LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

on top of the wheelhouse and turned the spot and his stomach heaved. In the harsh white light, the sea boiled as dozens of sharks plunged and fought like mad dogs over a piece of meat. One great ugly head lifted out of the water, a human arm clamped between its teeth, before plunging down to escape the attentions of three others.

      Manning jumped to the deck and ran into the cabin. When he came back he was carrying a Garand automatic carbine. He stood at the rail, bitter, impotent anger rising inside him, and pumped round after round into the gleaming bodies.

      It was all to no purpose. The sea boiled over in a white cauldron as those who struggled in their death agony, thrashing the water in fury, became in turn the victims.

      Blood fountained up, lumps of raw flesh drifted on top of the water, the sharks twisted and turned until the whole thing was like something out of a terrible nightmare and the sea itself seemed to cry out in agony.

      As the last shot echoed flatly across the water, Manning threw the useless carbine to the deck and stumbled below. For a little while, the others stood there looking helplessly at each other and then Seth went into the wheelhouse and turned off the spot.

      Manning sat at the table in the saloon smoking a cigarette, an empty glass in front of him. He reached for the bottle and the door opened and Viner came in. He closed it quickly and slumped down in the opposite chair. His hair was soaked by the rain and he looked very pale.

      ‘What’s it like out there?’ Manning said calmly. ‘Have they finished yet?’

      Viner shook his head and buried his face in his hands. Manning half-filled his glass with rum and pushed it across.

      ‘Drink some of that. You’ll feel better.’

      Viner shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I’d rather have a cigarette.’

      Manning gave him one and the German lit it carefully, coughing as the smoke caught at the back of his throat. It was very quiet there in the saloon with the spray spattering lightly against the windows.

      After a while, Manning said, ‘Where was she going – Miami?’

      Viner nodded. ‘She had a letter from the Cuban refugee people there. They wanted her to go on tour in the States to raise money for their organization.’

      ‘But why go without telling me?’

      ‘She thought it would be best that way. A clean break.’

      Manning shook his head. ‘I don’t get it. I don’t get it at all. There must have been some other reason. Something that makes sense.’

      ‘All right, Harry,’ Viner said. ‘I’ll give it to you straight. Ever since you arrived on Spanish Cay you’ve been drowning in a sea of self-pity. You seemed to think you were the only one to take a knock over the Cuban affair. And then Maria came along. At least she managed to stop you from drinking yourself into the grave, but ever since, you’ve used her like a crutch. She decided it was time you learned to walk on your own two feet again.’

      Manning sat there staring at him, a slight frown on his face and then he emptied his glass, got up and went outside. Saunders, Morrison, and Seth were talking quietly in the wheelhouse and he brushed past them and went and stood at the rail, thinking about her down there in the dark water, knowing that everything Viner had said was true.

      Gradually a faint pearly luminosity appeared and he was able to distinguish the greyness of the mist curling up from the water and the dark, silver lances of the rain.

      The nightmare was over. The sea lifted in a slight swell, creaming against the base of the reef. The blowhole was silent. The sharks were gone.

      The police launch was anchored twenty or thirty yards to port and Joe Howard emerged from the wheelhouse and raised an arm. He dropped over the stern into his dinghy, cast off and sculled across.

      When he climbed over the rail, his normally good-humoured face was grave. ‘I’ve radioed Nassau. They’re sending a salvage boat and a couple of divers. Should be here about noon.’

      Manning shook his head. ‘There was no need. I’m going down myself.’

      ‘Don’t be a fool, Harry!’ Viner said sharply as he emerged from the wheelhouse followed by the others.

      ‘It’s my neck.’

      Seth shook his head and said softly, ‘Nothing for you down there, Harry. Maybe a tiger shark or two hoping for something the others missed, but it ain’t likely.’

      ‘I’ll see for myself.’ Manning turned to Howard. ‘Sorry, Joe, but that’s the way it is.’

      The young policeman sighed and said to Seth, ‘Get your spare aqualung ready while you’re about it. I’ll go down with him.’ He grinned tiredly at Manning. ‘I am supposed to be in charge here in case you’d forgotten.’

      ‘Are you two crazy or something?’ Morrison said.

      Manning ignored him and started to take off his shoes and outer clothing. As Joe Howard followed his example, he smiled reassuringly at the American.

      ‘Don’t worry, Mr Morrison. We’ve done this sort of thing before.’

      They kept on shirts and pants as some protection against the coldness of the water. When Seth brought the equipment up from the saloon, he and Saunders helped them into it quickly.

      No one bothered to talk. For Manning, there was a desperate unreality about everything. It was a bad dream. A dream from which he might awaken at any moment, stretch out his hand in the darkness and find her there beside him.

      When he went over the rail, the sharp coldness of the water was like a physical blow, bringing him back to reality. He hovered just below the surface to adjust his air supply and went down through the opaque grey water without waiting for his companion.

      The plane loomed out of the shadows almost at once. It had settled on a bank of sea grass which stretched to the base of the reef and as he swam towards it he was aware of the undertow tugging at his body, pulling him towards the great rock face and the caverns beneath.

      The main fabric of the Walrus was still intact, but the tail and the baggage compartment had completely disappeared leaving a great ragged hole at one end of the fuselage, the metal twisted and blackened as if by some tremendous explosion. As Manning hovered beside it, Joe Howard arrived.

      There was a slight frown on his face and he looked worried. Manning patted him on the shoulder reassuringly and they swam inside. The seats were still there and the door to the pilot’s cabin swung gently in the current, but there were no bodies. The passengers and crew had vanished without a trace.

      Howard went into the cabin and Manning swam outside and waited for him, clinging to the fuselage. The sun was rising and the first pale rays slanted down through the grey water, but there was still that strange absence of life.

      Seth had been right. There was nothing for him here. Maria Salas had vanished along with her companions as completely as if she had never existed. He was about to kick out towards the surface when Joe appeared beside him and tapped him on the shoulder.

      He pointed to the pale fronds stretched towards the base of the reef, pulled by the undertow. Manning realized at once what he meant. Over the years, the action of the sea had scoured away the base of the cliff, creating a great cavern underneath. There was always the possibility that one or more of the bodies, caught in the undertow, had been sucked inside before the sharks could get them.

      He let go of the plane, moving towards the base of the cliff, and the current pulled him along. The entrance was a dark slash in the rock no more than three feet high and he ducked inside and waited for Joe Howard to join him.

      The cave was full of small, rainbow-coloured fish and arched above his head like a cathedral. The early morning sun streamed out of the blow-hole in the roof and filtered down through the water in great translucent rays.

      It

Скачать книгу