C H A P T E R T E N

I didn't know whether to hug her or hit her.

Since in fact I'd already half-scared her to death-I supported her indoors. She slumped on to a stool and rubbed her throat. I pity the real ghost.'

Seeing her nearly on the point of passing out did something to my heart, and I found my hands were shaking. 'Lucky I didn't take a knife to you?

'Thanks for the lights, Struan. I was lost in the fog.'

My anger thinned. 'You little idiot! You could have fallen over a cliff, broken a leg-anything. Been savaged by a bull seal, even.'

She tried to smile. 'My throat feels just like that' '

Where'd you come from?'

'Auckland Cove.'

'Has Gaok run ashore? What's happened? Where's Kaptein Denny? Is he safe?'

'He's okay. He's on his way.'

'On his way?

'I talked him into putting me ashore. We waited till dark. He dropped me off on the other side of the island. I walked. Then I spotted the ghost light'

She'd started-with reaction, to shake like a wet dog. `

You're cold.'

'Scared too.'

'I'll fix some coffee.'

`Struan..

'It can keep.'

I blew up the embers and we sat on stools in front of the fire.

`You must have done a lot of taJking. Kaptein Denny's not an easy subject to persuade. And what about the chance you've thrown overboard: the chance to learn about your father?'

She spoke into the coffee mug she'd cupped between her hands. 'Can't you see why I came back?'

The whole point of sending you to Luderitz was for you to explain the situation personally to the admiral. Your short-circuit blows the fuses on my plan.'

She went on as if she hadn't heard me, 'It probably sounds wet. You.'

We didn't look at each other for individual reactions: we simply sat and stared into the fire for a long time. Finally, I said, 'If it's going to be a rough party with Sang A I'd rather not have a woman around.'

She got up and stood behind me. She pressed against me so that I could feel her breasts and belly against my back. She rested her throat on my head so that when she spoke softly, as if to herself, I still got the words because it had the effect of a throat microphone. It was as intimate, too. She locked a wrist round my neck, a sort of caressing affectionate imitation of my stranglehold on her earlier.

'If you'd broken my neck out there I'd have died happy, thinking you'd be glad I'd come,'

'I'm glad but I'm mad.'

'All glad is what I want'

I pulled her round to kiss her but she fought me off. '

Heart firing blanks again, Jutta?'

She slipped out of my grasp and went round behind me again. This time she ran her fingers over my lips and nose and eyes.

'I'm not at the firing stage, Struan. I'm loading up. I don't know with what. Shot or blanks. Could be either.' 'But you came back.'

'I came back.'

'If you don't know, who does?'

'Ask the Bridge of Magpies.'

That was the answer, of course.

She stroked my head, and I could feel her breasts against my back. I wanted to lose myself for ever in the valley be. tween them-down, down, down.

After that, there wasn't much more to say. But there was a lot to think. I lay awake through the small hours, wondering whether I wasn't the biggest sucker ever: sleeping almost next to a woman I was more than half in love with, and doing absolutely nothing about it. Mystics, they say, keep virgins in their beds. I'm low on mysticism, myself. I wished I could hear her breathing but I couldn't because of the grumbles of the gannets and penguins close to the bunkhouse. The ghost lights still burned because Jutta thought them beautiful. I tried to sort out my feelings towards her and also to unravel the Kaptein Denny-Sang A-U-MO tangle, as well as that of the sound of guns we'd heard that other night, but I got nowhere.

In the end I gave it up and fell asleep,

The next day was a Saturday. Because the pressure was off-it would be at least twenty-four hours before the frigate arrived, provided Kaptein Denny made average time-there was a purposeless air about the day. It was warm, windless, with a few cats-paws on the surface of the channel. Nothing could be seen of Sang A before mid-morning, because of early fog. We rose late and I fixed the trouble with Ichabo's engine – a faulty injector.

Then we went down to the landing and rubbernecked at the birds and at a group of cute seal pups that came sporting round the jetty. Neither of us knew how to handle our situation of emotional hiccoughs. Jutta was very serious and sweet to begin with and then gay and sweet when the seaJ pups cavorted about. We idled, but it wasn't the same as during the storm in Alabama Cove, when we had tried to sink ourselves in chores about the cutter. We were on the way to being in love-and we both knew it.

