2

      ‘You are unhappy, Vincent?’ Vincent was Van Gelder’s first name. There were three of them seated in the wardroom, Talbot, Van Gelder and Grierson.

      ‘Puzzled, you might say, sir. I don’t understand why Andropulos and the others didn’t abandon ship earlier. I saw two inflatable dinghies aboard. Rolled up, admittedly, but those things can be opened and inflated from their gas cylinders in seconds. There were also lifebelts and life-jackets. There was no need for this the-boy-stood-on-the-burning-deck act. They could have left at any time. I’m not saying they’d have been sucked down with the yacht but they might have had a rather uncomfortable time.’

      ‘Same thought had occurred to me. Mentioned it to Andrew here. Odd. Maybe Andropulos had a reason. Anything else?’

      ‘The owner tried to stop me from boarding the yacht. Maybe he was concerned with my health. I have the feeling he wasn’t. Then I would much like to know what caused that explosion in the engineroom. A luxurious yacht like that must have carried an engineer—we can find that out easily enough—and it’s a fair guess that the engines would have been maintained in an immaculate condition. I don’t see how they could have caused an explosion. We’ll have to ask McCafferty about that one.’

      ‘That, of course, is why you were so anxious that we pinpoint the spot where the Delos went down. You think an expert on the effects of explosives could identify and locate the cause of the explosion? I’m sure he could, especially if he were an expert at determining the causes of aircraft lost through explosions—those people are much better at that sort of thing than the Navy is. Explosives experts we have aboard but no experts on the effects of explosives. Even if we did, we have no divers aboard—well, you and myself apart—trained to work at levels below a hundred feet. We could borrow one easily enough from a lifting vessel or salvage tug but the chances are high that he’d know nothing about explosives. But there’s really no problem. It would be a simple matter for any lifting vessel to raise an aircraft fuselage to the surface.’ Talbot regarded Van Gelder thoughtfully. ‘But there’s something else worrying you, isn’t there?’

      ‘Yes, sir. The three dead men aboard the Delos—well, to be specific, just one of them. That’s why I asked the doctor here to come along. The three of them were so smoke begrimed and blackened that it was difficult to tell what they were wearing but two of them appeared to be dressed in white while the third was in a navy blue overall. An engineer wouldn’t wear whites. Well, I admit our engineer Lieutenant McCafferty is a dazzling exception; but he’s a one-off case, he never goes near his engines anyway. In any event I assumed the man in the overalls was the engineer and he was the one who caught my attention. He had a vicious gash on the back of his head as if he had been blown backwards against a very hard, very sharp object.’

      Grierson said: ‘Or been struck by a very hard, sharp object?’

      ‘Either way, I suppose. I wouldn’t know. I’m afraid I’m a bit weak on the forensic side.’

      ‘Had his occiput been crushed?’

      ‘Back of his head? No. At least I’m reasonably certain it hadn’t been. I mean, it would have given, wouldn’t it, or been squashy. It wasn’t like that.’

      ‘A blow like that should have caused massive bruising. Did you see any?’

      ‘Difficult to say. He had fairly thick hair. But it was fair. No, I don’t think there was any.’

      ‘Had it bled a lot?’

      ‘He hadn’t bled at all. I’m quite sure of that.’

      ‘You didn’t notice any holes in his clothing?’

      ‘Not that I could see. He hadn’t been shot, if that is what you’re asking and that is what I think you are asking. Who would want to shoot a dead man? His neck was broken.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Grierson seemed unsurprised. ‘Poor man was through the wars, wasn’t he?’

      Talbot said: ‘What do you think, Andrew?’

      ‘I don’t know what to think. The inflicting of the wound on the head and the snapping of the vertebra could well have been simultaneous. If the two weren’t simultaneous, then it could equally well have been—as Vincent clearly seems to think—a case of murder.’

      ‘Would an examination of the corpse help at all?’

      ‘It might. I very much doubt it. But an examination of engine-room bulkheads would.’

      ‘To see if there were any sharp edges or protrusions that could have caused such a head wound?’ Grierson nodded. ‘Well, when—and if—we ever raise that hull, we should be able to kill two birds with one stone: to determine the causes of both the explosions and this man’s death.’

      ‘Maybe three birds,’ Van Gelder said. ‘It would be interesting to know the number and layout of the fuel tanks in the engine-room. There are, I believe, two common layouts—in one case there is just one main fuel tank, athwartships and attached to the for’ard bulkhead, with a generator or generators on one side of the engine and batteries on the other, plus a water-tank to port and another to starboard: or there could be a fuel tank on either side with the water-tank up front. In that case the two fuel tanks are interconnected to keep the fuel levels equal and maintain equilibrium.’

      ‘A suspicious mind, Number One,’ Talbot said. ‘Very suspicious. What you would like to find, of course, is just one fuel tank because you think Andropulos is going to claim that he didn’t abandon ship because he thought another fuel tank was about to go and he didn’t want his precious passengers splashing about in a sea of blazing fuel oil which would, of course, also have destroyed the rubber dinghies.’

      ‘I’m grieved, sir. I thought I’d thought of that first.’

      ‘You did, in fact. When the passengers are cleaned up see if you can get this young lady, Irene Charial, alone and find out if she knows anything about the layout of the engine-room. The casual approach, Vincent, the innocent and cherubic expression, although I doubt the last is beyond you. Anyway it’s possible she’s never been there and may possibly know nothing about it.’

      ‘It’s equally possible, sir, that she knows all about it and may well choose to tell me something. Miss Charial is Andropulos’s niece.’

      ‘The