"Now you mention it, it, does look familiar. Though I don't know where I would have seen it."

"Let me see," the American held out his hand for the paper. He flicked his eyes over them all.

"Which one in particular are we looking at?"

Natalie pointed it out for him. Hutchinson studied it. He turned it this way and that for different angles. He shrugged and handed it back to Dennis.

"It looks a bit like the 'Death's head' emblem the Germans used during world war II, the, um," he snapped his fingers, "The SS."

Dennis studied the small sketch again. This time using his imagination with the new knowledge. He took a red pen and circled his drawing a few times. He then typed in 'SS Death's head emblem' on a search. Instantly there were millions of links. He clicked on images and the first thirty appeared on screen.

"There," Natalie said pointing to the jpeg fourth from the left on the middle row.

"That one looks exactly like your sketch."

Dennis clicked on the image then clicked on 'Show full size'.

"That is it. That's what I saw painted on the side of that ship."

He pointed out of the window and stopped when he saw that the wavecrest had gone.

"What ship?" Natalie asked.

"The one I told you about over the headset," Hutchinson spoke.

"They must have given up."

"For nowa."

Hutchinson looked over his shoulder as Ali approached.

"a.But I'll bet you a dollar they'll be back."

"May I ask what you've decided Mr Hutchinson," the Turkish Captain asked.

"We'll return to port to take on more equipment. Set sail as soon as you are ready."

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

It was early evening when the Volante arrived back at port and while the team went out in search of a restaurant the crew began loading new equipment. After the meal, which Peter Dennis feeling extravagant paid for, he and Natalie walked arm in arm through the town heading for the docks. The other members of the team wandered ahead of them. Natalie was laughing at a joke from the journalist when he suddenly caught her arm. She stopped and followed his gaze. On the other side of the harbour the 'Wavecrest' was docked. The other members of the team had seen it too but continued on their way.

"That was the ship I saw earlier."

Natalie stared at it now.

"The one with the skull painted behind the name."

"Yes."

"I can't see it."

"No it's hidden in the shadow caused by that crane but it's there all right."

She looked and looked.

"No. I can see the name *Wavecrest' and I think I can make out the skull but it's too dark."

Dennis grabbed her hand and pulled her along. Natalie struggled to keep up in her heeled shoes.

"Peter Ia."

"I want to get a closer look."

"What? Now?"

"Yes now!"

They were rapidly catching up to the others. The group had spotted them and were waiting.

"Jim I'm going to take a closer look at that ship."

Hutchinson squinted at it.

"The 'Wavecrest'. Why? It's just a newer vessel with more mod cons."

"I'm interested in why they have that skull. I've just got a feeling about this. Can you take Natalie back with you."

"Very well Peter but if you're not back by the time we're ready to sail I'll send out a search party," Hutchinson joked.

Natalie was more serious though.

"I'll come with you."

"In those heels."

"I'll take them off."

She reached down to remove her shoes.

"No I want to get in close. Take a good look. It'll be better if I'm on my own."

"Peter please be careful."

"I'll be back before you know it."

He reached forward and kissed her on the forehead in front of the others. She felt herself blush. Then he was heading for the 'Wavecrest'

To begin with he moved quickly and quietly along the quayside not looking at any one or thing. No one was taking any notice of him. An articulated lorry came rumbling past with only one headlight working and he used it as a distraction and dived for the shadows. Dennis watched as the container lorry stopped ahead at large wire gates. A man with a torch and a vicious looking Alsatian on a chain came forward and spoke to the driver. The lorry driver opened his cab door and jumped down onto the tarmac. He handed a clipboard to the man with the dog. Another man approached. Dennis could see he was much bigger, a head taller and equally proportioned. This man checked the paperwork offered and signed it. As the driver climbed up into his cab once again Dennis made his move. He ran for the back of the trailer and ducked underneath. The driver started the lorry and Dennis heard the brakes release with a short, sharp, squeal. Dennis only had a moment to react. He grabbed the chassis, found a good grip and threw his legs up and dug his heels into the girders that ran the length of the trailer. He looked back as the lorry moved off.. His head was less than an inch from the moving wheels. As he passed the guard the dog began barking frantically and lunging at the trailer. The man holding the dog yanked on the chain angrily. He hadn't seen anything suspicious and was furious with his dog. He swiped it with the flat of his hand across its ears and kicked it in the ribs causing it to cower. Dennis let out a gasp of relief. The dog had seen him when he'd ducked underneath for cover. The vehicle rumbled on and pulled up alongside other parked lorries.

Dennis waited, still clinging on. The muscles in his legs and fingers hurting from the effort. He heard the engine cut out and the sound of feet hitting the ground as the driver jumped down and slammed the cab door closed. Dennis slowly lowered his feet and let go but remained crouched. The relief in his muscles was instant. He instinctively moved back as far as he could when he heard voices and the sound of footsteps getting closer. Two pairs of feet passed him and turned and stopped at the rear of the trailer. He heard the heavy handles of the container doors opening. Then the beam of a torch was on the ground. The feet disappeared and Dennis realised that the two men had climbed up inside. He paused at the edge of the trailer, right by the back wheel and checked the coast was clear. He dashed out from under the articulated lorry and under the next one, repeated this again and got himself into a safe position in the shadows. A fork lift truck raced past and the air was heavy with the smell of its gas exhaust. Dennis felt himself go light headed for a moment or two from what he inhaled. He wafted his hand in front of his face to disperse the pollution. The fork lift swung in hard at the rear of the trailer, its spotlights blinding. Dennis recoiled from the brightness in case he was spotted. He made his way quickly down an avenue of containers, stopped once when rats crossed his path and came out near the water. The *Wavecrest' was to his left. Lights were shining on board and reflecting off the water. In front of Dennis were wooden crates of all sizes and he now moved in and out of them and got himself into position directly opposite the ship. He reached into his trouser pocket and took out his mobile phone, selected camera, then video and began to record. At first in the dark the camera struggled to focus. He selected 'flash on permanent' and though the light was bright the subject was too far away and it made no difference. He turned the flash off and filmed as before. He put his mouth close to the phone and began talking quietly, narrating about the ship. He zoomed in on the Lynx helicopter and noticed that it was armed.

