the Savage Day - Simon Vaughn 02 (v5) (16 page)

But for once, technical detail, even when concerned with his favourite subject, failed to interest him. 'And what if they keep us out of the wheelhouse entirely? What if we don't get anywhere near those guns?'

'All right,' I said. 'Let's say I come up from the wreck twice. As I go down for the third time, you create a diversion of some sort. I'll surface on the other side of the boat and I'll try to board and get into the wheelhouse undetected.'

He thought about it for quite some time and then nodded slowly, 'I don't suppose we have a great deal of choice, do we, Major? And afterwards?'

'Now you are running ahead of the game. There may be no afterwards anyway. On the other hand, there is one interesting thing I've noticed. The ranks of the Sons of Erin seem to be thinning rapidly. Since we've been back I've only seen Dooley and four other men. Even if one supposes another watching Norah's door, it still makes the odds bearable.'

His face seemed paler than ever, at the mention of her name, I suppose, and the eyes seemed to recede into the sockets. 'Have you seen her again?' he asked.

I shook my head. 'No.'

'Did you see her face, Major, the spirit in her broken utterly?' His hands tightened over the brass rail at the end of the bed. 'By Christ, but I will have the eyes out of his head for doing that to her.'

From the look on his face, I'd say he meant every word of it.

The tiny harbour in the inlet below Spanish Head was reached by a metalled road that zig-zagged down the side of the cliff in a reasonably hair-raising way. We were taken down in the back of the Ford truck and when it stopped, we got out to find ourselves on a long stone jetty. The cliffs towered above us on either hand and from that vantage point, it was impossible to see anything of Spanish Head.

At the far end of the inlet there was a massive boathouse which I presumed contained the MTB, although I could not be sure as the great wooden doors were closed. The
Kathleen
was tied up at the bottom of a flight of stone steps and Dooley pushed us down in front of him.

His companion was already on board, a squat, rough-looking man with a shock of red hair and a tangled beard who wore fisherman's boots turned down at the knees and an Aran sweater. As I stepped over the rail, the Land-Rover we'd come all the way from Plumbridge in braked to a halt on the jetty above and Frank Barry got out.

'Everything all right, old lad?' he called. 'McGuire, there, knows these waters like the back of his hand so he'll run the ship or boat or whatever you call it. We don't want to overwork you.'

So that was very much that.
I said, 'Just as you say, Barry.'

He smiled beautifully. 'Thought you'd see it my way. Now for the surprise. Norah's come to see you off.'

He pulled her out of the Land-Rover so forcefully that she lost her balance and almost fell over. Binnie put a foot on the rail and Dooley raised his Sterling ominously. At the same moment the engines rumbled into life and McGuire leaned out of the wheelhouse and told us to cast off.

I looked up and had a final glimpse of Norah Murphy standing under the lamp in the rain, a pale shadow of her former self, so frail that from the looks of her, she would have fallen down had it not been for Barry's supporting arm.

And then they suddenly receded into darkness as McGuire increased speed and we moved out to sea.

14
Dark Waters

Magil Island was as bleak a sight as I have ever seen in the grey light of dawn as we nosed into Horseshoe Bay. At the height of summer the place could never hope to seem more than it was, a bare, black rock, but just now in the morning mist, rain driving across the bay in a grey curtain, it looked about the last place there was on top of earth.

I'd been preparing on the way over and was already wearing my wetsuit as McGuire cut the engines and dropped anchor as close to the centre of the bay as he could gauge.

Standing at my side in an old reefer coat, the collar turned up against the driving rain, Binnie shivered visibly as he looked down at the dark waters.

'Rather you than me, Major. Will it take long to find, do you think? It doesn't look to me as if you've a hope of seeing a thing down there. It's as dark as the grave.'

'Cork said the centre,' I reminded him. 'And we can't be too far out, whatever happens. The damn bay is only about seventy-five yards across as far as I can see.'

He started to help me on with my equipment while McGuire rigged the winch to start hauling, which was, I suppose, the right kind of optimistic attitude. As I strapped my cork-handled diver's knife to my leg I noticed Dooley watching from a distance, the Sterling, as always, ready for action.

'Any objection, you great stupid bastard?' I demanded.

The stone mask he called a face didn't move a muscle. I turned away, stood up and Binnie helped me into my aqualung. As he tightened the straps I whispered, 'Don't forget - when I go down for the third time.'

