“Yeah. You were lucky to get out of that deep fry.” Leiter brushed aside Bond’s reminiscences. “Now then, next stop those spits in the ocean north of Bimini and then a good run down the Bimini Group. Around seventy miles southwest. Keep an eye out. If we miss those dots, we’ll end up in the grounds of the Fountain Blue in Miami.”
A quarter of an hour later, the tiny necklet of cays showed up. They were barely above the water line. There was much shoal. It looked an ideal hiding-place for the plane. They came down to a hundred feet and slowly cruised in a zigzag down the group. The water was so clear that Bond could see big fish meandering around the dark clumps of coral and seaweed in the brilliant sand. A big diamond-shaped sting ray cowered and buried itself in the sand as the black shadow of the plane pursued and shot over it. There was nothing else and no possibility of concealment. The green shoal waters were as clean and innocent as if they had been open desert. The plane flew on south to North Bimini. Here there were a few houses and some small fishing hotels. Expensive-looking deep-sea fishing craft were out, their tall rods streaming. Gay people in the well-decks waved to the little plane. A girl, sunbathing naked on the roof of a smart cabin cruiser, hastily snatched at a towel. “Authentic blonde!” commented Leiter. They flew on south to the Cat Cays that trail away south from the Biminis. Here there was still, an occasional fishing craft. Leiter groaned. “What the hell’s the good of this? These fishermen would have found it by now if it was here.” Bond told him to keep on south. Thirty miles farther south there were little unnamed specks on the Admiralty chart. Soon the dark blue water began to shoal again to green. They passed over three sharks circling aimlessly. Then there was nothing—just dazzling sand under the glassy surface, and occasional patches of coral.
They went on carefully down to where the water turned again to blue. Leiter said dully, “Well, that’s that. Fifty miles on there’s Andros. Too many people there. Someone would have heard the plane—if there was a plane.” He looked at his watch. “Eleven-thirty. What next, Hawkshaw? I’ve only got fuel for another two hours’ flying.”
Something was itching deep down in Bond’s mind. Something, some small detail, had raised a tiny question mark. What was it? Those sharks! In about forty feet of water! Circling on the surface! What were they doing there? Three of them. There must be something—something dead that had brought them to that particular patch of sand and coral. Bond said urgently, “Just go back up once more, Felix. Over the shoals. There’s something—”
The little plane made a tight turn. Felix cut down the revs and just kept flying speed about fifty feet above the surface. Bond opened the door and craned out, his glasses at short focus. Yes, there were the sharks, two on the surface with their dorsals out, and one deep down. It was nosing at something. It had its teeth into something and was pulling at it. Among the dark and pale patches, a thin straight line showed on the bottom. Bond shouted, “Get back over again!” The plane zoomed round and back. Christ! Why did they have to go so fast? But now Bond had seen another straight line on the bottom, leading off at ninety degrees from the first. He flopped back into his seat and banged the door shut. He said quietly, “Put her down over those sharks, Felix. I think this is it.”
Leiter took a quick glance at Bond’s face. He said, “Christ!” Then, “Well, I hope I can make it. Damned difficult to get a true horizon. This water’s like glass.” He pulled away, curved back, and slowly put the nose down. There was a slight jerk and then the hiss of the water under the skids. Leiter cut his engines and the plane came to a quick stop, rocking in the water about ten yards from where Bond wanted. The two sharks on the surface paid no attention. They completed their circle and came slowly back. They passed so close to the plane that Bond could see the incurious, pink button eyes. He peered down through the small ripples cast by the two dorsal fins. Yes! Those “rocks” on the bottom were bogus. They were painted patches. So were the areas of “sand.” Now Bond could clearly see the straight edges of the giant tarpaulin. The third shark had nosed back a big section. Now it was shoveling with its flat head trying to get underneath.