Dagger Magic

"It is. That still doesn't mean a rat's arse. What the hell, Liam, you know as well as I do, how cutthroat this business can be. If you get a good lead, you'd bloody well better keep it to yourself, because if you don't, some other shark will try to move in and jump your claim. Why else do you think Kavanagh's boss is planning to show us the way to this wreck of his in person, rather than just giving us the map coordinates? It's because he doesn't want to risk letting us in on the secret any sooner than he has to."

"Must be some secret," said O'Rourke. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "What kind of wreck is it, anyway? Do you know?"

Plunkett nodded. "Kavanagh had to tell me that much, just so we'd know what kind of gear to bring with us. It's a German U-boat, Second World War."

O'Rourke looked disappointed. "Is that all? Hell, with all the destroyer action that went on around here, dead subs are practically a ha'penny a dozen. But nobody's ever yet found one with any sunken treasure in it."

"No," Plunkett agreed. "Still, there's always a first time."

Before he could say anything more, Seamus Dillon, his first mate, came up from the hold.

"That's everything stowed away, Skipper," he reported. "All the air tanks are recharged, and the cutting gear is packed and ready. Wish we'd had time to get some explosives, though."

At the mention of explosives, Plunkett pulled a face.

"I don't know what you want me to do about that. This job came up at short notice. We'll just have to make do with what we've got."

Dillon gave a rub to his jaw, shadowed with evening stubble.

"Well, I just want you to know it makes me nervous, going down on a dive like this without 'em. I don't suppose you could talk our mysterious client into postponing this operation for a few days?'' he said without much hope.

Plunkett shook his head. "Not from the way Kavanagh was talking. He says tonight."

"After all these years, what's the bloody hurry?" Dillon wondered sourly.

"Kavanagh says his boss might be expecting trouble from a rival party," Plunkett replied, "but my guess is that they want to be in and out of this wreck before the authorities get wind of it and start throwing in legal obstacles."

"Bloody bureaucracy," O'Rourke muttered. "We do all the work, take all the risks. Seems to me it ought to be 'finders-keepers.' '

"Well, it is, if we get there first, and the authorities don't know," Plunkett said with a sly smile. "Assuming, of course, that there's anything worth finding and keeping."

"Assuming, of course," Dillon said drily, "that this whole thing isn't just a front for some gun-running scam."

"That thought had crossed my mind," Plunkett said, "but I don't see how that's any concern of ours, as long as we get paid." He spat over the railing in a gesture of patent indifference.

"As long as they don't blow our brains out, once we've served their purpose," Dillon pointed out.

Plunkett merely grunted.

"I think it's too late to back out now," O'Rourke said, standing up to gaze toward the landward end of the dock. "Would that be your Mr. Kavanagh?"

He pointed toward a grey Mercedes saloon just pulling up, with a driver and two passengers. The first passenger to alight was manifestly Kavanagh himself, the dying light picking out a darkly handsome set of features above a pair of shoulders that would have done credit to a Rugby center forward. As he fetched a large duffel bag from the boot, shouldering it with ease, the second passenger emerged: taller and slighter, a willowy figure with a briefcase who might have been anything from a university professor to a certified accountant. He bent to speak briefly to the driver, then turned to follow Kavanagh toward the dock as the car pulled away.

"I think you can stop worrying," Plunkett said to Dillon. "Unless the driver's coming along, there's only the two of them, and the 'boss' looks to be the executive type."

Kavanagh led the way down the dock. Dillon and O'Rourke faded back against the taffrail as Plunkett came to the side to meet their new clients. Kavanagh boarded with a bound, depositing his duffel bag on the deck with a metallic clunk.

"My diving gear," he announced as he turned back to the taller man following at his back. "And this is Mr. Raeburn. From this point onward, you'll be taking your orders from him."