Inside the “Severnaya,” Captain Petrovsky was issuing orders in a fast and efficient manner.
 “Launch the divers. Send out the rescue vessel.” He wanted those men out there secured. He was not sure about how they would react to handing over all this money to a strange group of men! So his men were armed with short barrel harpoon guns. Just in case!
 
 

 Johan watched in awe as the huge boat glided to a smooth stop twenty odd metres from him. He looked it over; it was impressive! Truly a fantastic invention; - and he was happy that this particular one was on his side! Then he saw a squadron of divers swimming rapidly towards them. They had deployed from somewhere on the top of the submarine, and he guessed that there were some diving hatches located there. They came over to his group quickly and he could see his men forming some form of protective circle around the plane. He recognised that this was a situation that could quickly escalate into a battle! He swam forward with both his arms raised above and hands meeting on his head. It was a prearranged signal from him to the leader of the other divers. Their leader responded with the same sign, and he signalled to his men to let the other divers come through. It was not as if he had much choice he thought! We don’t have any weapons for underwater fighting apart from our knives, and these people are obviously well equipped for it he thought as he saw the men arriving, dressed all in black wetsuits, with what he recognised as advanced rebreather diving gear on their backs. They had the latest in equipment and were obviously highly trained. They carried knives strapped to the outside of their calves, and harpoon guns he could see, which were diplomatically not trained on his men, but non-the-less were pointed in their general direction.
 The leader of the submarine divers came to a halt thirty centimetres from Johan, and removed his facemask and mouthpiece. He shined a torch at his face, letting Johan know who he was. Johan recognised the man as one he had worked with before. A man he trusted as much as Johan was capable of trusting anyone! He repeated the procedure, letting the other man know that he was who he was supposed to be, and then they trurned around in unison to the plane. They both waved their men forwards, and then started to load the suitcases onto the submersible rescue craft, which had manoeuvred into position. The rescue craft’s robotic arms helped carry the heavy suitcases from the door of the plane to the it’s own hatch where men waited to manhandle them down through the pressure lock.
 Eventually they were finished, and Johan looked around to see that most of his men were gone. Running low on air, they had swum over to the submarine and entered, guided by divers waiting for them. He turned back to look at the plane, loud gurgling, hissing noises in his ears as he breathed from his tanks, and watched as the leader of the second group of divers signalled them all to retreat back to the “Severnaya.” He waited for them all to go, and then produced a small black rucksack, from which he pulled a package. Johan, an underwater demolitions expert, recognised TNT explosives when he saw them and knew what the other man had in mind. They were going to blow the plane to pieces, so that no one would ever find it! He smiled to himself, and followed the other man into the plane to watch in glee as he set the timers and fixed the charges. He set three loads, one in the cockpit, where he had turned and questioned Johan about the two pilots, still in their seats, with bullet holes in their heads! The latter had just shrugged. It was understood. It had had to be done! Then they placed the second and third charges, respectively half way down and then at the back of the airplane. The timers were set for thirty minutes. More than enough time for them to get out of the plane, back to the “Severnaya” and for her to get well clear of the site! They looked at each other and signalled OK. Then they both headed to the submarine, where they played a game of insisting that the other should enter the air lock first. Eventually Johan conceded, but he told himself that it was only because he was the guest to the submarine. In any other circumstances, he would have held out!
 

 
 The next morning Inspecteur Dupont woke up sweating! He looked around and grunted. Through a crack in the curtains he could see that the sun was up and shining. He groaned! Already it was too hot, and he had his air conditioning working to maximum! He looked at his watch…nine thirty! Hmm! It was maybe time that he woke up he thought to himself as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. He looked around the room. He had not really had much time to appreciate the room yesterday, having collapsed into the bed at eleven o’clock last night, but it was a very nice room. It had two large single beds in the sleeping area, and then descending two steps towards the terrace, there was a “living area” which had sofas, a bar, and a large television. Outside the glass panel door was a lovely terrace, which led onto the lawn and into the tropical gardens. To his left was a hallway, across which was a huge luxury bathroom, with bathtub, shower, and three mirrors. Why three mirrors he asked himself? He didn’t know! In the hallway there were cupboards for his clothes, and even a large steel safe! The furniture was a mix of light coloured wood for the cupboards and light colours for the bedding and curtains, contrased with a darkly varnished table in the living area. Light floor tiles finished off a very nice room. As he wondered around there was a knock on the door and he went to open it. Out side was Sandrine, who tried unsuccessfully not to smile at Dupont’s large build framed in his blue and white striped pyjamas, complete with fluffy slippers! Attempting in vain to stiffle a smile, she told him that the others were getting together for breakfast in ten minutes if he wanted to join them.
 “Sure, I’ll be there.” He answered, yawning unashamedly, giving her full view of the back of his throat! He wiped the sleep from his eyes, and scratched his head while trying to focus on her in the bright light.
 “Are you OK? Your face is…twitching strangely?” he asked.
 She hurriedly assured him that yes everything was indeed OK, and that she was just…just happy today! That was all!
 “OK. I’ll see you in ten minutes.” He replied, believing her, and turned around, disappearing into his lair and closing the door, but not before Sandrine had a view of him scratching his butt! As the door closed she could contain herself no longer and ran laughing to the restaurant.

