Nothing Ventured

21

William settled down on his bunk just after ten, but he didn’t sleep. Some of the deckhands were playing cards, while others told unlikely tales of treasure they had recovered from the bottom of the ocean. It soon became clear they had no idea how successful this trip was going to be, and not many of them sounded optimistic.

While William rested, Monti continued working and keeping watch on deck. He was back by William’s bunk just after midnight, and as it was a little quieter, was able to brief his colleague without being overheard.

‘Nothing much is happening on deck,’ he said. ‘Carter and Grant haven’t left their cabins since we set sail. I doubt if we’ll see either of them before first light. But we can’t afford to take any chances, so you’d better take my place. When you go up on deck, you’ll see a lifeboat on the starboard side.’

‘Which is the starboard side?’ asked William.

‘The right, idiot. I thought you came from a nation of sailors. Climb in under the tarpaulin, so if anyone comes out on deck during your watch, they won’t see you. Just make sure you don’t fall asleep. Wake me at four and I’ll take your place.’

William made his way up a spiral staircase and out onto the deck. He spotted the lifeboat, gently swaying in the breeze, and crept cautiously toward it, stopping at the slightest unfamiliar sound.

One last check to make sure no one was watching him. He steadied the lifeboat, pulled himself up, and slithered underneath the tarpaulin. He soon realized there was no danger of falling asleep. He was far more likely to be sick.

He tried to master the technique of swinging with the boat, and however many times he kept looking at his watch, the minute hand didn’t move any faster. And then, without warning, he heard heavy footsteps approaching, followed by a voice speaking in English.

Jackie decided that this was even worse than a stakeout, because they were waiting for someone who wasn’t there, rather than for someone who was there and must eventually show up.

‘Everything’s in place. Now all we have to do is...’

William didn’t move a muscle until the voice faded away. More words, but they were scattered in the wind. He raised the tarpaulin an inch, and his eyes settled on a group of four men standing only a few yards from the lifeboat.

Grant unzipped the holdall and lifted out the old wooden casket William had first seen in Carter’s workshop. He placed it carefully on the deck. The chief deckhand deftly tied a rope around it as if he were wrapping a large Christmas present. Once he was satisfied that it was secure, he walked across and attached the rope to a winch that William and Monti had helped carry on board. The deckhand took the handle and turned it slowly until the rope’s slack had been taken up. An older man with a weatherbeaten face and a dark unkempt beard, who was wearing a cap with braid on it, steadied the casket as it was raised inch by inch, slowly off the deck.

When it was about three feet in the air, the captain guided it gently over the ship’s railing, then nodded. The chief deckhand started to turn the winch in the opposite direction. The casket began its slow downward journey toward the water. William didn’t lose sight of the box until it disappeared beneath the waves. It was several more minutes before the wincher had done his job, and the casket came to rest on the seabed, some 130 feet below them. The captain and the chief deckhand then lowered a small anchor overboard. It was attached to a flashing buoy, marking the exact location of the drop.

Carter gave the captain a mock salute. Grant picked up the empty holdall and they made their way across the deck. William slipped back under the tarpaulin, but could not make out what they were saying until they passed the lifeboat.

‘I hope they can be trusted.’

‘They’re being paid well enough, and if...’

William didn’t move a muscle, deciding to wait until he was sure they must be back in their cabins.

The superintendent crossed his legs. He badly needed a pee, but he wasn’t going to be the first to admit it. Lamont continued to stare hopefully down the long drive that led up to the house as he listened attentively for the sound of an engine.

For the past three hours Jackie had been repeatedly checking her watch, becoming more anxious by the minute.

William raised the tarpaulin half an inch, and peered in every direction. No sign of anyone. He checked his watch, before crawling out of the swaying lifeboat and lowering himself uneasily over the side, nearly losing his grip. He landed head first on the slippery deck.

He tried to steady himself and stand up, but he was so weak and giddy that he had to grasp the ship’s rail. Finally he gave in, leaned over the side, and was violently sick. When he looked up, he noticed that the ship was now circling the bobbing buoy.

It was some time before he had recovered enough to clamber back down the spiral staircase and collapse on his bunk, where he lay still, willing himself not to be sick again.

He decided not to wake Monti, as there was little point in his spending the next two hours in that lifeboat, when nothing was going to happen before first light. William still didn’t sleep.

Lamont could hear the sound of a car coming from behind him. Moments later a green Jaguar drove past and proceeded along the driveway, lights full on. It came to a halt outside the house.

The driver climbed out, opened the front door, and disappeared inside. Moments later the hall lights came on.

Lamont cursed several times, before he broke radio silence and issued an order he’d been dreading.

‘Operation Blue Period aborted. Return to base.’

Perhaps it was a good thing he couldn’t hear the chorus of groans and expletives emanating from the two buses in which his loyal foot soldiers had remained silent for more than five hours. Several of them jumped off the bus and began to pee in unison.

‘Why didn’t you wake me at four?’ demanded Monti. He glared down at William, who was the same color as his soaking sheet, and still sweating. William placed a finger to his lips and indicated that they should go up on deck.

