Thunder Point Part 19

"I believe the work on those new tanks the RAF did has extended the range to at least four thousand miles, sir."

"There you are then." Ferguson glanced at his watch. "Just after ten. I want that Learjet ready to leave Gatwick no later than one o'clock, Jack. Top priority. Allowing for the time difference, I could be in St. Thomas somewhere between five or six o'clock their time."

"Do you want me with you, sir?"

"No, you'll have to hold the fort."

"You'll need accommodation, sir. I'll see to that."

Ferguson shook his head. "I've reserved it at this Caneel place where I booked Dillon in."

"You mean you were expecting what happened to happen?"

"Something like that."

"Look, sir," said Lane in exasperation, "exactly what is going on?"

"When you find out, tell me, Jack." Ferguson emptied his cup, went and put it on the counter. "Thanks, Fred." He turned to Lane. "Come on, Jack, must get moving, lots to do before I leave," and he got into the rear of the Daimler.

Santiago was up early, even went for a swim in the sea, and was seated at the table in the stern enjoying his breakfast in the early morning sunshine when Algaro brought him the telephone.

"It's Sir Francis," he said.

"A wonderful morning here," Santiago said. "How's London?"

"Cold and wet. I'm just about to have a sandwich lunch and then spend the whole afternoon in interminable Committee meetings. Look, Max, Carter saw the Prime Minister and tried to put the boot into Ferguson because he was employing Dillon."

"I didn't imagine Carter to be quite so stupid. Ferguson still got his way of course?"

"Yes, the P.M. backed him to the hilt. More worrying, he asked for another meeting with me and Carter, and told us Dillon had been attacked on his first night in St. John. What on earth was that about?"

"My people were just leaning on him a little, Francis. After all, and as you made clear, he knows of my existence."

"Yes, but what Ferguson's now interested in is how you you knew who Dillon was, the fact that he was arriving in St. John and so on. He said you were far too well informed, and Carter agreed with him." knew who Dillon was, the fact that he was arriving in St. John and so on. He said you were far too well informed, and Carter agreed with him."

"Did he make any suggestion as to how he thought I was getting my information?"

"No, but he did say he thought he'd join Dillon in St. John for a few days."

"Did he now? That should prove interesting. I look forward to meeting him."

Pamer said, genuine despair in his words, "G.o.d dammit, Max, they know of your involvement. How long before they know about mine?"

"You're not on the boards of any of the companies, Francis, and neither was your father. No mention of the name Pamer anywhere, and the great thing about this whole affair is that it is a private war. As I've already told you, Ferguson won't want the American authorities in on this. We're rather like two dogs squabbling over the same bone."

"I'm still worried," Pamer told him. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Keep the information flowing, Francis, and keep your nerve. Nothing else you can do."

Santiago put the phone down and Algaro said, "More coffee, Senor?"

Santiago nodded. "Brigadier Ferguson is coming."

"Here to Caneel?" Algaro smiled. "And what would you like me to do about him, Senor?"

"Oh, I'll think of something," Santiago said and drank his coffee. "In the meantime, let's find out what our friend Dillon is up to this morning."

Guerra went round to Caneel Beach in an inflatable, taking one of the divers with him, a young man called Javier Noval. They wore swimming shorts, tee-shirts and dark gla.s.ses, just another couple of tourists. They pulled in amongst other small craft at the dock, Guerra killed the outboard motor and Noval tied up. At that moment Dillon appeared at the end of the dock. He wore a black tracksuit and carried a couple of towels.

"That's him," Guerra told Noval. "Get going. I'll stay out of the way in case he remembers me from last night."

Bob Carney was manhandling dive tanks from a trolley on to the deck of a small twenty-five-foot dive boat, turned and saw Dillon. He waved and went along the dock to join him, pa.s.sing Noval, who stopped to light a cigarette close enough to listen to them.

Carney said, "You're going to need a few things. Let's go up to the dive shop."

They moved away. Noval waited and then followed.

There was a wide range of excellent equipment. Dillon chose a three-quarter-length suit of black and green in padded nylon, nothing too heavy, a mask, fins and gloves.

"Have you tried one of these?" Carney opened a box. "A Marathon dive computer. The wonder of the age. Automatic readings on your depth, elapsed time under water, safe time remaining. Even tells you how long you should wait to fly."

"That's for me," Dillon told him. "I always was lousy at mental arithmetic."

Carney itemized the bill. "I'll put this on your hotel account."

Dillon signed it. "So what have you got planned?"

"Oh, nothing too strenuous, you'll see." Carney smiled. "Let's get going," and he led the way out.

