“I just wanted to give you a heads up on these guys, they’re a serious bunch with some high tech gear. This bloke I know isn’t the type that plays nice either, he’s had his share of trouble over the years. If I’d known he was involved I wouldn’t have taken the gig but I can’t renege now.

  Point being, they’re putting a lot of money and effort behind finding something out there and I’m guessing it’s the same thing we’ve been looking for. Difference being, if they find her she won’t be an historical site or preserved or probably even declared to the Cayman government, they’ll cut it apart, take anything of value then kick her over the side to cover their tracks.”

  AJ knew by law any wrecks found in Cayman waters had to be declared to the Receiver of Wrecks at the Port Authority of the Cayman Islands, which then went through a series of legalities and procedures to establish ownership of the vessel and its contents. This could take a long time, especially in the case of an old wreck, even if its statute of limitation had expired.

  If the salvager eventually gained the rights to the wreck they then had to split any and all value of the wreck with the Cayman government. For marine archeology researchers and explorers this wasn’t an issue as their goal was to preserve and study what they found. But for some treasure hunters and salvagers this simply meant less profit for them. If the wreck contained a cargo of value they could salvage quickly then they may well be keen to grab and go before anyone knows any different. If this meant destroying an historical site or disturbing a war grave they didn’t let their consciences, if they had one, get in the way.

  AJ and Reg agreed to chat more that night and she was relieved to step through her apartment door and head straight for the shower.

  She rented a small guest house over the garage of a vacation home owned by an American couple who came down to the island five or six times year. The couple in their fifties lived and worked in Atlanta, Georgia and gave AJ a great deal on rent in exchange for keeping an eye on the property and some free diving when they were on island.

  The five bedroom house was on the north end of Seven Mile Beach on Boggy Sand Road nestled amongst a row of similar multi-million dollar homes. As she dried off from her shower and gazed across the garden to an amazing view of the Caribbean Sea lapping against the sands of one of the most acclaimed and famous beaches in the world, she once again marveled at the blessed life she was leading.

  At twenty eight she thought she probably should be worried that she wasn’t married and having children yet, but she couldn’t bring herself to fret over it. She was also lucky that neither of her parents pressured her in that direction either.

  Contrary to the alternative look AJ evolved she had always been conservative when it came to dating. She was shy and unsure of herself in most ways but her mother had installed in her the value of love, sexuality and relationships which she was careful to maintain. In school she’d been a late bloomer, she was a pretty girl with long blond hair but still a tomboy into her teens. Secretly she already saw herself with tattoos and an edgier look but neither her school nor her parents would ever have allowed it.

  She didn’t start dating until she was in sixth form, her first boyfriend was her only boyfriend all through sixth form and two years of A-Levels. He was a year older than her, left for university as she was in her final year and things were already fizzling out by the time she decided to head to Florida.

  AJ found she really preferred the company of older, more mature men, or women for that matter, but was attracted to neither of them sexually. Finding maturity in the younger crowd was proving quite a challenge but she was in no hurry to be in a relationship, pursuing diving and travelling the world held more appeal and a lot less drama.

  The Florida Keys was a wild new scene altogether, the guys loved her English accent but in the main she found them brash and rather childish. She was amazed how many of the divemasters and instructors smoked cigarettes when your lungs were sort of important for SCUBA diving. There was also a lot of other things being smoked and consumed which she had never seen in her sheltered little school tucked away in rural Sussex, she wanted no part of that either.

  AJ wasn’t a prude and really didn’t have a problem with recreational drugs but she hated the feeling of being out of control. The handful of times she’d gotten drunk in school she didn’t find particularly enjoyable, the next morning was definitely not fun and she hated the thought of being ‘the drunk girl at the party’.

  During her second year in the Keys she met a guy from Oregon who was working as a contract computer programmer and living in Islamorada. He was a nice departure from the crazy dive industry scene, he was easy going and pleasant to be around and a keen diver and outdoorsman. They took trips to dive the underwater caves in northern Florida, ride mountain bikes all over the keys and explore the mangroves and more obscure dive spots.

  AJ’s move to Cayman two years later randomly coincided with him receiving a job offer in Silicon Valley, California. They talked at length about continuing the relationship long distance but the closer the time came the more they realized that this probably wasn’t the final relationship for either of them so why drag it through a prolonged demise.

  Since she’d been on the island she’d discovered the dive worker scene was only a slightly slower version of the Keys and very migratory. Most of the younger divemasters spent no more than two years at any one place before moving on to the next exotic location and adventure.

  She had dated occasionally and sporadically over the past seven years but there’d been only two men she felt were worth her time and invited into her bed.

  Jason had been working for Reg for a few years when AJ arrived. When Pearl Divers expanded to two Newtons he was put in charge of the second one. Five years older than AJ he’d burnt out on the bar scene and was more interested in what he could build for a stable future. It took a year before he finally persuaded her to have dinner with him as a date and she was very tentative and careful starting something with a co-worker. He was originally from England but had been raised in Australia where his family still lived near Cairns. His love of diving was formed on the Great Barrier Reef and he had a passion for coral conservation having witnessed the loss of so much of it back home.