There was nothing idle or purposeless about Sang A when the fog lifted. Three or four boats were darting in and out from her side like jackals snooping at a kill. There was also a lot of activity on deck. Through my binoculars I could make out the crew working winches and arranging heavy chains and cables. Those tarpaulins were still firmly in place, however.

'Maybe they've discovered an outcrop of the lost city, Struan.'

I strung along with her. 'They're a long way from Doodenstadt. But it's shallow where Sang A is-not more than fifty feet.'

'Perhaps the lost city was overwhelmed and submerged at some time in the past- and most of it is now beneath the channel.'

'Could be. Koch's cave was supposed to be half-in and half-out of the sea.'

'They must be pretty sure about it, to have come here with all that expensive and elaborate equipment,'

Too elaborate and too expensive altogether, I reminded myself. But I couldn't tell her that.

`Relic-robbers are professionals these days-make no mistake,' I replied as convincingly as I could. 'I've seen them at work in the Aegean. I once got caught up in a shooting off the Turkish coast Where they'd looted an underwater town. Maybe the same thing's going on here'

And you're all that stands between them and whatever they're after.'

I mean to find out what that is-today.'

`Struan-don't stick your neck out! Please!'

'I was sent here to do a job. I shall go on doing it until the frigate takes over. If, meanwhile, I can find proof about Sang A, so much the better.'

`For my sake!'

I'm going to throw a firecracker right into that black elephant's trunk. I'm boarding her tonight. Secret recce. Objectives: one, equipment under tarpaulins; two, electronics shack.'

`They'll kill you if they catch you.'

I'll see that they don't.'

'I'm coming too.'

`Not on your life!'

I came back-to be with you. Isn't that enough?'

It wasn't… after the night before! I told her-however-that she could be of very real help in ferrying me to within boarding distance of Sang A. 'I'll swim the last bit,' I added. `

You can pick me up on the way back I could lose my way in the fog otherwise. We'll fix a pick-up signal. Right?'

That pleased her, and the day didn't seem too long, as we sat on the rocks and watched Sang A's activities. The launches darted about purposefully at first-and we could almost sense the crew's expectancy, but after a time interest appeared to flag. Finally the launches gave up and the ship itself came into the picture. She up-anchored and made several runs in different directions in the vicinity of the area in which the boats bad been working. It became clear to me that she wasn't using the type of echo-sounder I'd been accustomed to; because each time she all but reached the spot indicated by the launches, she would sheer off to one side. This manoeuvre was repeated several times, and totaJly mystified me. The picture, as I saw it, was that the launches' sweep had snagged on a promising ocean-bed object and Sang A's passes were intended to plot it. Why, then, veer away just when it was reached? Perhaps the electronics shack would provide the answer.

Sang A's crew knew we were watching them. Canvas dodgers were rigged on light stanchions on her rails, further to mask the tarpaulined objects. Several times I caught Kenryo and Emmermann studying us through binoculars. Sang A kept it up all day. The weather was glorious, and I was content just to sit there with Jutta.

By the late afternoon the fog bank had started rolling in from the sea: Sang A used her radar to continue with her plotting runs.

I got up and stretched. 'That's it! I'll have the wraps off her after dark-both literally and figuratively, I hope.'

'What do you hope to find, amp;man?'

'Catch-as-catch-can. It's a toss-up whether I go for the shack or the tarpaulins first. Depends.'

'You were going to teach me to row with muffled oars.'

I checked the channel. 'Fine. Sang A can't see what we're doing any more. Come down to the jetty.'

When it came to the point, the drill wasn't necessary. Either Sang A regarded Saturday night as party night or else they had some other reason to celebrate, because shortly after dark boozy sounds started to float across the water; pin-pointing her position was thus no problem. I made do with black shorts and jersey, though I would have preferred a rubber suit. I made sure I had a knife for the tarpaulin lashings; the rifle I would leave behind in the dinghy with Jutta.

