by Joe Lane
Deveron was quick to deny me thinking time. “No. Tanamoto has to leave this evening for an important engagement back in London. There’s still a lot of work to be done behind the scenes for this operation to be implemented. You have a price in mind?”
“It’ll cost you twenty thousand pound’s sterling, cash of course and no tax deductions either.”
I was expecting at least a gasp of surprise from one of them, but both men maintained expressionless faces, and they would have trounced me in a game of Poker.
“Per week,” I added. “Until found.”
There was still no disapproval from either of them. No body language suggesting I was pushing my luck. That lack of response had me worried.
Deveron reacted first and calmly said, “You drive a hard bargain, Mister Speed. This cash transaction, do I smell a touch of tax evasion?”
“You smell what you want. I call it the cost of living and you can blame the government for that. If the merchandise is recovered then it’ll be worthwhile to you.”
“I agree with you terms, Mister Speed. I’m sure you’ll be worth every penny. I’ll want Shayna to be there with you.” Deveron announced.
“There’s no need. I stick to my deals.”
“Considering I can’t be there myself, I want someone there I can trust impeccably and that is no disrespect to you, Mister Speed. Surely the employer has a right to observe how his money is being spent. Don’t you agree?”
I shrugged without conviction. There was no point quarrelling at this stage of the arrangement. I could drop her later, when they least expect.
Deveron smiled. “Then our business is concluded, Mister Speed.”
Shayna rose and said, “Now that you boys have sorted out your differences, I’m in need of sleep. I think we’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Same here,” I said, rising to my feet. “I want an early start in the morning. I’ll walk you to your room, Shayna, if you’ve no objections?”
We left Deveron and Tanamoto in deep discussion and headed for the stairway. I would have savoured the chance to put a glass to the wall and listen in on them because I wondered how much of what had been discussed between us had been pure bullshit. In the mood I was in at the moment, if I was to believe anything Tanamoto had told me, I was going to need a lot more convincing.
When we reached the top of the stairway, I said, “Fancy a night-cap, Shayna?”
“Not really Shackleton. But if you want to fuck, your room is the nearest.”
I hadn’t quite expected such openness from her but neither should I have been surprised by it. I said, “I recall that our last encounter was rather a one sided affair.”
“Look, if you’re feeling too tired and you’re not up to the occasion, then goodnight.”
I wasn’t tired and I wasn’t going to refuse the offer of sex neither. Wild horses wouldn’t drag me away from the chance of revenge. The moment we’d reached my room we were inside, the door kicked shut, our mouths crushed in embrace, in a frantic struggle for dominance, tugging to free each others clothing until we were standing there naked. Well almost naked because I insisted Shayna kept on her G-string panties.
We touched and aroused each other. Her breasts firmed. Her hard nipples digging into my chest while her fingers slipped down to fondle the length of my healthy penis. A few steps back and we were lying on the bed and I was exploring her body freely. Kissing and mouthing her neck first, I moved slowly down, kissing her breasts, licking and gently sucking her nipples, working my way down to the strip of pubic hair that guided me to the intimate part of a woman’s love box. I exhaled hot breath through the material of her panties. She moaned softly, urging me to free her, so I slipped her satin panties down in one motion, the tip of my tongue penetrating the crevices of her vagina in search of the trigger button, hitting the target accurately and she responded by thrusting her clitoris hard onto my tongue. She grabbed the hair at the back of my head, pulling my face deeper into her fleshy mound, so hard that I was delightfully suffocating. At that moment I didn’t care. I was lost in a world of lust.
Without even thinking about our actions we’d rolled and I found myself on my back with Shayna pressing her vagina onto my face, my tongue probing, tasting her leaking juices. She squealed with delight, moaning, talking in between the ecstasy, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Her hips thrust faster, the texture of her juice changing. “That’s how much you turn me on Shackleton Speed. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Then slowly she ceased to a few tentative jerky movements before latching straight onto my manhood with her mouth, pleasuring me before I took control, threw her onto her back and penetrated her vagina as she gasped her approval. Sweat layered our skins, as if our bodies had been covered in silky oil. My skills as a lover were tested to the brink as she cried out for more. Positions altered, dominance changed hands, we were inseparable, two desperate lovers in deep embrace, tearing into one another. The more I rived into her, the more she opened to accept my hard thrusting shaft probing the depths of her love. The way she screamed with ecstasy had me consciously wanting to clamp her mouth shut. Yet there’s certain words that make you work harder, and she knew the whole simple vocabulary.
