by Katie Penryn
Gwen gave her husband a nudge. His tea tipped over into the saucer. He hurriedly put the cup down.
“Would you be interested in hiring our boat? To be honest, we’re running a little low on ready cash. This trip is proving more expensive than we budgeted for.”
“And a few days in a hotel sound tempting,” said Gwen.
“You’d need a certified captain, of course,” Peter added. “This boat cost me an arm and a leg. I’d need to know the insurance angle was covered.”
“Can you give us a moment?” I asked signaling for Felix to join me at the railing.
Our discussion was brief. The Mermaid was perfect for our use and we’d be giving Gwen the break she wanted. We returned to our seats and told the Merchants the good news. Felix produced the copy of Garth’s Certificate of Competency and a photocopy of his passport.
“He’s ex-Special Boat Service,” added Felix. “So you needn’t have any worries. He knows what he’s doing.”
Peter studied the passport photo. “Isn’t he the young man who was with you the day you discovered Joseph Marin dead on the Princesse?”
“That’s right. He’s Isabelle Tointoin’s bodyguard.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Gwen. “I thought I recognized her. Would she give me a signed photo, do you think?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I said.
We agreed that we would take over the Mermaid at seven the next morning, Saturday, when we would sign the lease for the boat and Peter would run over the controls with Garth and Felix.
We left the Merchants arguing about which hotel they would stay in and arranging a taxi for the next morning at seven thirty.
*
Our first task when we reached home was to retreat to the study and use the aqua regia acid test on the gold bar. The kit had been delivered while we were down at the harbor. As Felix had expected, the test proved the bar was genuine 24 karat gold. I phoned Izzy to let her know it was all systems go for the next morning. Felix and I made a quick dash to the shopping mall to stock up on provisions for our trip.
Chapter 32
Felix
Undeterred by the thick sea mist, most of the fishing boats had left the harbor by the time we arrived at ten to seven the next morning. We reached the foot of the gangplank up to the Mermaid as Garth pulled up behind us in his SUV, which was laden with diving equipment and enough air tanks to supply an underwater swim to Antarctica. I’d read through the leasing agreement with Penzi the night before so while Garth and the girls loaded our stuff, I saved time by sorting out the paperwork with the Merchants. Sharp on the dot of seven thirty, they left in their taxi and we were ready to launch ourselves out into the Atlantic Ocean on our maritime adventure.
I’d been anxious about sailing out into the blanketing sea fog but Garth assured me that the Mermaid’s radar system was top-notch. He said the fog was sure to burn off by the time we reached our destination, the co-ordinates noted in Ben’s last entry in the JB2 secret logbook. Once we were under way, Garth insisted on showing the rest of us how the radio, the GPS and the radar worked. As we sped away from the coast, all around us tiny blobs showed up on the screen illustrating the dispersed fishing fleet. Soon we’d left them behind and the sea was ours in the lifting fog. Our destination lay approximately seven land miles off the coast past the island on which the Cordouan Lighthouse stood.
An hour later the Mermaid was in position for the first dive. Garth, Izzy and I were to dive. Penzi was to stay on board because she didn’t have the necessary experience. Garth set the anchor and showed her how to monitor the swing of the boat using the GPS to compensate and bring the Mermaid back into position from time to time. Garth was hoping to get two dives in before it was time to return to port.
*
We couldn’t have picked a better day for our dive. Close as we were to the thrust of the mighty Gironde estuary, the sea could have been rough and the water cloudy, but once the fog cleared the waves settled down to a slight swell. Soon it was time to leave Penzi on her own with the Atlantic Ocean’s grey waves rolling past under the Mermaid lifting her gently from bow to stern.
