Blood in the Water by Oliver Davies (book club reads .TXT) 📕

the GPS was deactivated, and fastened my little air tank to the chest straps. Lastly, I clipped a sheathed dive knife to my leg. It was made of good, strong stainless steel with the usual cutting edge, serrated edge and notch for line cutting. The hood and mask could wait for now.

I left the borrowed headset with the winchman and headed back up to the front, where the winch operator was ready to slide the door open for me. Once he had, I sat on the lip, pulled my hood up and settled my mask into place. The Sikorsky settled lower, and I gave him a thumbs-up before pushing off. I surfaced again quickly, and when I signalled that I was okay, he ducked back and slid the door shut. The Sikorsky lifted a little and headed off to the west to circle back behind the Kværnen. The suit was good. I didn’t feel any chill at all yet.

Thank goodness for good weather and calm water. I checked my compass and started off.

Twenty-Two

Shay

Well, this was just bloody typical! There I was, feeling ever so pleased with myself, car purring away happily like it hadn’t done for ages, nicely tuned up again, and then those two arseholes had to show up and spoil a perfectly enjoyable night.

I’d just got my jacket out of the cloakroom when I heard a quiet splashing noise from outside the windows and glanced out. Min, smart system that it was, had turned all but the guide lights off in here after we’d left earlier. The deck lights were still on out there, though, and I could see the dinghy rowing quietly along the side of the boat towards the dive platform at the stern. I didn’t need a second glance to tell me who was in it, or that Phelps, at least, was armed. There was no way I could get off now without being spotted.

I silenced my phone and ran through the layout of the boat in my head. Where was the best place to hide? It seemed to me that the main salon here was the place they’d be least likely to search properly. The lockers under the couches? I lifted the lid of the first one. No, that was full of crap. They probably all were. The cloakroom? If that top cupboard above the hanging rack was empty, I could definitely curl up in there. It had looked nice and deep.

I dived back in there and hopped up on a padded footlocker bench to open it. All clear, apart from a few boxes at one end, and just in time. I could hear stealthy steps coming up the little companionway to the stern deck. A quick pull up and a controlled leg swing, and I was halfway there. No loud thumps either. I eased carefully in, twisted myself over and pulled the doors closed. For good measure, I moved the boxes, setting each one down at the front of the shelf with barely a whisper of sound. Curled up as flat as possible behind them, I quickly checked with my phone light as I heard the two men sneak into the salon out there. The barrier was tall enough to conceal me. It would have to do.

A careful look would show some black fabric from my jacket and trousers through some little gaps, but that could be anything. Besides, if they even bothered to look in here, I doubted they’d do more than give it a quick glance.

I heard some low whispers and the sound of the guest bathroom door opening and then the closer sound of my own door being eased open. The footlocker lid made a little thump as it was shut again after a quick check, and then there was a brief stab of light as someone opened my cupboard and immediately closed it again.

“Nobody here. Go and check up on the flybridge.”

The cloakroom door closed again. So far, so good. They weren’t as quiet as I would have been if I’d been invading a place. Even from in here, I could hear when they headed downstairs. That should give me time enough to get out of here and go and alert Conall. Only I couldn’t do that, could I, because, by the time we got back here, they’d have Mads, Daniels and Verity all rounded up. And there was the matter of the gun, or guns, to consider. I fired off a quick text to Conall, or at least I tried to. They’d activated a jammer. Crap! The next thing I knew, they might start scanning for active phones. I turned mine off. It was no use to me now, anyway.

I heard a distant, angry voice from below and a muffled thump and nothing much after that but unidentifiable noises for a few minutes until I heard several people coming back up again.

“Sit down.” That was an English accent. Phelps then. “Where are all your pretty little groupies, Nielsen?”

“If you are referring to my houseguests, the scholarship students are staying in town tonight.”

“Pick up a fresh one, did you?” That was Jordan, the Aberdonian. He must have noticed the state we’d left the place in down there. We’d ended up raiding the kitchen for snacks and another bottle at one point. Oh, and accidentally half flooded the bathroom too. “You’re a greedy, entitled prick, did you know that, Nielsen?”

“As you can see, my dinner guest left earlier.” I’d dozed off when he did for a couple of hours, but Mads had still been fast asleep when I slipped out.

“What are you doing here, Brian? And who’s this?” Daniels’ voice.

“That’s Mr Jordan to you. And we’ll ask the questions, so shut your uppity mouth before I decide to shut it for you. I’m talking to the boss’s son, not the hired help.”

“Boy or girl?” I heard Phelps ask. “Your ‘dinner guest.’ I gather you’re one of those filthy deviants who can’t make their minds up.”

“On the contrary, I