The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5) (20 page)

              “I’ll go first as knife throwing isn’t something I do well,” said Petros.

              ZZ handed him three of his blades. “It’s the same as firing a rifle.”

              “I believe you,” said Petros. He drew his right arm back and flicked the knife. All three points struck the wood.

              Amadou hit the target but only just.

              ZZ balanced each blade in his right hand, concentrated and the blade hit the target centre. The other two struck within a few millimetres of the first.

              “You’ll have to teach me,” said Petros.

              “It is easy. Come let me show you.”

              Amadou leant on the side of the ship and watched Sicily go by.

              By lunchtime, Petros managed to strike the target.

              “You need to practice,” said ZZ.

              “Lunch,” shouted Marco.

              ZZ oiled his blades before returning them to their pouch.

              Once through the Straits of Messina the surface swell came from the west and a warm breeze from the African coast wafted across the deck. Alfredo checked the radar for other shipping in the vicinity. Satisfied, he took a final glance around and left the bridge. 

              Lunch consisted of smoked ham, freshly baked bread and fresh fruit.

              As Petros carved a slice of the ham he counted the men in the mess room. “Alfredo, who’s on the bridge?”

              “I am but I eat like you. There is not another vessel for thirty miles. I do not worry, why should you?”

              “It’s something I’m not used to. When I drive my boat I live on the bridge and stay in harbour at night.”

              “Really,” said Alfredo. “You have certificates?”

              “Ocean skipper with celestial navigation.”

              “Tommaso and I are qualified but for long trips Simone takes a turn on the bridge during daylight hours. This afternoon I intend to test the side-scan sonar equipment ready for tomorrow. Usually Tommaso keeps the watch until midnight. If you could help out it would leave him fresh for tomorrow. It is your decision.”

              “Love to but can I observe the sonar in operation?”

              “Certainly, you can assist Tommaso while I operate the monitors and depth sounders.”

              The afternoon vanished in a haze of activity as with the ship’s speed reduced to five knots, two bright yellow tow-fish were prepared and lowered into the sea, their depth controlled by Alfredo in the small control room.

              Petros and Amadou entered the control room and watched the picture on the screen change from virtually nothing to a detailed black and white picture of the seabed.

              “I use low frequency for long range and high for a detailed search,” said Alfredo. “Colour is available but for most scans black and white is perfect.”

              “What’s the black line?” asked Amadou.

              “Imagine you are a passenger in a light aircraft. You can see the ground left and right but you cannot see the ground directly beneath. That is the black line.”

              “I don’t believe it,” said Petros.

              Alfredo changed the frequency until the object was well defined. “It’s a man’s bicycle, you can see the cross bar.”

              “It’s so clear.”

              “If your wreck is where you think it is you’ll be surprised at what we can see. Do you know what happens when a ship sinks?”

              For a moment he remained silent. “Never gave it any thought.”

              “Let me explain,” said Alfredo. “A process of change begins as it adapts to new surroundings. In other words, it begins to rot but the process is dependent on many factors. What the vessel made of? Oxygen in the water? Chemicals, and marine life? Eventually it becomes a part of the seabed and because of the lack of oxygen, the whole process slows or stops. The vessel is in a state of preservation.”

              “Interesting,” said Petros as he gazed at the screen.

              “The equipment is working,” said Alfredo. “I’ll go and take over from Simone and he can help Tommaso. See you at four.”

              “We might as well give a hand. Amadou, where’s ZZ?”

              “On his bunk reading a book in English.”

              On the aft deck, Tommaso operated the winch while Simone guided the wire. Petros and Amadou manhandled the tow-fish into its stowage.

                “Anything else?” asked Petros.

              “Not at the moment. Thanks for your help. I’ve a few checks to make before I secure the tow-fish,” said Tommaso. “See you at supper.”

              As Petros and Amadou strolled back to their cabins Amadou asked, “Do you believe we’ll find your wreck?”

              “I do and I’m convinced whatever the Germans placed in the hold is valuable. If it’s not I’m out of pocket a few thousand pounds. Anyway, a quick shower and I’m on the bridge until midnight.”

              “You’ll be down for supper?”

              “I’ll come and get it but eat on the bridge.”

              “Your decision. I’ll come up and chat.”

Chapter Fourteen

The
Tuna Turner
rolled in the slight swell. Two men studied the chart in front of them. “We are at the location you gave me, Petros. I intend to complete a grid search at a low frequency and see if anything of interest is on the sea bed.”

              “You’re the captain,” said Petros. “I’ll stay on the bridge and keep watch. Simone can relieve me if you spot anything of interest.”

              Alfredo chuckled. “As a paying guest, you are a bonus. I see with my eyes a leader and men follow you but you do not hide the truth.” He slapped Petros on the back and descended the bridge deck ladder.

              Alfredo’s eyes never faltered as at three knots they navigated each leg of the grid marked on the chart. Lunch came and went but no trace of a wreck appeared on the screen. With tired eyes, he demanded one more leg of the grid before he rested for the night.

