by Jack Higgins
He ripped the dressing away brutally and the girl cried out in pain. I caught my breath at the sight of that hideous, swollen burn.
I think Binnie went a little mad there for a moment for he flung himself at Barry, hands reaching for the throat. Dooley moved in fast and gave him the butt of his Sterling in the back. Binnie went down on his knees and Barry booted him in the stomach.
He shoved the wretched girl back into her chair and turned to me. 'All right, make up your mind. I haven't got all night.'
'There's an island about ten miles out from here called Magil,' I told him. 'Cork said he sank the launch containing the gold in five or six fathoms of water in Horseshoe Bay. He said that if you wanted it, you'd have to swim for it.'
'Well, the old bastard. The cunning old fox.' He threw back his head and laughed uproariously. 'Now that's what I call very, very funny.'
'I'm glad you think so,' I said. 'Though I must say the point of the joke escapes me.'
'Oh, you'll see it soon enough,' he said. 'You see, you're going to get that gold for me, Vaughan. After all, you're the expert in the diving department. I've seen all that gear you keep on the Kathleen.'
'And afterwards?'
He spread his arms wide. 'I let you go, all of you, and no hard feelings.'
'And what guarantee do I have that you'll keep your promise this time?'
'None,' he said. 'None at all, but then, you don't really have any choice in the matter, do you?'
The final screw in the coffin, or so it seemed. I suppose it showed in my face for he laughed harshly, turned and walked out, still laughing.
They took Binnie downstairs, presumably to the cellars, and Dooley and another man escorted me up the back stairs and locked me in the room with the dark mahogany furniture and the brass bedstead.
My suitcase was still there exactly as I had left it. It was almost like coming home. I ran a bath, got rid of the flak jacket and camouflaged uniform, wallowed in water as hot as I could bear for half an hour and tried to think things out.
It was a mess, whichever way you looked at it. Barry had gone back on his promise once. What possible hope was there that he would keep his word now? The more I considered the matter, the more likely it appeared that once I'd raised the gold for him, he'd put me back over the side double quick with about forty pounds of old chain around my ankles.
I dried off and got a change of clothes from my suitcase. Corduroy slacks, blue flannel shirt and a sweater, then I opened the window and had a look out there.
Barry had warned me on an earlier occasion that there was no need for bars and I could see why. There was a clear drop of fifty feet to the courtyard at the rear and the walls on either side were beautifully smooth. Not even the hint of a toehold between the stonework, no fallpipes within reaching distance, nothing.
The door opened behind me and Dooley appeared, the ever-present Sterling at the ready. He jerked his head and I took the hint and moved out past him. He was on his own, and on the way downstairs I wondered, for one wild moment, about having a go at him, missed a step deliberately and allowed myself to stumble, dropping to one knee.
My God, but he was quick, the Sterling rammed up against the back of my head on the instant. I managed a smile with some difficulty, but there was no response at all on that bleak stone face. Discretion very definitely being the better part of valour, I got up and continued down the stairs.
When we entered the drawing-room Barry was sitting alone at the table by the fire finishing a meal. There was a decanter and several glasses on a silver tray and he nodded towards it.
'Have a glass of port, old lad.'
The logs spluttered cheerfully in the Adam fireplace. It was all quite splendid with the oil painting on the wall, the silver and crystal on the table. Rather like the officers' mess in one of the better regiments.
An Admiralty chart for the coastal area was opened out across the lower end of the table. I glanced at it casually as I poured a couple of glasses of port and pushed one across to him. He was, I think, mildly surprised, but took it all the same.
'Very civil of you.'
I raised my glass. 'Up the Republic.'
He laughed out loud, head thrown back. 'By God, but I like you, Vaughan. I really do. You have a sense of humour, that's what it is, and so few of us do. The Irish, in spite of their reputation, are a sad race.'
'All that rain,' I said. 'Now, what do you want?'
