“He owns the dive support vessel Depth Charge” Fonseka continued. “His company was contracted to handle the diving end of the harbor dig. Laying cable and such.”

It was all making sense now, thought Tusker. The dead diver inside the Vampire, the sinking of the Taprobane, Roland disappearing.

“You think Rausing is somehow behind your diving accident?” the captain looked over the rim of his cup as he took a pull on his tea.

Tusker hesitated. Could Fonseka be trusted? He guessed he could, and proceeded to fill him in on the story so far—their dive to the Vampire, the bomb, the rescue by the fisherman, the hole in the Taprobane’s hull, the helmet, the ROV footage and the stolen laptop.

Fonseka shook his head in disbelief and sat in silence for a full minute before he spoke. “I can’t offer divers for a bomb disposal, I’m afraid,” the commander said quietly. “We don’t do much of any mixed-gas diving here.”

Tusker nodded. “I understand completely, sir. A hundred meters is the outside edge of what’s safe for anyone on scuba.”

“What I can offer is surface support, and a boarding party for the Depth Charge,” Fonseka continued. “They are in our territorial waters, conducting a known act of terrorism on a war grave. Our commando team is in Colombo at the moment, but I can have them here the day after tomorrow.”

“Two days’ time will be too late. And what if Rausing has connections inside the government?” Tusker fondled the handle of his empty tea cup. He cleared his throat and looked around the desk at Fonseka, Sebastian, and finally, Sam.

“What I propose is that I do the dive myself. And I have one favor to ask of you, Captain. It may require a visit to your armory.”

Looking for a Ship

Bay of Bengal, eight nautical miles east of Batticaloa. The next night.

As soon as the faint glow coming from the otherwise dark Depth Charge was visible, Sebastian eased back on the throttle. They were counting on the dive vessel’s crew not seeing their small dinghy riding amidst the dark swells a hundred yards astern.

“Take a bearing on that ship and then swim towards it at around ten feet deep before descending to the wreck. Sam will swim with your two deco cylinders and hand them off to you.” Sebastian was whispering, taking no chances.

They’d hatched this plan back at the naval base with Commander Fonseka, after Tusker announced his intentions to do the dive alone. Now, in the black night, with a looming adversary and a long swim, Tusker was second-guessing it.

“Right. Let’s get on with it then,” he said coldly, pulling on his fins.