property! You don't have any authority here!"
"In this instance, Mr Meyer, I do," insisted the Inspector calmly. "I am conducting a murder investigation. In the past twenty-four hours, three, maybe four men, one of them a police officer, have been murdered on board your oil rig, but I'm sure you are already aware of that."
"I know, I know." Meyer turned to Presswood, his expression now one of desperation. "What's going on, Del?" He hissed through gritted teeth. "What the hell are you doing out there, for Christ's sake?"
"If you weren't so afraid of getting your clothes dirty and came out of your cosy little office once in a while you'd see for yourself." Presswood straightened. "What do you think's going on? We've got some crazy man on board who's slaughtering our crew! I value my life as much as the next guy and I don't fancy being locked up with a psycho, but I've lost three men, Les, and if the Inspector reckons he can catch the bastard who killed them, then I'll go along with him and I'd advise you to do the same."
7
Inspector Caffrey's blockade was finally agreed to and instituted. There was just one amendment, an addition, in fact - radio silence. Les was the one who brought it up. Neither Presswood nor Caffrey could quite figure out what he had to gain by putting a stop to out-going calls, but he tendered such a varied and forceful argument that they went along with it just to get him off their backs. Their capitulation was also in the knowledge that they could make any necessary calls themselves without Meyer knowing until it was too late to stop them.
There were two radio shacks on board, the Ship's and that of the Company. Les Meyer took it on himself to advise the Captain of the vessel of the decision to maintain radio silence. He assured the other two that it had nothing to do with protocol, but was deemed advisable because if Del went, being the new boy and still a stranger to many on board, Olympian's Master was just as likely to tell him in no uncertain terms what he could do with his orders.
Neither Del nor the Inspector were really interested in Meyer's reasons, both having other fish to fry. After informing the Company radio operator of the score, they hurried along to see how Jack Pierce's retrieval of the body was going.
Jack was in the communications shack, listening intently to the commentary on his head-piece. Del waited for a moment then asked: "Who've you got down?"
"Bill Rose." Pierce held up a hand for silence. After a moment, he pressed the talk button. "Never mind the leak," he said into the microphone, an unmistakable edge to his voice, "Just attach the line and start back up." He paused again. "Negative, Bill - come up now! Natural decompression, yes, but if you see anything, anything at all, come straight up. And you talk to me, all the way, do you copy?"
The Inspector nudged Presswood and leaned towards his ear. "If he comes straight up, does that mean you'll have to use the decompression chamber?"
Jack turned slightly in his chair. "It's always ready, Inspector."
"You have excellent hearing, Mr. Pierce."
"It needs to be, and it's Jack. Do you know a bit about diving, then?"
"Not really, Jack. I just recall reading something about decompression procedures in a report. Such a pity Eddie MacFarlane wasn't able to observe them."
The room was suddenly very quiet. Pierce turned some more to face Caffrey. "What do you know about Eddie?"
Ernest was fiddling with his pen. It was becoming a habit and it wore holes in his top pocket. He drew his hand away. "Only a little. I received a fax just before I flew out. Very basic, but it aroused my curiosity."
Pierce became distracted. He reached for the talk button. "Are you sure they're just fish, Bill?" Then he was nodding. "Okay, but keep your eyes open." He turned back. "Maybe later, Inspector. As you can see, I've got my hands pretty full. You might be advised to go down to the moon pool. Bill's tied off the body. They're hauling it up now."
8
The body was identified as that of Mike DeLong. Dr. Perry was performing his examination of it when he found the message, this time carved onto Mike's back. They were fairly certain it was a message, but even Jerry Dennis had no idea for whom it was intended. The Inspector took the problem to Del, but he couldn't shed any light on it either. It wasn't until Del was talking to Jack Pierce that the riddle was solved.
"It said: 'G'day, Uncle'," Del explained. He noticed the blood drain from Pierce's face which didn't surprise him - it wasn't every day that a person came face to face with this kind of brutality. Jack had every right to feel a bit off about it. "Don't suppose you know who 'Uncle' is?" Del didn't really expect much more than a straight 'No'.
While the retrieval operation had been underway, Jack had been too concerned for his diver to worry about Mike DeLong whom he regarded as just another job only slightly out of the ordinary. Even after Bill Rose was safely back on deck, he still hadn't wanted to know the gory details. In fact, he'd finished up and gone straight to his cabin without talking to anyone about anything. Now, the bad news had come to him, so he couldn't really ignore it any longer. If only it could have been a normal death - simple drowning, or if it had to be murder, then strangulation, or a knife in the back - but this__! It wasn't merely ugly, disgusting: this was personal!
Jack staggered a little then sat heavily on his cot. He was a man who had just had all the energy sucked from him. Finally he nodded. "It's for me," he spoke in a whisper and even then the admission was reluctant. "He used to call me that - Uncle Jack." He looked up at Del, his eyes flickering, a warning that the build-up of nervous energy was approaching critical dimensions. "It's a message from little Eddie. He's out there, Del!" Jack's eyes were staring at the toolpusher in disbelief. "Eddie's come back! Oh, dear God, Eddie's still alive!"
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