Davy and José worked without a break. The one generator, bilge pumps and the other auxiliary equipment failed to work. When reassembled, they ran well enough. While checking, José found many of the steel pipes rotten. Davy stripped them while Jose cannibalised parts from other derelict craft.
"Senor Davy, you must replace this."
"I'll speak to Tony in the morning."
José gave the sign of the cross and smiled, "You had better pray to our Lady Madonna. More important, take materials for emergency repairs."
Davy laughed but knew José was right. The boat was a wreck, and nobody but a fool would sail across the Bay of Biscay in it.
Tony arrived early the following day. As was the norm, he was ready to listen to Davy's moans and groans. Wearing filthy overalls, Davy leant against the door of Tony's car and shouted, "I'm pissed off." He pointed. "See that wreck of a vessel. Well, you can shove it where the monkeys hide their nuts. Replace every one of the rotten pipes, or you can find someone else to head the team. You can tell Isobel Alfonin that if she wants to risk her money, that's fine by me. I'm not risking my life until I have new pipes. He paused, and with a black oily finger, jabbed Tony hard in the chest. "Get it done, or I'm out of here."
"I would not recommend that."
He grabbed Tony by his jacket lapels and almost pulled him through the car window. "Have you been listening?"
Davy released his grip and shoved Tony into his seat. Unruffled, he replied, "Big deal. So you want a few new pipes. Look, you have ruined an expensive suit. I cannot get excited over such things. Have them on the quay by midday, and I will have someone collect them. Now, what was it you wanted me to tell William?"
"You can tell him what the fuck you like. Remember, this is where it happens or doesn't. It's up to you."
Tony chuckled. "You will have your pipes, and you can send him a postcard from the UK." He started the BMW's engine, waved and drove away.
Davy watched him leave and then returned on board.
***
Adrian awoke with the November sun streaming through the only porthole on the ship. Charlie, the ship keeper, had opened up the hotel systems during the night, ready for when the crew arrived. Adrian enjoyed a hot shower, donned his best uniform, and joined Charlie for a coffee.
On the stroke of nine, he entered the captain's secretary's office.
A young, bright-eyed lieutenant greeted him. "Good morning, sir. You must be Commander Viper. Captain Welland informed me you'd be making an appearance. The boss is still at his eight o'clock meeting. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"No thanks."
Twenty minutes later, Captain Welland returned. Passing his secretary's office, he looked in. "Good morning, Adrian. Come in. Sec, do not disturb. Understood?"
The lieutenant smiled. "Yes, sir."
Captain Welland, a tall, slender man in his early forties, walked across the blue-carpeted floor. Informally he sat on the edge of his desk. "Take a chair."
Captain Welland stroked his thinning hair. "Adrian, I've received a request from the Admiralty. They want HMS Blackbird, commanded by you, to pick up some chap from a fishing boat. You're to transit at the best possible speed, weather permitting. You'll rendezvous with HMS Boxer twenty miles due west of Land's End. I know this is the big question, but when will you be ready to sail?"
"If it goes well, sir, this evening."
"They want you to leave as soon as possible. Keep me informed, Adrian. I need to keep up to speed on this one; God knows why they asked for you. One day they might tell us, but I doubt it."
