Suddenly the floodlights were switched off, and Suleiman Dada began his laborious descent to the cabin. Manny Resnick and Lorna Page followed him. Manny was frowning slightly, as though he was pondering a business deal, but I could see that Lorna was enjoying herself.
“I think I’m going to throw up,“muttered Chubby.
Get it over then,” I said, “because we have a lot of work to do.”
I stood up and quietly led the way back into the palm grove. We took it in turns to dig while the other stood guard amongst the trees. I would not use a light for fear of attracting attention from. the crash boat and we were both exaggeratedly careful to maintain silence and not to let the clank of metal sound through the grove.
We lifted the remaining cases of gelignite and blasting equipment, then we did the same with the rusted pay chest and carried it to a carefully chosen site below the steeply sloping ground of the peak. Fifty yards up the slope was a fold in the ground thickly screened with goose-bush and salt grass.
We dug another hole for the chest, going deep into the soft soil until we struck water. Then we repacked the pay chest and reburied it. Chubby climbed up to the hidden fold above us and made his arrangements there.
In the meantime I reloaded the machinegun and wrapped it lightly in one of my old shirts, the five full magazines placed with it, and I buried the lot under an inch of sand, next to the stern of the nearest palm tree where the recent rain waters had cut a shallow dry runnel down the slope.
The water-torn trench and the tree were forty paces from the spot where the chest was buried, and I hoped it was far enough. The trench was little more than two feet deep and would provide scanty cover.
The moon came out after midnight and it gave us enough light to check our arrangements. Chubby made sure I was in full view from his hideaway up the slope when I stood beside the shallow runnel. Then I climbed up to him and double-checked him. We lit a cheroot each, sheltering the match and screening the glowing tips with cupped hands, while we went over our planning once again.
I was particularly anxious that there should be no misunderstanding in our timing and signals, and I made Chubby repeat them twice. He did so with long-suffering and theatrical patience, but at last I was satisfied. We dumped the cheroot butts and scraped sand over them and when we went down the slope we both carried palm- frond brooms to sweep out all signs of activity.
The first part of my planning was complete, and we returned to where the golden tiger and the rest of the gelignite was cached. We reburied the tiger and then I prepared a full case of gelignite. It was a massive overdose Of explosive, sufficient for a tenfold over-kill - but I have never been a man to stint myself when I have the means to indulge.
I would not be able to use the electric blaster and insulated wire, and I must rely on one of the time-pencil detonators. I have a strong distaste for these temperamental little gadgets. They operate on the principle of acid eating through a thin wire which holds the hammer on a powder cap. When the acid cuts the wire the cap explodes, and the delay in the detonation is governed by the strength of the acid and the thickness of the wire.
There can be a large latitude of error in this timing which on one occasion caused me a nearly fatal embarrassment. However, in this case I had no choice in the matter - and I selected a pencil with a six-hour delay and prepared it for use with the gelignite.
Amongst the equipment overlooked by the looters was my old oxygen rebreathing underwater set. This diving set is almost as dangerous to use as the time pencils. Unlike the aqualung which uses compressed air, the rebreather employs pure oxygen which is filtered and cleansed of carbon dioxide after each breath and then cycled back to the user.
Oxygen breathed at pressures in excess of twice atmospheric becomes as poisonous as carbon monoxide. In other words, if you rebreathe pure oxygen below underwater depths of thirty-three feet, it will kill you. You have to have all your wits together to play around with the stuff - but it has one enormous advantage. It does not blow bubbles on the surface to alarm a sentry and give away your position to him.
Chubby carried the prepared case of gelignite and the rifle when we went back to the beach. It was after three o’clock when I had donned and tested the oxygen set, and then I carried the gelignite down to the water and tested that for buoyancy. It needed a few pounds of lead weights to give it a neutral buoyancy and make it easier to handle in the water.
We had reached the water from the beach around the horn of the bay from the anchored crash boat. The point of sand and palm trees covererd us as we worked, and at last I was ready.
It was a long tiring swim. I had to round the point and enter the bay - a distance of almost a mile - and I had to tow the case of explosive with me. It dragged heavily through the water and it took me almost an hour before I could see the lights of the crash boat glimmering above me through the clear water.
Hugging the bottom I crept forward slowly, terribly aware that the moonlight would silhouette me clearly against the white sand of the lagoon bed, for the water was clear as gin and only twenty-five feet deep.
It was a relief to move slowly into the dark shadow cast by the crash boat’s hull and to know that I was safe from discovery. I rested for a few minutes, then I unrolled the nylon slings that I had on my belt and secured them to the case of gelignite.
Now I checked the time on my wristwatch, and the luminous hands showed ten minutes past four o’clock.
I crushed the glass ampoule of the time pencil, releasing the acid to begin its slow eroding attack on the wire, and I returned it to its prepared slot in the case of explosive. In six hours, more or less, the whole lot would go up with the force of a two hundred pound aerial bomb.
Now I left the floor of the lagoon and rose slowly to the hull of the crash boat. It was foul with a hanging slimy beard of weed and the hull itself was thick with a rough scale of shellfish and goose-neck mussels.
I moved slowly along the keel, searching for an anchor point - but there was none and at last I was forced to use the shank of the rudder. I bound the case in position with all the nylon rope I had - and when I was finished I was certain that it would resist even the drag of water when the crash boat was travelling at the top of her speed.
Satisfied at last, I sank once more to the bed of the lagoon and moved off quietly on my return. I made much better speed through the water now without the burden of the gelignite case and Chubby was waiting for me on the beach.
“Fixed up?” he asked quietly, as he helped me shed the oxygen set.
“Just as long as that pencil does its job.”
I was so tired now that the walk back through the grove seemed like an eternity and my feet dragged in the loose footing. I had slept little the previous night, and not at all since then.
This time Chubby watched over me while I slept, and when he shook me gently awake it was after seven o’clock and the daylight was growing swiftly.
We ate a breakfast cold from the can, and I finished it with a handful of high-energy glucose tablets from the survival kit and washed them down with a mug of chlorinated water.
I drew the knife from the sheath on my belt and threw it underhand to pin into the trunk of the nearest palm. It stood there shivering with the force of the impact.
“Show off!” muttered Chubby, and I grinned at him, trying to look relaxed and easy.
“, just like the man said - no weapons,” and I spread my empty hands.
“You ready?” he asked, and we both stood up and looked at each other awkwardly. Chubby would never wish me good luck - which was the worst of all possible hex to put on someone.
“See you later,“he said.
“Okay, Chubby.” I held out my hand. He took it and squeezed it hard, then he turned away, picked up the FN rifle and plodded off through the grove.
I watched him out of sight, but he never looked back and I turned away myself and walked down unarmed to the beach.
I walked out from amongst the trees and stood at the water’s edge, staring across the narrow strip of water at the crash boat. The dangling corpse had been removed from the masthead, I saw with relief.
For many seconds none of the sentries on deck noticed me, so I raised both hands above my head and gave them a loud
“Halloo’. Instantly there was a boil of activity and clamour of shouted orders on board the crash boat. Manny Resnick and Lorna appeared at the rail and stared across at me, while half a dozen armed seamen dropped into the whaleboat and headed for the beach.