'A few words about the job in hand, that's all. I had that chart brought up from the Kathleen. As far as I can judge there isn't more than five fathoms anywhere in Horseshoe Bay.'
I had a look at the chart. 'So it would appear.'
'It should be easy enough,' he said. 'I mean, you can stay down there at that depth for as long as it takes. You won't need to decompress or anything like that?'
It seemed likely that he was simply testing me so I decided to be honest. 'Not really.'
A slow smile spread across his face. 'You told the truth. That's encouraging.'
'My mother always said I should.'
'I'm glad you decided to follow her advice.' He took a small book from a drawer and tossed it on the table. 'I found that on the boat with your diving gear so I was able to check the situation for myself.'
It was a Board of Trade pamphlet containing various tables relating to diving depths, decompression rates and so on.
I said, 'One thing that doesn't tell you is that I only have about an hour's air left in my aqualung.'
'Then you'll have to work fast, won't you?'
He obviously hadn't bothered to check how many ingots went into half a million in gold bullion. There didn't seem to be any point in trying to tell him because I didn't know myself, although I suspected it must be a considerable number.
I said, 'All right, when do we go?'
'Not me, old lad, you,' he said. 'With Dooley and another of my men to keep you company. Anything smaller than the Queen Elizabeth brings out the worst in me. If you leave at five you'll be there by first light.
The more I thought about it the less I liked it, for I could imagine what Dooley's orders would be the moment I delivered the goods.
'One small change,' I said. 'Binnie goes with me.'
He shook his head sorrowfully. 'Still don't trust me, old lad, do you?'
'Not one damn bit.'
'All right,' he said cheerfully. 'If it makes you feel any happier, Binnie you shall have.'
'With a Browning in his pocket?'
'Now that really would be expecting too much.'
He went back to the table, poured two more glasses of port and handed one to me. 'Well, almost at the end of things now, Vaughan, eh? What shall we drink to?'
'Why, to you,' I said and gave him, in Irish, that most ancient of all toasts. 'May you die in Ireland.'
I had expected another of those laughs of his, but instead saw only a brief, reflective smile. 'A fine toast, Major Vaughan, an excellent sentiment. Better by far than Shiloh and another man's war.'
He drew himself up proudly looking more like Francis the Fourth than ever and raised his glass. 'Up the Republic'
It was only then, I think, that I realized just how seriously he took himself.
Dooley took me back up to the bedroom and locked the door on me again. I stood at the window smoking a cigarette and looked out at the night, an old Irish custom.
It was raining again now and I could smell the sea although I couldn't see it. For a moment I saw the waters of Horseshoe Bay, grey in the dawn light. It would be cold down there and lonely with only a dead ship waiting ...
The Celt in me again. I shivered involuntarily in spite of myself and the door opened behind me. As I turned, Binnie was pushed into the room. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans, an old roll-neck sweater, but still wore the paratroop boots.
I said, 'Where have they been keeping you?'
'Down in the cellar with the old Brigadier.'
'He's still in one piece, then?'
'As
far as I could see. What's all this about, Major?'
'I'm supposed to leave for Magil in the Kathleen just before dawn with Dooley and one of his cronies to keep me company. It seemed to me more than likely they'd put me over the side when I'd done the necessary so I told Barry I wouldn't go unless you went with me.'
'And he agreed? Why?'
'A couple of reasons. One, he wanted to keep me happy - for the time being, that is.'
'And two?'
'He's probably decided Dooley might just as well take care of you at the same time as he disposes of me.'
There was still that sense of strain about him, the skin too tightly drawn across the cheekbones and he was very pale, but when he spoke, his voice was calm, almost toneless.
'And what are we going to do about it?'
'I haven't the slightest idea because so much depends on unknown factors. Will either of us be allowed in the wheelhouse, for example?'
'And why should that be so important?'
I told him about the secret flap under the chart-room table. 'Whatever happens,' I went on, 'if you see the slightest chance of grabbing one of those guns, take it. They're both silenced, by the way.'
