by Albert Able
Suddenly another shark pitched into the submarine and although three harpoons were fired simultaneously its forward momentum allowed it to grab the arm of one of the cowering divers before reversing out, pulling the petrified man with it; as it emerged other sharks pounced and tore the wriggling meal to pieces. Other sharks joined in a ferocious feeding frenzy and with all their fear of the divers forgotten, repeatedly plunged with blind determination into the hull. Eventually two more of the struggling divers were dragged out of the hull to be savaged and torn into bloody pieces. The last man, smaller than the others, found the entrance to the next hold and by removing his backpack and pushing it ahead of him, managed to squeeze through the rusted doorway.
Temporarily safe, he calmed himself down enough to think through his position. The first thing he realised was that he had significantly exceeded his permitted time at that depth so he would have to go through a lengthy decompression - and the only way to do that was in the submersible, which he was relieved to see was still hovering above him. Satisfied that he could overcome that problem, he felt a little flush of renewed confidence, but when he reviewed the question of actually getting to the hatch, it quickly drained away.
His brain raced; at least the submersible still hovered above the submarine. Could he distract his predators and make the short leap to safety? He checked his pressure gauge nervously - about fifteen minutes of air left. He moved across the hold and found the other door. He peered through and saw the opening to the sea but remained hidden too scared to move.
Outside, the sharks busied themselves, gnashing and tearing at the last of their meal. The diver watched in cold sweat as one shark swallowed a whole limb, complete with neoprene dry suit. Eventually, there was nothing left of his unfortunate colleagues.
After carefully inspecting the area for any overlooked tit-bits, the sharks resumed their passive attitude and quietly drifted back to their individual territories, where they continued their endless vigil.
To the terrified diver, the sharks’ sudden departure offered him an unexpected last opportunity for survival so with his air all but exhausted, he crept cautiously towards the opening; the submersible had moved thirty metres towards the stern, right on top of where they had entered the hull originally. The pilot was obviously trying to make it easier for the remaining diver to escape. But the diver had no intention of returning to the hold, where he had witnessed his colleagues being pulled apart. Then he spotted the suspended dive bell a mere ten metres away. He knew that it also meant a fully pressurised environment, which was essential if he was to survive.
If he could just attract the occupiers’ attention...
At that precise moment, Hal, looking from the small pressure window saw the diver crouching on the hull. Hal looked at his companions. Without hesitation they agreed to bring the man in.
The spirit of the sea did not allow one seaman to abandon another, even if they were deadly enemies. Hal signalled OK and waved the diver across.
Cautiously, the diver looked out of his refuge and scanned three hundred and sixty degrees. He could not see anything but the submersible. He sucked what was probably the last drop of air in his tank and lunged from the hull, paddling wildly towards the bell. He was almost there, he pushed out his hand in a last desperate effort towards the trailing safety line. He was within just three metres from salvation when to his horror the bell started moving slowly towards the surface.
“Wait,” John shouted into the intercom but there was no reply.
The desperate diver renewed his effort and with his final burst of energy managed to grab the safety line and haul himself forward until he could grip the ring at the bottom of he bell.
“Hang on,” Hal shouted, even though the diver could not have heard through the reinforced hull.
The bell continued to rise slowly with the man dangling like a piece of live bait.
The resident male tiger shark was still tense and fidgety as he cruised nervously back towards the wreck, when he spotted the wiggling limbs dangling from the diving bell, a ripple of excitement vibrated along his lightly striped body, sending an exhilarating thrill to his prehistoric senses.
The men inside the bell opened the hatch and grabbed at the diver whose grip was slowly failing. Hal held the man’s wrist in one hand and pulled his air tank, which caught momentarily on the edge of the hatch. The man was almost halfway in; it would need just one more heave to pull him clear. Hal stood up to get enough purchase.
The shark covered the distance in a split second; its massive jaw with its savage chainsaw teeth, grabbed the man at the pelvis. With a violent twist at precisely the same moment as Hal heaved, the body was easily cut in two. Hal fell back against one of the other divers, still clutching the bleeding torso.
Seemingly angered by its denial of the complete body the shark spat the legs out of its mouth and plunged headlong into the open hatch, fortunately it was so big that its body jammed in the hole. Its head still covered in blood and intestines, the angry animal snapped its jaws opportunistically before slipping back into the abyss.
As it disappeared, another diver reached out, smartly pulling the hatch lever and securing it. Blood from the severed torso pumped everywhere; amazingly the diver was still alive and in a scene reminiscent of Dante’s inferno started to scream in pain and fear. Mercifully it only lasted a few seconds; gradually the screams waned and the man fell silent. No one else moved or spoke; in spite of their many years of dangerous high-risk diving experience, none had ever been so traumatised
“Stand by to surface and connect to pressure hull.” The pressure activated, metallic recorded voice, broke them from their spell.
f
Big J was seated in his chair on the bridge with his thin-faced Japanese captor.
“First thing,” Big J said calmly, “I have five divers on the bottom in saturation dive condition; before I discuss to anything they are to be recovered and pressurised, agreed?”
“Not so fast with the demands Captain. Don’t forget I’m in charge!”
