William raised the tarpaulin half an inch, and peered in every direction. No sign of anyone. He checked his watch, before crawling out of the swaying lifeboat and lowering himself uneasily over the side, nearly losing his grip. He landed head first on the slippery deck.
He tried to steady himself and stand up, but he was so weak and giddy that he had to grasp the ship’s rail. Finally he gave in, leant over the side and was violently sick. When he looked up, he noticed that the ship was now circling the bobbing buoy.
It was some time before he had recovered enough to clamber back down the spiral staircase and collapse on his bunk, where he lay still, willing himself not to be sick again.
He decided not to wake Monti, as there was little point in his spending the next two hours in that lifeboat, when nothing was going to happen before first light. William still didn’t sleep.
01.07 GMT
Lamont could hear the sound of a car coming from behind him. Moments later a green Jaguar drove past and proceeded along the driveway, lights full on. It came to a halt outside the house.
The driver climbed out, opened the front door and disappeared inside. Moments later the hall lights came on.
Lamont cursed several times, before he broke radio silence and issued an order he’d been dreading.
‘Operation Blue Period aborted. Return to base.’
Perhaps it was a good thing he couldn’t hear the chorus of groans and expletives emanating from the two buses in which his loyal foot soldiers had remained silent for more than five hours. Several of them jumped off the bus and began to pee in unison.
06.09 CET
‘Why didn’t you wake me at four?’ demanded Monti. He glared down at William, who was the same colour as his soaking sheet, and still sweating. William placed a finger to his lips and indicated that they should go up on deck.
Squawking gulls hovered above them as William pointed to the flashing marker buoy bobbing up and down in the waves, before he explained to Monti why he hadn’t bothered to wake him.
‘Good thinking,’ said Monti.
They looked up at the bridge, where the captain was steering the vessel in ever-decreasing circles around the buoy. There was no sign of Carter or Grant, but William doubted they were asleep.
For the next forty minutes Monti and William carried out whatever orders the chief deckhand gave them, but their eyes continually returned to the entrance of the private quarters as they waited for the main actors to make their entrance.
Just after seven, Carter, accompanied by two divers in wetsuits, walked out onto the deck. The divers put on their masks and flippers, sat on the rail and adjusted their breathing apparatus. They then fell backwards into the water and disappeared below the waves.
05.20 GMT
Superintendent Wall drove Lamont and Jackie back into Guildford, and dropped them off in the town centre. ‘I feel sure you’ll be able to find your way to the station,’ he said, before driving off.
‘You can hardly blame him,’ said Jackie twenty minutes later, as they stood on a cold, grey platform waiting for the first train to Waterloo.
‘By the time we get back to the Yard,’ said Lamont, ‘we’ll probably find that Chief Inspector Warwick is the new head of the Art and Antiques squad, and I’ve been demoted to detective sergeant and have to call him sir.’
‘Which means I’ll be back on the beat doing traffic duty,’ said Jackie.
08.30 CET
The two divers reappeared on the surface four times during the next hour, and on each occasion gave a thumbs-down sign, before returning to their task. After a couple more hours they clambered back on board looking exhausted, and lay flat on the deck recovering. William suspected that they had never been more than a few feet below the surface.
Carter and Grant looked suitably disappointed, and the crew were already beginning to lose interest in their efforts. But William knew they were only witnessing the first act in this pantomime, and that the curtain was about to rise again following the interval.
Once the divers had recovered, they returned to their task. Three more thumbs-down signs were clear for all to see during the next couple of hours. It was Monti who noticed that the marker buoy and its flashing light were no longer to be seen. ‘They must have located the casket,’ he whispered.
‘But they’re not ready to admit it yet,’ said William.
The divers disappeared below the waves once again, but this time when they resurfaced one of them was waving frantically while the other gave a thumbs-up sign. The crew ran over to the starboard side and began cheering, although William noticed that the captain remained remarkably calm. But, then, he’d already read the second act.
The chief deckhand quickly returned to the winch, and began to take up the slack. Carter and Grant joined the crew, who were leaning over the side in expectation, and when the casket reappeared on the surface a few minutes later, barnacles in place, they looked just as surprised and delighted as the rest of the men.
The chief deckhand slowed down his efforts so the precious cargo could be raised safely over the railing and back onto the deck. He fell on his knees and began to untie the rope as the captain came down from the bridge. Everyone else hung around, waiting impatiently to discover what was in the box. Well, not quite everyone.