Iceline

Steel slept heavily and Josie and Charlie let him snore long after breakfast. Charlie turned over the engine as soon as Josie had finished clearing away in the galley and leaving it idling in neutral set about recovering the stern anchor. Steel slept on once they were under way, turning in his sleep to sprawl face down on the bunk, his arm hanging over the edge and swinging with the gentle roll of Westering Home. She motored down Loch Sunart on her way to Tobermory when Josie came to wake him with a cup of strong sweet tea. He came awake groggily, with the rancid birdcage taste in his mouth and manoeuvred himself around in the bunk to lean on his elbow, giving himself space to drink the tea. Josie left him to it, to savour the few moments of solitude before he swung his legs out of the bunk and dragged on his clothes. A glance through the porthole showed no need for the waterproofs, as bright sunlight sparkled on blue water, scattered with crystals of spray from the bow wave of the ketch. He clambered into his clothes and the waterproof jacket, ignoring the over-trousers and topped off with the life-jacket, the waistband buckled securely, but the zip open.

  "Half an hour, three quarters at the most." Charlie called forward from the cockpit, nodding dead ahead where the bowsprit pointed towards Tobermory. Steel moved confidently along the deck, even with the breeze blowing in from the west the sun was warm on his face. Josie came out of the galley with his breakfast, bacon and egg, sandwiched in a bread cake. "Dead pig and chicken sandwich. I broke the egg, so the yolk won't explode all over your face."

  "Thanks Josie." Sitting close to the bow with his back to the cabin top Steel bit into the sandwich and chewed. Charlie took Westering Home around Calve Island and towards the ruined jetty at Aros, opposite the town. Dense woodland cloaked the shoreline and climbed the hillside around the bay, right up to the edge of the town where the garage and distillery stood shoulder to shoulder, with their backs against the hill. Charlie anchored the ketch and spent a couple of minutes getting the tender ready for a run ashore. Steel borrowed the binoculars from the hook inside the door of the rear cabin and scanned the sea front, watching the movement of people along the water's edge, resting on couples or individuals lingering in the same place. After ten minutes he lowered the glasses and screwed his eyes shut, squeezing the tension from his face. He put the binoculars away. Josie looked at him, with one eyebrow raised. "Anything?"

  "Can't see them." Steel said.

  "Better go and look then." She said and turned to look for Charlie, who was standing by the tender with the painter in his hand.

  "Ready when you are," he called, "can have you ashore in a couple of minutes."

  "Right, let's do it then." Steel said and swung over the side and into the dinghy, then helped Josie down and Charlie followed her. True to his word, in a couple of minutes the rubber boat scuffed against the landing steps by the ferry pier and Josie went ashore, followed by Steel. Charlie backed the boat off and headed back to the ketch. He would watch for them returning to the steps. In the meantime, he was due a contact with Langhers, through ship-to-shore and then he would see if Angel was listening at the next contact window.

  Steel followed Josie up the steps. He asked Charlie to drop them at the opposite end of the street instead of sliding up the beach alongside the garage, the walk towards the distillery would give him a chance to assess the situation and ready himself for the meeting with Jill and Robbie. Maybe there wouldn't be a confrontation with Robbie, but Jill would certainly want answers to some questions. Josie eased herself closer and slipped her arm through Steel's, settling herself close to him and fell into step, letting her hip ride against him as they walked. Not easy with the life-jackets over the waterproofs and Steel matched her pace as they moved slowly along the street, keeping to the water side. Steel talked her through what he could see and identified the dive shop, the Mishnish and gesturing beyond to the wall that ran back to the compressor shed. "Is that where you were, when they grabbed you?" Josie inquired.

  “Yes, tucked away up the back there and then spirited away, who's to notice one more pissed up diver being carried to the boat by his mates. Flash boat, too much money and too much to drink, you know the image. It seems it still works a treat." There was cold anger in his voice, a harsh twist of blame.

  Don't do it Don," she said, squeezing his arm, "there's nothing you could have done. Surprised and outnumbered, be realistic, your chances were slim at best."

  He laid his hand on hers and returned the squeeze. "I know, but now and then, you think it through and there's always 'if only'. If only I'd gone back earlier, or left it 'til morning, or done a dozen things differently, if I'd found my cylinder first and not had to go down the line. You get the idea?"

  "I get the idea." She said.

  "Thanks." Steel murmured, leaning close, as if to kiss her hair. They had walked down the front, past the war memorial and the stone pier. Fishing boats, left dry by the receding tide, leaned chummily against the stonework and each other as their men propped up the bar after a good day at sea and the distillery and garage were ahead. The road began its steep climb up the hillside, a straight run from the bottom, then a twist towards the top. "They're here," Steel whispered into her hair. Walking from the distillery towards a slipway smeared with weed. Jill wore a waxed jacket and corduroy jeans with ankle boots, more practical than stylish and Robbie had opted for jeans, trainers and a Windcheater jacket. Jill stood staring out to sea, while Robbie toyed with a stone, shifting it around with his foot, as he stared at the ground, his shoulders hunched. Josie watched them for a few moments and drew Steel to a halt, keeping the illusion of intimacy she turned her head and whispered to his cheek. He felt her breath against his skin as she spoke. "Stay here, I'll go first, I've a camera in my pocket, one of those single-use affairs. Here, take it and take my picture. When you've got the picture, I'll make my move and talk to them both."