“I fully understand that, but you know us Aussies - straight to the point and no offence intended!” Big J proffered his beaming smile.
“OK Captain but from now on my divers are in control.” The thin-faced Japanese tried to copy the beaming smile but it simply did not have he same effect.
Big J picked up the intercom phone. “Control room?“
Marion answered. “Big J - thank heavens; we’ve got a big problem here, please come at once!” she pleaded.
“OK bring them up as soon as you can,” he answered casually.
“But Big J?” she pleaded confused by the strange reply.
“Well done,” he responded and replaced the intercom phone smiling impishly at the Japanese man.
“First I’d like to show you our control room. Then you can tell me how we can take advantage of all this hardware eh?” Big J stood up and started to the door. Unaccustomed to being dominated in such a manner the Japanese man was initially peeved at Big J’s attitude but then he reminded himself “Aussies are different” and followed without outward complaint.
Marion, sitting at the monitors, had witnessed the first attack. Her guard had not seen what was happening; he was too interested in the girlie magazine he’d discovered on a shelf.
Big J acted swiftly as he entered the control room.
“Put that down - it’s not yours,” he admonished the guard.
He made to grab the magazine with his left hand but at the last moment balled his right fist and struck the man with a powerful short jab to the solar plexus. The man gasped. Big J turned ready to give the thin-faced Japanese man the same treatment, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Alex holding a silenced revolver at the Japanese’s temple. Mo, who had followed Alex, closed the door quietly behind them.
“Nice move Big J. I figure that’s ten down and only twenty-five or so to go!” He turned the Japanese around. “So who have we here?” Mo pushed him into one of the swivel cha
irs. “I’ll cover him while you tie him securely.”
Big J took a roll of duct tape and bound the man like a parcel to the chair.
“Its talk time!” Alex waved the revolver at the man.
“And just who are you?” the man snapped back defiantly.
Alex sat in the chair opposite him.
“Now that’s another story, but I’m asking the questions now.”
“Any one down there?” It was one of Franco Ebola’s men.
He’d been with Franco aboard La Vielle as they systematically searched the cabins and holds. It had not been very long before they discovered the gold. The initial sight of the golden treasure had Franco and his two men mesmerised and silent for several minutes. Finally some animal sixth sense made Franco wonder where their Japanese leader was and despatched a man to locate him.
“In here,” Big J responded casually.
The man stepped confidently into the control room; stopping abruptly he instantly took in the scene and raised his machine pistol.
“What’s going on here?” he growled.
Using his revolver as a cosh, Mo hit him with a heavy blow across the back of his neck. The man sank unconscious to the floor.
“One more bites the dust - we’ll have ‘em all in no time at this rate!” The smile on Alex’s face faded as their attention was drawn to the drama being played out on the video monitors.
At this time Big J’s crew were still gathered on the tug and guarded by several armed men. Nothing appeared to be wrong as Ebola reached the deck but he still had that strange danger signal nagging inside of him. A disturbance in the water between the tethered vessels signalled the arrival of the diving bell. Several of the captive crew, ignoring their guards, ran to the winch, which briefly distracted him. The diving bell was lifted from the water and carefully swung inboard so it could be lowered onto the clamps of the pressure vessel in the hold.
In the control room the gruesome events had been vividly recorded on the monitors. As the bell reached the surface ready to be hoisted aboard, Big J, ignoring Alex and the captive Japanese, dashed out and over to the dripping sphere.
It only took a few minutes for the men to transfer to the safety of the pressure vessel. They left the remains of the dead diver in the bell.
John, speaking over the intercom, eventually broke the solemn silence.
“I guess you saw what happened?” He addressed Big J., “The poor bastard or what’s left of him is in the bell.”
“OK John.” Big J moved close to the microphone. “Now just you and the boys get a good hot shower. We’re not doing any more diving so you can open the ‘home comforts kit’ now.” Then he added in a lower tone, “As you may be able to see, there’s been take-over here, so I have to make some new plans. Just try and relax. I’ll be back soon and explain everything.”
“What do you mean a takeover?” John pleaded.
“Don’t panic I’ll be back. Everything is under control, I promise.”
Big J returned to the control room.
“Mo, will you call for two men to assist us in here. You know what to do when they arrive,” Alex addressed Mo, who smiled and stepped up to the deck. Two of the armed men stood near by.
“Hey your boss needs you.” He tried to look submissive. They brushed him aside and hurried into control room. Mo followed and closed the door behind him.
“Two more, this is almost too easy,” Alex smiled at the two prostrate forms, already being trussed like Christmas turkeys. “Twenty-three left. That’s much better odds, eh?”
Alex flipped open his mobile phone and presses a stored number; he waited for a few seconds.
“OK Dick. You and Pedro sail towards us as soon as possible. I want you to tempt them into chasing you. OK?”
“They can try but they won’t catch my baby!” Dick replied indignantly.
Franco stepped up to Big J as he left the control room.
“Where’s The Japanese?”
Big J tensed and looked down at the much shorter but arrogant Franco. He didn’t answer for a moment then relaxed.
“The Big Boss eh?” Big J smiled. “He’s organising the dive from the control room. This way.”
