Bond sat back. He turned to Leiter. He nodded. “That’s it, all right. Big camouflaged tarpaulin over her. Take a look.”
While Leiter leaned across Bond and stared down, Bond’s mind was racing furiously. Get the Police Commissioner on the police wavelength and report? Get signals sent off to London? No! If the radio operation on the Disco was doing his job, he would be keeping watch on the police frequency. So go on down and have a look. See if the bombs were still there. Bring up a piece of evidence. The sharks? Kill one and the others would go for the corpse.
Leiter sat back. His face was shining with excitement. “Well, I’ll be goddammed! Boy oh boy!” He clapped Bond on the back. “We’ve found it! We’ve found the goddam plane. Whaddya know? Jesus Kerist!”
Bond had taken out the Walther PPK. He checked to see there was a round in the chamber, rested it on his left forearm, and waited for the two sharks to come round again. The first was the bigger, a hammerhead, nearly twelve feet long. Its hideously distorted head moved slowly from side to side as it nuzzled through the water, watching what went on below, waiting for a sign of meat. Bond aimed for the base of the dorsal fin that cut through the water like a dark sail. It was fully erect, a sign of tension and awareness in the big fish. Just below it was the spine, unassailable except with a nickel-plated bullet. He pulled the trigger. There was a phut as the bullet hit the surface just behind the dorsal. The boom of the heavy gun rolled away over the sea. The shark paid no attention. Bond fired again. The water foamed as the fish reared itself above the surface, dived shallowly, and came up thrashing sideways like a broken snake. It was a brief flurry. The bullet must have severed the spinal cord. Now the great brown shape began moving sluggishly in circles that grew ever wider. The hideous snout came briefly out of the water to show the sickle mouth gasping. For a moment it rolled over on its back, its stomach white to the sun. Then it righted itself and, dead probably, continued its mechanical, disjointed swim.
The following shark had watched all this. Now it approached cautiously. It made a short snapping run and swerved away. Feeling safe, it darted in again, seemed to nuzzle at the dying fish, and then lifted its snout above the surface and came down with all its force, scything into the flank of the hammerhead. It got hold, but the flesh was tough. It shook its great brown head like a dog, worrying at the mouthful, and then tore itself away. A cloud of blood poured over the sea. Now the other shark appeared from below and both fish, in a frenzy, tore and tore again at the still moving hulk whose nervous system refused to die.
The dreadful feast moved away on the current and was soon only a distant splashing on the surface of the quiet sea.
Bond handed Leiter the gun. “I’ll get on down. May be rather a long job. They’ve got enough to keep them busy for half an hour, but if they come back, wing one of them. And if for any reason you Want me back on the surface, fire straight down at the water and go on firing. The shock wave should just about reach me.”
Bond began to struggle out of his clothes and, with Leiter’s help, into his aqualung. It was a cramped, difficult business. It would be still worse getting back into the plane and it occurred to Bond that he would have to jettison the underwater gear. Leiter said angrily, “I wish to God I could get down there with you. Trouble with this damned hook, it just won’t swim like a hand. Have to think up some rubber webbing gadget. Never occurred to me before.”
Bond said, “You’ll have to keep steam up on this crate. We’ve already drifted a hundred yards. Get her back up, like a good chap. I don’t know who I’m going to find sharing the wreck with me. It’s been here a good five days and other visitors may have moved in first.”