  Cayman allows the foreign workers to hold work permits for seven continuous years as long as they’re sponsored by a local company, but after seven you have to leave the island for at least a year before you can get a permit again.

  Jason’s permit ran out and he was forced to return home to Australia. While back there his father was diagnosed with cancer and he needed to step in and help with the family business. His father was in remission but the business was expanding and doing so well the year passed by and Jason resigned himself to staying there. He asked AJ to come and join him but by now she had completely fallen in love with Cayman and couldn’t see leaving. She also felt she owed Reg some loyalty and he was depending on her more and more.

  Number two was a mistake. When it seems too good to be true, sometimes that’s exactly what it is. François was an athletic, good looking professional wind surfer with a French accent, a disarming smile and captivating blue eyes. Within three weeks he told her she was the only woman that had ever truly got inside his heart and after three months she discovered there were at least two more true loves he was juggling between.

  AJ was devastated. For the first time she’d really let her guard down and allowed herself to believe the words because she wanted them to be true. After she got over the initial heartache and embarrassment she was just mad at herself for not being more cautious. He came knocking on her door about two months later full of apologies but before he could explain how he’d changed she split his lip with a right hook that surprised them both.

  She felt much better watching him leave.

  AJ pushed the door open to the Fox and Hare Pub and strolled up to the bar and found Reg on his regular stool. The place was half full and on a small corner stage a full figured woman in her fifties with an ample chest and a voice to match was strumming a guitar while she belted out the Rolling Stones’ Wild Horses.

  Reg’s wife Pearl ran everything behind the scenes at Pearl Divers from bookings and schedules to accounting and orders. Reg ran everything to do with the boats and the diving. Pearl would dive occasionally, mainly when she wanted to spear some lionfish for dinner, but her passion was music and she had a regular gig on Friday nights at the Fox and Hare.

  Pearl had a gritty rock n roll voice and sang covers of Melissa Etheridge, Bonnie Raitt, Sass Jordan with some Janis Joplin mixed in. The place would have been a smoky little dive bar but in today’s tobacco free world it was just a dive bar. Tucked away in West Bay it filled up with ex-pat locals, a few Caymanians and the occasional tourist or two who stumbled across the place. The bar itself was a hefty oak wood structure lined with bar stools and a resin top over maps of England and the Cayman Islands. The place was strewn with pictures and memorabilia from the homeland with the authentic feel of an old English pub brought over by the owners when they emigrated.

  Reg loved to hear Pearl sing. He couldn’t wait for Friday nights and would sit quietly at the bar, sipping his neat bourbon and hung on every note she played and line she sang. The bear of a man was completely besotted with his woman and often a tear would roll down his cheek as she crooned a sadder song. Between sets she’d sit next to him and they’d chat about the old days in London or the day they just had on the boat, it didn’t matter, what she wanted to talk about he wanted to hear and vice versa.

  Regulars would stop by and join them or tell her she was great as usual, Reg would always thank them. He could be mistaken for a harmless, sappy fool to an unfamiliar customer a few drinks into the evening, but one thing would always stir up the bear.

  Pearl was good so critics were few but God help any complainers in the crowd, Reg was known to drag people outside and fix their poor musical taste by pinning them to the wall by the throat. Most were apologizing profusely before he got them that far.

  The bartender slid AJ a bottle of Strongbow cider across the bar before she had a chance to order and she held the bottle up in thanks to him before telling Reg cheers and taking a swig.

  Pearl finished her song, announced she was taking a short break and after the applause died down she put up her guitar and joined them at the bar. AJ gave her a big hug as Reg pulled a stool over for her.

  “Wonderful as always Pearl, sorry I missed most of your first set, I ran a little late helping Thomas with his uncle’s boat” AJ apologized.

  “That’s fine dear, don’t worry, glad you could make it, I’m sure you had somewhere better to be than listening to this old woman scratching out some ancient tunes.”

  AJ laughed. “There will never be somewhere I’d rather be than listening to you Pearl.”

  Reg leaned in and kissed his wife on the forehead and gave her a wink. She already knew there was no place he’d rather be.

  He leaned back and quizzed AJ. “So what’s this big secret you didn’t want to tell me over the phone? You found something on Herbert’s boat? I’d hate to think what you found on that pile of floating fire wood, that thing was a mess any time I saw it.”

  “Bloody hell that thing reeked, we damn near filled the big skip at the marina, ninety percent of what we carted off was complete rubbish.”

  She felt a little stupid leaning in close and whispering all clandestine like but there was no telling who might overhear. “What I did find though was Herbert’s navigational chart with his favourite spots marked on it. Most of it was standard stuff, the Bank and all that, but you know those two little pinnacles just off the Bank? The ones that are about four hundred and six hundred feet down?”

  “Yeah, I know ‘em, but they’re way too deep, there’s no reef down there, not enough light so don’t know why that would be good fishing, no reason for the big stuff to be there.”