  "Okay," Steel answered and took the camera she pulled from her jacket, "take care."

  She smiled at him. "Don't worry, it'll be fine." She slipped from his side and skipped across the uneven foreshore to the water's edge. Steel peered through the viewfinder and motioned for Josie to move left a bit, then right a bit, playing the game until he had a reasonable picture framed and pressed the shutter. He gave her a thumb up and lowered the camera. Josie moved between Jill and Robbie, breaking the reverie they appeared to be enjoying, though Robbie still seemed more bored than entranced by the scene ahead of him. "Hello Jill." She said.

  "Do I know you?" Jill Darling said.

  "We haven't met but we have spoken on the telephone. I'm Josie Burke." She said. Jill Darling turned her head and let her eyes roam across her surroundings.

  "Steel's friend, where is he?" Her voice was flat, toneless.

  "Close," Josie answered, "You should be able to see him."

  "I can, about twenty yards away. How is he?"

  "Why don't you ask him for yourself?" Josie prompted. Jill met Josie's level gaze and held it, neither of them blinked for a long time. When Jill spoke her voice was uncertain, a slight tremble underlying her words. "I'm not sure I can, I saw what he did and he changed."

  "Jill, he hasn't changed, but your, our, perception did. He's the same, we've found out something about him, maybe it was a part of him that we would rather have left unknown, at least to us. Can we judge him too harshly, if he's convinced that it was one of the men who tortured him?" Josie spoke calmly and Jill listened. Steel hadn't moved. He stayed where Josie had left him when she staged the photograph. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his waterproof and life jacket hanging open. Just a yachtie ashore for a walk. Jill exchanged glances with Josie and Robbie. "She has a point, we tend not to think of the nastier side of even the people we know, damn-it, we make excuses for it all the time. Go on, give him a chance." Robbie explained.

  "Jill, he's been through a lot and we both appreciate you coming and bringing Robbie. You have seen him at his weakest; when there is no pretence, no sham and that didn't upset you did it."

  "No, in fact, he's q
uite likeable."

  "Hold on to that." Josie told her.

  "OK, Here goes" Her smile was strained as she walked away. Steel watched her approach, slowing his breathing to calm the butterflies in his stomach. What the hell was happening to him, everything he thought was solid and dependable was either shaky or falling apart. Here was a stranger, despite the apparent intimacy of their meeting, he still knew little about her, professional distancing had played its part. Jill kept her hands in her pockets and stood directly in front of him. She took a deep breath and rose to her full height, looking him straight in the eye. He returned the dignified stare.

  Steel said quietly, "Hello Jill."

  "Hello Don," The pain on her face was vivid, "why?" What he had done was an anathema to her, she simply didn't understand.

  "I don't have a complete answer yet, but please try to understand, there are some smells which can touch the deepest and most securely hidden memories and the reaction is instinctive. When you lose some senses, others compensate. There was a point during what happened to me when the only effective sense I had left was smell. Initially I was going to take him with me, but I wanted to be away from him.”

  "An eye for an eye?"

  Steel sighed heavily and looked aside, staring across the placid waters of the bay to where Westering Home swung at anchor and noticed Charlie was watching the scene from the foredeck, leaning against the mast to give him support. "I can't tie that ribbon around it, I wanted to hurt him, pure and simple, he had threatened my survival and I wasn't having any of that." he looked back at her.

  She saw him shiver and found that strangely comforting, a visible sign that Josie's faith and her initial assessment had been justified. What he had done disturbed him. Her smile was a little more confidant now. "Come on, come and meet Robbie." It broadened when she saw the lopsided attempt at a smile he made through the bruises and they regrouped outside the distillery and introductions were made. The quartet paired off, Josie and Jill, Steel and Robbie.

  "Been in?" Robbie asked, jerking his thumb at the distillery

  "Yeah, went round the last time."

  "Ah," Robbie muttered, "sorry." Remembering how that visit had ended.

  "Don't worry about it," Steel grinned and they headed back towards the ferry pier. Steel's idea was to return to the ketch for a chance to talk privately, where the chance of being eavesdropped was reduced to an absolute minimum and by now he hoped there was some news from Langhers. Steel knew his friend had gone inland last night. In the meantime, Steel and Robbie broached the subject of the aqualung cylinder, filling in the details he had gleaned from talking to Cocker about what they had found aboard the Mary Alice. Steel wracked his brains, struggling to recall the last time he had come across a diving incident where a cylinder failure had been a major consideration and drew a blank, but it brought him back to his last night in Tobermory. "I was down by the compressor shed when I was jumped, you know, looking for the cylinder I'd used that afternoon. Then I found an empty in the full line, the working pressure was far too low."

