Eye of the Tiger Part 12

"You've got a filthy mind," I scolded him and he laughed delightedly, as though I had paid him the nicest compliment, and the two of them walked away up the wharf.

Dancer romped down the necklace of atolls and islands until, a little after three o'clock, I ran the deep-water pa.s.sage between Little Gull Island and Big Gull Island, and rounded into the shallow open water between the east sh.o.r.e of Big Gull and the blue water of the Mozambique.

There was enough breeze to make the day pleasantly cool, and to kick up a white flecky chop off the surface.

I manoeuvred carefully, squinting over at Big Gull as I put Dancer in position. When I hit the marks I pushed a little upwind to allow for Dancer's fall-back. Then I cut the engines and hurried down to the foredeck to drop the hook.

Dancer came around and settled down like a wellbehavedlady.

"Is this the place?" Sherry had watched everything I did with her disconcerting feline stare.

"This is it," and I risked overplaying my part as the besotted lover by pointing out the marks to her.

"I lined up those two Palms, the ones leaning over, with that single palm right up on the skyline, see it?"

She nodded silently, again I caught that look as though the information was being carefully filed and remembered. "Now what do we do?"she asked.

"This is where Jimmy dived," I explained. "When he came back on board he was very excited. He spoke secretly with the others - Materson and Guthrie - and they seemed to catch his excitement. Jimmy went down again with rope and a tarpaulin. He was down a long time - and when he came up again, it started, the shooting!

"Yes," she nodded eagerly, the reference to her brother's death seemed to leave her unmoved. "We should go now, before someone else sees us here!

"Go?" I asked, looking at her. "I thought we were going to have a look?"

She recognized her mistake. "We should organize it properly, come back when we are prepared, when we have made arrangements to pick up and transport."

"Lover," I grinned, "I didn't come all this way not to take at least one quick look."

"I don't think you should, Harry," she called after me, but already I was opening the engine-room hatch.

"Let's come back another time," she persisted, but I went down the ladder to the rack which held the air bottles and took down a Draeger twin set. I fitted the breathing valve and tested the seal, sucking air out of the rubber mouth, piece.

Glancing quickly up at the hatch to make sure she was not watching me, I reached across and threw the concealed cut-out switch on the electrical system. Now n.o.body could start Dancer's engines while I was overboard.

I swung the diving ladder over the stern and then dressed in the c.o.c.kpit - short-sleeved Neoprene wet suit and hood, weight bek and knife, Nemrod wrap-around face-Plate and fins.

I slung the scuba set on my back and picked up a coil of light nylon rope and hooked it on to my belt.

what happens if you don't come back?" Sherry asked, showing apprehension for the first time. "I mean what happens to me?"

"You'll pine to death," I told her, and went over the side, not in a showy back flip but a simple use of the steps, more in keeping with my age and dignity.

The water was transparent as mountain air, and as I went head down I could see every detail of the bottom fifty feet below.

It was a coral landscape, lit with dappled light and wondrous colour. I drifted down to it, and the sculptured shapes of the coral were softened and blurred with sea growth and restless with the sparkling jewels of myriad tropical fish. There were deep gullies and standing towers of coral, fields of eel gra.s.s between, and open stretches of blinding white coral sand.

My marks had been remarkably accurate, considering the fact that I had been only just conscious from blood loss. I had dropped the anchor almost directly on top of the canvas package. It lay on one of the open s.p.a.ces of coral sand, looking like some horrible sea monster, green and squat with the loose ropes floating about it like tentacles.

I crouched beside it, and shoals of tiny fish, zebra-striped in gold and black, gathered around me in such numbers that I had to blow bubbles at them and shoo them off, before I could get on with the job.

I unclipped the nylon rope from my belt, and lashed one end securely to the package with a series of halfhitches. Then I rose to the surface slowly paying out the line. I surfaced thirty feet astern of Dancer, swam to the ladder, and. clambered into the c.o.c.kpit. I made the end of the line fast to the arm of the fighting chair.

What did you find?" Sherry demanded anxiously.

"I don't know yet," I told her. I had resisted the temptation to open the package on the bottom. I hoped it might be worth the sacrifice to watch her expression as I opened the canvas.

I stripped my diving gear and washed it off with fresh water before stowing it all carefully away. I wanted the tension to eat into her a little longer.

"d.a.m.n you, Harry. Let's get it up," she burst out at last.