Jutta became more and more edgy as the deadline approached. When finally we were at the jetty and almost ready to board the dinghy she exclaimed, 'You'll need a torch. I'll get one.

She doubled off into the fog before I had time to protest that a torch was the last thing I'd require. My arms were full and I offloaded my things into the boat. By that time Jutta was overdue-it was only a short distance to the bunkhouse. Irritated at the delay, I climbed up the iron ladder to the top of the jetty. She wasn't around. I went to the bunkhouse. It was empty. I started back towards the cottage with a feeling of uneasiness. I'd almost reached it when 139 there was a chatter from the birds and Jutta came hurrying down the path, torch in hand.

"Struan?'

She was breathing heavily as lf she'd been running. '

Where the devil have you been?'

'I lost myself in the fog… I went the wrong way '

Uphill? With the bunkhouse lights to guide you?'

'I couldn't see… I'm sorry… I heard you coming.. It was an unconvincing performance and killed the fun approach to the Sang A escapade we'd had all day.

'Let's go,' I snapped. 'We've wasted enough time as it is.' We made our way in silence to the jetty and shoved off, still without speaking. We could safely have whispered but I chose not to. Whispers are for someone very close-and she was very far away from me that night: just an outline crouched in the boat's stern.

We'd only gone a little way when I thought I heard the sound of a distant engine. I couldn't be sure: fog plays all kinds of tricks. I shipped the oars. We waited. A long time. Nothing came. We went on.

Then there was another long wait when a sound like the wash of a bow-wave-possibly oars-came through the darkness. The night seemed full of presences. Again it proved to be nothing tangible.

Soon we were close enough to make out the loom of Sang A' s portholes-a series of bright circles in the murk-though her decks were in darkness.

I shipped the oars, checked my knife and got ready to go. Jutta sat silent, an amorphous silhouette, not a woman. It was better that way.

But I couldn't just slip over the side without a word; J whispered, 'Fire when you see the whites of their eyes. Make sure they're not mine.' That was mean; I meant it to be. I went over the side-the water wasn't as cold as I'd expected. I hung on to the side for a second, my face level with the gunnel.

She crouched down to me. 'Take care of yourself, darling.'

I'd already let go and had given myself a push to get clear of the boat: Jutta had become a dim ghost before I'd taken in what she'd said.

All the way out I'd been spoiling for an encounter with 140 one, or more, of Sang A's toughies to work off the roil inside me, now I had to stop myself from going soft. I deliberately shut out Jutta, and concentrated on the job ahead.

The Sang A crowd were certainly beating it up. There were whoops and shouts and laughter, and the occasional thump. Several launches and dinghies were tied up alongside her and it was as easy as going up stairs to find my way to the deck. I couldn't see overmuch because the decks were so dim, so I used one of the big chains as a guide, following it until J came to the big seven-ton anchor shackled to its end. I decided to investigate the electronlcs shack first because it was less exposed than the deck, and the racket below provided me with my maximum opportunity for indoor reconnaissance.

I headed at low crouch for the shack, my bare feet silent _ on the planks. The shack hadn't a deck door and its portholes were blacked out. There was, however-a gleam of light through a roof skylight. I shinned up the stern mast ratlines-they were only a few feet away from the shack – and dropped down cat-like on the roof. It took only a moment to force the skylight with my knife, and slip in. The light wasn't coming from the shack itself but from a door a little ajar which led to the 'tween-decks below.

I hung by my hands from the sill and the soles of my feet touched one of the big electronics consoles. I detected lettering. I dropped down and read-'Transit sonar-Kelvin Hughes.' Now a transit sonar is a sophisticated instrument-big brother to the echo-sounder – which has nothing to do with fish but is employed almost exclusively for salvage work; and Kelvin Hughes is a well-known manufacturer. Pieces of the jigsaw fell rapidly into place. Sang A had made those odd directional approaches to the launch area because a transit sonar doesn't throw a straight up-and-down pulsed echo wave like an echo-sounder but, instead, an inverted V-shaped beam, offset to one side of the ship. So Sang A had to make her runs to one side to obtain a trace of whatever she was after. The size, depth and position of an underwater object is plotted automatically on graph paper-as on the cylinder Captain Mild had handed Kenryo. The other instruments were: conventional Asdic echo141 sounder, radar, and electronic navigational gear. My discovery of the transit sonar also blew the secret of that heavy gear on deck: the powerful derricks and threesheaved tackles. They were for salvage – peaceful salvage-though that didn't explain the mounted machine-gun. The armoured hose was an air-lift' used for clearing mud round a wreck on the sea-bed.