  "Maybe George had missed it, come on you must know how busy it can be at this time of year; cylinders stack up by the dozen at times. He probably overlooked it." Robbie chipped in.

  "But it had masking tape over the pillar valve, that's the way he keeps a check on the ones that have been blown, yeah, I know he has a stack for empties and full ones outside the shed, but the tape is a double check." Steel insisted, he stopped and rubbed his hand over the top of his head, his fingers ploughing through his hair, then a series of deep furrows crowded his forehead. "There is something, just before it happened, there was somebody else there and he said something, but I can't quite remember what it was..."

  Robbie made as if to speak, but Steel waved his hand. "No, no, wait, give me a minute, it's almost there. It's a bit confused because of what followed, but it may be important. I was about to swing it across to the other side, where the empties are stored and this voice said to leave it be, it was okay, I told him it was empty, needed a fill. He said just leave it, it was full, so I peeled off the tape again and started to clamp my DV to it, telling him that if he gave me a minute, I'd prove it. George must have missed it and if it wasn't switched, then someone was going to be short in the morning. That's the point it went mental, he said they weren't going to be the only one and hit me. I'm not sure what with, but the size of it, it could have been a cylinder, it knocked the bloody wind out of me and I crashed into the wall. There was a clatter as a couple of the cylinders fell over and I remember somebody shouting, but I don't know if it was because of what was happening. I was still trying to pick myself up when he came at me again and that was it, he hit me again, a good strike on the jaw, everything went fuzzy and I went down. I'm pretty sure it wasn't his fist he hit me with, but it put the bloody lights out."

  The girls caught up with them and walking abreast, with the girls in the middle they carried on towards the dive shop. Robbie said. "I want to talk to George, in the compressor shed, he's got a cylinder a bunch of divers recovered yesterday, it might be something, it might not, but cylinders seemed to be cropping up with an annoying regularity and from all sorts of directions lately. One of them reported it, public spirited of him, if he's lucky the owner may never claim it and if it passes its test, he'll get a spare for the price of a dive."

  "Not bad," Steel said, "mind if I tag along, see what the crack is?" Robbie nodded, Jill said. "Well, we're going for a drink and a chat in the Mishnish" and she and Josie stepped smartly through the door of the hotel. The two men carried on and bumped into George coming out of the dive shop to resume his watch over the compressor, a mug of coffee in one hand and a cheese and tomato wad in the other. The stream of cylinders was fairly constant through the afternoon and into the evening now the season was well under way. George recognised Robbie and flicker of curiosity washed across his face when he saw Steel, recognition, possibly not, but there was something familiar about it, he had seen him somewhere before, but the discolouring and wounds made it difficult. "Rob, what brings you here, off your patch aren't you?"

  "Not really George, got a day or so spare, so put in some leave and thought I'd take a couple of days on the island, Jill's along for the trip."

  "Oh aye?" he said knowingly, his smile broadening to a huge grin. "Still chasing the dream eh, good luck mate."

  "Fuck off George, she's my cousin." Robbie protested.

  "Not properly she isn't, only by marriage. Go on get on with it. She's a grand lass."

  Steel watched the exchange, smiling at the banter and wondering how serious either of them was, then Robbie managed to get a word in and introduced Steel. George stuck the wad between his teeth to give him a free hand and shook Steel's, mumbling a how-do-you-do, through the wad. He removed the sandwich and waving it like a thick stubby finger to help him put the ideas together in his mind. He said. "I thought I'd seen you before, you were here not long since; looks like you had a nasty accident, still, good to see you. What brings you back so soon, finishing your holiday?"

  "Yeah, bit of a rest, not quite convalescence but something like it."

  "Tagging along with this reprobate just for a bit to do?" The jibe was aimed at Robbie, who denied it the dignity of an answer.

  "Sort of, never been one for lying around on a sunbed, he's been telling some tall tales about cylinders going off, it sounded worth a butchers, so here I am." Steel explained.

  "Come on round," said George, "you can have a look at the one they brought in yesterday, nothing special about it." Steel and Robbie followed him up the alley towards the compressor shed. A small brick building with paint peeling from the door surrounded by the incessant clatter of the pistons as it sucked in the sharp Scots air, filtered it, squeezed it and pushed it into the cylinders. He unhooked a couple of sets of ear defenders from the wall inside the shed and passed them around. George pointed to a scruffy cylinder in the corner and Robbie picked it up and carried it outside, they moved down the alley until
the noise became tolerable and slipped off the defenders. They crouched down and began a careful scrutiny of the markings. Robbie fished a notebook from his pocket and a stub of a pencil, which broke when he tried to use it. Steel went back into the noise and finally scrounged a pen from George. Robbie was rubbing at the crud and slime coating the cylinder, using the broken pencil to gouge the details from the stamping where the slime clogged up the stamped letters and Steel jotted them down as each one revealed itself.

