Tusker ignored him and crunched further up the path. At the far end, there was a larger building, a bit more industrial looking than the rest and painted dark green. He could hear the unmistakable muffled roar of a compressor emanating from within. He entered what was a sort of workshop, with scuba cylinders on the floor, two long workbenches with tools and hoses and parts of diving regulators and tank manifolds on them. The noise was louder. He moved into the back room, which was very warm and smelled of diesel. A shirtless Sri Lankan man with the stocky, powerful physique of a wrestler was hunched over a series of tanks with noise-protection earmuffs on his head. Tusker reached out and gently tapped the man on his bare shoulder. The man jumped and swung around with wide eyes.

“Sorry!” Tusker shouted over the din. This had to be Sebastian de Silva, the owner of the Deep Blue. From what Upali had told him months earlier, Tusker knew Sebastian was a local diving legend, having been the first to locate the HMS Hermes wreck after Sri Lanka’s civil war. Divers came from all over the world to stay at his out-of-the-way resort and dive with him.

Sebastian stepped away from the tanks and into the workshop room where it was quieter. He took off the earmuffs and wiped the sweat from his face with a greasy rag.

“You can put your diving gear in here,” he said, bypassing any sort of greeting. He’d been expecting them. “With such short notice, I couldn’t get my cleaner to prepare a new room for you. You can have your… friend’s old room. Room 4.” The MOCHA team had been staying at the Deep Blue for the past couple of days while out doing their sonar work and diving. Sebastian had known the MOCHA team well, and the strain of what had happened showed on his face.

“Thanks, that’s not a problem,” Tusker said, “We appreciate you putting us up.” Sebastian ignored the comment and ducked back into the compressor room to disconnect the tank fill manifold. The compressor sang a higher pitch for a moment and then shut off. When Sebastian didn’t emerge after a moment, Tusker stuck his head around the corner.

Sebastian was sliding a set of heavy twin cylinders across the shop floor. He seemed wholly intent on his work, as if he couldn’t be bothered with niceties. If he felt bad about what had happened with the Taprobane, he didn’t show it.

Tusker persisted. “Do you have any other guests?”

“Yes, two Russians who came to dive the Hermes, a Swedish girl who’s doing a nitrox course, and then Roland. He’s Dutch. Helps me out here, driving the boat, dives occasionally.”