Noval dropped down into the inflatable. "The other man is called Carney. He owns the diving concession here. Paradise Watersports."

"So they are going diving?" Guerra asked.

"They must be. Dillon was in the shop with him buying equipment." He glanced up. "Here they come now."

Dillon and Carney pa.s.sed above them and got into the dive boat. After a moment Carney fired the engine and Dillon cast off. The boat moved out of the bay, weaving its way through various craft anch.o.r.ed there.

Guerra said, "There's no name on that boat."

"Privateer, that's what it's called," Noval told him. "I asked one of the beach guards. You know, I've done most of my diving around Puerto Rico, but I've heard of this Carney. He's big stuff."

Guerra nodded. "Okay, we'd better get back and let Senor Santiago know what's happening."

Noval cast off, Guerra started the outboard, and they moved away.

The Privateer Privateer was doing a steady twenty knots, the sea not as calm as it could have been. Dillon held on tight and managed to light a cigarette one-handed. was doing a steady twenty knots, the sea not as calm as it could have been. Dillon held on tight and managed to light a cigarette one-handed.

"Are you p.r.o.ne to sea sickness?" Carney asked.

"Not that I know of," Dillon shouted above the roar of the engine.

"Good, because it's going to get worse before it gets better. We've not too far to go though."

Waves swept in, long and steep, the Privateer Privateer riding up over them and plunging down, and Dillon hung on, taking in the incredible scenery, the peaks of the islands all around. And then they were very close to a smaller island, turned in toward it and moved into the calmer waters of a bay. riding up over them and plunging down, and Dillon hung on, taking in the incredible scenery, the peaks of the islands all around. And then they were very close to a smaller island, turned in toward it and moved into the calmer waters of a bay.

"Congo Cay," Carney said. "A nice dive." He went round to the prow, dropped the anchor and came back. "Not much to tell you. Twenty-five to ninety feet. Very little current. There's a ridge maybe three hundred feet long. If you want to limit your depth you could stay on top of that."

"Sounds the kind of place you'd bring novices," Dillon said, pulling on the black and green diving suit.

"All the time," Carney told him calmly.

Dillon got into his gear quickly and fastened a weight belt round his waist. Carney had already clamped tanks to their inflatable jackets and helped Dillon ease into his while sitting on the side of the boat. Dillon pulled on his gloves.

Carney said, "See you at the anchor."

Dillon nodded, pulled down his mask, checked that the air was flowing freely through his mouthpiece and went over backwards into the sea. He swam under the keel of the boat until he saw the anchor line and followed it down, pausing only to swallow a couple of times, a technique aimed at equalizing the pressure in his ears when they became uncomfortable.

He reached the ridge, paused with a hand on the anchor and looked at Carney descending to join him through a ma.s.sive school of silversides. At that moment, an extraordinary thing happened. A black tip reef shark about nine feet in length shot out of the gloom scattering clouds of fish before it, swerved around Carney, then disappeared over the ridge as fast as it had come.

Carney made the okay sign with finger and thumb. Dillon replied in kind and followed him as he led the way along the reef. There were brilliant yellow tube sponges everywhere, and when they went over the edge there was lots of orange sponge attached to the rock faces. The coral outcroppings were multi-colored and very beautiful, and at one point Carney paused, pointing, and Dillon saw a huge eagle ray pa.s.s in the distance, wings flapping in slow motion.

It was a very calm, very enjoyable dive, but no big deal, and after about thirty minutes, Dillon realized they'd come full circle because the anchor line was ahead of them. He followed Carney up the line nice and slow, finally swam under the keel and surfaced at the stern. Carney, with practiced ease, was up over the stern pulling his gear behind him. Dillon unstrapped his jacket, slipped out of it and Carney reached down and pulled jacket and tank on board. Dillon joined him a moment later.

Carney busied himself clipping fresh tanks to the jackets and went and pulled in the anchor. Dillon put a towel over his shoulders and lit a cigarette. "The reef shark," he said. "Does that happen often?"

"Not really," Carney said.

"Enough to give some people a heart attack."

"I've been diving for years," Carney told him, "and I've never found sharks a problem."

"Not even a great white?"

"How often would you see one of those? No, nurse sharks in the main and they're no problem. Around here, reef sharks now and then or lemon sharks. Sure, they could be a problem, but hardly ever. We're big and they're big and they just want to keep out of the way. Having said that, did you enjoy the dive?"

"It was fine." Dillon shrugged.

"Which means you'd like a little more excitement." Carney started the engine. "Okay, let's go for one of my big boy dives," and he gunned the engine and took the Privateer Privateer out into open water. out into open water.