I remembered the package as being as heavy as all creation, but then my strength had been almost gone. Now I braced myself against the gunwale and began recovering line. It was heavy, but not impossibly so, and I coiled the wet line as it came in with the old tunny fisherman's wrist action.

The green canvas broke the surface alongside, sodden and gus.h.i.+ng water. I reached over and got a purchase on the knotted rope, with a single heave I lifted it over the side and it clunked weightily on to the deck of the c.o.c.kpit - metal against Wood.

"Open it,"ordered Sherry impatiently.

"Right away, madam," I said, and drew the bait-knife from the sheath on my belt. It was razor sharp, and I cut the ropes with a single stroke for each.

Sherry was leaning forward eagerly as I drew the stiff wet folds of canvas aside, and I was watching her face.

The greedy, antic.i.p.atory expression flared suddenly into triumph as she recognized the object. She recognized it before I did, and then instantly she dropped a curtain of uncertainty over her eyes and face.

It was nicely done, she was an actress of skill. Had I not been watching carefully for it, I would have missed the quick play of emotion.

I looked down at the humble object for which already so many men had been killed or mutilated, and I was torn with surprise and puzzlement and disappointment. It was not what I had expected.

Half of it was badly eaten away as though by a sandblasting machine, the bronze was raw and s.h.i.+ny and deeply etched. The upper half of it was intact, but tarnished heavily with a thick skin of greenish verdigris, but the lug for the shackle was intact and the ornamentation was still clear through the corrosion - a heraldic crest - or part of it - and lettering in a flowery antique style. The lettering was fragmentary, most of it had been etched away in an irregular flowing line, leaving the bright worn metal.

It was a s.h.i.+p's bell, cast in ma.s.sive bronze, it must have weighed close to a hundred pounds, with a domed and lugged top and a wide flared mouth.

Curiously I rolled it over. The clapper had corroded solidly, and barnacle and other sh.e.l.lfish had encrusted the interior. I was intrigued by the pattern of wear and corrosion on the outside, until suddenly the solution occurred to me. I had seen other metal objects marked like this after long submersion. The bell had been half buried on the sandy bottom, the exposed portion had been subjected to the tidal rush of Gunfire Break, and the fine grains of coral sand had abrased away a quarter of an inch of the outer skin of the metal.

However, the portion that had been buried was protected, and now I examined the remaining lettering more closely.

wnl "Mere was an extended V or a broken W followed immediately by a perfect "N" - then a gap and a whole V; beyond that the lettering had been obliterated again.

The coat of arms worked into the metal on the opposite side of the barrel was an intricate design with two rampant beasts - probably lions - supporting a s.h.i.+eld and a mailed head. It seemed vaguely familiar, and I wondered where I had seen it before.

I rocked back on my heels and looked at Sherry North. She was unable to meet my gaze.

"Funny thing," I mused. "A jet aircraft with a b.l.o.o.d.y great bra.s.s bell hanging on its nose."

"I don't understand it," she said.

"No more do I. I stood up and went to get a cheroot from the saloon. I lit it and sat back in the fighting chair. "Okay. Let's hear your theory."

"I don't know, Harry. Truly I don't."

"Let's try some guesses," I suggested. "I'll begin." She turned away to the rail.

"The jet aircraft turned into a pumpkin," I hazarded. "How about that one?"

She turned back to me. "Harry, I don't feel well. I think I'm going to be sick."

"So, what must I do?"

"Let's go back now."

"I was thinking of another dive - look around a bit more." "No," she said quickly. "Please, not now. I don't feel up to it.

Let's go. We can come back if we have to."

I studied her face for evidence of her sickness: she looked like an advert for health food.

"All right," I agreed; there was not really much point in another dive, but only I knew that. "Let's go home and try and work it out."

I stood up and began rewrapping the bra.s.s bell.

What are you going to do with that?" she asked anxiously.

"Redeposit it," I told her. "I am certainly not going to take it back to St. Mary's and display it in the market place. Like you said, we can always come back."

"Yes," she agreed immediately. "You are right, of course."

I dropped the package over the side once more and went to haul the hook.

On the homeward run I found Sherry North's presence on the bridge irritated me. There was a lot of hard thinking I had to do. I sent her down to make coffee.

"Strong," I told her, "and with four spoons of sugar. It will be good for your seasickness."

She reappeared on the bridge within two minutes. "The stove won't light,"she complained.

"You have to open the main gas cylinders first." I explained where to find the taps. "And don't forget to close them when you finish, or you'll turn the boat into a bomb." She made lousy coffee.

