by Peter Cave
The girl nodded. ‘Perhaps,’ she murmured non-committally. She waved Martin over to a hard-backed chair as Randy let himself out of the room and closed the door. ‘So what’s the problem this time? That plane, I suppose? I can tell you right now that I have no more idea of where it came from than you do.’
Martin shook his head. ‘It’s not that specifically I needed to talk to you about. Something a bit more general, actually.’ He sat himself down before continuing. ‘To tell you the truth, I could do with your help.’
‘But of course, that’s what I’m here for,’ Selina said immediately, looking and sounding perfectly genuine. ‘What is it you think I might be able to do for you?’
There was no point in beating about the bush, Martin realized. ‘Basically, I need a good cover story. A good, plausible reason to be here, and something which is fairly high-profile, so that we can be clearly seen to be doing something if anyone comes sniffing round. Apart from which, my men are getting bored, and that’s not good for morale. They need something to keep them busy.’
Selina eyed him suspiciously. ‘Why come to me?’
‘I thought there might be some little job we could help your people out with. Do you a favour at the same time as I sort out my little problem.’
Martin watched Selina’s face carefully, looking for her reaction and hoping to get some sort of an answer to at least one of his questions. If she seemed unwilling to cooperate, it might hint that she had something to hide. A direct refusal would almost certainly suggest that the Greek authorities were more deeply involved than he had been led to believe.
The girl merely looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, I can see your point,’ she said after a while. ‘Anything specific in mind?’
Martin shook his head. ‘Not really. I thought I’d leave that up to your people to decide. There must be something we could help them out with for a couple of weeks. Even a bit of coastal surveillance – if someone’s willing to make a suitable boat available.’
‘Yes, I’m sure there is,’ Selina agreed with a brief nod. She considered the matter for a few seconds more. ‘Look, I’ll have a word with them first thing in the morning and see if they can come up with something.’ She gave Martin a slightly apologetic smile. ‘That’s about the best I can do, at such short notice.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Martin said, slightly disappointed that he had actually learned nothing new. Selina was either an even better operative than he had already given her credit for, or she was one hundred per cent genuine. He could only wait and see which proved the most likely. He rose from his chair, there being little else to say. ‘Well, I’ll leave it with you,’ he said by way of parting.
Selina escorted him to the door, flashing him a curious, almost defensive smile as he was about to leave. ‘Oh, by the way, Randy and I were just talking, in case you’re still wondering.’
She seemed particularly anxious that he should believe her, Martin thought. Was it natural Greek modesty, or something else? Either way, it wasn’t really any of his business, and he could see nothing to lose by reassuring her.
‘But of course,’ he said, chivalrously. ‘I never doubted it for a second.’
17
True to her word, Selina came back to Martin before noon the following day.
‘Have you got something for me?’ he asked expectantly.
Selina nodded. ‘Could be. Your men are all trained in deep-water reclamation and handling explosives, aren’t they?’
‘Of course.’ It was a plain statement of fact, not a boast.
‘Then this could be right up their street,’ Selina announced. ‘More importantly, it’s handy – less than three kilometres off this stretch of coast.’
It sounded promising, Martin thought. ‘So what’s the actual problem?’
‘It’s a wreck,’ the girl told him. ‘One of ours, as it happens. She’s lying in about forty metres of water and we have an accurate fix on her position.’ She paused, pursing her lips. ‘But there are complications.’
‘What sort of complications?’
‘The sort which make a big bang,’ Selina said drily.
Martin sighed. ‘Perhaps you’d better give me the full story. What is this wreck, what was she carrying, and how long has she been down there?’
Selina drew a deep breath. It was obviously going to be a long story, Martin thought. ‘She went down in 1966,’ Selina began. ‘It was a Greek Navy MTB, engaged in laying offshore mines. It was a time when we were still very jumpy about a possible invasion from Turkey. Most of these coastal waters and some of the beaches were mined as a matter of course.’
‘What happened to her?’ Martin interrupted.