They actually pa.s.sed at some distance Maria Blanco Maria Blanco still at anchor off Paradise Beach, and Guerra was in the deckhouse, scanning the area with binoculars. He recognized the boat and told Captain Serra, who examined the chart and then took a book on dive sites in the Virgin Islands from a drawer in the chart table. still at anchor off Paradise Beach, and Guerra was in the deckhouse, scanning the area with binoculars. He recognized the boat and told Captain Serra, who examined the chart and then took a book on dive sites in the Virgin Islands from a drawer in the chart table.

"Keep watching," he told Guerra and leafed through.

"They've anch.o.r.ed," Guerra told him, "and run up the dive flag."

"Carval Rock," Serra said. "That's where they're diving."

At that moment Algaro came in and held the door open for Santiago, who was wearing a blue blazer and a Captain's cap, a gold rim to the peak. "What's happening?"

"Carney and Dillon are diving out there, Senor." Serra indicated the spot and gave Santiago the binoculars.

Santiago could just see the two men moving in the stern of Privateer Privateer. He said, "That couldn't be the site, could it?"

"No way, Senor," Serra told him. "It's a difficult place to dive, but hundreds of dives are made there every year."

"Never mind," Santiago said. "Put the launch in the water. We'll go and have a look. We'll see what these two divers of yours, Noval and Pinto, can do."

"Very well, Senor, I'll get things moving," and Serra went out followed by Guerra.

Algaro said, "You wish me to come too, Senor?"

"Why not?" Santiago said. "Even if Dillon sees you it doesn't matter. He knows you exist."

The rock was magnificent, rising up out of a very turbulent sea, birds of every kind perched up there on the ridge, gulls descending in slow motion in the heavy wind.

"Carval Rock," Carney said. "This is rated an advanced dive. Descends to about eighty or so feet. There's the wreck of a Cessna over on the other side that crashed a few years back. There are some nice ravines, fissures, one or two short tunnels and wonderful rock and coral cliffs. The problem is the current. Caused by tidal movement through the Pillsbury Sound."

"How strong?" Dillon asked as he fastened his weight belt.

"One or two knots is fairly common. Above two knots is unswimmable." He looked over and shook his head. "And I'd say it's three knots today."

Dillon lifted his jacket and tank on to the thwart and put it on himself. "Sounds as if it could be interesting."

"Your funeral."

Carney got his own gear on and Dillon turned to lean over and wash out his mask and saw a white launch approaching. "We're going to have company."

Carney turned to look. "I doubt it. No dive master I know would take his people down in this current today, he'd go somewhere easier."

The swells were huge now, the Privateer Privateer bucking up and down on the anchor line. Dillon went over, paused to check his air supply and started down to what looked like a dense forest below. He paused on the bottom, waiting until Carney had reached him, beckoned and turned toward the rock. Dillon followed, amazed at the strength of the current pushing against him, was aware of a stream of white bubbles over to his left and saw an anchor descend. bucking up and down on the anchor line. Dillon went over, paused to check his air supply and started down to what looked like a dense forest below. He paused on the bottom, waiting until Carney had reached him, beckoned and turned toward the rock. Dillon followed, amazed at the strength of the current pushing against him, was aware of a stream of white bubbles over to his left and saw an anchor descend.

On the launch, Santiago sat in the wheelhouse while Serra went to the prow and dropped the anchor. Algaro was helping Noval and Pinto into their diving equipment.

Serra said finally, "They are ready to go, Senor, what are your orders?"

"Tell them to just have a look around," Santiago said. "No trouble. Leave Carney and Dillon alone."

"As you say, Senor."

The two divers were sitting together on the port side. Serra nodded and together they went over backwards into the water.

Dillon followed Carney with increasing difficulty because of the strength of the current up across rock and coral, following a deep channel that led through to the other side of the rocks. The force was quite tremendous and Carney was down on his belly pulling himself through with gloved hands, reaching for one handhold after another, and Dillon went after him, the other man's fins just three or four feet in front of him.

There was a kind of threshold. Carney was motionless for a while and then pa.s.sed through, and Dillon had the same problem, faced with a kind of wall of pressure. He clawed at the rocks with agonizing slowness, foot by foot, and suddenly was through and into another world.

The surface was fifty feet above him and as he surged forward, he found himself in the middle of a school of tarpon at least four feet in length. There were yellow tail snappers, horse-eyed jacks, bonita, king mackerel and barracuda, some of them five feet long.

Carney plunged down to the other side, the rock face falling below, and Dillon followed him. They closed together and Dillon was aware of the current as they turned and saw Noval and Pinto trying to come through the cut. Noval almost made it, then lost his grip and was pushed into Pinto and they disappeared back to the other side.