The President’s Daughter

“Then everybody can look the other way with a clear conscience?” Blake said.

Aleko smiled. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s go for a little run and see if we can come up with a solution to your problem.”

He went into the wheelhouse and pressed the starter button. As the engines rumbled into life, Dillon cast off the stern line and coiled it and Blake did the same in the prow.

The Cretan Lover coasted out of the small harbor and Aleko boosted power, the boat lifting over waves at that point. It was all very pleasant in the hot sun. When they were about four or five hundred yards from the harbor, Aleko cut the engines.

“Let go the anchor.”

It was Blake who saw to that and Aleko braced himself against the wheelhouse door, the boat tilting as the water heaved in long swells.

“Let’s imagine the fishing boats put their nets out about this far from the castle jetty. It’s pretty similar.”

“How deep?” Dillon asked.

“Eighty fathoms, sometimes a hundred. Plenty of sardines this time of the year and they don’t go deep, so it would all look legitimate.”

“It’s the getting to the shore without being seen that’s the thing,” Dillon said.

“Well, underwater’s the obvious way.”

“But not for me,” Blake reminded him.

“Let’s give it a try anyway, if only to check the feasibility. What about it, Dillon? I’ve plenty of gear in the cabin.”

“I’m game,” Dillon said. “Lead me to it.”

They manhandled a couple of tanks on deck and Aleko provided inflatable jackets, masks, and fins. “No need for diving suits. We’ll go in at fifteen or twenty feet only and it’s warm enough at that level.”

They got the gear on, Blake helping out. When they were ready, Aleko opened a box and produced a couple of Marathons, passing one to Dillon.

“What’s that?” Blake asked as Dillon switched it on.

“A dive computer. Absolute bloody marvel. Gives you an automatic reading of your depth, elapsed time under water, how much time you’ve got left.”

“Is that necessary?” Blake asked. “I didn’t think there were problems when you stick to shallow waters.”

“There’s always a chance of some kind of decompression sickness at any depth, small, but it’s there. Diving’s a hazardous sport.”

“Okay,” Aleko said. “Let’s go.”

He went backwards over the side. Dillon tightened his weight belt, checked that the air was flowing freely through his mouthpiece, and followed. He swallowed a couple of times to equalize the pressure in his ears and went after Aleko.

The water was very blue and seemed to stretch into infinity, and it was so clear that they could see the white sand of the bottom eighty feet or so below. There were fish everywhere, most of them quite small, and once a motor boat passed overhead and Dillon was rocked in the shockwaves of the turbulence.

He kept on going, just a couple of yards behind Aleko, aware of an off-shore current carrying them in and of the sea bed shelving. As they entered the harbor, it was no more than thirty feet deep. They swam under the keels of numerous fishing boats and surfaced beside stone steps leading from the jetty.

Aleko spat out his mouthpiece and checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes. Not bad, but we had a strong current pushing us along.”

“Not too good for the journey back,” Dillon said, and at that moment, Yanni appeared on the steps above them.

“What are you doing here?” Aleko asked.

“They didn’t really need me up at the barn, so I thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Good lad. Now go and get the inflatable. You can run us back to the boat.”

The inflatable was black and powered by a Mercury engine that was incredibly noisy, even when Yanni throttled back. As they drifted in to the Cretan Lover, the boy cut the engine and Aleko tossed the line to Blake.

“It wouldn’t be possible to approach the castle jetty in this thing under cover of darkness,” Dillon said. “Maybe we could row it in.”

“Not without difficulty,” Aleko told him. “Outside that bay there is a fierce cross current. It can run a good two to three knots, enough to blow you off-target.”

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