  "Mm, American." Muttered Steel as Robbie read through the lettering.

  "What?" Robbie said, surprised.

  "It's a yank tank," Steel said, "just then, you read off DOT, that's not an English stamp, that's the American Department of Trade. It's an import."

  "Does that cause a problem?" Robbie asked.

  "Not that I know of, there was a bit of confusion when they first arrived in the UK, but that was sorted out pretty quickly."

  "What sort of confusion?" Robbie probed a little further.

  "It came with the testing, the thread gauges didn't match the threads of the pillar valves, but it was finally decided that if the original valve was still in place, then the threads would match perfectly. If they had been replaced by a new valve, probably with a British or Metric thread then the cylinder would fail," Steel answered, "no way of guaranteeing that the two wouldn't part company under pressure, rare thing to happen. But you know the way things are, nobody wants to take the chance in case some poor bastard is standing in the way. Can't be having blood and entrails splattered all over the wallpaper can we, not good for business."

  Robbie carried on turning the cylinder and reading the details, Steel transcribing, until he was happy they had all the information. Steel laid the cylinder down and began to remove the protective mesh covering the body, a rubber tank boot shod the foot of the cylinder and a couple of turns of broad insulating tape held the mesh and boot in place. He stripped the tape, dragged off the boot and peeled the mesh all the way down and off the end. He began to run his fingers carefully along the length of the cylinder, peering closely at the paintwork and the damage inflicted by its immersion where the mesh had torn. It looked like any other cylinder, a bit battered, chipped paintwork and traces of rust around the neck. George had come out of his lair and stood watching. Steel paused in his inspection and looked up. "Penny for them?" He asked, George finished rolling a cigarette and stuck it in the corner of his mouth, he left it unlit. He pushed the defenders off his ears and rubbed them, starting the circulation again. "Can't say, but I was hoping to test it, but I haven't yet, with this lot piling up, it could be next week."

  "Is there anything in it?" Asked Steel and George shrugged; Steel wondered "Got a gauge handy?" George nipped back into the shed and reappeared with a pressure gauge fitted with an A-clamp. Steel took it from him and dropped it over the pillar valve, twisting the clamp to snug the valve-seat over the O-ring. He cracked the valve and nothing happened. Steel frowned. "Bugger," he muttered, "It could have been weeping through the valve while it was underwater, or it might have gone in at this pressure."

  George crouched down and lifted the cylinder, watching the needle on the gauge. It looked as steady as a rock.

  Steel suggested. "What if we pump it up, check the pressure and then look at it in the morning. If it is leaking and then we can hazard a guess as to when it was lost."

  "Then we might be able to work out where it came from. It's not a common one round here, we do get them occasionally, but once the pillar valve needed changing and the threads wouldn't match, the word got round and divers moved away from them, went back to Luxfer and Heisers." George said. Robbie looked on, nodding.

 

  "Bollocks to it," George said and wiped the pillar valve with a rag from his back pocket, "I'll blow the fucking thing up, then let it stand and see what happens, we'll have a look at it tonight, then check it again in the morning."

  "Hiya, what're you doing?" Asked Josie, appearing among them as if by magic, so wrapped up in their proceedings, no one had heard them arrive; Jill peered over Josie's shoulder.

  "Bugger all, at the moment, but George has things in hand." Steel grumbled.

  "Yeah, no problem, just got four others to do, then I can hitch this one up and pump it, then we'll wait and see what happens. Bit of investigative work." George said, dropped the bottom of the cylinder back into the rubber boot and picked it up to carry it to the compressor.

  "I'll not ask," she said, "but the impression I get is that success is not the word for to-day."

  Robbie shook his head. Josie shrugged. "Ah well, nil desparandum." She said and as Steel rose to his feet she linked arms with him. George went back to his shed and put the cylinder to one side, he checked the two cylinders hooked to the compressor and as they came up to working pressure closed the valves, disconnected them and replaced them with two more empties, two more after these and he could top up the recovery.

  "We'll meet you at the Mishnish later on," Jill said, "Robbie and I are going to hang around and gossip."

  "Right, sounds good, Mishnish it is, we'll nip back to the boat and see what the news is from Charlie." Steel said, Josie was playing her part well, maybe laying it on a bit thick and Steel wondered how much of it was for Jill's benefit, a territorial declaration, you can be nice to him, but not too nice, or close, he's mine. This was coming uncomfortably close to time for a serious chat. “Come on you." He said to Josie. "Let's go and see Charlie."

  She snuggled a little closer. "That can wait; I want you back at the boat so I can get your kit off."

  "I'll not argue with that, I haven't had a better offer this morning."

