The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5) (21 page)

              Petros let out a sigh. “You have another busy day in front of you.”

              “You pay me to do a job. You recommend me if I do it well.”

              “I’m sure James keeps you busy.”

              He shrugged. “I make a living. The days of shallow water salvage are over. Come help me prepare Isabella for her swim.”

              “In position,” shouted Tommaso.

              Alfredo nodded to Simone as he readied the tow-fish before entering his compact control room. Within thirty minutes, he found the wreck.

              Petros’ eyes never left the VDU as the stern of a vessel appeared. “The detail’s incredible. You can see every rise and fall in the sea bed.”

              Alfredo sighed as he shook his head. “This is not your vessel.”

              “How can you tell?”

              “She is an iron-clad and in three pieces. Sail and steam. The deck, mast stumps, and to the left, part of her funnel. Quite large, maybe seventy to eighty metres.”

              Disappointed, Alfredo programmed a new search pattern. The hours ticked by and the seabed remained empty.

              Marco delivered coffee and filled rolls to everyone. “Captain, when shall I start supper?”

              Alfredo turned to Petros. “We have a few more hours of daylight remaining. It is your call.”

              “I reckon we keep going until dusk or finish one more leg of the grid, whichever arrives first.”

              “You never know your luck,” said Alfredo.

              The daylight began to fade when Alfredo shouted, “I have a large contact.”

              “How large?” asked Petros.

              Their mood of expectancy rose as the screen showed a vessel on its side.

              “What do you think?”

              “Isabella will tell us tomorrow. The wreck is a mile from the position you gave at a depth of two hundred and sixty metres on a sloping seabed. The thing is we started our search to the right, if we had chosen left.” He shrugged. “I am hungry and if we work any longer mistakes will be made.”

              Petros took himself to the bridge while all hands recovered the tow-fish and secured it for the night.

              As a repeat of the previous night, Amadou and ZZ stood watch while the crew slept and the ship drifted.              

Chapter Fifteen

ZZ roused the cook and crew at first light. Breakfast consisted of buttered toast and coffee. A clear blue sky greeted the day as they proceeded to the previous night’s sat nav position. One hour later, Tommaso and Simone wandered aft and prepared the ROV for launch.

              Alfredo, with his third cup of coffee in his hand, strolled along the deck, gave the order, and waited until Isabella with her umbilical cord attached, descended.

              Petros’ eyes never left the screen as Alfredo operated the joystick. It remained blank for some time until at twenty metres above the seabed the four-halogen searchlights operated. The illuminated hull of a ship, its port side covered in silt, showed clearly on the monitor.

              “From the naval report, neither warship damaged her enough to sink her. Can you check the hull?” said Petros.

              Alfredo manipulated Isabella to the bow, turned, and traversed the length of the ship. “Someone blew holes in the hull four times but from what I can see, left the forward hold untouched” The image on the screen changed to the aft deck. “Two guns with a steel framework over them.”

              “Could have been an armed merchantman,” said Petros.

              “One way to find out.”

              “How can we be sure?”

              “Paint lasts a long time underwater. Do you know the grey paint on the Bismarck is still in good condition? We need to find a large red cross amidships.”

              Isabella travelled to the central section and with the thrust from her main propellers cleared the layer of silt from the superstructure. Back and forth, she manoeuvred until at last a dull white became visible.

              “Liners are white, not tramps,” said Alfredo, “and this was never a passenger ship. There is your red cross, or at least a part of it. We have your ship. Now for the hard part. We have to enter without snagging the umbilical.”

              “Maybe the hatch covers came off when she sank.”

              “Let us take a look.”

              Isabella, with both motors at full power, surged through the clear water to the other side. On the screen could be seen twisted metal where the bridge once existed. Alfredo guided the craft keeping clear of jagged metal edges.

              “Why are you peering into the remains of the bridge?”

              “I am hoping to discover a name plate.” Alfredo hovered the ROV and increased the magnitude of the camera lens. The lighting along with the clear water assisted as he tilted and turned. “There it is as always on the aft bulkhead.” He adjusted the camera and read out loud, “Jupiter 1927  Built Harland and Wolf Belfast. At least you might be able to find out who owned her.”