But for once, technical detail, even when concerned with his favourite subject, failed to interest him. 'And what if they keep us out of the wheelhouse entirely? What if we don't get anywhere near those guns?'
'All right,' I said. 'Let's say I come up from the wreck twice. As I go down for the third time, you create a diversion of some sort. I'll surface on the other side of the boat and I'll try to board and get into the wheelhouse undetected.'
He thought about it for quite some time and then nodded slowly, 'I don't suppose we have a great deal of choice, do we, Major? And afterwards?'
'Now you are running ahead of the game. There may be no afterwards anyway. On the other hand, there is one interesting thing I've noticed. The ranks of the Sons of Erin seem to be thinning rapidly. Since we've been back I've only seen Dooley and four other men. Even if one supposes another watching Norah's door, it still makes the odds bearable.'
His face seemed paler than ever, at the mention of her name, I suppose, and the eyes seemed to recede into the sockets. 'Have you seen her again?' he asked.
I shook my head. 'No.'
'Did you see her face, Major, the spirit in her broken utterly?' His hands tightened over the brass rail at the end of the bed. 'By Christ, but I will have the eyes out of his head for doing that to her.'
From the look on his face, I'd say he meant every word of it.
The tiny harbour in the inlet below Spanish Head was reached by a metalled road that zig-zagged down the side of the cliff in a reasonably hair-raising way. We were taken down in the back of the Ford truck and when it stopped, we got out to find ourselves on a long stone jetty. The cliffs towered above us on either hand and from that vantage point, it was impossible to see anything of Spanish Head.
At the far end of the inlet there was a massive boathouse which I presumed contained the MTB, although I could not be sure as the great wooden doors were closed. The Kathleen was tied up at the bottom of a flight of stone steps and Dooley pushed us down in front of him.
His companion was already on board, a squat, rough-looking man with a shock of red hair and a tangled beard who wore fisherman's boots turned down at the knees and an Aran sweater. As I stepped over the rail, the Land-Rover we'd come all the way from Plumbridge in braked to a halt on the jetty above and Frank Barry got out.
'Everything all right, old lad?' he called. 'McGuire, there, knows these waters like the back of his hand so he'll run the ship or boat or whatever you call it. We don't want to overwork you.'
So that was very much that. I said, 'Just as you say, Barry.'
He smiled beautifully. 'Thought you'd see it my way. Now for the surprise. Norah's come to see you off.'
He pulled her out of the Land-Rover so forcefully that she lost her balance and almost fell over. Binnie put a foot on the rail and Dooley raised his Sterling ominously. At the same moment the engines rumbled into life and McGuire leaned out of the wheelhouse and told us to cast off.
I looked up and had a final glimpse of Norah Murphy standing under the lamp in the rain, a pale shadow of her former self, so frail that from the looks of her, she would have fallen down had it not been for Barry's supporting arm.
And then they suddenly receded into darkness as McGuire increased speed and we moved out to sea.
14
Dark Waters
Magil Island was as bleak a sight as I have ever seen in the grey light of dawn as we nosed into Horseshoe Bay. At the height of summer the place could never hope to seem more than it was, a bare, black rock, but just now in the morning mist, rain driving across the bay in a grey curtain, it looked about the last place there was on top of earth.
I'd been preparing on the way over and was already wearing my wetsuit as McGuire cut the engines and dropped anchor as close to the centre of the bay as he could gauge.
Standing at my side in an old reefer coat, the collar turned up against the driving rain, Binnie shivered visibly as he looked down at the dark waters.
'Rather you than me, Major. Will it take long to find, do you think? It doesn't look to me as if you've a hope of seeing a thing down there. It's as dark as the grave.'
'Cork said the centre,' I reminded him. 'And we can't be too far out, whatever happens. The damn bay is only about seventy-five yards across as far as I can see.'