Squawking gulls hovered above them as William pointed to the flashing marker buoy bobbing up and down in the waves, before he explained to Monti why he hadn’t bothered to wake him.

‘Good thinking,’ said Monti.

They looked up at the bridge, where the captain was steering the vessel in ever-decreasing circles around the buoy. There was no sign of Carter or Grant, but William doubted they were asleep.

For the next forty minutes Monti and William carried out whatever orders the chief deckhand gave them, but their eyes continually returned to the entrance of the private quarters as they waited for the main actors to make their entrance.

Just after seven, Carter, accompanied by two divers in wetsuits, walked out onto the deck. The divers put on their masks and flippers, sat on the rail, and adjusted their breathing apparatus. They then fell backward into the water and disappeared below the waves.

Superintendent Wall drove Lamont and Jackie back into Guildford, and dropped them off in the town center. ‘I feel sure you’ll be able to find your way to the station,’ he said, before driving off.

‘You can hardly blame him,’ said Jackie twenty minutes later, as they stood on a cold, gray platform waiting for the first train to Waterloo.

‘By the time we get back to the Yard,’ said Lamont, ‘we’ll probably find that Chief Inspector Warwick is the new head of the Art and Antiques squad, and I’ve been demoted to detective sergeant and have to call him sir.’

‘Which means I’ll be back on the beat doing traffic duty,’ said Jackie.

The two divers reappeared on the surface four times during the next hour, and on each occasion gave a thumbs-down sign, before returning to their task. After a couple more hours they clambered back on board looking exhausted, and lay flat on the deck recovering. William suspected that they had never been more than a few feet below the surface.

Carter and Grant looked suitably disappointed, and the crew were already beginning to lose interest in their efforts. But William knew they were only witnessing the first act in this pantomime, and that the curtain was about to rise again following the interval.

Once the divers had recovered, they returned to their task. Three more thumbs-down signs were clear for all to see during the next couple of hours. It was Monti who noticed that the marker buoy and its flashing light were no longer to be seen. ‘They must have located the casket,’ he whispered.

‘But they’re not ready to admit it yet,’ said William.

The divers disappeared below the waves once again, but this time when they resurfaced one of them was waving frantically while the other gave a thumbs-up sign. The crew ran over to the starboard side and began cheering, although William noticed that the captain remained remarkably calm. But, then, he’d already read the second act.

The chief deckhand quickly returned to the winch, and began to take up the slack. Carter and Grant joined the crew, who were leaning over the side in expectation, and when the casket reappeared on the surface a few minutes later, barnacles in place, they looked just as surprised and delighted as the rest of the men.

The chief deckhand slowed down his efforts so the precious cargo could be raised safely over the railing and back onto the deck. He fell on his knees and began to untie the rope as the captain came down from the bridge. Everyone else hung around, waiting impatiently to discover what was in the box. Well, not quite everyone.

Once the rope had been removed, the chief deckhand stood aside to allow Carter to perform the opening ceremony, but he still pretended to need Grant’s assistance to force open the rusty old lock. William could only wonder in what antiques shop Carter had come across such a convincing prop. When the lid was finally lifted, there followed a moment of total silence, as everyone on deck stared down in disbelief at the 712 silver cob coins. Only Carter knew the exact number.

The ship’s company cheered as Grant picked up the casket and cradled it in his arms as if it were an only child who had been rescued from the sea. He then walked slowly toward the private quarters, a smiling Carter following a pace behind.

The captain announced to the crew that they would be returning to port immediately, but every deckhand would still receive a full week’s pay. This elicited an even louder cheer.

‘Commander Hawksby’s office.’

‘It’s Bruce Lamont, Angela. Can you put me through to the boss?’

‘He’s still in Italy, Bruce. I’m not expecting him back until Monday.’

‘Any hope of him staying there?’

‘I beg your pardon, chief inspector?’

‘You never heard me say that, Angela.’

‘Can it wait until Monday?’

‘It will have to. But, then, I’m getting rather used to waiting around only to find that no one’s there.’

Once the ship had docked, William and Monti leaned over the railing and watched as Grant lugged the casket down the gangway. He was still clutching it as he climbed into the back seat of a waiting car.

William recognized the driver. Funny, he thought, that he knew exactly what time he would be needed to pick up his two passengers although they had no way of communicating with each other. Carter shook hands with the captain, the chief deckhand, and the two divers, revealing who was in on the plot. He then walked down the gangway and joined Grant in the back of the car.

As the car drove off, and before William could ask, Monti said, ‘Don’t worry, they’re being tailed. In any case, we know exactly where they’re going.’

‘But if they were to change their plans?’ said William.

‘We’ll arrest them, steal the box, and retire.’

William laughed as a smartly dressed man in a double-breasted blazer strolled past the ship and headed back to his hotel, looking like a wealthy tourist.