              The craft backed away and swept across the main deck. “Two hatch-covers missing. One intact. The explosion from the charges that blasted the hull, blew them off. This might be fun,” said Alfredo as he pressed the remote arm function. A triple steel claw appeared on the edge of the screen as it grabbed the tarpaulin on the hatch.

              “Slowly, slowly,” muttered Alfredo.

              On the screen, the rotten canvas ripped to reveal broken and distorted planks.

              “This is going to take time. Petros, will you make me a coffee?”  

              “And miss all the fun?”

              “I promise I will wait for you to come back before I take Isabella inside.”

              “Coffee, boss,” shouted Marco.

              “Looks as if I’m staying,” said Petros.

              “Be quiet. If I make a mistake I lose my ROV.”

              Piece by piece Isabella grabbed and ripped the canvas from the hatch. Many of the planks, which formed the cover, tumbled to the seabed. “As she sank and fell on her side, her weight shattered some of the planks,” said Alfredo. “If I can shift enough we go in. If not we blow the cover clear, which may cause problems.”

              Petros shrugged. “Whatever works?”

              Limited by its single arm and power the ROV pushed, pulled at the canvas and wood.

              “You could drive a bus through a hole that size.”

              Alfredo turned his head. “A bus does not have an umbilical trailing behind it. My ship maintains its position with a computerised global positioning system. If one of the bow or stern thrusters malfunctions for a few seconds I lose the ROV and cost you a lot of money.”

              Petros placed his hand on Alfredo’s shoulder. “Point taken.”

              With the dexterity of a surgeon, Alfredo enlarged the opening. Hours elapsed before he declared. “It is time to see what is in this hold.”

              Tommaso and Simone crowded the entrance, their eyes fixed on the screen. Isabella approached the cavernous hole with caution, her four halogen lights illuminating a dark cargo hold unseen for sixty-nine years.

              “It’s empty,” muttered Simone.

              “Think boy,” said Alfredo, “The bottom is in front of us.”

              “Interesting,” said Petros. “Those banks of ammunition boxes have metal straps securing them to the deck.”

              Isabella crept ahead and hovered a short distance away.

              Petros laughed as he read the German wording.

              “What is so funny?”

              “It says, ‘This Way Up’.”

              “They have been secured with cross-straps bolted to the deck so they cannot move. It implies whatever is in them is heavy. The last thing you need in a rough sea is your cargo shifting.”

              “So we are buggered,” said Petros. “Isabella has discovered something we cannot move.”

              “Never took you to be a defeatist. I am a professional. Simone, have Davide prepare two charges, detonators wired to the surface.”

              We should check each container,” said Petros. “Maybe one is broken.”                

              “German engineering and well constructed. My way may take a couple of hours but saves time.” He glanced at his watch. “We will stop, relax, and have lunch but first my Isabella must return.”

              As the ROV surfaced, Petros hooked the lifting beam. Assisted by Simone they manhandled it onto the deck.

              Davide checked for damage before attaching a roll of wire to a fixed arm.

              “Fascinating,” said Petros.

              “Simple, the detonators are placed in the explosive which is held in the remote arm. When the charge is in position the ROV backs away and the wire trails to the surface.”

              “I imagine placing the explosives is a delicate operation.”

              “No, it is easy. The difficult bit is not using too much.”

              Marco brought soup with fresh crusty bread and oranges on the aft deck.

              Each man grabbed a mug of soup, a chunk of bread and sat on the deck

              When Alfredo finished eating, he stood and strolled around the deck stretching and bending before he returned and spoke to Davide. “Ready?”

              Petros and Tommaso lowered the ROV into the sea while Alfredo sat in the control room. With a flurry of foam, the red and black machine disappeared into the depths. Alfredo used the side scan sonar and sat-nav to guide his hand. Sixteen minutes later four sets of eyes watched the screen as Isabella wedged the explosive charge at the base of one bracket. Time elapsed until on the surface they hoisted the ROV onto the deck.

              Davide removed the drum of wire and prepared the ends for connecting to a battery. He turned to Alfredo.

              He nodded.

              “Not exactly dramatic,” said Petros.

              “Dramatic is a large explosion. An expert uses enough to do the job,” said Davide.