‘Nobody’s quite sure,’ Selina admitted. ‘It was nearly twenty years ago remember, and there’s not a lot in the records. It’s possible that she was attacked with a limpet mine by Turkish frogmen. Another possibility is that there was some sort of an accident. As I said, she wasn’t a proper mine-laying vessel, and her crew possibly weren’t as properly trained as they might have been. Anyway, she apparently went down very fast, so it’s obvious something quite drastic happened to her.’
It was all a very fascinating story, thought Martin, but he couldn’t really see where it was leading. ‘So what exactly would you like us to do about it?’ he asked. ‘If she’s been on the bottom for this long, the hull will more or less have rusted out by now. You’re not imagining there’s going to be much worth salvaging, are you?’
Selina shook her head. ‘We’re quite aware of the probable condition of the wreck,’ she said. ‘That’s just the point. We have no idea how many of her complement of mines she had actually laid before she went down. There could be anything up to a hundred and fifty of the things still left on board. If the hull is starting to break up . . .’
Selina didn’t bother to finish the sentence, but Martin got the message clearly enough. Over a hundred mines, nearly twenty years old, corroded and unstable, drifting about loose in the Aegean. It was not a pretty thought. Quite apart from the dangers to commercial shipping, there were a thousand and one other craft to think about. Luxury yachts, speedboats, even jet-skis. Plus, of course, the potential threat to hundreds of pleasure beaches, packed with foreign tourists. The Greek Islands tourist boom was at its height. It would only take one accident to jeopardize the whole future of the industry.
Martin was appalled. He stared at Selina with a shocked, almost accusatory look on his face. ‘That’s been down there for twenty years and no one’s done anything about it before?’ He could hardly bring himself to believe the sheer irresponsibility of it.
The girl exhaled noisily and spread her hands in one of those Mediterranean gestures which said nothing but spoke volumes. Martin understood.
‘But of course you’d have got round to it sooner or later,’ he said acidly.
Selina looked slightly ashamed. ‘Well? Can you help us?’
‘The actual depth of this wreck – are your people sure that’s accurate?’
The girl nodded. ‘Absolutely. About forty metres, as I told you.’
‘Then we’re slightly over the safety margin for scuba gear,’ said Martin, as if thinking aloud. ‘Anyone working at that depth is going to be strictly limited by decompression time.’ He paused, running the standard tables through his head. Three-quarters of an hour working at that depth required a minimum of one full hour of decompression, coming up in three staggered stages. And each diver could safely make no more than two descents in a twenty-four-hour period. Plus, of course, the strict time limitation of the air tanks themselves. He turned his attention back to Selina.
‘It would mean a cache of spare air tanks would have to be lowered down on a static line,’ he told her. ‘And the divers would need to work in pairs so they could help each other change tanks.’
‘But it would not be impossible,’ Selina prompted.
Martin shook his head. ‘No, not impossible. Although for additional safety I’d ideally like to have at least one d
iver in a regulation suit on hand.’ He eyed Selina directly. ‘Would your people be willing to make available a boat fitted with a compressor and the right gear?’
‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ Selina said without hesitation.
Martin thought for a few more seconds, finally nodding faintly. ‘Then we can probably help each other out. I’ll have to consult my men, of course. This would necessarily have to be a strictly volunteered operation. I can’t order them to do this, you understand?’
‘Of course,’ Selina agreed, with a faint smile. ‘It wouldn’t be the English thing to do, would it?’
Martin ignored the gentle jibe. ‘So, working on the assumption that we do go ahead, what exactly do you want us to do?’
‘A lot is going to depend on the state of the wreck and the number and location of the remaining mines,’ Selina said. ‘Ideally we’d like everything brought up for safe disposal, but that may not be practical. If the mines are still reasonably packaged together and you consider them safe to handle, then that would be our first choice. But of course any decision would be entirely up to you, and we would accept your professional judgement. On the other hand, if the mines are already loose and scattered, then we would hope you could collect as many as possible.’