“Fuck me! Fuck me!” She screamed, as I probed deep into her fleshy box. “Fuck me like a mad rabid dog!”
I like to please, so I did.
“Fuck me harder, you horny bastard!” she screamed, obviously almost on the verge of an orgasm.
I felt the warmth of her fluid gushing out as I moved inside her.
“Fuck me! Fuck me! Don’t stop…please don’t stop!”
The walls of her vagina tightened against the girth of my shaft, her nails clawing their way into the flesh of my back, tearing across, burning and I loved every moment. I pushed deeper inside her. I could tell she was struggling to maintain the pace, the pleasurable sensations too sensitive to withstand any longer. She tried to force me off her while still effectively wanting me to drive deep inside her. She pushed and screamed and pulled me back inside her. But there was no way she could stop me this time. I was no longer tied to a stanchion now. My hands were free. I wasn’t going be frustrated a second time and deprived of satisfaction. I had control of the situation and I wasn’t about to release my grip around her buttocks, not until I finally exploded inside of her, pumping hard, thrusting, my semen crashing against a torrent of released vaginal fluid. And when I was totally spent I collapsed onto her gasping for air like a sprinter at the end of a race.
I rolled off her and lay on my back catching my breath. I felt the beads of sweat roll down my body to be absorbed into the sheets.
She exhaled a slow long breath. “You’re good, Shackleton Speed. No, you’re a lot more than good. You’re energetic, forceful and so exciting. You’ve completely exhausted me…I’m shattered!”
“I hope that’s a good thing?”
She reached over and stroked my face, “Wonderful,” she whispered, “Absolutely wonderful,” before she yawned and faded into a bout of rhythmic heavy breathing as she slipped into sleep aided by the amount of alcohol I’d seen her drink throughout the evening.
I was knackered too, but I tend to sleep with one eye open when I’m occupying a strange bed. It’s a habit that has grown on me over the years. Besides, my mind was overactive, thinking in somersaults: could I trust my new partners in crime? I say crime because I believed that sneaking around Irish waters without first informing the proper authorities of our intentions does constitute an act of illegality. It was something I’d do, but not something I would have expected Deveron and Tanamoto to hide if they were genuinely only interested in doing what’s right.
And then there’s Shayna and could I trust her fully; hardly. She seemed to turn up in my face unexpectedly, always in the places where I frequent, as if she was following me.
My thoughts were disturbed by the sound of a car door shutting. I slipped carefully from between the sheets, so as not to disturb Shayna, crossed to the window and slightly parted the curtain
s. The Japanese couple were leaving. I still hadn’t made up my mind whether the Oriental guests were genuine in their pursuit to find lost relatives, or preferred the idea of gold flickering from the bottom of Roaring Water Bay. I slipped back into bed and added that problem into the blender of my thoughts. My head was still spinning when I finally fell asleep.
Morning came quick and I caught Shayna tiptoeing naked towards the bedroom door carrying her clothes. I pretended to be asleep, craftily peeping through the slits of my eyes as I watched her leave. The slight click of the door latch told me she’d gone. I closed my eyes and slept a little longer until the silence startled me awake. I hurriedly showered and shaved, and went down to the smell of breakfast with great expectancy, something like a loving, satisfied smile from Shayna. I found the dining room empty of people. I helped myself to bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, a few rounds of toast and sat down to eat alone. Shayna never arrived for breakfast; nobody did which I thought was very inconsiderate of my host.
My isolation ceased when the maid from the previous evening entered the dining room.
“Where is everyone?” I asked casually.