Tommaso and Simone took turns to sleep while the other checked the tow-fish cable.

            Ready to finish, Alfredo glanced from the screen and sipped his tenth cup of cold coffee. Something clipped the farthest edge of the monitor.

              “Tommaso,” he shouted.

              “What’s the matter?”             

              “We may have something. Go tell Petros. Run boy.”

              Alfredo switched to high frequency, his eyes consuming every detail on the screen. He felt the ship turn. The outline of a vessel on its side began to show. He pressed the printer to automatic, as every three seconds a frame from the screen shuffled into the out tray. Was this the wreck? “Tommaso, go, relieve Petros. I want him to see this.”

              The ship continued to circle.

              Petros arrived and stared over Alfredo’s shoulder. “It’s so well defined. I can see the starboard anchor still in its hawse pipe. When will we find out if it’s my vessel?”

              “Tomorrow, Isabella will sit in the wreck’s belly.”

              “And Isabella is?”

              “The name of my wife and the ROV on the main deck. Both are nosey.”

              “Remote operating vehicle,” said Petros.

              “My Isabella will get up close and personal. Her ability to uncover the truth will amaze you. How did you discover this ship?”

              “I was searching for a train,” said Petros.

              Alfredo leant back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, his eyes never leaving the screen. “You look for a train and find a sunken vessel. How?”

              Petros explained.

              A confused look spread over Alfredo’s face. “Quite a story. I just hope you are right or you will have wasted a lot of money.”

              “The ship’s there. The gold or whatever may not exist.”

              Alfredo shrugged and made sure the sat-nav fixed the position before shutting down all the equipment. “Petros, go tell whoever is keeping an eye on the cable to heave in the tow-fish. My eyes are tired. Enough is enough.”

              “I hope it’s my ship.”

              “So do I,” said Alfredo, “or we start again. I have told you the seabed is a big place when you are searching for something. Please tell Marco to start the evening meal.”

              “I’ll keep watch until midnight,” said Petros.

              “Tonight we save fuel and shut down the engines. Have Tommaso and Simone prepare the sea anchor. We can let the waves rock us to sleep.”

              “How well do those things work?” asked Petros.

              “They reduce drifting by sixty percent which means we will not be far off target in the morning. It also allows me to place Marco on the bridge.”

              “But he’s the cook.”

              “A cook with a good pair of eyes. He will wake me if he sees another vessel and anyway, we will have every deck light on and not under command lights. Other vessels will stay well clear.”

              “You’re right. I’ll get up to the bridge. Shout when you’re finished with the engines.”

***

At supper, Amadou turned to Alfredo. “ZZ and I will keep watch through the night. I can work radar but am unfamiliar with the controls on this model. Will someone show me how to set the range finder?”

              “Four eyes will be better than two, but you do not have to do this.”

              “Today you, Petros and your crew worked long hours while we lay on our bunks reading. It is fair we help and tomorrow you will be refreshed and find our ship.”

              “It’s teamwork,” said Petros, “and no I didn’t ask them. I have trusted these men with my life. So long as they can brew coffee they’ll be happy.” 

              Alfredo glanced around the table at his crew. “I thank you. Come, I will give you instruction on the radar and how to contact me in a hurry. The rest of you get some sleep.”

***

The sky in the east brightened. Amadou yawned and glanced at his watch. “Two more hours, ZZ, and we can go to bed.”

              “I’m ready for my bed. When do we wake the cook?”

              “Soon. The captain wants an early start.”

              “Could it be the wrong ship?”

              “The desert as you know is full of wild camels. You lose one and try to find it. You could see a thousand in a day but you will not know which is yours until you can actually see it up close. During the war hundreds of ships ended their working lives on the sea bed. If this is not our ship the captain starts his search until we find it or we give up.”

              Amadou sent ZZ to wake the cook and make two cups of coffee.

              They sipped their drinks and watched the sun climb into the clear blue sky. From below came the rattle of pans and the aroma of breakfast.

              Tommaso arrived with a roll filled with cooked ham. “I’ll take over. Davide and Simone are winching the sea anchor in. As soon as they’re finished I’ll start the engines. The boss wants us over the wreck and ready.”

              “If you find anything interesting wake me,” said Amadou.

              Tommaso turned his head. “Get some sleep. Whatever we find will not be going anywhere before you wake.”

              “I will come and see later,” said ZZ as he slid on the companionway handrail to the deck below.

              Amadou descended the steel steps one at a time.

              Tommaso stared aft waiting for the signal to indicate the sea anchor was clear of the water. Davide gave a thumb up and raced to the engine room. Two minutes later the engines roared into life. With the wreck’s coordinates in the computer-assisted pilot, the ship turned and headed at ten knots to the exact location.

              Petros and Alfredo strolled onto the open deck aft with their cups of coffee.

              “How far will we have drifted?” asked Petros.

              “The tidal currant is weak in the Med. A few miles perhaps. We will lower the tow-fish and check before the ROV goes exploring.”

              “I do hope we have the right ship.”

              “It is close to your position but we will see.”