Fifteen minutes later he appeared at the breakfast table, looking only slightly less dishevelled than before. His shirt was half tucked into his trousers, and his hair had quickly been brushed into place, and was rapidly escaping again. He was met with huge smiles and welcomes, and he took his place happily. They had all had a great time the night before, and had bonded in that way that travellers to foreign places so often do. Over the course of breakfast Sandrine explained to the others exactly what had happened to her on the coral reef, and who Dupont was, and why he was there. There was a chorus of exclamations against her not telling them before, and not having taken one or more of them along with her, and so on. Dupont calmly sat and munched on his toast throughout all this, while Sandrine explained to them that she did appreciate their concern but after all she was the boss, and this was her outfit. So if she wanted to examine something on her own, stupid as it might have been, it was her right. The others grumbled but acquiesced, though insisting that this not happen again.
 Then Sandrine explained to Dupont who was desperately trying to disguise the fact that he had jam smeared all over his chin, that she was thinking of checking out the area where she had seen the gate and that maybe they could find a way to open it.
 As she was explaining this to Dupont, she and the others noticed a small look of horror on his face, and a sudden pallor to his skin. They asked him what was wrong.
 “You mean…that you…I mean…we are supposed to swim twenty metres under water?” he asked nervously, starting to tremble slightly.
 Sandrine answered him immediately.
 “Well, actually it is called scuba diving, but essentially yes. We will be down at about twenty metres depth.” Then seeing his obvious discomfort she added, “but don’t worry, there are no sharks or anything like that in this area. I have already made sure of that!” she lied.
 “Well…well…euhh you see it is not really the sharks…OK so maybe it is also the sharks…but …euhh…I…euhh don’t know how to scuba dive!”
 The others looked at him in amazement. They had never imagined not being able to scuba dive. For them it was such a natural thing to do, as common as driving a car, that they had assumed everyone could do it. Sandrine recovering fast, replied.
 “That is not a problem…we will teach you. A couple of hours in the pool and you will feel like a fish!” she smiled and the others nodded. Dupont went even whiter, and looked around glumly and all the happy holiday makers at their tables. He leaned over to Sandrine and whispered into her ear.
 “Well…euhh…you know euhh…I can not swim either!”
 She looked at him silently, solemly for a few seconds, then seemed to make up her mind. “Well, then we will teach you that as well.”
 Dupont swallowed miserably. Why did this have to happen to him. He had come all the way over to the other side of the world, “to have his holiday” as Renald had told him, and now he was being forced to do this! Oh la la! Why could he not just stay at the bar and let them do their thing in the water. Why did he have to come along aswell? He was sure that he could glean lots of useful information from the hotel bartender! He sighed and looked down at his plate. Life was not that good after all!
 “Merde Alors!” he sighed!
 
 

