"Ok and everyone else is all right?"

"Yes."

"To the decompression chamber then. All of you. Natalie and George first."

At the door she turned back.

"Jim."

Hutchinson whirled around at her voice.

"Not now Nat. We'll talk at dinner."

"It's just, Jim, as I left the wreck I think I saw something. Jim, I think it was the sarcophagus. I think we've found it."

He felt a rush of excitement run through him but he brushed it aside.

"Tell me about it later. Now decompression chamber please."

Reluctantly the divers obeyed their boss. Dennis watched her go as the anchor chain began winding in.

Peter Dennis was laying on his bunk when there was a knock on the door.

"Just a second," he said sitting up and swinging his legs over the side. He got up, stretched, yawned and approached the door. Expecting it to probably be Natalie he breathed on his hand to check his breath and turned the handle. Hutchinson was in the corridor holding two bottles of beer up in front of himself.

"Peace offering."

Dennis smiled.

"Of course. Won't you come in."

Dennis backed into his room and pulled out the chair for the American to sit on. Dennis perched on the end of his bed as Jim opened the bottles and handed one to him. Dennis raised the bottle.

"Cheers," he said putting it to his lips. The cold beer was refreshing. He held the bottle away from his mouth and rotated it to read the label. Then knowing Hutchinson probably had a motive for this unexpected visit he sat patiently and waited for it to begin.

"The dive team are fine. Natalie is having a sleep. I called in on her before coming to you. The decompression chamber can have effects on people and tiredness is one of them."

"I'm glad she's ok. I would have hated to see anything happen to her. To them!"

"Yes. These seismic events can be extremely dangerous for underwater teams. Thankfully over the years I have never lost anyone under my employ. Natalie and George are the best divers I've ever known or owned."

Dennis gave an understanding smile.

"I would like to thank you though for your concern over their safety. Your offer to go in despite your current conditiona."Hutchinson glanced at Dennis' bruising, "a.was noble to say the least."

"I just wanted to help."

"I thank you for that. However," Hutchinson drew a breath, trying to think diplomatically, "However. When something like this happens and the dive team are in trouble, or could be in trouble, the procedure is for people to remain at their stations. The last thing we do is send more divers into a dangerous situation. We wait."

"I understand. I was just concerned about your people. I wanted to help in any way I can."

"You've already been a great help. But risking your life wouldn't have helped at all. I need you my friend, if I may call you that, to continue doing what you've been doing. You've provided great support to the team and this mission. God knows you've even got yourself beaten up for it."

Dennis gently rubbed his injured ribs.

There was a minute of silence between them as each man sipped his beer. Then Dennis said.

"Natalie mentioned that she thought she saw something, something that could have been the sarcophagus. Has she said anymore?"

"I haven't spoken to her. We'll talk tonight over dinner. I've booked a restaurant in town for usa."

Hutchinson's mobile began ringing in his pocket. He took it out and read the display screen.

"a.It's my wife," he looked at the screen puzzled, "She only ever rings me if it's an emergency. Would you excuse me for a moment."

Hutchinson got up and went to peer out of the porthole in Dennis' cabin.

"Hello Carol."

Dennis could hear her voice on the other end but couldn't hear what was being said but she was talking very fast. Her voice sounded excited, no, not excited, more, desperate.

At the porthole Hutchinson's eyes widened at the news he was hearing.

"Carol are you sure?"

She repeated what she said. Slowly he turned to face Dennis. His face had gone pale.

"Yes. Thank you Carol. Yes I know. Thank you for ringing me. I love you too."

He pushed the red button on his phone and continued staring at it for a few moments.

"Jim what's wrong?"

Slowly Hutchinson looked up.

"My partners," his voice was croaky and he cleared it, "My wife has just told me," he continued once he could compose himself better, "That my partner's, our sponsors, have been hit by the current recession and have had to withdraw their financial supporta." Hutchinson stopped, clearly stunned. Dennis knew what this meant.

"They're pulling the plug aren't they."

Shakily Hutchinson nodded.

"What about our mission here?"

Jim continued to stare at his phone in disbelief. Then slowly he looked up at Dennis.

"I'm sorry what did you say?"

"I asked you where that left us."

"I don't know," Hutchinson was at a loss, "Ia.uha.I need to make a phone call."

At the door he turned back.

"Peter don't breathe a word of this to anyone please. I don't want them to find out yet. I'm going to try to work something out."

"Scouts honour."

"What?"

"I promise."

Dennis waited until the door had clicked closed then he went into his phonebook, found the number for his editor and pressed call. After a few rings he heard the other end answer and the familiar voice of Tom Rogerson.

"Hi Peter."

"Tom."

"How's it going down there in Tunisia? Have you found it yet?

"We're not sure Tom. Possibly. We've had an earthquake that's put us on hold for the day."

"Yeah I saw it on the news. Are you all right?"

"We're fine. We're just waiting for the dust to settle as it were."

"So if you're not ringing me with good news is this just a social call?" Rogerson asked with friendliness in his voice.

"Uh. No Tom. I need a favour."

"What sort of favour?"

"Are you sitting down Tom?"

"I am now. How much?"

"Fifteen thousand a day."

"Fifteen thousand a day. What are you doing? Starting your own museum?"

There was a short pause, then.

"Pounds?"

"Dollars. U.S. dollars."

Another pause.

"That's an awful lot of money Pete. I don't know if I cana."

"Can the magazine afford it?"

"No."

"The group can."

"Well yes, the group can."

"How many newspapers do you own now?"

"Two. But they don't make a great deal of money. Not like the nationals."

"But you're doing ok."

"Well yes but, come on Pete, I'm gonna need some time to think about this."

"Think about it."

"I will Petera."

"Think about the riches it could bring," Dennis cut him off, "If you sponsored the expedition. You could have, will have, exclusive rights to all photographs and media coverage."

"How do we know that someone won't step up and claim it?"

"Like who?"

"The Tunisians."

"I doubt it. They haven't even named the wrecks on their charts. They're not interested. "

"Well then what about the Greeks? I mean what if Alexander has some long lost relatives suddenly pop up."

"Are you serious? He's been dead for two thousand three hundred years. How the hell could anyone realistically claim descendency now. Maybe you'd like to add the Romans. I mean they were the last ones to have him, technically."

"Yes I suppose you're right. I don't know Peter. Fifteen thousand's a lot of money. Can they not get another patron, another sponsor?"

"They need the money now Tom. I'm sure Jim Hutchinson can probably raise it somehow but it's a question of time. They need it now."

"I'd need to speak to my patrons. I just can't make a decision of this scale just like that."

"There's another team Tom, more modern, much better equipped and they're breathing down our necks."

There was another pause.

"Like I said. You'd have sole rights to every picture, copyrights to everything. Anyone wants to print anything and they have to go through you first. You'll make millions Tom."

"How close are you to finding it? Truthfully."

"I'm fairly sure Natalie has found it."