The sun shone through the water as Izzy, Garth and I made our way down to the sandy seabed five fathoms below, with me hefting my heavy underwater camera. We agreed to scout in a line from the starboard side of the Mermaid keeping within sight of each other with Izzy in the middle. We swam over the corrugated sand with shoals of curious little fishes for company. Below us stalked the occasional lobster, feelers waving in its daily hunt for food. Although the calm seas had not stirred up the sand, visibility was reduced as we sank down to a depth of thirty feet. Red and orange had disappeared first from the color spectrum and yellow was now dim. As we settled on the bottom, our brightly colored wetsuits turned grey and purple.
We advanced slowly until our tanks reached a third empty when Garth signaled for us to make our way back to the Mermaid for a rest and something to eat and drink. By means of the GPS strapped to his wrist he directed us towards the anchor chain off the bow. He’d explained we weren’t diving deep enough to need decompression stops, but had said even so he would like us to rise slowly and make a safety stop for three minutes at ten feet if we planned to make more than one dive that day. Penzi had brunch waiting for us. We’d been down a little over fifty minutes and I for one was starving.
Garth told us to take our time eating as we needed to spend at least an hour on the surface before making our second dive. Garth complimented Penzi on keeping the Mermaid lined up and asked if she’d seen any blips on the radar.
“A few, but they skirt the edge of the screen and disappear off into the deeper ocean or back towards the coast, so nothing to worry about.”
“Good,” said Garth. “We’ll make one more dive to scan the port side. Then we’ll return home. There’s the possibility of a storm brewing this evening. I’d like us back safe and sound before the wind picks up.”
“I wish you’d let me go with you,” Penzi said.
“There’s nothing to see but sand—not even any seaweed or grass. It’s an area blasted by the tug-of-war between the shifting currents that surge out of the largest estuary in Europe and the tidal race that rushes in.”
*
There was time for a short snooze in the autumn sun before Garth issued instructions for the next dive. Poor old Penzi. She looked so forlorn as the three of us tipped off the deck into the sea again. However, I was happy she was safe on board the Mermaid and not overreaching her learner’s diving skills in the cold Atlantic Ocean. Down we sank to the bottom of the sea where we lined up once more to swim and walk our way out across the sand on the port side of the Mermaid. We’d been going about fifteen minutes when the surrounding sea grew busier with sea grass and scores of tiny fish. Although the sea bed came alive as we advanced the water in front of us darkened. What little light we’d grown used to no longer reflected off the pale sand of the seabed. Garth turned to us both and checked we were all right with carrying on. We both gave the okay sign knowing a good fifteen minutes remained before we had to make our way back.
I should have been keeping an eye on where I was stepping. Suddenly, my feet went from under me. I slipped over the edge of a trench and somersaulted downwards. By the time I’d righted myself with a furious flailing of my arms and flippers I’d sunk to the bottom of the slope. A huge black shape loomed up ahead of me. I knew at once it wasn’t a rock. For a few moments, my breathing was so fast I thought I’d suffocate. I forced myself to slow down and glanced back. Garth and Izzy had both stopped in time at the top and were staring down at me. I gave the hand signal for I’m okay and followed it up with the one for Be careful, something’s wrong, rocking my hand from side to side palm facing downwards. They both signaled okay back. I gave them the cutthroat signal to warn of danger and held up my hand to say halt.
I swam back up the slope and waited for them to join me. When they stopped beside me I scratched wreck? in the sand with my flashlight. Izzy kicked
off from the bottom to begin the glide down the slope but Garth caught hold of her foot and pulled her back. He pointed at his depth meter and shook his head. Of course, in the excitement I’d forgotten that a diver must never dive deeper on a second dive than on the first. Garth was right. I might be in trouble but there was no reason why the other two had to be. I gave the sign for okay and pointing down to the bottom of the trench, signed that I’d lost hold of my camera in my tumble.
In spite of the risk of decompression sickness, I had to get my camera and once down there again, I wanted to take some shots of the black shape in front of me. I was so sure it was our wreck. I swam back down the slope. A quick search found my camera lying close by. I picked it up and took a few shots of the monster in front of us from where I was, wasting a couple of precious diving minutes, but we needed proof of our finding.