  "Don't go getting any ideas, I need to check your dressings and when I've dealt with that we'll call in at the dive shop and see what turns up, there is still the question mark hanging over which boats were around when you dropped off the map." Josie informed him, a bit brusquely Steel thought. She can be such a killjoy. He slid his arm around her waist and manoeuvred her towards the landing steps alongside the ferry pier. Charlie arrived in due course and took them back to the ketch where Josie ordered Steel below and out of his shirt, she wanted him stripped to the waist as she fetched the medicine chest from the aft cabin. Steel was stretched out on the bunk when she came into the cabin, the shirt crumpled on the floor, with his hands clasped behind his head.

  She threw the kit on the other bunk, snapped open the lid and pulled on a pair of disposable gloves. Steel switched on the bunk light and Josie began to check the condition of his wounds and the stitches holding him together. They seemed fine, none had pulled apart, though one or two of them strained a little. She left them alone and satisfied herself with swabbing down the small trails of dried blood that meandered through the hair on his chest. The tight curls bending at the touch of her gloved hand and springing back afterwards. The moisture from the antiseptic wipe bound them together and Josie repeated the action with a soft tissue, drying the hair. Steel lay quietly, saying nothing, but watching her closely, noting the shifting expression on her face until he was sure he had read it correctly. "You don't have to do this you know."

  "Yes I do," she said, her eyes never shifted from tracking her hand across his chest, "I have to do this. This is my job."

  "No it isn't there are medical people who can do this and they won't have to play safe and leave the stitches in longer than necessary because they're not sure if the wounds will hold without them. Josie, this is not your job."

  She sniffled and rubbed the tip of her nose with the back of her free hand and Steel watched, mesmerised as a tear dribbled down the side of her nose. Steel reached out and took hold of the hand with the swab. "You don't have to put yourself through this, really, you don't."

  "Yes I do, but you don't understand, I'm not sure I do." She murmured. Steel manipulated his body until he could swing his feet out of the bunk and sit on the edge. He still had Josie's hand in his and her other hand used a spare tissue to dry the tears.

 
"Is this because you gave up hope?" He asked gently, his whisper barely audible above the sounds of the boat riding at anchor. Her mouth was twisted tightly to stifle the sound of her crying. Steel let her hand go and dug a handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans. He handed it to her. "Here, blow your nose, go on, nice and hard and dry your tears." Josie did as she was told, noisily and angrily, annoyed with herself and her lack of self-control. "Sorry Don," she said, "been a bit of a ninny, haven't I."

  "No, you haven't, not you, never a ninny. Sensitive, caring, warm-hearted, all of those, but not a ninny." He dropped to the floor and rose to stand, his chest inches from her face and pulled her head into his shoulder. "You have done nothing wrong, don't blame yourself for giving up hope, you have to, losing hope is inevitable, it's the first step in moving on. I buggered everything up by coming back."

  "You can't stop me blaming myself by taking the blame yourself." She said and punched him playfully, he slipped his hands around her waist and found that little spot just behind her kidneys where he knew she was unbelievably sensitive. She would have collapsed into a heap on the floor if he hadn't caught her and Charlie barged in, saw what was happening and stopped short. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

  Josie's tears had become laughter, but still they ran down her cheeks. "It's alright Charlie, just larking about." She chuckled and still giggling pulled herself from Steel's grasp and sat down. "Well don't stop on my account." He said.

  "We had just finished, so what can we do you for?"

  "Kurt got a message through to us while you were ashore, he ran into a bit of trouble, but he's OK, the Range Rover is a write-off, but the other fellah is worse, he's been in touch with the Grange and they're shipping some transport out to him ASAP."

  Josie coughed as she pulled herself together. "Did he say when he would be back?"

  "Hopefully, late to-day, or first thing in the morning, but he can't say for certain, all hangs on when the new transport arrives. Says to hang on 'til he gets back, doesn't want to miss all the fun," Charlie smiled, "so what you two love birds got planned for the rest of today, just say the word and I'll run myself ashore."

  "Charlie!" Snapped Josie, "Where did you get such an idea?"

  "Well it looked, oh forget it." Then Josie saw the look on his face and she couldn't help giggling again."

  "Don't worry about it Charlie, she's probably got a feather in her knickers." Was Steel's retort.

  "Well so long as it's only a feather, that's kinky, the whole chicken, that's perverted." Charlie grinned.

  "Will you two stop it?" She said firmly, struggling not to succumb to another giggling fit. It was always the same, touch that spot and she was uncontrollable for a good ten minutes. Josie pushed her way out of the cabin and stood on deck, sucking in lungful's of air, settling herself down. Charlie looked at Steel's chest, nodding at is injuries. "How is it?"

  "Bit sore, muscles are stiff, but getting better. I reckon, another week and the stitches should be out."

  "And yourself?" He asked and tapped Steel on the forehead. "In there."

  Steel shrugged. "I don't know, apart from the nightmares, there doesn't seem to be any lasting damage, but I can't say what will happen the next time I run into one of the bastards who set about me, Macduff may be the lucky one, the next one might not survive."