It was late evening when I picked up moorings in Grand Harbour, and dark by the time I dropped Sherry at the entrance of the hotel. She didn't even invite me in for a drink, but kissed me on the cheek and said, "Darling, let me be alone tonight. I am exhausted. I am going to bed now. Let me think about all this, and when I feel better we can plan more clearly."

"I'll pick you up here - what time?" "No," she said. "I'll meet you at the boat. Early. Eight o'clock. Wait for me there - we can talk in private. just the two of us, no one else - all right?"

"I'll bring Dancer to the wharf at eight," I promised her.

It had been a thirsty day, and on the way home I stopped off at the Lord Nelson.

Angelo and Judith were with a noisy party of their own age in one of the booths. They called me over and made room for me between two of the girls.

I brought them each a pint, and Angelo leaned over confidentially.

"Hey, skipper, are you using the pick-up tonight?" "Yes," I said. "To get me home." I knew what was coming, of course. Angelo acted. as though he had shares in the vehicle.

"There's a big party down at South Point tonight, boss," suddenly he was very free with the "boss" and "skipper', "I thought if I run you out to Turtle Bay, then you'd let us have the truck. I'd pick you up early tomorrow, promise."

I took a swallow at my tankard and they were all watching me with eager hopeful faces.

"It's a big party, Mister Harry," said Judith. "Please."

"You pick me up seven o'clock sharp, Angelo, hear?" and there was a spontaneous burst of relieved laughter. They clubbed in to buy me another pint.

I had a disturbed night, with restless sleep interspersed with periods of wakefulness. I had the dream again, when I dived to the canvas package. Once more it contained a tiny Dresden mermaid, but this time she had Sherry North's face and she offered me the model of a jet fighter aircraft that changed into a golden pumpkin as I reached for it. The pumpkin was etched with the letters: wnl It rained after midnight, solid sheets of water, that poured off the eaves, and the lightning silhouetted the palm fronds against the night sky.

It was still raining when I went down to the beach, and the heavy drops exploded in minute bomb bursts of spray upon my naked body. The sea was black in the bad light, and the rain squalls reached to the horizon. I swam alone, far out beyond the reef, but when I came back to the beach the excursion had not provided the usual lift to my spirits.

My body was blue and s.h.i.+vering with the cold, and a vague but pervading sense of trouble and depression pressed heavily upon me, I had finished breakfast when the pick-up came down the track through the palm plantation, splas.h.i.+ng through the puddles, splattered with mud and with headlights still burning.

In the yard Angelo hooted and shouted, "You ready, Harry?" and I ran out with a souwester held over my head. Angelo smelled of beer and he was garrulous and slightly bleary of eye.

I'll drive," I told him, and as we crossed the island he gave me a blow-by-blow description of the great party from what he told me it seemed there might be an epidemic of births on St. Mary's in nine months" time.

I was only half listening to him, for as we approached the town so my sense of disquiet mounted.

"Hey, Harry, the kids said to thank you for the loan of the pick-up."

"That's okay, Angelo!

"I sent Judith out to the boat - she's going to tidy up, Harry, and get the coffee going for you."

"She shouldn't have worried," I said.

"She wanted to do that specially - sort of thank you, you know."

"She's a good girl."

"Sure is, Harry. I love that girl," and Angelo burst into song, "Devil Woman" in the style of Mick Jagger.

When we crossed the ridge and started down into the valley I had a sudden impulse. Instead of continuing straight down Frobisher Street to the harbour, I swung left on to the circular drive above the fort and hospital and went up the avenue of banyan trees to the Hilton Hotel. I parked the pick-up under the canopy and went through to the reception lobby.

There was n.o.body behind the desk this early in the morning, but I leaned across the counter and peered into Marion's cubicle. She was at her switchboard and when she saw me her face lit up in a wide grin and she lifted off her earphones.

"h.e.l.lo, Mister Harry."

"h.e.l.lo, Marion, love," I returned the grin. "Is Miss. North in her room?"

Her expression changed. "Oh no," she said, "she left over an hour ago."

"Left?" I stared at her.

"Yes. She went out to the airport with the hotel bus. She was catching the seven-thirty plane." Marion glanced at the cheap j.a.panese watch on her wrist. "They would have taken off ten minutes ago."

I was taken completely off-balance, of all things I had least expected this. It didn't make sense for many seconds and then suddenly and sickeningly it did.

"Oh Jesus Christ," I said. "Judith!" and I ran for the pickup.