I looked back up at Garth who pointed at his watch and held up his hand for twelve minutes. I twirled my finger in a circle in reply meaning I wanted to swim around it and have a look. My attitude was in for a penny in for a pound, as they say. I swam on towards the object thrashing my flippers. As I drew nearer, the outline grew clearer. It was a submarine not a ship, but was it a U-boat? Closer still it loomed up at me like a silhouette from Jane’s Fighting Ships come to life.
I shook my head in disbelief at the sight of one of the stars of the 12th Flotilla of the Kriegsmarine—home port Bordeaux—an IXC class U-boat. The top of its conning tower was missing. Even with its coating of barnacles and other sea life, evidence of an explosion showed how it’d done so. If the tower hadn’t been blown apart, the submarine would have been found decades earlier as the IXC has a height of thirty-one feet. The combination of the depth of the trench and the explosion must have hidden this relic of World War Two from sight until a freak current washed the sand out of the trench.
With little diving time left I could do no more than swim halfway along its side for it was nearly as long as a football pitch. It stretched out ahead of me, its stern lost in the dark water ahead. Halfway along, I passed a length of chain hanging off a grasping handle, its purpose all to plain to me with Ben’s demise at the back of my mind. I paused to take photos as I swam. When I reached the stern, I gave up and turned back to join Izzy and Garth at the top of the trench. We were running out of diving time. Exploration of the interior and the hunt for gold were tasks for another day. With reluctance the three of us swam back to the Mermaid.
The anchor chain appeared out of the gloom and we made for it. I was bursting with excitement and barely able to wait to tell the others what I’d found. While Izzy and Garth pulled themselves up to the surface at a measured pace, I took some shots of them. I was still fiddling with my camera as I watched them out of the corner of my eye swim along the hull to the ladder up to the boat. Garth tugged the rope hanging down from the deck to ring the bell on board warning Penzi we were about to surface. Izzy went first, then Garth. To my astonishment Garth ducked back down into the water, slashed his hand across his throat and pointed upwards. Then he pointed at me and waved his hand up and down meaning stay down before following Izzy up onto the deck. For a few seconds I didn’t know what to make of Garth’s antics, but then I realized he’d been warning me that all was not well up on board the Mermaid. He meant for me to remain hidden.
I hooked my camera onto the anchor chain and set off along the port side of the boat keeping close to the underside of the hull to make it difficult for anyone on deck to see me. Reaching the transom without finding anything amiss, I swam beneath it to come up on the starboard side of the Mermaid. The bottom of a second boat hove into view above me sending a stab of foreboding shooting through me. From where I was, the unknown vessel was tight up against the Mermaid, its port to our starboard.
What the hell? Penzi hadn’t given us the signal for visitors. With my heart in my mouth I swam across to its stern to look at the name on the transom, hoping against hope the boat belonged to some innocent holidaymaker in spite of Garth’s warning signal. What I saw took my breath away, and all became clear. The odd niggles buried in my subconscious over the past few weeks rose to my conscious mind in a terrifying realization. Written on the stern was the name Eva, Barcelona.
Images, snippets of conversation and memories of atavistic sensations flashed through my mind. Spanish speaking Latin Americans… dancing the Argentine tango… a boat called Eva… gold bars… Nazis… the cruising distance of the IXC making crossing the Atlantic an easy stretch. The connections fell into place. A bunch of murdering Argentineans had attacked and taken the Mermaid. Penzi, Garth and Izzy were at their mercy miles away from anywhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I was sure Garth had done what he could to protect the women, but even if the pirates had left one man on board the Eva to keep the boat on position that left four against our party of one man and two women. What use was my diver’s knife? The situation up above me was unknown. I needed Penzi and her invisible spell. I decided surprise was my only chance.