William and Monti stood in line with the rest of the crew to receive a full week’s pay. Not cheap, thought William, but then Carter needed the bit-part players to repeat a plausible version of what they had witnessed to their families and friends, and anyone else who cared to listen.

When they had both signed off, they made their way back to Hawksby’s hotel, where he was waiting for them. This time William was allowed to take a shower, and Monti shaved and brushed his teeth for the first time in days.

Once they’d changed back into their own clothes, they joined Hawksby for lunch. Not that William was hungry. They were just finishing the main course when a waiter approached their table and told Lieutenant Monti there was a call for him, which he could take at the desk.

‘Good man, Monti,’ said Hawksby, raising a glass after he’d left the table.

‘He certainly is,’ said William, as he poured himself another glass of wine. ‘I wonder how Operation Blue Period went?’

Hawksby checked his watch. ‘It will be over by now, one way or the other,’ he said as the lieutenant reappeared and took his seat.

‘I can confirm that a wooden casket containing over seven hundred silver cob coins has been handed in to the Italian Naval Office in Rome. A Mr. Carter has produced his authorized stamped license, and is claiming the find as a treasure trove, a Mr. Booth Watson by his side.’

The Hawk and William banged the table with the palms of their hands.

‘Mr. Carter was last seen having his photograph taken while chatting to journalists about his remarkable find,’ said Monti, as William refilled his glass. ‘How do you want to take it from here, sir?’

‘I’m in no hurry,’ replied Hawksby. ‘The wheels of government always grind slowly, so why not allow the villains to enjoy a few days spending their unearned profits before we let the world know their amazing find is not, after all, worth over seven hundred thousand pounds, but a few thousand at best.’

‘And they won’t even get their hands on that,’ said Monti, ‘because we’ll have to confiscate the casket and its contents as evidence in their forthcoming trial, which won’t take place for at least a year.’

William and the commander parted company at Heathrow.

‘I’ll see you in my office at nine on Monday morning for a debriefing,’ said Hawksby. ‘Have a good weekend.’

For the first time, William felt he was a fully paid-up member of the team.

As he boarded the tube into London, he wondered if Lamont and Jackie had experienced similar success with Operation Blue Period. He considered calling her at home but decided it could wait until the Hawk’s meeting on Monday.

He left South Kensington tube station and headed in the direction of home. But was it home any longer? Would Beth have forgiven him, and already forgotten their first quarrel, or would she have locked him out? And if she had, who could blame her? He was feeling apprehensive as he walked up to the front door, but when he put his key in the lock, it not only opened, but his flowers were in a vase on the hall stand.

Beth came running out of the kitchen and threw her arms around him.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I acted like a fool. Of course I realize you can’t talk about your work, especially if it concerns the Rembrandt. But, please, next time you steal away in the middle of the night, at least phone me and give me a clue when you’ll be coming home. I’ve spent the last three days wondering if you’d left me, and when you didn’t call...’

‘I was on a job.’

‘I don’t need to know,’ said Beth, leading him through to the kitchen. The table was already laid with only the candles waiting to be lit.

‘I’ve cooked a special lovers’ tiff meal in an attempt to make up for my appalling behavior. It will be ready in about half an hour, and then I can tell you my news.’

William pulled her into his arms and kissed her. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Missed you too. In fact I thought I’d lost you.’

He took her by the hand and led her out of the kitchen.

‘But we haven’t had dinner yet!’ she said as he dragged her up the stairs.

‘People have been known to have sex before dinner.’

‘Caveman,’ Beth said as he began to unbutton her dress.

William was reading an article in The Guardian — a newspaper he’d never considered taking before he met Beth. He checked the report from their Rome correspondent a second time before handing Beth the paper and waiting for her reaction.

‘Wow, over seven hundred thousand pounds,’ she said. ‘What a coup. Is that why you had to leave in such a hurry? Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

William nodded. ‘The real story should come out fairly soon, and it won’t be on page twelve, but the front page, but until then I can’t say anything.’

‘I understand,’ said Beth as she sliced the top off her egg.

‘Last night,’ said William, ‘you hinted that you also had some interesting news.’

‘That was before you interrupted me, caveman.’

‘So are you going to tell me?’

‘I’ve got a new job.’

‘You’re leaving the Fitzmolean?’

‘No, not until you’ve returned the picture I’m not allowed to ask about.’

‘Then what?’

‘I’ve been promoted to assistant keeper of paintings.’

‘I rather fancy living with an assistant keeper of paintings, even if I’m not sure what they do.’

‘I’ll be responsible for organizing special events, like the Van Eyck exhibition next month, and I’ll report directly to Mark Cranston, the keeper.’

‘With a rise in salary?’

‘Not so you’d notice. But to be fair, I didn’t even know I was being considered for the position.’

‘Your parents will be so proud of you,’ said William.

‘I phoned my father last night to tell him the good news.’

William was surprised, but didn’t comment.

‘And I have another piece of news: Jez is leaving me.’

‘For another man?’

‘Yes, he’s moving in with his friend Drew, so I’ll be looking for a new lodger. And before you ask, the answer is no.’