He started to help me on with my equipment while McGuire rigged the winch to start hauling, which was, I suppose, the right kind of optimistic attitude. As I strapped my cork-handled diver's knife to my leg I noticed Dooley watching from a distance, the Sterling, as always, ready for action.
'Any objection, you great stupid bastard?' I demanded.
The stone mask he called a face didn't move a muscle. I turned away, stood up and Binnie helped me into my aqualung. As he tightened the straps I whispered, 'Don't forget - when I go down for the third time.'
He handed me a diver's lamp without a word. I pulled down my mask, got a firm grip on my mouthpiece and went over the rail.
I paused briefly to adjust my air supply and went down quickly. It wasn't anything like as bad as I'd thought it would be. The water was strangely clear, like black glass. I was reminded suddenly and with a touch of unease, of those dark pools of Celtic mythology into which the heroes were constantly diving to seek out monstrous beasts that preyed on lesser men.
The bottom of the bay at that point was covered with seaweed, great pale fronds reaching out towards me like tentacles, five or six feet in length. I hovered beside the anchor chain for a moment, turning full circle, but in spite of the almost unnatural clearness of the water, my visibility range was only a few yards.
There was nothing for it, then, but to start looking. I swam towards the shore, staying close to the sea bed and found the launch almost instantly, lying tilted to one side in the centre of a patch of clear white sand.
I went down to deck level, grabbed hold of the rail and hung on. The signs of the fight with the Royal Navy MTB were plain to see. Two largish holes in the superstructure where cannon shells had hit and dozens of bullet holes in the hull that could only have been made by heavy machine-gun fire.
I went up fast and surfaced a good thirty yards nearer the shore than the Kathleen. Binnie was the first to see me and waved his hand. They hauled in the anchor, McGuire started the engines and coasted towards me.
'You've found it?' Binnie asked as they slowed beside me and McGuire let the anchor down again.
I nodded. 'I'm making my first dive now to assess the situation.'
I got a grip on my mouthpiece again and went down fast, hanging on to the deck rail while I adjusted my air supply. Then I switched on the lamp and went head first down the companionway.
A small amount of grey light filtered in through the portholes, but not much and it was as eerie as hell in that passage. One of the cabin doors swung
gently to and fro. I shoved it open with my foot and a body lifted gently off the bunk opposite in the sudden turbulence and subsided again, but not before I'd seen the face, swollen to incredible proportions like something out of a nightmare. Another drifted above my head, pinned to the cabin roof. I got out and closed the door hurriedly.
I found what I wanted the moment I entered the main saloon for several large boxes were jumbled together in the angle between the centre table and the bulkhead where the boat had tilted. Most of them were padlocked, but one had been opened and the contents spilled out in an untidy pile like children's bricks.
Gold is heavy stuff and the ingot I picked up must have weighed a good twenty pounds, but I was conscious of no particular elation as I moved back along the companionway. The chips were down with a vengeance and a hell of a lot depended on what happened during the next ten or fifteen minutes.
I surfaced beside the ladder McGuire had put over the rail and held up the ingot. Binnie came down the ladder and stood knee-deep in water to take it from me, hanging on with one hand. It was a heaven-sent opportunity and as I passed the ingot to him, I slipped my diver's knife from its sheath and pushed it down inside one of his paratrooper's boots.
His face, as usual, gave nothing away. He handed the ingot over the rail to McGuire, who turned excitedly to show it to Dooley. Dooley was more interested in watching me.
'Are you all right, Major?' Binnie asked.
'It's bloody cold,' I said. 'So let's have that net down pretty damn quick. I want to get out of here.'
McGuire, helped by Binnie, pushed the winch arm out over the rail. They had already fixed a heavy net to the pulley hook which they now let down. I adjusted my mouthpiece and went after it.
Filling the net was a laborious process for as I needed the lamp to negotiate the interior of the wreck, I could only carry one ingot at a time. It took me a good twenty minutes to move six. Which was very definitely enough, so I hauled on the line and followed them up.