"Air to air missiles," he said.

He filmed the entire length of the 'Wavecrest.' It was bigger than the 'Volante'. He tried to guess at what such a vessel would cost.

"One hundred million dollars? Two hundred," he said into his phone, "I have no idea and where did they get that helicopter?"

He moved the phone up and captured the various radar and satellite dishes and stopped as he heard footsteps approaching. He cupped his hand over the phone in case its light gave him away. It was two guards in black combat fatigues and radio headsets. They passed only feet away and Dennis was relieved they didn't have dogs. From somewhere he heard a voice call and they moved towards it. Dennis stole a look. There was someone, a big man by the look of it, standing in a pool of light from the streetlights overhead. Dennis closed his phone quietly which cancelled the video recording. He recoiled in horror as it bleeped loudly four times. He turned it towards his face, the display reading 'Text message received'.

He silently cursed whoever had sent it and put the phone in his pocket. He stole another peek. The three men were looking his way. Then at an order from the big man they snapped torches from their belts, flicked them on and advanced quickly on his position. Across their chests he now noticed Heckler and Koch MP5 machine guns. The torchlight's came closer. He squeezed himself into a gap between containers and torchlight flashed briefly over him. He went undetected and the two men moved on. He waited until he was sure he was safe before deciding to move. He cautiously took a step forward. The sharp blade of a large knife across his throat stopped him. He couldn't at first see who was holding it. Then the blade was lifting his head up, forcing it up. Had he resisted it would have cut his throat. It was still too dark to see anything. Then the person holding the blade called out loudly in Russian. There was a crackle from a headset and a voice responded also in Russian. The knife was slowly removed once Dennis was covered by the two sub-machine guns. The big Russian moved away and spoke quietly into his headset. Moments later on the ship a door opened and Dennis saw the man in the white suit descending the stairs. He then came along the deck and walked down the gantry. It took him only seconds to cover the distance between them. In the meantime Dennis had quickly been searched. His wallet and mobile phone were taken from his jacket pocket. He looked at the phone.

'Strange'

He had put it in the waistband of his trousers. The big Russian put the knife away. He tossed the wallet to the white suited man who so far hadn't spoken. He flipped the wallet open and took out the driving licence and some bank cards. He held the driver's licence between thumb and forefinger and turned it into the glow from the streetlight to read it.

"White. Thomas David. 16-02-79. London."

*Thomas White. Tom? That's not my driving licence' Dennis was thinking, 'How did Tom's walleta.?' Then he realised. Just before leaving the restaurant Dennis had popped to the toilet. The others had waited for him in the entrance and Natalie had given him his jacket. It had been on the back of his chair.

'She must have got the jackets mixed up'

"Tom White?"

Dennis had no choice but to go along with it.

"Yes."

The white suited man continued to read the other cards. Dennis decided to try his luck.

"Might I know your name?"

The man looked up from the cards for a second. Light was glittering off his spectacles.

"No," he said abruptly.

Dennis was trying to work out his accent. It was different to the big man's who he was convinced was Russian. This man sounded more like South African.

'No more like German.'

"Oceanic archaeology institute."

Dennis nodded. All the while the guns remained trained on him.

"You are an archaeologist?"

"Yes."

The man in the white suit leafed through the rest of the wallet. There were some Tunisian dinars and some American dollars. He put the cards back and threw the wallet back to Dennis.

"This area is off limits. Did you not see the 'No trespassing' signs?"

"Forgive me. No."

The big Russian handed the German the mobile phone and said something quietly. The German nodded.

"You should when you are snooping about in other peoples affairs put your phone on silent."

"Thank you. I'll take your advice in future."

The white suited man's mood darkened.

"Do not be smart with me."

The German quickly checked the phone and noted that the video and picture files were empty. He checked the message inbox but there was nothing of importance. He then went through the contacts list. There were over one hundred and fifty names and numbers. He snapped the phone shut and threw it back to Dennis.

"And now may I ask what you were doing here?"

"I'm a ship spotter,"

"A ship spotter?" The man in the white suit didn't understand. He looked at the big Russian who shrugged. Dennis looked at him too. He was bald headed, easily six feet seven or eight. 280lbs Dennis guessed at.

"What is a ship spotter?"

"A ship spotter," Dennis repeated, "You know. Like a train spotter, an anorak, someone who watches trains and writes the numbers down. Only I do it with ships."

"Well I only hope you got to see what you wanted."

"Not quite. I was thinking perhaps a group picture. You know all of us in front of your vessel."

The German advanced two steps closer. Dennis could smell stale coffee on his breath as he spoke.

"Do not insult my intelligence. From where Danilov comes from you would have already been executed as a spy and I warn you he is very skilled with his knife. Do not let me catch you here again or I might just let him use it."

The German nodded his head at his massive bodyguard and jerked his head towards the gates. The Russian, Danilov, shoved Dennis forward roughly.

"Move."

Dennis walked slowly for the gate. An MP5 slammed across his back made him stagger forward. He half turned, mocking them.

"Thank you I always need help with directions."

The only response he got was to be shoved forward again.