She shrugged. “They’ve gone, sir.”
“Gone where?”
“I’ve no idea, sir.”
“I thought Deveron wasn’t fit to travel?”
“I wouldn’t know that, sir.”
I wondered if she was under strict orders not to divulge any information to me. Then again she could be telling the truth and that she genuinely didn’t know anything. Since I’d no intention of putting her under the heat of the interrogation lamp to gain the right answers, I left her to get on with her job. After breakfast I used the house telephone. I made three calls: the first call was to a local taxi firm. The second call went to a very nice woman who happened to hold a position of authority in a large law firm in central London. She was damned good at asking the right questions in the right places and poking her nose deep into other people’s affairs. I gave her the relevant information she would require and I would ring her when I was ready to act. The third call went to Shamus to tell him I was on my way back to Baltimore and for him to prepare the Muff for a late afternoon excursion. He was more concerned over my health.
“Dashing about won’t do yer system any good for diving, Shacks sir. Why don’t we leave the dive until tomorrow morning when yer’ll be more refreshed.”
“I’m refreshed enough. You just make sure the boat’s ready for this afternoon.”
“I’m only thinking of yer lungs, Shacks sir. O, by the way, the harbour master tells me the Flying Fish is on a research programme to monitor the behaviour of underwater currents surging from the Arctic to the Southern Hemisphere.”
“Believe that, Shamus?”
“I’ve no reason to doubt it, Shacks sir; the harbour master said their paperwork was up to date. But I gather yer’re suspicious?”
“I’m always suspicious. They weren’t doing much to warrant such a claim when we saw them. There was no monitoring equipment being used. More like a ghost ship if you ask me. In the meantime you watch your back.”
“Yer be expecting trouble, Shacks sir?”
“I’m not sure, Shamus, all the same be careful.”
“I’ll do that, Shacks sir.”
I replaced the telephone receiver and stood there for a moment chewing over some raw possibilities. I was still swallowing the inconclusive answers when the taxi arrived to take me to the railway station.
As the train thundered back to Cork, I could confidently say that I’d nothing to fear from Deveron, even though my testimony could send him to prison for a wartime murder. As for Shayna, she had two unpredictable sides to her; the brutal side and the loving side but I wasn’t too sure which of those sides was the most dominant. Overall, she was certainly a hard picture to dislodge from my mind and I wondered in a strange way if it was possible that I was actually in love with the bitch.
Chapter Eighteen
Hamer caught up with me when I got back to my hotel. He followed me through reception. He was all riled up and I could have sworn I saw steam blowing out of his ears.
“Where the fuck did you abscond to without telling me?” He ranted, spittle flying from his mouth. “As for that thick Paddy you call a friend, he’s changed his story of where you might be more times than a fucking gobstopper sweet changing colour the longer you suck on it!”
I wasn’t in the mood for a verbal confrontation with slap-arsed features so I said calmly, “There’s no need to insult the locals just because you’ve had a bad day. Let’s understand each other: where I go is none of your frigging business. But if it’ll stop you constantly spitting your dummy out, I’ve been to Dublin, sightseeing.” I’d no reason to lie. I reckon Shayna was absolutely worth seeing naked again.
“You should have told me where you were going?”
“And have you tagging along? Next thing you’ll be wanting me to make out a frigging timesheet.”
“It would be wise to at least let me know your movements so I wouldn’t be hanging about like a prize in a raffle waiting to be plucked from obscurity. Hell I was worried!”
He surprised me with that statement. “Worried about me?”
“There’s something wrong wanting to look after one’s asset?”
“Yes there is, Hamer. You’re beginning to act as if you’re my big sister.”
“Bollocks to you, Speed!” And with outburst he trudged off towards the bar, weighed down by the huge sulk dragging behind him.
I said, as he strode away. “So I can take it you won’t be joining us on the ‘Muff’ this afternoon?” Now there was a statement for open ears, which, unsurprisingly, caused a few heads to turn. As for Hamer, I considered his instant reply of a swift raise of two fingers damned right impertinent and a definite no.