  "Fair comment, I can't argue with that, I don't know is a realistic appraisal.” Charlie acknowledged.

  Steel picked up his shirt and slipped it on, ramming the shirt tails into the waistband of his jeans. "Come on Charlie, give me some credit, you've seen enough blokes in a similar situation, I couldn't bullshit you, even if I was thick enough to try."

  "Good lad, now about Josie, what's the situation?"

  "She's reasonably OK, bit strung up about what happened," Steel commented, "I guess she's mixed up, Charlie, I'm confused, I can't tell whether she's playing a part or not, we weren't that close before all this happened, but she's acting like there was something there. If she's playing a part, you know running the blind that we're a couple, then she's a bloody good actress, if she isn't then I don't know what I'm going to do." Steel was baffled and it showed. Charlie recognised that Steel was getting warm, drawing close to the reality, but stopping short of acknowledging it for what it was. He knew damn well that Josie wasn't playing a part and neither was he, but so far neither of them had spoken the word and until they did, well, they could carry on kidding themselves that they were just good friends. The old man looked at Steel and recognised the reluctance to face that truth, he didn't trust his own feelings any more, what he had endured had thrown everything into turmoil; they had to remain friends and nothing more. For the time being it was the only chance either of them had. He laid his hand on Steel's shoulder and squeezed it. "Be careful lad, good friends are hard to come by, don't go fouling it up with a slip of the tongue."

  "And spoil it all by saying something stupid, eh?"

  "If you like," Charlie said, "come on, I'll get you ashore." He slipped out of the cabin and padded down the deck to where Josie sat peering over the side at the sun-dappled water. She looked up as he approached. A peculiar expression on her face, a complex mixture of emotions and thoughts. He didn't smile but she saw recognition in his eyes and his voice. "Don't worry lass; it will all work out for the best, give it time. Maybe when we find a way out of this we can sort it out and then we'll all know where we stand."

  "Thanks Charlie." She said and rose to her feet. She gave him a hug and a kiss. He was back to his jokes in a flash. "Hey, steady on, we'll have Steel getting jealous." He said and returned the kiss.

  "Good," She said, "It won't do him any harm."

  "Ooh," Charlie feigned horror, "scheming little vixen." She gave him a smile and a wink." Swings and roundabouts, roundabouts and swings, up and down, up and down, he shook his head. "Come on, in the tender, both of you and get ashore. Leave an old man to the peace he seeks on his beloved boat." Steel went over the side first and reached back to help Josie, there was a moment when she landed on the tender and swayed as she sought her balance where Steel held her by the waist. She hit him with her smile, "Thanks," she said, "I'm OK."

  "I know you're definitely OK."

  Charlie joined them, slipped the painter and as the tender drifted slightly from the stern he turned over the engine and steered for the steps. Steel followed Josie up to the street, pausing at the top, where a movement in the corner of his eye sparked a glimmer of recognition, a jacket and haircut combination. They found Jill and Robbie tucked into a corner of the Mishnish. Sat with their backs to the wall where they could see the door, so they spotted Steel and Josie as they walked in and Robbie met him at the bar. "Drink you two?"

  "Orange juice for me," Josie said, "and a pint of heavy for him." Steel nodded his acceptance. Robbie paid for the round and handed them out. Steel took his first sip and followed him to the table. Josie slipped in beside Jill and started chatting away, Steel and Robbie sipped their beers in silence for a few moments and Steel visibly relaxed. "What's the crack with this cylinder story your mate from Canada tossed across the pond?"

  "It was an explosion, apparently, someone had hooked up the dodgy cylinder to the compressor and pumped it up; someone had modified it, cut it in two and the two halves threaded and reassembled," Robbie took another pull at his pint, "sounds like smuggling, but a whole boat-load of effort for what?"

  "So what happened, exactly?"

  "Oh, the two halves came apart under pressure, took off in opposite directions and killed the two crewmen." Robbie said.

  "Grim," Steel murmured, "poor bastards, any picture forming yet as to how it came to be on board.

  "Not a clear one, it looks like they picked up the wrong one, no idea it had been messed with, if they had it wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the compressor, never mind been hooked. The thread simply couldn't take the strain, so it went bang."

  Steel drained his pint and stood up. "I'm going for a chat with George down at the c
ompressor, I feel like picking his brains."

  "What makes you think he'll be any use?

  "That makes me sure," Steel said and put his hands in his pockets, "he spends most of his time with a pair of ear defenders clamped to his skull and that makes him invisible."

  "How do you work that out?" Jill asked.

  "He can't hear anything anybody says, so they don't mind what they say and when people don't mind what they say, they tend not to worry about what they do either," Steel explained his thinking. "To most people he's just the bloke at the compressor shed they probably don't give him a second thought and he smokes. So he spends time outside the shed, downwind of the air intake. I reckon he doesn't miss much."