              “Now we do it again.” He rolled the wire onto the cable drum, examined the ends, cut back to fresh ends, and attached a detonator. This he inserted into the explosive. “Ready.”

              Again, the ROV descended but before the second charge was in place, Alfredo examined the damage caused by the first explosion. “Can you see, one strap neatly severed and the ammunition boxes undamaged, well almost.”

              With the second charge in place and the ROV on deck, Davide pressed the button.

              Twenty minutes later Isabella entered the hold. On inspection, the screen showed many ammunition boxes on the steel deck. Like an inquisitive beast, the ROV hovered over one, drifted to the right and then left.

              Petros attempted to quell his excitement. “Can you see the fastenings?”

              “Yes and I am deciding on the best way to lift them.” Alfredo drove Isabella until it sat on the steel plates next to a box.

              Petros watched the small movements of Alfredo’s right hand as he operated the joystick while his left the grab. The first clip broke away as did the others. With a flick of the wrist the cover came off the box. A layer of rust covered the contents until the wash from the thrusters brushed it away.

              “Holy Mother of Jesus.” Alfredo crossed himself. The box in the centre of the screen contained four cast ingots of what appeared to be gold.  

              “Can you lift one?” asked Petros.

              “Depends on the weight,” said Alfredo. “I will try.”

              The remote arm grasped a handle. Utilising full thrust Isabella rose and glided forward. The four ingots from the top layer tumbled out along with many more. With the empty box discarded, Alfredo settled the ROV next to an ingot, which rested on another. The grab locked its jaws around the middle of the bar.

              “Progress out of the hold will be difficult. If I snag the umbilical we lose everything. The extra weight reduces my control.” He took his time as the remote arm drew back into the main body of the ROV.

              With a steady hand, Alfredo positioned Isabella until the halogen lights illuminated the gaping hole in the hatch cover. The veins on the back of his hand stood out as at full power the ROV raced clear. Free of any obstruction he activated the red button on the consol. The screen went blank and he relaxed in his chair.

              “What’s happening?” asked Petros.

              “Isabella is on her way to the surface. I operated the emergency floatation bags to give extra lift. Unfortunately, it kills the other systems dead. Come, we will have to lift her onboard.”

              The ROV floated one hundred metres on the port bow. Petros and Alfredo dragged the machine while Simone wound the umbilical onto its drum.

              Tommaso hooked the lifting shackle. All eyes were on the grab as it rose out of the water and rested on the deck.

              Petros went to remove the ingot but the grab held it fast.

              Davide manually operated the release mechanism, which dropped the bar into his palm and smiled. “Hitler’s Gold.”

              Petros read the words. Deutsche Reichsbank – 1Kilo Feingold. “Simone, your knife please.” He placed the ingot on the deck and scraped the top. The dull gleam changed. “Looks like and is as heavy as gold so I believe it is.”

              Alfredo placed his arm around Petros’ shoulders. “Our troubles are just beginning.”

              “I don’t understand. I have the salvage rights.”

              “Your lawyer will have, I am sure, done everything in his power to have the paperwork signed and sealed in triplicate but that was before we discovered the gold. You have commissioned and paid for a search no one was interested in. When we arrive in Palermo you must by law declare what we have found.”

              “So you’re saying, others may claim ownership of the ship and its cargo.”

              “The ammunition boxes are German. An authority on salvage may claim the ship was under the command of a Kriegsmarine Officer when the British attacked and sunk her. The gold is not marked in any other way so they might state it is German. I suggest you talk to your lawyer but for the moment keep quiet. A day or two might place the odds in your favour.”

              “We couldn’t retrieve a few more ingots to pay for our time?”

              “We were lucky to lift one. As I said, talk to your lawyer.”

              “Your crew, will they keep their mouths shut?”

              “With the promise of a bonus that is not your problem.”

              “We know where the ship is. That’s our bargaining chip. Once the location is known the rats will gather.”

              Marco arrived with two mugs of coffee. “Dinner is ready. What time do we eat?”

              “For once, we can eat at a decent time. Tommaso, make sure everything is secure on deck. Find Davide and tell him to start the engines, we are going home.”

              Simone shouted and pointed to the sea off the port bow. “Captain, at five miles there’s a hulk full of bodies low in the water.”