Carver had said nothing when he saw the bodies. He stepped across to the light switch, turned it on, and took off his night-vision goggles as the cabin suddenly filled with the harsh glare of an unshaded bulb. Then he put a hand up to his face and massaged his forehead, the movements of his fingers alternately smoothing and deepening the single deep furrow on his brow, the outline of his goggles still visible on his skin. When he removed his hand and opened his eyes, they looked as chilly and green as the ice in a glacial crevasse.
'You're very lucky,' he said, looking straight at Tyzack. 'This is a secret operation, and we don't want it compromised by a murder inquiry, or getting in the media. So we're going to have to destroy the evidence. I want you to place charges on the fuel and water tanks. If you've got any spare, put them against the inside of the hull, below the water-line, ten-minute fuses on the detonators. When they're set, open the seacocks, so the boat starts flooding. That'll do most of the work. The charges will just blow the buoyancy out of the tanks and give us a bang for the fly-boys to see.'
There was a clattering of boots behind Carver and another SBS man, Sergeant Hirst, appeared in the doorway.
'We found half of Colombia down there, boss,' he shouted. 'Tons of the stuff. You'll never…'
Hirst fell silent as he took in the scene in the cabin.
'This ship's got to have a life-raft,' said Carver. 'Find it. Launch it. And get the lads together. We're scuttling the ship.'
'But, boss, the cocaine… it's worth millions…'
'Makes no difference. Customs are only going to burn it anyway.'
Hirst gave a shrug of his shoulders and left the cabin, shouting orders as he walked up on to the deck. Now Carver was on the radio, talking to the helicopter pilot.
'We found the cocaine. Two crew, both dead. Bad news is, they stuffed the ship with enough C4 to sink the Titanic. I don't know if they managed to set the fuses before we hit them and I'm not waiting to find out. Nor should you. Get well out of range. We're going to abandon ship and take the life-raft. We'll give it the standard thirty minutes. If she blows, you can come and pick us up. If she doesn't, we'll get back on board. Got that? Over.'
'Absolutely. Have a jolly cruise. Out.'
No one would question the story. Drug-smugglers routinely scuttled their boats if they thought they were going to get caught. That way they destroyed the evidence, and when they were found floating on a raft maritime law defined them as rescued sailors, not suspected criminals, so no charges could be pressed.
'What are you waiting for?' Carver snapped at Tyzack. 'I thought I told you to sink this boat?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Well, get on with it. The sooner you do it, the less distance you'll have to swim to reach the life-raft.'
'You're not waiting?'
'You heard what I told the man. The ship could explode at any moment. I can't risk the safety of my men, can I? And you, Lieutenant, can't risk this ship not sinking. Can you?'
Carver did not wait for an answer before he left the cabin. It took Tyzack several minutes to set the charges and open the seacocks. By the time he dived over the side, into the cold, choppy waters of the Bay of Biscay, Carver and the other men in the life-raft were barely visible in the distance. He was still swimming when the Maid of Dumfries exploded and sank to the bottom of the sea.