  Josie began to rise, but Steel lifted a hand to stop her. "No, stay here Josie, I'll be alright. I won't be long I hope, give me half an hour, then come looking."

  Josie scowled at him. "That's not funny." She snapped.

  He pushed the hair back from her face. "Yes it is and any other time it would have been. I'll see you later." Steel carried his empty glass back to the bar, said cheers to the barman and left. George Evans was outside the shed when he arrived, sucking his way down another roll-up, the crumpled tube of paper glowed cheerfully when he inhaled. "Hello again, back for another look?"

  "Not especially, wanted a bit of a chat, still trying to piece things together, head injuries, it's all a bit fuzzy."

  "Jigsaw job, eh, lots of pieces, no picture," George said and took a final pull on the roll-up before expertly flicking it into a nearby bucket of water and immediately took out his tobacco pouch to prepare another cigarette. His hands moved automatically, following a practised routine as he spoke, he never looked at the pouch until he finished the twirl that rolled the paper around the shredded leaf, sealing it with a wipe of his tongue. Steel found himself a perch on the edge of the water tank used to keep the cylinders cool while they were filled and rested. George Evens looked at his visitor, weighing him up, he had used the word accident earlier that afternoon and both men knew there had never been an accident and even George could see that. "No bullshit, eh, mister, straight talking." George stated, "You weren't in any accident were you, you're the guy the grapevine said went missing."

  "Is that little island telegraph talking?" Steel asked.

  George nodded, sticking the roll-up to his bottom lip with a drop of spit, so that it waved around as he spoke. "Could say that, sometimes it buzzes and others it lets out a drip at a time, with you there was a single drop, then nothing."

  "Which doesn't take us any further, all I have is the cylinder and the off-the-wall reaction." Steel's voice was tired, a reflection of his physical condition. Though well on the way to a full recovery, his stamina had been stripped away by his recent experiences, which would take time to rebuild. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "That's the worst bit, not knowing, I can barely remember what happened and when it does come back, it fucks up my sleep and I wake up in a stinking cold sweat."

  George breathed out softly, a sympathetic sound. "Can't say I know what you mean, 'cos I don't. I don't think I've ever upset anybody that much."

  "Try not to and if you do, it might be easier to live with if you find out why, it may be the best way of working out how to get things sorted out." Steel remarked. "Look, I'm blundering about in the dark here, I haven't got a fucking idea who, what or why, in fact it's the most tenuous thread you could ever possibly imagine, but everything keeps coming back to the aqualung, the cylinders. I get the living fucking shit kicked out of me because I'm looking for the wrong one. No, that's wrong, I've got to stop bull-shitting myself, the bastards tortured me. It wasn't refined, it was brutal, okay, I was beaten, badly and in the end the assault was refined by adding a leather glove wrapped in rusty barbed wire." Weariness was on the point of collapsing his spirit, as if the recollection was more than he could physically stand and with that, the fall of the physical would drag the spirit with it. George lit the cigarette and handed it to Steel, who waved his hand. "I don't smoke."

  Evans said firmly. "Right now, for the next five minutes, you do. I'll not give you any shite about it being good for you. It will give you something to do while I get a brew. I want one and you bloody need one."

  "Alright," Steel capitulated and took the cigarette.

  Evans disappeared with the parting comment "Oh and while I'm gone, keep an eye on that twin set." He said and jerked his thumb in the direction of the compressor shed. Steel gingerly drew on the fag, trying not to choke as the smoke trickled towards the back of his throat. It touched down and he coughed, the spasm wracking his chest and pulling at the stitches. "Oh fuck," He gasped and glared at the glowing tip as he struggled to get his breath back. Evans eventually returned, by the time Steel had got his breath back and disconnected the twin set from the compressor and bled the system the roll-up was pinched out and tucked behind his ear. He lifted it down and passed it back to Evans. Steel accepted the proffered mug and took a hefty swig. The tea was hot and very sweet and he felt the warmth spread down his throat and settle in his stomach. The two men relaxed in silence and enjoyed the tea, Evans waiting for Steel to gather himself again. He coughed, dragged the flem from his throat and spat it away. "That's better," he muttered.

  "Well, maybe not need, but you needed something, the tea helped." Evans conceded.

  "Right, no bull shit, eh, have you blown that recovered cylinder yet?"

  "No, not had chance," George replied, "I was going to piss it off until tomorrow morning, do it first thing, then check it again when I finished."

  "Can I have a look, a really good look at it?" Steel asked.

  "Yeah, sure, but why, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "I don't know and I seem to be saying that too often these days and frankly it's pissing me off. The people I work for do that because I'm the guy with the answers and I have no idea what the question is with this one, except, like I said, the bloody cylinders keep coming up. George, humour me, I might be completely off my truck. The beating I had may have turned me into a paranoid loony, but for want of anything to do and that may be the long and short of it, I want something to do, it'll probably help me think."