At that moment there was a shout from one of the armed guards. Franco looked across to the La Vielle where one of his men was pointing out to sea.
“Franco, a boat approaching.”
Franco left Big J and crossed quickly to La Vielle. Dick was certainly giving a good performance. At about forty knots he approached La Vielle then swerved to lay a course parallel to the cargo boat. Pedro stood wedged in the stern holding a sub-machine gun; at about one hundred yards he opened fire using the whole clip in one burst. The men standing at the rail ducked away from the hail of bullets.
Franco ordered two men into one of the powerboats still moored to La Vielle.
“Get that bastard,” he shouted angrily.
Dick turned and made another pass just as the powerboat’s engines roared into life; but this time Pedro’s hail of lead was sprayed directly at the powerboat - consequently the crew dived frantically for cover until Dick’s boat had passed out of range.
Alex, concealed in the hold next to the pressure vessel, took the transmitter from his pocket as he watched the manoeuvres through a porthole; he allowed the powerboat to get about two hundred metres away and then pressed the green button. The red light flickered for a moment before the powerboat disintegrated in a huge explosion.
“Hum, very interesting,” Alex muttered with satisfaction, “That’s the first time I’ve seen one of those in action.”
Dick turned his boat and once again passed close to La Vielle this time Pedro was holding what appeared to be a portable rocket launcher. Several men rushed to the side and fired wildly at the passing boat. Pedro waved the weapon defiantly, attracting several shots, which hit the water close to the foaming wake. Dick anxious for his boat’s safety immediately turned and headed several hundred metres out of range.
Franco was enraged by the attack and knew that he must tackle the problem of this strange craft and its rocket launcher before it spoiled his own special plans.
He called the two remaining boat skippers together.
“We have to get that boat so I need both of you out there to finish it off. Can you handle that?”
“We also have rocket launchers on board. It should be easy. Leave it to us.” They each gathered their specialist crews together and boarded the two remaining powerboats.
The skipper of the chartered dive boat and the shorter Japanese had watched the performance from the protection of the dive boat’s wheelhouse. Both had noticed the fact that the powerboat had exploded without apparent reason. Now they were even more nervous.
“I’m going over to the tug - there’s something wrong.” The Japanese moved towards the door. The skipper nodded.
“You do what you want mate, I’m staying right here.”
It was at that precise moment that two more explosions destroyed the two pursuing powerboats. One of the crew on the nearest one, still carrying his grenade launcher, was blown cart-wheeling into the air, his dead finger reflexively clamped firmly on the trigger. By sheer fluke, the rocket propelled grenade screamed across the two hundred metres of open water and slammed into the chartered dive boat’s wheelhouse, killing the two occupants instantly.
Distracted by the chaos, the armed men guarding the captive crew ran to the side to see what was happening.
“Now lads!” Big J growled; without hesitation the former captives strode across the deck and pounced on the armed men. Several turned in time to fire at their attackers; the others were too late. In a few seconds there was wild firing of semi-automatic weapons and men from both sides fell dead or wounded to the deck.
Hearing the fighting on deck, Greg and Oscar, who had remained hidden in the tug’s engine room waiting for the signal from Alex, could not contain themselves any longer and charged up to the deck to join the fray.
Franco Ebol
a on the other hand, recognising potential disaster, slipped cautiously into the pressure vessel hold and up to the control valves. A voice challenged him.
“Don’t you touch those controls – you’ll kill the divers.” It was the old engineer.
As Franco turned he produced a revolver from his waistband, looked in disdain at the diminutive engineer and without any hesitation shot him in the throat.
“Why you bastard.” It was La Ville’s former captain. He’d been sulking in his cabin before the noise of the powerboat battle roused him from his trance. Realising that he’d been a complete fool in throwing away his one chance of redemption, he’d made up his mind to try and put things right between him and Greg.
Franco looked up from the dead engineer and with the same indifference shot the unarmed captain in the chest; he fell dying with one arm across his old companion.
“Fools,” Franco muttered and returned his attention to the controls.
Armed with his .38 Browning, Alex stepped from the showdowns. Just seconds too late to save the captain and engineer, he didn’t make a challenge but Franco seemed to be aware of his presence and half turned. Alex fired twice and the heavy slugs slapped into Franco’s chest. With a look of disbelief he fell back against the pressure vessel, then slipped dying to the floor.
Up on deck, the firing had stopped as Big J and his crew brought the situation under control. Believing that all the armed men had been neutralised, they relaxed. However, unknown to them, one had slipped out of sight in the mayhem. Suddenly the thin-faced Japanese leader, followed by his liberator, stepped out onto the deck; the Japanese was holding Marion by the hair, a pistol held to her temple.
“Everybody back!” he ordered.
Oscar reacted, taking a step forward. Alex pushed an arm in front of him holding him back.
“Steady my friend,” Alex cautioned with understanding. “Leave this to me.”
The thin-faced Japanese was standing by the side deck rail and unsure what to do when suddenly the submersible’s bright yellow hull appeared at the surface, almost alongside where they were standing. The hatch opened and a pale face cautiously peered out.
