Читать книгу The Eden Legacy - Will Adams - Страница 14

SIX

I

‘We’ve leased the Maritsa for six weeks, right?’ asked Knox. ‘All the equipment too?’

Ricky knocked back his whisky, pulled a sour face. ‘So?’

‘So we won’t be saving your Chinese friends much of anything by calling the project off now.’

Miles shook his head. ‘You don’t know these people. If they find out that we knew this was a bust and didn’t tell them—’

‘But we don’t know it’s a bust,’ countered Knox. ‘Not for sure. We have a sea-bed studded with Chinese artefacts, remember, not to mention a very compelling sonar reading.’

‘Which has been refuted by a more recent one,’ pointed out Miles. ‘And by the magnetic imaging.’

‘Yes. And by the sediment samples too. But what if someone had tampered with those readings and those samples?’

‘What?’ asked Ricky. ‘Who?’

‘Don’t get ahead of me,’ said Knox. ‘I’m just asking: isn’t it possible? I mean, how hard would it have been for someone to have switched our samples with sediment from elsewhere?’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘To trick us into giving up the site, of course, so that they can come back later and plunder it at their leisure. I mean, if we’re right about there being a treasure ship here, its cargo could be worth tens or even hundreds of millions of dollars. Wouldn’t that be worth switching some samples for?’

‘Holm!’ spat Ricky. ‘I never trusted that bastard.’

‘Calm down,’ said Knox. ‘I’m only suggesting it’s a possibility. And if so, shouldn’t we make certain, one way or the other, before we call off the expedition? Wouldn’t our most prudent and responsible course be to take new tests and samples, but this time make sure they can’t be interfered with, maybe even fly some duplicate samples back to Europe for checking. Who knows, maybe we’ll get different results. But, even if not, it’ll buy us another week in which to start managing the expectations of your friends back in China. And we’ve also got Miles and me and fourteen other professional divers on board, we’ve got a motor-boat and two inflatables and all the survey equipment we could wish for. Maybe the wreck isn’t where we thought, maybe it’s five hundred metres west, or a kilometre south. Let’s use our extra time to find it.’

‘You’re right,’ said Miles. ‘We’ll survey the whole damned sea-floor.’

Knox stood and went to the window. The sea was still too rough for the motorboat, and it was getting dark. No way would it be heading back to Morombe tonight. He turned to Ricky. ‘I’ll bet Holm’s still on board,’ he said. ‘He could really screw us if he wants to. Might be worth trying to smooth things out with him.’

‘Leave him to me,’ said Ricky. ‘What about you two?’

‘We need to brief the guys, thrash out a new schedule.’ He looked at them both for approval. ‘Agreed?’

‘Yes,’ said Miles.

‘Yes,’ said Ricky.

‘Good,’ nodded Knox. ‘Then let’s go do it.’

II

Boris felt a mild euphoria as the plane took off on the first leg of his journey to Madagascar, pressing him gently back into his seat. Part of it was simple relief: he’d had to show his passport three times already, and not a sniff of trouble. The Nergadzes knew better than to skimp on such things, of course, but he was an old enough hand never to trust equipment until he’d used it in the field. And it felt good simply to be working again. He was by nature a man of action, and these past few months had chafed badly. But he was buzzing for another reason too.

Fifteen months he’d spent in his various Greek hellholes before the Nergadzes had finally sprung him. Fifteen months. Boris had always fancied himself tough enough to handle serious time. It hadn’t proved that way. Prison had ripped him apart. Part of it had been simply a consequence of being abroad, unfamiliar with the language and the ropes. Another part of it had come from not backing down from a fight with the wrong person on his third day, and being punished for it thereafter in unspeakable ways. But it had been more than that. The Athens fiasco had ruined his whole life. Even after getting out, it had been nothing but shit. As head of security for Sandro Nergadze, he’d been powerful and feared. Now he was nothing. People who’d once cowered from him pushed past him as if he wasn’t there. This world was all about respect. He needed to earn that back. And the best way of doing that was by making someone else pay full price for it, and so let the world know he wasn’t to be messed with. And who better a victim than Daniel Knox, the man who’d caused him all this grief?

The seat-belt warning pinged off. A stewardess came flouncing down the aisle as if it was her personal catwalk. ‘Champagne?’ she asked.

‘Wine,’ he told her. ‘Red.’

He watched approvingly as she walked away, then closed his eyes and recalled that afternoon at Athens Airport when Knox had delivered him and Davit straight into the hands of the Greek police, despite swearing upon his girlfriend’s life that he’d take them to the golden fleece. His heart clenched a little at the memory. But when he thought about what he’d do to that man in revenge, and that he’d be well paid for it too, it soothed him wonderfully.

The stewardess returned with a balloon glass half-filled with dark red wine. He took a good mouthful. It tasted pleasantly raw and bold. Five hundred thousand euros! he thought. It had better damned well be Knox out there. But then he remembered that Sandro and Ilya had commissioned him to make precisely that determination himself. They’d believe whatever he told them. He laughed out loud and toasted himself in the faint reflection of his window.

Yes. Things were definitely looking up.