‘There is another possibility,’ Martin pointed out. ‘It’s quite likely that several of those babies are going to be in an advanced state of corrosion and highly unstable. If they are still packed together, that will make for a very dangerous situation indeed.’
‘In that case you might have no other choice but to blow the lot,’ Selina said. A slight frown crossed her face. Her knowledge of explosives and demolition work was strictly limited. ‘I assume that one decent charge would safely detonate them all?’
Martin smiled. ‘Oh, you can count on that at least. At that depth, the pressure shock alone would set off anything that’s still capable of exploding. It’ll make one hell of a big bang, though.’
Selina smiled contentedly. ‘Well you did say you wanted something high-profile,’ she reminded him.
Every single one of Martin’s men volunteered for the dangerous assignment without hesitation. He had never doubted for a second that they would, although he was slightly surprised by how eager most of them seemed to be. They were obviously more bored than he had imagined. A week of inactivity did not sit comfortably with men who had been primed for action and excitement like guns with a hair-trigger.
‘So how soon can we get down there?’ Sooty asked, beaming. He had already been the first to volunteer for the more uncomfortable job of wearing a regulation diving suit. His obvious enthusiasm provoked the expected wave of sarcasm from his fellows.
‘Christ, you’re keen, Sooty,’ Colin Graham teased him. ‘Wouldn’t your Mummy let you play with fireworks when you were a kid?’
‘I reckon he’s just kinky about wearing rubber suits and a brass helmet,’ Williams suggested. ‘Our Sooty’s a closet bondage freak. He’ll be standing down there having multiple orgasms while the rest of us are working our balls off.’
Martin cut the banter short. He didn’t want the men becoming too hyped up. From what Selina had told him, the job would be far more than some underwater picnic. Far from being a mere diversion, it was likely to be a highly dangerous and volatile assignment, and he didn’t want anyone losing sight of the serious dangers involved.
‘We’ll locate the wreck and make a preliminary recce dive in scuba suits the day after tomorrow,’ he announced firmly. ‘It will be strictly hands off, observation only, just long enough to determine the state of the hull and the way she’s lying. Once we know that, we can start to make more definite plans, and it will give the Greeks time to come up with extra equipment we’re going to need.’ He looked at Willerbey, who acted as base armourer for the unit. ‘I take it we have sufficient stocks of plastic explosive for a job like this, if we do have to rubbish the lot?’
Willerbey grinned at him. ‘For a pissing little MTB?’ he queried, scornfully. ‘Christ, boss, I can break out enough stuff to raise the fucking Titanic if we have to.’
Martin smiled thinly. ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you,’ he said. He looked at them all and gave a final nod. ‘Well, if that’s all settled then I’ll let the Greek authorities know we’re ready to go ahead.’ He left the room, knowing that his men needed the time and freedom to burn off some adrenalin with a bout of joking and general piss-taking. It was always best to leave them to it, and anyway there were a few more details he needed to tie up with Selina now that the project had been unanimously approved.
As Martin left the room, Crewes took the opportunity to pull Willerbey to one side, eyeing him curiously. ‘How come you’re suddenly looking so bloody chipper again?’ he asked. ‘You were on a real downer yesterday.’
Willerbey grinned uncomfortably. The odd sense of depression had been lifted away completely now, leaving him feeling slightly embarrassed about the whole episode. ‘Maybe I just like blowing things up,’ he suggested.
18
With his sceptical attitude towards the Greek way of doing things, Martin had anticipated some difficulties in the actual location of the sunken motor torpedo boat. Efficiency just wasn’t a word in the national language, he had more or less decided, so he was pleasantly surprised when the coordinates which Selina had supplied turned out to be remarkably accurate.
The small party of Marines – consisting of himself, Crewes and Willerbey as divers and Williams as pilot of the Rigid Raider – located the wreck within two hours of arriving at the designated spot, using a portable echo-sounder. As Selina had said, she was lying in 140 feet of water, and judging from the sonar trace, still in one piece.
