signal was clear “Get out of here!” they shouted down at the approaching intruders. The crew on the sampan waved back cheerfully, pretending not to have understood, as Ming-Ho, camouflaged by a large sheet of faded canvas, sawed frantically through the thick, hard nylon rope. The line finally parted the ends of the rope, whiplashing the canvas as it vanished over the side.
Freed of its massive load, the sampan surged forward and one of the men staggered and fell to the deck. The other man happily waved a wine bottle at the guards, who suddenly realised that the crew of the sampan were drunk. The guards laughed with understanding and called out again. This time the order was much more relaxed,
“Get out of here you drunken buggers before you do yourselves some damage.”
With the crew still waving merrily, the sampan slowly chugged back across the basin and vanished from sight.
It was almost dark now and the loading of the containers was well under way; the men had been warned: “The ship must leave with the tide at first light. So we will have to work late to complete the loading in good time!”
There were arc lights all over the warehouse and loading area but the sea side of the ship remained in complete darkness. Alex and John, using one of the large self-propelled underwater sledges from the tug, crossed the basin and settled in the soft mud near the stern of the cargo boat. They found the trawl boards without any difficulty; the problem was that they were still about thirty yards away from the propeller. The boards were actually the metal hydrofoils used to splay out a large fishing trawl. About two metres long and about one metre wide, each had eight metres of twelve-millimetre chain attached. All attempts to move the heavy boards failed and their frantic attempts were sending up clouds of silt, which were clearly visible from the surface. John signalled Alex and swam back to the sledge where they had secured a coil of old nylon rope. Alex understood the meaning and swam back to help John towing the rope and made it fast to the two loose ends of chain. Then, towing the easily handled rope, he swam back to the propeller and tied it securely around each of the three blades.
The plan was simple. When the vessel manoeuvred to leave the dock, the rope would wind itself around the propeller and drag the rope and chain around the prop, hopefully causing damage to the bearings or possibly even the gearbox back inside the engine room. Either way, divers would be needed, first to check the damage and then if possible to repair it. Alex hoped that the damage would be sufficient to warrant dry-docking the vessel.
Ideally they needed a two-week delay.
w
The crew of the cargo ship worked hard and fast, unloading the last of the crates from the warehouse into the containers and on to the ship, to finish by two in the morning.
“OK Philippe, you can let the guards go now. The crew will finish up and batten down,” The man with the clipboard ordered.
Philippe spoke to the leader of the dog patrol relieving them of their duty.
“Thanks. We appreciate you’re being able to help at such short notice!”
“Our pleasure,” the guard dog leader acknowledged, cheerfully checking the wad of notes Philippe had handed over. “Double rate soothes a lot of pain!” Satisfied, he nodded his head, gave a half salute, turned and signalled the rest of his team to walk the dogs back to their vans.
Soon afterwards, the gangplanks were pulled in and the warehouse locked up but the arc lights still illuminated the starboard side of the ship and the quay.
“The tide is low now so we’ll have to wait until dawn. I want a double deck patrol until we sail - the rest of the crew may as well grab some sleep,” the captain ordered his duty officer and vanished into the bridge.
Ming-Ho, watching from the shadows of the warehouse, waited a little longer and then slipped quietly away. As soon as he arrived at the café, he telephoned and reported to Alex.
f
Oscar didn’t expect any real difficulty in persuading Dick to accept the proposed financial package, which would release him and his sister-in-law from their liability in the boat. The main obstacle, he knew, was always going to be Dick’s wife and the child.
Marion moved into the saloon with Annie while the men, seated around the cockpit in the canvas deckchairs, were soon deep in conversation.
Annie fussed nervously with a plant swinging in a macramé basket. “Oscar and Greg sent me this as a thank you for looking after them on their fishing trip.” She brightened up a little. “It was a lovely gesture and tells me something of the sort of genuine people that I believe you are.” She looked at Marion. “I told a bit of a lie yesterday about Dick’s wife, my sister!” Annie looked disgusted with herself. “It has made me feel very guilty. You see, she’s an addict all right but doesn’t work in the rope factory any more - hasn’t for a long time - because she’s already working in the nightclub. I can tell you she does a lot more than dancing.” She folded her arms and shook her head in disgust. “The other thing you should know is that the baby Dick’s so convinced is his could be anybody’s!” She placed a hand on Marion’s arm. “Dick’s one of these old fashioned people who, n
o matter what, feels he has to care for his so called wife and the child.” She looked away. “Dick just doesn’t want to believe the truth. You see he was always away at sea fishing, often for weeks at a time. She was sleeping with any and every man who would buy her a fix. Yes they are separated now, but he still thinks the child is his!”
Marion had not spoken for fear of interrupting the flow as Annie unburdened her pathetic story.
“Are you and Dick lovers?” Marion asked honestly.
“No we are not but I confess it’s not my fault. He treats me with respect as his partner and sister in law and has never made the slightest suggestion otherwise - unfortunately,” she replied, admitting she had always had a “soft spot” for him and was bitter about the way her sister had abused his generous nature.
“You see Annie, Oscar can find the funds to solve your debts and obligations on the boat. However you have to realise the reason for that is that we need a boat to organise a dive on the gold ship everybody seems to be talking about,” Marion said bluntly.
Annie was suddenly alert.
“That’s going to be very dangerous. The man my brother works for is doing the same thing at this very moment; they were his boats who chased us yesterday. There’ll be big trouble if he thinks someone else is trying to race him to the treasure!”
Marion nodded with understanding.
“Yes I can see there could be. Why don’t you tell me what you know about this warlord and the treasure? It may help us to solve the problem.”
Annie poured herself another glass of the fruit juice and started,
“There have been many tales of gold-laden treasure ships sinking around the coast but most of them are pure fantasy, evolving like folk stories based on the general fact that a few vessels, which at that time were genuinely were transporting highly valuable treasures, were tragically sent to their watery graves. One story in particular refers to a German submarine, known to have sailed from Manila loaded with several tonnes of gold during the last days of the occupation. Now apparently there are recorded reports of a ship or something exploding off Corregidor that same night. There do not appear to be any records of the submarine being seen again. Support for the story was enhanced when about two years ago a fishing boat, trawling near Corregidor and the generally accepted location of the explosions, pulled up a bar of crudely cast gold in his trawl. Because this fishing boat was not equipped with GPS navigation equipment the exact position of his remarkable find was never properly logged.
