Dyan led the way up the gangway and on to the ship where Russ was waiting to welcome them.
‘This is the captain, Russ Millar. Oliver Balfour,’ Dyan introduced.
They shook hands, the eyes of both men flicking over the other, summing each other up as they exchanged polite greetings.
Dyan hid a small smile of amusement. ‘I’ll show you to your cabin,’ she offered.
Oliver followed her below, apparently at home aboard a boat, ducking his head as they went down the companionway. Dyan opened the door of the cabin that had been set aside for him. It was one of the larger ones and should have been hers by rights, if the insurance company hadn’t insisted on sending Oliver along. Now, when Oliver stood inside it, the cabin suddenly seemed a whole lot smaller.
‘I’m sorry,’ Dyan apologised. ‘The boat isn’t really fitted out to carry passengers. But this is one of the largest cabins, and there’s a bathroom opening off it.’
‘You don’t have to apologise; it’s perfectly adequate,’ Oliver told her, dropping his bag on to the bed.
‘Great.’ She smiled at him again. ‘I’ll leave you to unpack, then.’
She turned to go but Oliver said, ‘Just a moment,’ and she looked back expectantly. ‘When am I going to meet the rest of the crew?’
‘At dinner, I expect. We don’t leave for a few hours yet, so I expect most of them are still on shore, making the most of being in port.’
‘I’d like to see round the ship.’
‘Of course. I’ll take you round myself. I just have to go back ashore for a few things.’
‘Shall we say half an hour, then?’
‘Make it an hour,’ Dyan said with a smile, the thought coming to her that she hadn’t brought anything very glamorous in the way of clothes with her. Although that hadn’t seemed important earlier.
The smile wasn’t returned. ‘Very well, an hour,’ Oliver accepted, but with another frown.
‘The steward’s name is Joe. If you need anything just ring for him.’
Dyan left him in the cabin and hurried ashore, wondering if Oliver was always this austere. But a man who could so easily accept her as the head of the salvage project could, in her eyes, be forgiven a great deal. And there was something attractive about him, too, which was why she went to a boutique in the town and carefully selected a few new things for the voyage: a couple of dresses for the evenings and some new casual clothes, things she definitely wouldn’t have bothered to buy if Oliver had turned out to be the middle-aged man she’d expected.
One of the crew was just going aboard as she got back to the ship and gave her a hand to carry her parcels, making her laugh as he tried to guess what was in them. Glancing up, Dyan saw a figure leaning over the ship’s side, watching them, and recognised Oliver. He didn’t return the wave she gave him, but raised the wrist that held his watch, letting her know that her hour was up. He had changed into lighterweight clothes, but he still wore a tie.
Dyan gave the crewman the rest of her parcels. ‘Drop these in my cabin for me, will you?’ She walked over to Oliver and lifted a hand to push back her hair, blown by the evening breeze off the sea. ‘Ready for the guided tour?’
His eyes were on her and this time he couldn’t—or else didn’t try—to hide the flicker of interest in them. ‘Quite ready.’
She took him round the deck first, explaining what the equipment was used for, telling him she’d show him the submersible once they were out to sea.
‘For security reasons?’ he questioned, but said when she nodded, ‘But surely anyone walking along the dock, or any boat passing by can see that this is a salvage ship?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘And don’t all salvage ships carry a submersible?’
‘Yes, but not like this one,’ Dyan told him, patting the covered underwater craft. ‘This is specially for your project, and we prefer to keep it under wraps.’
Below again, she showed him the galley and the rest room, gestured forward. ‘Those cabins are the crew’s quarters.’
‘How many are there in the crew?’
‘Fourteen; seven people on each watch. Plus the cook, the steward, and ourselves.’
‘You don’t count yourself as crew, then?’ he asked.
‘No. I’m always on call.’
His eyebrows rose and Oliver was about to ask her a question, but she led the way into the operations room, the heart of the ship, where every gadget that had been invented to help in the search for underwater wrecks had been fitted. It was like an extremely modern computer room with a large chart table in its centre. Oliver walked into the room and looked round in fascinated interest.
‘It’s as you’d imagine the control deck of a spaceship to look,’ he exclaimed.
‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ Dyan agreed.
He swung round to face her. ‘You’re obviously used to it. Do you know what all the machines are for?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she answered in surprise. ‘This one, for instance, is the sonar. That’s pulses of highfrequency sound that are bounced off the sea-bed,’ she told him, getting her own back. ‘The time taken for their echoes to return gives you the depth of the sea-bed at that point, so you can draw a map of the sea bottom. If there’s anything unusual, a wreck or something, then it will show.’
‘And you’ll be able to recognise the boat we want from that?’
‘No. It could be any wreck. Then we have to send down a submersible with a video camera to take a look.’
‘Do people go down in the submersible?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’d very much like to go down some time.’
‘It’s really only for experienced divers,’ Dyan started to explain.
But, ‘I have diving experience. I told you I’ve been to the West Indies before; I took a diving course then.’
‘Well, in that case, I’m sure we could arrange something,’ Dyan smiled. There was a question which had been niggling at the back of her mind, and now, glancing at the bank of phones, she saw a way to answer it. Gesturing to them, she said, ‘We’re connected up to the international communications satellite; if you’d like to phone your wife and family, to tell them you’ve arrived safely, you can do it from here.’
‘How very kind of you.’ Oliver gave her a quizzical look in which she thought she noticed a touch of amusement. ‘I’d like to use the phone some time—but there’s no one waiting with breathless anxiety for me to call.’
‘Oh. Fine.’ Dyan turned away, feeling slightly abashed, which was totally unlike her. She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s almost time for dinner. We’re eating early tonight so we can sail on the tide. Would you like a drink first?’
He nodded. ‘Sounds a good idea.’
They went back to the rest room where Dyan poured the drinks herself and noted them in the book. Oliver asked her what it was and she explained that everyone entered the drinks they’d taken and settled up at the end of each voyage.
‘Doesn’t