There was so much racket coming from beyond the door that I didn't have to move about too cautiously; I decided also to have a look-see at the party.

The door led to an exceptionaJly long cabin, stretching the entire width of the ship, which appeared to be used as a general mess room. Tables and chairs were stacked against the walls and there was a thick carpet on the deck. The air was rancid with the sweat-smell of active men. The whole crew-about twenty-seemed as high as a moon probe. It must have taken some exotic Eastern drug to have sent them on a trip like that-an Einstein, the hippies call it: way out and beyond the farthest stars.

They were all wearing loose things like karate gowns and were lamming into one another with long wooden staves and yelling bloody murder as they did so. Some leapt high into the air like dervishes. Then, at a whistle signal-the melee sorted itself into groups, like a possessed ballet chorus: first of six men, then four, and finally two, all shouting and bashing. Eventually all but one pair fell back against the walls, sweating and stamping.

Kenryo was one of the two remaining in the ring. He and the other Korean circled one another like wrestlers looking for an opening. Kenryo's opponent lashed out suddenly at his legs, but Kenryo side-stepped the blow with a verticaJ take-off and from shoulder height hit the other man a vicious crack across the forehead. Kenryo's man wasn't out, but he was as near to it as anyone could be after a haymaker like that. He stood dazed and swaying. Unfortunately for him the Queensberry rules weren't in operation and he couldn't make for a neutral corner. The mob shouted like madmen; Kenryo swung his stave with both hands into the other's left side, near the heart. That finished him. He started to sag and Kenryo went up and kicked him in the testicles. He went down, screaming with pain. Kenryo kicked him again. Then the spectators were all over both men and 142 chaired off Kenryo, shoulder-high. The only two who didn't seem to be having fun were Emmermann and Captain Miki-who stood together on the sidelines. Miki's remote air was apparent to me even at that distance.

I took a firm grip of my knife and got out.

I shot through the skylight, down the ratlines and on to the deck. There was some faint illumination by virtue of the portholes' reflection off the fog curtain. I started to head towards the bow of the ship where the machine-gun was. But where I stood, still aft, was an intriguing bulky object, concealed under a large tarpaulin. Another weapon? I cut loose the lashings: underneath was a long cylindrical metal object, about eight feet long and three in diameter-with a large yellow '4' painted on its conical top. It was a salvage mooring buoy. They are generally numbered in sixes according to the type of mooring to be laid down. Then I went for a bundle wrapped in black plastic-next to the buoy, and ripped it open. It contained a stack of fourinch metal tubes of varying length-some over a dozen feet and some as little as three. I started to explore by touch, and my fingers came upon a gnarled surface at the end of one of the tubes. I froze. I knew what I'd struck: special underwater explosive charges, designed to blow open wrecks. I' d seen Navy specialists using them. What I was fingering was an adjustable, sensitive membrane which explodes the device by water pressure. There was enough high explosive in the stack to blow Sang A on to the top of the Bridge of Magpies.

I decided to go for the gun for'ard Before leaving I selected the smallest tube J could find. Souvenirs have their uses. The tiny burn on the nape of my neck felt like a hypodermic needle. At the same instant a cold circle of steel pressed under my left ear. Pistol muzzles have their own special sort of caress you don't forget in a hurry. The man – probably the anchor-watch-was standing over me with a long-razor-sharp knife that had nicked me like a cat's claw ripping a captive mouse for fun. I kept so still that I didn't even unclasp my hands from the bomb. But my upward view took in, in succession, the guard's bare feet, dark baggy pants, heavy, short-armed body, black leather jacket and balaclava-encased head.

