Tomb of the Lost - By Julian Noyce Page 0,190

lies inside that sarcophagus. The mortal remains of the young Macedonian King.”

He studied their expectant faces. Then his face burst into a smile.

“After hearing the news I telephoned my editor in London and I’m pleased, no, delighted to tell you all now that he has agreed to continue funding our daily costs.”

There was a cheer from this which made the other diners stop what they were doing and stare. Dennis raised his wine glass.

“A toast. To Alexander!”

“Alexander!”

Hutchinson now stood as Dennis took his seat.

“If what Natalie saw down there is indeed the artefact we’ll begin tomorrow with what is hopefully our last stage of operations. Captain Ali will now explain.”

Ali didn’t bother to stand, just poured himself a glass of water and began.

“This evening my crew is loading specialist equipment. Tomorrow we will use submersibles and sand vacuums. Mr Hutchinson tells me that you’re all familiar with this equipment though none of you has ever lifted something the size of the sarcophagus. Well, no matter, my team will be down there with you. They will do the bulk of the work.”

Ali could see disapproval in the Greek’s face but George remained quiet.

“Does anyone have any questions at this point? No. Then if it’s all right with you all I will begin to explain tomorrows operation.”

Peter Dennis listened with only half an ear. He knew he would only be part of the bigger picture. He wouldn’t be able to dive tomorrow. He would be a hindrance to the team, that he knew and it angered him. No, not anger, frustration. He studied Natalie. Her tongue was touching her lips as she listened to the Turkish Captain. Then Ali finished his briefing and Natalie made her excuses and left to use the bathroom. Dennis watched her go. She was wearing a coral pink dress that stopped above the knee. It was very pretty and Dennis enjoyed seeing her bum wiggle as she walked through the busy restaurant. A waiter carrying a bottle of wine moved politely out of her way to allow her to pass and he turned his head to watch her. Dennis saw and half smirked. He couldn’t think of a single man in the world who wouldn’t find her attractive. Except for maybe Hutchinson. He took his eyes off the ladies toilet door to study the American.

“I really am getting too fond of her,” he said to himself, knowing it would probably never work out between them.

The group at the table were boisterous. Somebody said something to him and though he smiled he didn’t actually hear the words. He realised it was Jim Hutchinson sitting next to him who had spoken.

“I’m sorry Jim what did you say?”

“I was just saying I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

“Yes. Yes of course.”

But Dennis wasn’t concentrating. He was watching the ladies door waiting to see Natalie reappear.

“Do you know,” he said out loud, “I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Dennis picked up his wine and downed it.

“What did you say?” Hutchinson asked, not sure he’d heard right.

“I said to tomorrow, a sort of toast.”

The waiter arrived with a bottle of red and popped the cork. Hutchinson slapped Dennis across the shoulder in a friendly gesture as he was offered the cork to smell but he waved it away.

“Just pour my good man. My friends glass is empty.”

The man stood alone in the shadows by the bridge of the ’Wavecrest’. The ship was in almost total darkness. The only lights on were in the crew’s cabins. The lights on the bridge were off but the computers and radar were on leaving a faint blue-green glow that reflected in the windows.

The port of Gabes was unusually quiet. The figure could hear the water lapping against the side of the hull. He stood so still that for anyone watching his white suit they would have passed it for a different shade in the dark. He was staring fixedly across the harbour at the ’Volante’ moored at her dock. The sound of dogs barking from somewhere in the town drifted across the water. A car engine started up and it moved away, the sound getting fainter. It backfired many times. The dogs fell silent.

The figure in the white suit turned at the sound of approaching footsteps on the metal stairs. He saw the huge bulk of Danilov approaching. At the top of the stairs Danilov thrust out his hand.

“The disc you asked for Herr Count.”

The white suited man took the compact disc from the huge Russian.

“Thank you

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