“What happened to, ‘stick to me like glue policy’ you were so positive on applying?”
“Go and drown yourself, Speed, so I can go home with a clear conscience.”
I left Hamer to decide which part of his dummy he would spit out next, went to change and met Shamus aboard the Muff.
*
The weather was favourable for diving; the sea considerably calmer as we sailed out into the bay, and arced towards Clear Island. Inevitably we were chaperoned by the Flying Fish. There was no hard evidence that the ship was actually shadowing us, yet I’d be willing to put all my money on it. And if the ship was intending to do research then I’d be sacking the crew because they were a frigging bunch of lazy bastards as there was little happening on deck. But as long as they left me alone I was content on continuing my own piece of research.
Shamus lined up the bow of the Muff with his pre-recorded land markers in exactly the same position as before and probably within the inch. While Shamus dropped the boat’s anchor I squeezed into my neoprene diving gear, donned my equipment and was quickly into the water.
Beneath the seas and oceans of our planet the water smothers the madness of an exhilarating existence. It’s an entirely different world where a person can think. Pace is smoother and more practiced; it has to be. While we are able to breathe air above the water as fast or as slow as we like, beneath the water you’re at its mercy. Too fast a manoeuvre and the wrong breathing pattern is considered highly dangerous to the human body submerged in deep water. But it’s not all doom and gloom and uninviting. Diving is divine, a world of excitement, and its peacefulness only interrupted by the gurgling of escaping air bubbles exhaled from my mouthpiece.
Amongst my array of diving tools I had with me a very long engineer’s lever. It was heavy even in seawater and that excess weight took me down to the seabed without me having to kick my fins. It’s a good thing you can’t get the bends descending or else I would have been in big trouble. At least I would have plenty of reserved energy for working on the seabed. As for Shamus feeding my lifeline into the water, his hands were probably moving ten to the dozen and suffering from rope burns, trying to keep up with my rapid des
cent. I did warn him.
Again I located the position where the strong current flowed between the fallen rocks that I had found on the previous dive. I went to work. Rammed the tip of the long engineers lifting bar into the crack of a rock and levered hard while trying to keep my feet steady on the silted seabed. Fragments of rock splintered but nothing significant happened. I chose another crack in the same rock, again the same result. I persevered. I’d no choice because I loathe defeatism. Working on the same rock I shifted the crowbar around its circumference, levering to and fro, jerking side to side. The effort was tiring, and tired lungs use up air at a fast rate.
If the levering was to fail then my only other choice would be with a couple of sticks of dynamite, that is, if I’d any idea of using the stuff properly without blowing myself into a thousand pieces. After a little more persuasion with the lever my persistence paid off and the rock suddenly gave and rolled down causing the silt to explode into a psychedelic form of cloud as it drifted on the current.
I began attacking the next rock with more brute force, which proved just as stubborn before finally giving. Every rock after gave easily, and slowly and surely, I’d created a tunnel large enough to safely squeeze through.
I dropped the crowbar to the seabed, waited a few moments for the silt to settle before shining the torch beam into the dark void that stretched into oblivion. I half expected something to suddenly shoot out of the hole but nothing did. Still I hesitated from venturing into the unknown, wondering whether I should prop the tunnel with appropriate rigging before I entered, but that would have taken more time. I also discarded the lifeline because I thought it could snag as I went in. I tied the line to a rock so Shamus wouldn’t panic if he suddenly realized I wasn’t attached to the other end. Satisfied, I kicked the fins hard and slipped through the hole, pushing loose boulders aside. At first I swam cautiously slow, apprehensive of what lay ahead in the gloom. I could even admit to being a little scared.
The claustrophobic tunnel I was swimming through began to widen with every swim stroke. I would have expected to find a certain amount of sea-life, maybe a few curious fish darting into the torch beam, but strangely, it seemed devoid of anything, even vegetation. I checked my depth gauge on a regular basis. I made a quick calculation. By maintaining the direction I was heading, the readings showed that with every swim stroke I was beginning to surface. I slowed my ascent to acclimate.