He handed me a diver's lamp without a word. I pulled down my mask, got a firm grip on my mouthpiece and went over the rail.

I paused briefly to adjust my air supply and went down quickly. It wasn't anything like as bad as I'd thought it would be. The water was strangely clear, like black glass. I was reminded suddenly and with a touch of unease, of those dark pools of Celtic mythology into which the heroes were constantly diving to seek out monstrous beasts that preyed on lesser men.

The bottom of the bay at that point was covered with seaweed, great pale fronds reaching out towards me like tentacles, five or six feet in length. I hovered beside the anchor chain for a moment, turning full circle, but in spite of the almost unnatural clearness of the water, my visibility range was only a few yards.

There was nothing for it, then, but to start looking. I swam towards the shore, staying close to the sea bed and found the launch almost instantly, lying tilted to one side in the centre of a patch of clear white sand.

I went down to deck level, grabbed hold of the rail and hung on. The signs of the fight with the Royal Navy MTB were plain to see. Two largish holes in the superstructure where cannon shells had hit and dozens of bullet holes in the hull that could only have been made by heavy machine-gun fire.

I went up fast and surfaced a good thirty yards nearer the shore than the
Kathleen.
Binnie was the first to see me and waved his hand. They hauled in the anchor, McGuire started the engines and coasted towards me.

'You've found it?' Binnie asked as they slowed beside me and McGuire let the anchor down again.

I nodded. 'I'm making my first dive now to assess the situation.'

I got a grip on my mouthpiece again and went down fast, hanging on to the deck rail while I adjusted my air supply. Then I switched on the lamp and went head first down the companionway.

A small amount of grey light filtered in through the portholes, but not much and it was as eerie as hell in that passage. One of the cabin doors swung gently to and fro. I shoved it open with my foot and a body lifted gently off the bunk opposite in the sudden turbulence and subsided again, but not before I'd seen the face, swollen to incredible proportions like something out of a nightmare. Another drifted above my head, pinned to the cabin roof. I got out and closed the door hurriedly.

I found what I wanted the moment I entered the main saloon for several large boxes were jumbled together in the angle between the centre table and the bulkhead where the boat had tilted. Most of them were padlocked, but one had been opened and the contents spilled out in an untidy pile like children's bricks.

Gold is heavy stuff and the ingot I picked up must have weighed a good twenty pounds, but I was conscious of no particular elation as I moved back along the companionway. The chips were down with a vengeance and a hell of a lot depended on what happened during the next ten or fifteen minutes.

I surfaced beside the ladder McGuire had put over the rail and held up the ingot. Binnie came down the ladder and stood knee-deep in water to take it from me, hanging on with one hand. It was a heaven-sent opportunity and as I passed the ingot to him, I slipped my diver's knife from its sheath and pushed it down inside one of his paratrooper's boots.

His face, as usual, gave nothing away. He handed the ingot over the rail to McGuire, who turned excitedly to show it to Dooley. Dooley was more interested in watching me.

'Are you all right, Major?' Binnie asked.

'It's bloody cold,' I said. 'So let's have that net down pretty damn quick. I want to get out of here.'

McGuire, helped by Binnie, pushed the winch arm out over the rail. They had already fixed a heavy net to the pulley hook which they now let down. I adjusted my mouthpiece and went after it.

Filling the net was a laborious process for as I needed the lamp to negotiate the interior of the wreck, I could only carry one ingot at a time. It took me a good twenty minutes to move six. Which was very definitely enough, so I hauled on the line and followed them up.

As I surfaced they were already swinging the net in over the deck. 'Jesus, man, is this the best you can do?' McGuire called.

'It's bloody hard work,' I told him.

'Well, you'd better get on with it or we'll be here all day.'

I glanced at Binnie, who was crouched over the rail, busily engaged in moving the ingots. Dooley stood against the rail towards the prow watching me, so I gave him two fingers and dived.

I went nearly all the way to the bottom before changing direction and striking for the surface again, keeping directly under the keel of the
Kathleen.
When I was almost there, I unbuckled the straps of my aqualung and got rid of it, surfacing gently on the other side of
Kathleen.

I heard Binnie say angrily, 'Will you watch what you're doing, you stupid bastard, or you'll get my fist in your teeth.'

'You little runt,' McGuire answered. 'I'll break your bloody neck.'