He brought his knife against my other ear so that the two weapons made a pincer on either side of my head. Any movement of mine would have telegraphed itself immediately to him. He was a professional and as wary as a panther. He stood far back enough to prevent my sideswiping his legs, but close enough to retain full command over me.

He made a gesture with the pistol which I misinterpreted until he reinforced it with the knife. I thought he wanted me up-back to him. I reckoned he was mad to let me hang on to the bomb.

Then he gestured again. He was showing me over the side!

I couldn't believe it. But I had no intention of inviting knife-thrust or bullet. So I mimed my query. He gestured back impatiently: I was to go.

Not crediting my luck-I clambered on to the rail and paused. He was standing there, a dim, grim, masked figure with a weapon in each hand. I lowered myself overboard. I swam clear of Sang A and orientated myself on the dinghy.

In reaction to the last few minutes' events, I found myself treading water, trying to get control of my arms and legs and at the same time keep hold of that bomb, with its pressure-sensitive mechanism. If it sank it would explode right under me.

According to my water-proof watch, I was early for our rendezvous, so after I'd recovered I swam slowly. The pick-up signal was the low-pitched sound obtained by blowing in an empty cartridge case. We'd decided it wouldn't carry far and was sufficiently like the prevalent bird-noises to escape attention.

All at once the underside of the fog curtain took on a strange silver-blue colour. The sea around me became as silver as a young salmon. I raised an arm: it dripped luminosity. My fish-eye view of the channel was necessarily limited, but I guessed that the whole of its surface was being lighted up by a multitude of minute fire-bearing creatures that were being swept in by the current from the south. The fog made a low-ceilinged black dome above the sea's silver shield. It was pleasant to admire but no good for escape. I struck out strongly and swiftly. Then I heard Jutta's signal, ahead and to one side. I gave a cautious whistle back and then spotted a beautiful, luminous arc of watery fire 144 riling from an oar as Jutta began to row.

In a moment I was alongside. Jutta's face didn't look vely in the weird light but dead and colourless like a materialized spirit at a seance. Maybe I appeared lovely coming over the side trailing phosphorescence but I was too anxious to get away to care about the personal beauty stakes.: pitched the bomb in the bottom of the boat without explanation or greeting, grabbed the oars and begun to scull. We hadn't gone far when the world went black. The silver magic vanished. At any other time I might have regretted it. I guessed we had broken out of the light-giving mainstream coming up-channel and must, accordingly, be quite close to Possession's cliffs.

We were. It wasn't long before we heard the wash of breakers. We were well to the south of the jetty, of course, so I followed the coastline by the sound of the breakers to port-and after what seemed an endless row came at last to the landing-place.

Jutta and I hadn't exchanged one word, all the times I s till couldn't be close to her with that torch business eating me -in spite of her parting words. The torch itself lay next to the bomb, on the bottom-boards; we both shunned it as though it were a black mamba.

I led the way to the bunkhouse and, after I'd changed, joined her at the fire for food and coffee.

She started the ball rolling. In a neutral voice, she said, 'I' ve never seen anything so lovely as that sea, Struan.'

– '

I expected-any moment-to be shot at.'

Her eyes seemed to find lots of places to look at in the fire. They never met mine.

I said, 'I had a bummer of a trip.. I described what I had found in the shack; on the deck; the sadistic scene in the mess; my incredible let-off. 'Search me why he didn't make a killing. I'd written myself off as a goner.'

'What did he say?' Her voice was strained and apprehensive. '

Nothing. I saw nothing either. He had the cap pulled right down over his face.'

'Thank God for him l'

Her relief still didn't bridge the gap between us.

'Why that gun-toting bruiser didn't turn me in I'll never know.'

'I sat waiting in the fog for a hundred years.'

She was giving-me all the openings but I couldn't take them.

'Don't start throwing your hat in the air yet,' I replied brusquely. 'I can't imagine he'll go on keeping his mouth shut about me.'

'He may have to, to save his own skin.'

We might have been light years away, judging by the lack of warmth between us.

'Anyway, I'm going to beat him to the chequered flag lomorrow,' I said. 'I think I know now what Sang A is up to: 146

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