I swam round to the far side of the Eva and climbed stealthily up the ladder onto the deck keeping an eye out for the watchman I was sure the Argentineans would have left on board. He was leaning over the railing of the Eva which was separated from the Mermaid by only the sausage-shaped fenders slung alongside both vessels. I drew my knife from its sheath but second thoughts made me slot it back in. What if I couldn’t disable him before he called out? I didn’t want to kill him unless I had to. I looked around for something with which to clout him but found nothing. I would have to rely on my knowledge of anatomy. I tiptoed towards him. Pressing the fingers of my right hand together I focused their force to make a knife edge. Left arm round his neck, I struck a lightning blow across his carotid artery and caught his body as he fell heavily to the deck. A quick glance across to the Mermaid showed me no one had heard him fall. There and then I decided to shift into my leopard form. The Argentineans would not be expecting an attack from a leopard, so I would have the element of surprise in my favor. For bonus points, I used my strong jaws to drag the unconscious pirate down to the cabin where I locked him in. One down, four to go.
I sprang up onto the railing of the Eva and dropped down onto the deck of the Mermaid, my pads falling silently on the wooden decking. No sound reached me apart from the quiet lapping of the sea against the hull. The silence worried me. Had the Argentineans already disposed of my friends? I hadn’t heard the splash of bodies being thrown overboard. I slunk along to the stern end of the raised cabin, noting in passing that the cabin was empty. Where was everyone? I jumped up onto the roof of the cabin, the pads on my paws softening the sound of my landing.
Chapter 33
As I watched Garth, Felix and Izzy swim away from the Mermaid I felt like the only school kid not invited to the birthday party. Of course, I understood Felix’s reasons for excluding me from their underwater exploration. Someone had to stay on board and it made sense that it was me as I didn’t have any experience diving in the open sea. The soft gray swell rolled up to the boat, lifted her and lowered her as it passed on. Gentle as the movement was, a touch of nausea tightened my stomach. It wouldn’t do for me to become seasick when I was in charge of the brand new Mermaid, the love of the Merchants’ hearts. Seeking distraction, I hurried to the wheelhouse and spent a good fifteen minutes familiarizing myself with all the controls Garth had explained to me. Even so, being alone on a boat miles out to sea unsettled me. Maybe there were other ships in the vicinity. I made myself a cup of tea and sat drinking it in front of the radar as it scanned the surrounding ocean. From time to time a small blip would dip through the circumference for a short while and then sail out of reach of our radar again. Garth had asked me to prepare a meal for the divers. I took my time over this simple task. Once everything was ready, I wandered around the deck, inspected the cabin below, marveling at its nifty seamanlike appointments. The Merchants owned a beautiful boat. I was dreaming of a long sea voyage around tropical islands when the bell at the top of the comm line tink
led.
With much splashing of water and slapping of rubber flippers on the deck, the three explorers were back with nothing to report. Maybe the whole thing was a wild goose chase, and we’d let our imaginations run away with us.
After a leisurely meal, a nap and a change of air cylinders, they were ready for a second dive—another fifty minutes at the bottom of the sea while I kicked my heels up above.
No sooner had they disappeared from sight than a heavy footstep sounded behind me. I spun round but too late to escape the burly man who grabbed hold of me and dragged me over to the wooden deck bench at the end of the cabin. I was so startled it took me a couple of seconds to realize what was happening and to start fighting back. By that time he had a good hold of me and made short work of my puny efforts to free myself.
“What the hell?” I gasped as he flung me down on the bench knocking the breath out of me. “Who are you?”
“Don’t you recognize me?” he asked in bad French, standing back to give me the room to look at him.
I lurched to the side and made it half way off the bench before he pushed me back down.
“Don’t do that again or I shall have to knock you out,” he snarled at me.
This time I looked him in the face and my sick stomach plummeted. How could we have been so stupid? He and his gang had been staring us in the face for the past couple of weeks. Right under our noses and the penny hadn’t dropped, but it did now with an almighty clang. He was one of the Latin Americans from the Eva. Eva… the tango… gold… Nazis. It all made sense in a nanosecond of enlightenment.
“You’re Argentineans?” I asked him unable to keep a note of astonishment out of my voice.