  "Fine, we'll blow it off then take it to bits." George agreed and finished shutting down the compressor. He closed it down for the afternoon, there would be more to do when the dive boats returned at teatime and dragged the cylinder from the shed. He laid it down and cracked the valve, twisting it fully open and still nothing came out.

  George picked up the cylinder and hoisted it on to his shoulder, "come on," he said, "we'll take this apart in the workshop behind the store, it's more private."

  "Fine by me, I'll bring the mugs." Steel agreed and gathered the mugs that George had brought out through the afternoon. Mugs had a tendency to travel in one direction during the day and return at evening when everything went back indoors together. George led the way around the back of the shop and into a large lean-to shed. He dropped the cylinder on the bench and wedged it, while he sorted out the lights and gathered his tools from the racks and hooks around the walls. Large calibre spanners, thread gauges, inspection lights and tape measure. He handed Steel a notebook made from old OS maps and a pencil. He shifted the cylinder to a large clamp and secured it, winding the handle tight until the rubber grips flattened against the steel. "Don't want the old thing rolling and crushing somebody's tootsies," he muttered as he worked, then picked up the spanner, turning the adjuster until he got the span he wanted, "and we shall begin." He gave the valve tap a final twist and listened carefully. There was no tell-tale hiss from the bright chrome pillar.

  "George," Steel's voice was icy calm, "you do realise that what happens in the next five minutes could put you in the shit as deeply as I was, or possibly even still am."

  "How deep is that?" He said and there was a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his face.

  "This has made your day hasn't it?" Steel said and George Evans nodded enth
usiastically.

  "You wouldn't believe how tedious life can get watching everybody else's cylinders being charged, so I'll ask you again, how deep is that?"

  Steel laughed a deep hearty laugh he had almost forgotten. This was it, the buzz of adrenaline, the whiff of danger. "We're talking fairly serious multi-stage decom."

  "That's deep..."

  "Some would say... and daft."

  George wrapped the spanner in chamois leather and slipped the jaws around the pillar valve. He set it in place and stood back. "Your move Steel, you do the honours."

  Steel put down the notebook and pencil and wrapped his hands around the shaft of the spanner and leaned on it, the pillar valve stayed locked in the threads but the cylinder gave a sharp crack and appeared to turn. "Curiouser and curiouser," he muttered. He paused to loosen the clamp and gently turn the cylinder, a fraction at a time. Presently he straightened, Steel waited patiently, this was not straightforward, George had spotted it and he stooped again, to check what he had seen was really there. He loosened the clamp "Just look at it and tell me, describe what you can see."

  Steel rolled the cylinder slowly on the clamp cradle and ran his hands over the painted metal. "Hmm, that shouldn't be there?" What do you see?"

  "A crack in the paint." Steel said and looked at George. "We might have a twin for Robbie's Canadian friend." They hunched around the cylinder and resettled it in the clamp so the pillar valve and the section above the crack was held firmly in the rubber covered jaws. George began to tap around the crack with a small hammer, gently chipping away the paint. As the flakes fell away a scored line became apparent in the metal itself and George carried on tapping and turned the cylinder as he chipped away at each quarter of the circle until he had revealed a line around the circumference. Finally he straightened and stepped back, pushing Steel aside. He put the hammer down on the bench. "Hmm, it's definitely odd. You might be right Steel; it could have a Canadian twin, or had one."

  George Evans tightened the clamp as much as he could and wrapped his hands around the base of the cylinder. He wrestled the cylinder until the crack began to open and very slowly the section began to unscrew until the bottom fell off. George caught the piece and deftly turned it in his hands to set it on the bench beside the clamp. A puzzled frown creased his brow and he probed the inside of the cylinder section.

  "Is that wax inside there?" Steel wondered out loud.

  "Feels like it, but what's it doing there." Replied George, as he scraped at it with his fingernail. A small sliver curled away at his touch. "What we need to do is get the damn stuff out and find out why it's there."

  Steel scratched his nose and said. "It's only a thin layer and there's something underneath."

  George stammered. "Right, fine, we need to warm it up, melt the wax."

  "Hot water, have we got any?" Steel asked, "Because when we find it and melt this lot we could be in it too."

  "And we're not already?" George wondered. "A kettle will take time."

  "Time, shit! Josie!" Steel blurted out.

  "What's up?"

  "I jokingly suggested to Josie that if we weren't back in half an hour, she should come looking for me." Steel explained.

  "That's no problem," George said, "Empty the kettle on to the wax and leave it to stand, then go and find Josie; we can come back later and see how it's going on. Better than standing around all night waiting for something to happen."

  Steel lifted the cylinder from the clamp and followed George through the yard from the shed to the back of the shop and let them in. He pointed to a sink under the window and Steel lowered the cylinder gently into the basin. George turned on the tap and filled the kettle. The kettle clicked off when the water boiled and George poured it into the base. The scalding water began to soften the wax. They left the cylinder, locked the kitchen door and wandered back to the pub.

  *****

  Chapter Nineteen