Martin watched Crewes and Willerbey, clad in their black neoprene suits, as they perched somewhat precariously on either side of the craft’s sloping, flattened prow. The Raider was not the most suitable boat in the world from which to launch divers, but until the Greeks came up with the properly equipped diving vessel they had promised, it would have to do.
‘Now remember that this is just a quick exploration dive,’ he reminded them both. ‘Once you reach the bottom you’ll have only three or four minutes before you start needing decompression time – so the quicker you make it, the faster we can get away again. Just check the position of the wreck, take a couple of photographs and plant a location beacon on the hull. Other than that, you don’t touch anything. Is that understood?’
The two divers nodded. ‘Put the kettle on, boss,’ Crewes said. ‘We’ll be back in time for tea.’
Martin handed Willerbey the bulky underwater camera, which he clipped to his weight belt. Both divers pulled their masks into position, checked the air flow of their regulators and slipped their breathing tubes into their mouths. With a final thumbs up, each man clapped one hand firmly over the glass front of his mask and tumbled backwards into the water, both jackknifing in unison like a pair of trained seals. With a final flash of black flippers churning up the surface of the water, they were gone.
It felt good to be doing a deep dive again, Crewes thought, as he sliced down through the water with rhythmic, powerful kicks of his legs. Just as Willerbey loved anything which flew, so Crewes felt strangely at home in the water, almost as if it was his natural element. Diving had been his hobby and his passion long before he had joined the SBS, and indeed the knowledge that it would probably make up a substantial part of his service career had been instrumental in his decision to apply in the first place.
The water was unusually clear, even for the Aegean. Crewes supposed that it had something to do with the comparatively narrow channel of water between Samos and the Turkish mainland, which slowed down tidal currents and prevented them from scouring sand and silt up from the seabed. Whatever the reason, the area had traditionally been one of the favourite hunting grounds of the local sponge divers for centuries, and a source of bitter rivalry and feuding between Greeks and Turks both before and after the Cyprus troubles. A few diehards of both nat
ions still managed to scrape a tenuous living diving from their single-masted caiques, although they were already a dying breed. Sheer price had all but killed off the demand for real sponges in the face of opposition from synthetic equivalents, and overfishing by the new types of boat which raked the seabed with huge weighted nets was rapidly depleting those stocks which marine pollution had not yet killed off.
Crewes continued on his way, diving almost vertically into the ever-deepening green of the water. He passed through a tightly packed shoal of small, brightly hued fish, which suddenly burst outwards around him like an exploding firework, throwing out rays of coloured light. He was down to around fifty feet now, and the increased depth had already started to filter out the top end of the spectrum. The water was still clear, but it was taking on a diffused quality which gave the illusion of cloudiness. Directly below him, Crewes saw something grey and bulky undulate across his field of vision and disappear. It could have been a manta ray, but he wasn’t sure.
Just over fifteen feet behind him, Willerbey’s thoughts were almost the exact opposite of his companion’s. Every time he dived, Willerbey was acutely aware that he was out of place, an interloper in a completely alien world. And yet the very strangeness of being in deep water thrilled him in its own unique way. While Crewes revelled in this watery environment, Willerbey felt an ever-present sense of danger which excited him. Feeling the familiar tingle of adrenalin surging through his body, he kicked out with renewed strength, knifing down through the rising column of air bubbles which Crewes left in his wake.
Crewes pulled his left wrist up to his face mask, checking the luminous read-out on his depth gauge. They had reached eighty feet, and were well into a gloomy twilight world where there were no colours other than bottle-green passing into black. Distance itself appeared to be compressed, so that the darkness closed in like an enveloping blanket. It was no longer a time to be diving alone. Crewes stopped kicking for a while, twisting his body in the water to perform a half-turn and look back for Willerbey. He hovered, virtually weightless, until the other man caught up with him. Then, side by side, the two divers continued their descent towards the ocean floor.