I could see none of this, of course, as I hauled myself under the rail and slipped inside the wheelhouse. My finger found the button under the chart table, the flap fell.

I reached for the Mauser with my left hand. As I pulled it from the clip, there was the faintest of sounds behind me. I turned, very carefully, to find Dooley standing in the open doorway.

What sixth sense had brought him there I'll never know, but there was no expression on his face as he stood covering me with the Sterling. I dropped the Mauser, having little option in the matter. He smiled beautifully, then shot me through the left forearm. I lay on my back in the corner for a moment. There was some sort of disturbance taking place on the other side of the wheelhouse for I could hear McGuire cursing.

Gunshot wounds seldom hurt straight away, but the shock to the nervous system is considerable so that I was understandably not quite myself as I struggled to my feet.

I fully expected Dooley to finish me off there and then, but instead, he moved outside and beckoned me to follow. I must have looked quite a sight as I paused in the doorway, dazed and shocked, blood pouring from my left arm, because he gave me that smile again and lowered the Sterling.

I think it was the smile that did it, but then I learned a long time ago that you survive in my line of country only by seizing each chance as it comes. I moved out of the door, swaying, ready to fall down at any moment, and gave him the edge of my right hand across his throat. He dropped the Sterling and staggered back against the companionway.

By rights such a blow should have put him on his back, but the heavy collar of his reefer coat, turned up against the rain, saved him. As I leaned down and tried to pick up the Sterling, he came for me.

I kicked the Sterling under the rail, which seemed the sensible thing to do and put a fist into his mouth when he got close enough. It was like hitting the Rock of Gibraltar and his own blow in return was of such devastating power that I felt at least two ribs go in my right side.

He wrapped those great arms around me and started to squeeze. Perhaps he'd some pleasant little idea in mind like breaking my back across the rail. If so, it was his last mistake, for when he pushed me up against it I let myself go straight over, taking him with me.

And the sea was my element, not his. I kicked hard, taking us down, clutching at his reefer coat as he tried to pull away. My back scraped against the anchor chain. I grabbed hold of it with my left hand, ignoring the pain, and clamped my right forearm across his throat.

God, how he struggled, but he was already half-gone and nothing on top of earth or beneath it could have made me let go. My lungs were near to bursting when I finally released him and followed him up.

Binnie reached for me as I surfaced beside Dooley. I sucked in air and shook my head. 'Give me a line. I'll pass it under his arms.'

'Christ Jesus, Major, the bastard's dead. You've only got to look at him.'

'Do as I say,' I insisted. 'I'll explain later.'

Binnie got a line as I requested, I passed it under the dead man's arms and he hauled him over the rail. I followed a moment later and collapsed on the deck, my back against the wheelhouse.

'Jesus, but you look in a bad way, Major,' Binnie said anxiously as he leaned over me.

'Never mind that. What happened to McGuire?'

'I put the knife to him and shoved him over the side.'

'Good lad. Now bring me a bottle of Jameson up from the saloon and the first-aid kit. You've got some patching up to do.'

I moved into the wheelhouse and he cut me out of the wet suit and set to work. By the time I was on my third large Jameson, he'd bandaged the forearm, but the ribs were a different proposition. He taped them up as best he could, but each time I breathed it felt like a knife in the lungs. After that, he gave me two shots of morphine under my instructions and helped me dress.

I poured another large Jameson and he said anxiously, 'Sure, now, and didn't I read somewhere that booze and that stuff don't mix too well?'

'Maybe not,' I said, 'but I need them both for what I've got to do.'

'And what would that be, Major?'

'Oh, get back to Spanish Head and sort out that bastard, Barry, once and for all.' I managed a grin. 'He's really beginning to annoy me, Binnie.'

'I'm with you there all the way,' he said.

'All right, then let's have a look at the situation. When we take the
Kathleen
in, there are two possibilities. The first is that Barry will be waiting on the jetty in person, eager for his first sight of the gold.'

'And the second?'

'He'll stay up at the house and leave his men, or some of them, to do the welcoming.'

'But they'll know something is wrong the moment they see either of us at the wheel as we come in,' Binnie pointed out.

I shook my head and fought hard to keep control of the pain in my side. 'But neither of us will be at the wheel, Binnie, that's the point.'

I looked out to where Dooley sprawled on his back on the deck, eyes wide for all eternity.