  “Exactly, but look at this.” AJ opened a picture on her phone she’d taken of the chart and held it up for Reg and Pearl to see. “Herbert scratched out the four hundred foot mark and wrote one twenty there instead, Thomas says that chicken scratch next to it says tuna.”

  AJ closed the picture quickly as though a drone maybe hovering over them capturing everything on film and then felt silly again. “I can’t imagine the marine surveyors got it wrong but Herbert seemed to be catching fish there so maybe they did.”

  Reg nodded. “You know these waters have been mapped over hundreds of years and different sections were surveyed at different times, not necessarily all at the same time. If those pinnacles were done early on with basic sonar it’s possible they made a mistake. Now they use a combination of side scan sonar and multibeam sonar to determine the shape and depth of the sea floor and GPS to pin point the location. If poor ole’ Herbert’s correct it’s just a matter of time until it gets surveyed again and they amend the charts.”

  AJ smiled at him. “Worth a look?”

  He grinned back. “Bloody right it is, we’ve looked everywhere else, damn thing has to be somewhere!”

  Chapter 9

  Caribbean Sea, 1945

  There was no way to steer or propel the dinghy. They were completely at the will of the ocean and the winds, which took them south east as best they could figure. As an expert navigator this frustrated the hell out of Andreas for the first three days. Now, a week adrift he’d accepted the fact that they would either hit land or another vessel eventually. The question was whether they’d be alive or corpses when this happened.

  Between the tract of the sun and using the stars on the clear nights, he was confident they’d gone to the south of Grand Cayman and were heading roughly towards Jamaica. Without the charts he was going from memory but was also fairly confident if they missed Jamaica there was only the string of eastern Caribbean islands from Puerto Rico to Trinidad and Tobago to stop them drifting into the Atlantic Ocean.

  He wasn’t sure why that troubled him as at the rate they were moving they’d be long dead before that problem even became a problem. But time was something the three men had an abundance of so Andreas chewed over these dilemmas at length.

  The raft was supposed to hold four people but it was clear to them that the designer had used four very small people to get his dimensions. The three men were touching each other at all times, there was no escaping it. The dinghy was made of rubber and canvas so every movement created a reactionary movement in the raft whether it was the men fidgeting or a wave rolling under them. It made sleep for any period of time impossible.

  Wilhelm still couldn’t believe he’d hung on to the deflated raft when he was struggling out of the conning tower and then all the way to the surface. More of a surprise was that he and Lars surfaced right next to each other and not only managed to stay together in the storm but inflate the dinghy enough for it to float them.

  The final miracle was literally bumping into Andreas in the huge swells hours after they’d all surfaced. The fact that the storm and winds had blown them all in the same direction made sense but it was still a million to one shot in almost zero visibility to land right on him. He could have been a dozen feet in either direction and they never would have seen each other.

  The three men now agreed they had probably used up every piece of good luck and fortune they’d had in reserve as the last seven days had been rather bleak.

  The fresh water from the storm was heavily mixed with seawater splashing in the boat and had been undrinkable. They’d bailed it out after the seas calmed and hoped for another, milder rain so they could gather some drinking water in the dinghy and wash their rapidly burning skin. The sea water helped cool them a little, especially after dark when the sun didn’t evaporate it straight off their skin making them feel even hotter, but now the burns were worsening and the salt was becoming too painful.

  It finally rained early afternoon on the fourth day and it felt like Christmas to the three submariners. Refreshed and optimistic again they had chatted the rest of the day about everything from families to post war plans to their favourite actresses. The rain water that gathered in the dinghy evaporated completely by sunset and they wished they’d forced more down before it had all gone. Three days further on and not a drop more precipitation had fallen.

  Without food for a week and water for nearly four days again the men were suffering and the optimism was slowly being seared out of them by the relentless sun.

  Andreas was the most even keeled of the group, his mood swings were relatively small. As an officer and a man with a mathematical brain he had established the odds in his mind early on and hadn’t seen much to change that. It was going to rain at least once a week in the Caribbean Sea at this time of year and could rain as much as four or five times, so far it hadn’t been much in their favour, no point getting too excited over one shower.

  Wilhelm was the opposite. He was ecstatic when it rained and contemplating the least painful way to end the misery two days later. Andreas and Lars felt they were using up a lot of energy trying to keep Willy from doing something crazy and talking him off the proverbial ledge. Earlier that morning he’d gotten really melancholy and suggested they all hold each other’s heads under water. Lars lost it and threatened to strangle him and he and Andreas would enjoy a good meal gnawing on dead Willy. Things had calmed down since then and the boat was mainly silent.

  Andreas attempted to raise their spirits. “So boys, what will you spend your share on when we get out of this mess, huh? A house in the mountains? Maybe on a beach in the islands?”

  He waved his hand across the horizon as though he was presenting the grand prize in a drawing. Lars chuckled and Wilhelm looked at him as though he was mad.

  “I would choose the mountain lodge, it would be in Bavaria were I will ski all winter and climb the peaks all summer. I will have a beautiful fräulein waiting for me when I return home every day.” Lars leaned back and smiled, imagining a lovely girl greeting him at the door.

 

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