‘The men in the crew—I take it that they are all reliable and discreet?’
‘Of course. They’ve been hand-picked for this project. They’ve all been with the company for some years and are seasoned sailors and divers.’ That hadn’t been what Oliver meant, but Dyan deliberately paused before she looked him straight in the eyes and added, ‘They are all also honest men. You need have no fear that they’ll steal anything they find.’
She had spoken stiffly, her tone cold, affronted by the implied insult to the men. But Oliver said, ‘I’m more worried that they might be indiscreet, let fall information about the—about our quarry, so that another salvage company might get there first.’
‘They haven’t been told what we’re going after. And as for where—well, no one knows that yet. You’re supposed to be bringing that information with you,’ she pointed out rather tartly.
Oliver nodded, but his eyes had drawn into a frown again.
A bell sounded. Russ came in with the first mate, followed by most of the crew. He introduced them to Oliver and they almost immediately moved into the galley for dinner. There were no set places; people sat round the long table where they pleased. Dyan would have sat next to Oliver, but she was still a little annoyed with him, although she supposed that he was bound to ask about the integrity of the crew given the nature of the salvage they were to raise. So she sat next to Hal, the head of the diving team, and let Oliver find a place next to the chief engineer.
There were four empty spaces round the table, those of crew members that they would be picking up in Antigua, local men who were taking advantage of their being in the area to take a break with their families. Dyan heard Oliver ask about the empty chairs and the chief engineer tell him that there were some men to come, but then Joe began to serve the food and nothing more was said. It was a good meal, made of fresh food and plenty of it. Not up to five star hotel standard, but very good for a Starr Marine boat. Dyan couldn’t help glancing at Oliver to see his reaction, but he was apparently eating with as much appetite as the rest.
She only glanced at him a few times, and seemed to be giving her attention to Hal, who was recounting the story of his very first dive. But she had heard it all before and so her mind wandered, and naturally dwelt on Oliver, the stranger in their midst. He seemed a paradox; to be so open-minded that he had accepted her at once and without question, and at the same time anxious about the reliability of the men— men that he must know had been thoroughly vetted by Barney before they would be employed for a project such as this. And whatever his mind, his character wasn’t open; he seemed to have a natural reserve, an air of reticence about him. The chief engineer was talking to him and Oliver was listening politely, but he glanced up before Dyan could look away and caught her eye. She gave him one of her warm smiles and he looked at her for a moment before nodding in return, but he didn’t smile back. He didn’t seem to smile much at all. Perhaps this is his first assignment, she thought excusingly. Perhaps he’s too tense to relax.
His meal finished, Russ, the skipper, glanced at his watch and stood up, several other men doing the same. But those not on watch stayed in the cabin for coffee.
The boat made little noise as it put slowly out to sea, its modern engines hardly vibrating, the calmness of the harbour holding the boat steady. The curtains in the cabin were drawn and there were no passing lights to show that they were moving. Not until they were out of the harbour and into the open sea, when the engines were opened up, did a slight tremble along the decking betray that the boat was in its element at last.
Oliver felt it and looked up in sharp surprise. Putting down his coffee-cup, he said to Dyan, ‘I’d like to talk to you, if I may?’
‘Of course.’ She stood up. ‘Shall we go to the operations room?’
She walked ahead of him, her legs immediately adjusting to the movement of the ship, finding it no problem after so many salvage operations such as this. When they reached the ops room she waited until Oliver had followed her in and then closed the door behind them.
‘This room is completely soundproof,’ she told him reassuringly. ‘I expect you want to give me the coordinates for the last known position of the Xanadu. All I know at the moment is that she went down off the Windward Islands.’
‘No, that isn’t what I want,’ Oliver said tersely. ‘What I want to know is just when your father is coming aboard?’
‘My father?’ She stared at him incredulously, thinking that she couldn’t possibly have heard right. ‘I haven’t got a father—I mean, I did have one but he died years ago.’
‘Well, your brother, then,’ Oliver said impatiently. ‘Whatever relation to you this man Logan is who’s supposed to be in charge of this expedition. He should have been here from the start, but now I want to know exactly where he is.’
All the happy thoughts of a uniquely open-minded man faded abruptly. Dyan’s face hardened. ‘You’d better come with me,’ she said shortly, and led the way into the office section where all the telephones were. Glancing at the clock, she calculated that Barney would still be in the office, hopefully having lunch…and hopefully the call would give him acute indigestion. She wrote the number down and gave it to Oliver. ‘This is Barnaby Starr’s private line in London. He’ll be expecting your call. In fact, he’s probably been waiting for it for the last four hours.’
She went to leave but Oliver lifted a restraining hand. ‘Just a moment. Why should he be waiting for me to call? And where is Logan…?’ Even as he said it the truth dawned on him. Oliver’s eyes widened incredulously. ‘You?’ he exclaimed in utter disbelief.
‘Yes, that’s right. I’m in charge of this expedition, this ship, these men.’ Her chin came up in angry challenge. ‘And why not?’
Oliver’s hand had automatically reached towards the telephone when she’d given him the number, but now his eyes were fixed on her face, his own still wide with shock. ‘But I expected a——’
‘A man,’ Dyan finished for him. ‘Of course you did.’ Her tone was heavy with sarcasm, mostly because of her own disappointment.
Recovering quickly, Oliver’s jaw hardened at her tone. ‘Yes,’ he agreed frankly, ‘I was expecting a man. I was also expecting someone twice as old as you.’
‘Really?’ Dyan gave him a sardonic smile. ‘You’ve turned out to be exactly the kind of male chauvinist I was expecting.’ And then was immediately angry with herself for letting her feelings betray her into being rude.
And Oliver didn’t let her get away with it. His eyes narrowing, he said tersely, ‘A typically ferninine and silly remark.’
Dyan’s cheeks flushed a little. She should have apologised, she supposed, but was determined not to. Instead her chin came up and she said, ‘You have two alternatives, Mr Balfour. You can either entrust me with your project, or we can turn the ship round, go back to port, and you can find yourself a new salvage company.’
‘Or I could instruct Mr Starr to send out someone else to take charge of this expedition,’ he reminded her shortly.
She shook her head decisively. ‘No, you couldn’t. Your contract with Starr Marine specified that they would supply an experienced and capable oceanographer to take charge of the operation. They’ve done that. If you don’t want me, then that’s your choice, but you will have to break the contract and go elsewhere.’
‘That sounds suspiciously like blackmail,’ Oliver said angrily.
With a shrug, Dyan said, ‘I can’t help the way it sounds. That’s the way it is. Talk to Barney on the phone. Ask him for someone new. See what he says, if you don’t believe me.’
She went to leave him alone in the office but Oliver, his eyes on her face, on the heightened colour in her cheeks and the angry fire in her green eyes, said, ‘You don’t sell yourself short, do you?’
‘I don’t