“Well, I’d like to go speak with this policeman myself tomorrow. Maybe we can wear him down and at least be allowed to produce some photos and evidence and…” he hesitated, “recover any bodies.”

Just then, a tall man strode up silently to their table and stood over Dinesh.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, in an accent that was hard to place. Scottish? Danish?

“You are Dinesh Ranasinghe from the Ministry of Culture, Heritage and Archaeology, correct?” The man was very pale and, despite the heat, wore a thin navy turtleneck and cream-colored linen trousers. He was not sweating from what Tusker could see, and had a beard and silvery hair pulled tightly back in a ponytail, showing a scar on his forehead.

Dinesh stood up. He was a full head shorter than this man. “Yes, I am he,” he replied, extending his hand. “And you are…?”

“Rausing, Malcolm Rausing,” the man said. “I wanted to express my condolences about your colleagues. What an awful business.”

Dinesh was taken aback. “Ah, thank you, Mr. Rausing.” he managed. “How did you know I worked for MOCHA?”

Rausing smiled and ignored the question. He turned to Tusker. “And your friends?”

“This is Mr. Julian Tusk and Ian Walsh,” Dinesh introduced them. “They were friends of one of the men who was on the Taprobane.”

“As I said, awful business,” Rausing said, shaking his head while eyeing Tusker. “I own the Depth Charge, the ship doing some work in the new harbor. If there’s anything we can do to help...”

Tusker didn’t like the man and was impatient to get back to the conversation with Dinesh. “Thank you, Mr. Rausing. We’re working with the police to find out what happened to the Taprobane.”

“Of course, of course,” Rausing nodded vigorously. “But my offer stands. I have a crew of accomplished divers ready to help.”

“Thank you very much,” Dinesh chimed in, sensing the tension between Rausing and Tusker. “Mr. Tusk and Mr. Walsh are actually expert divers as well.”

“Is that so?” Tusker thought he saw the shadow of surprise cross Rausing’s face. “Well, do be careful out here. The currents in the east can be tricky and the sea floor gets deep rather quickly.”

“I thought your crew was in the harbor,” Ian said. Rausing’s eyes blazed at him, then he eased into a smile.

“We are, but have managed to take the odd day off for some offshore diving fun,” he said. “Well, I won’t keep you from your drinks. It was nice to meet you, gentlemen.” He turned to go, then paused. “And do give my regards to Captain Gooneratne.” Then he was gone. Tusker watched the tall figure stride across the crowded verandah and into the darkness.

A Police Matter

Batticaloa, Sri Lanka. The next day.