 In the “Severnaya” Johan and his men had been led to the crews quarters where they dried and changed. Twenty minutes later, Captain Petrovsky came down and congratulated them.
 “Excellent work Johan, very good. Precisely on location.” He said handing over a cup of steaming coffee, and indicating that the others should help themselves from the thermos a mate had just brought in.
 “Thank you Captain. It was necessary to … motivate the pilots more than I had anticipated.”
 “Yes, I have been informed that the two pilots are still in the plane…minus scuba equipment!” replied the Captain, “I was wondering, if it is OK with you, I would like to check the suitcases myself?”
 “But ofcourse, shall we…?” answered Johan.
 “Later, it is not urgent,” replied the Captain. In fact he had already opened the suitcases, verifying that they were indeed water tight, and that their contents were not only undamaged, but also what they were supposed to be. He had opened them in one of the holds, while alone, and then placed two men on guard with semi-automatic weapons with instructions to shoot anyone that approached bar him.
 “OK, if you prefer.”
 “You and your men have full use of the facilities aboard this vessel. Normal restrictions apply ofcourse. That included the weapon and missile rooms, the control centre, and so on. But you perhaps might like to come and have a look?”
 “Yes. Actually I think I will.” Answered Johan. He was not happy about being reminded that the Captain was in control of the submarine, but had to admit that he was happy that the submarine and it’s captain were there. He followed the captain to the control rooms, and looked about him in amazement at all the equipment that surrounded him. He could see monitors and instrument panels everywhere he looked, a glass wall upon which some one was writing on backwards! There were controls and dials everywhere he looked. In the centre of the room was a machine that descended from the roof. He recognised it as the periscope, and behind it was a table laden with charts and navigational aids. He could see labels and signs around him that he did not comprehend; understandable as this was a Soviet vessel originally. He had been on a submarine before, but had never been to the “Conn.,” as it was called.
 The captain watched him looking around, standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back. He seemed proud that Johan was taking such an interest in his ship. His crew cont inued w ith their work without more than a quick ex aminin g look at the stranger. Usually, strangers were not allowed to the Conn.
 “Since you have arrived on board we have been underway at a speed of twenty knots, on a bearing of 098 degrees. At this speed we will be there in about sixteen hours.” Informed the captain.
 He nodded. Not so much so as to reply to the captain’s statement, but more because he had nothing else to say. All of a sudden there was a message over the intercom system in Russian, which one of the men translated for him.
 “Sonar. Conn. Report multiple explosions on a bearing of 278 degrees. Three explosions sir.”
 “Conn. Sonar. Copy that. Report any future sonar contacts.” Ordered the captain.
 “Aye aye Captain.” Came the response. The captain turned and faced Johan. Well, that is all the excitement for now! Your plane is now obliterated, and there are no traces of our ever being there.” Johan looked at the bezel on his diving watch, which read thirty-one minutes. The captain continued, “The rest of the journey will be pretty quiet, so you may wish to take the opportunity to relax and get some sleep. I have some work to do, so if you will excuse me…!” Johan nodded and turned around, thanking the captain for the tour, and made his way back to his men. The captain remained in his chair for a minute, watching the man leave. Then he stood up.
 “I am going to my quarters. First officer, you have the Conn.”
 “Aye Sir. First officer has the Conn.” Came the immediate reply.
 
 

 In the swimming pool in the Plantation Club, Inspecteur Dupont was proving to be a challenge, even to the steely determination of Dr. Sandrine Vaz, and much to the amusement of Tony the resort scuba diving instructor. The latter, a huge bear of a man, with rasta hair falling to his shoulders, was always to be seen with a smile on his face, and was so relaxed, that if he was any more laid back he would be horizontal! He, when not instructing his own classes, or leading a diving expedition to a site in the ocean, would come over to the pool with a drink of coke, and smile at the two people in the water. He would sit and watch, dabbling his legs in the water, and occasionally when Sandrine asked his advice he would offer a few hints and tips. Together they managed to coax Dupont first into the water, then around on top of it, and finally underneath it.
 Sandrine had explained that it was imperative that Dupont manage to scuba dive by two in the after noon. She explained to Tony that he was an expert on marine biology, specialising in a field of very rare phyto-plankton, which she thought she might have seen near a reef. When she explained this to Tony, she could see both Tony and Dupont looking at her speechless, both of them thinking ‘phyto-what?’ But they had not said anything, and in the next few hours, had managed to get Dupont comfortable in the water, so that he was splashing happily like a big baby. Eventually they got the diving equipment onto him, and he was soon scrabbling around like a crab on the bottom of the pool, searching for the occasional marble, which Tony threw in!
 Having established some form of a swimming stroke that might not win any awards, but at least kept him afloat, they convinced him that he did not really need to be able to swim to be able to scuba dive, and that as long as he was able to point himself in the correct direction and kick his fins, it would be OK. Especially as the area they were going to dive was so shallow that if there was any problems all he had to do was inflate his BCD and up he would go. Dupont looked at them, obviously not convinced, but bolstered by the fact that he could successfully descend, retrieve and bring back all of Tony’s marbles, agreed to give it a try. So that afternoon, after a healthy lunch where Sandrine had warned him not to drink too much, as the sun and diving might make the effects not too pleasurable, and Dupont had replied coldly that he never drank too much, they climbed into the plane, and headed for Aldabra Island.
 
 

 Johan and his men were lying in their bunks trying to occupy themselves by reading magasines, books, sleeping or exercising. Life on a nuclear ballistic submarine can be very monotonous if you do not have duties to perform. So they waited and talked about the future, where they could be proud to say aloud that they were Nazi’s. Life in the Third Reich, a kingdom which would be theirs. They were the soldiers of a proud cause and they believed in it fervently. One of the officers came down to tell them in broken English that they were now about two hours away from their destination. They nodded and thanked the man. Only two more hours; that was good. They would soon be able to stretch their legs and breath fresh air.
 

 Sandrine had moored the plane about five hundred metres away from the area where she thought she remembered seeing the gate. Once again, she moored it so close to the reef that Mike commented on it, and recommended that maybe thirty centimetres should be three metres. She agreed with him, but noted that she did not want the plane to be seen by anyone. This way, it would probably be mistaken as part of the reef, as they would when they were in the water, provided that they stay close to the coral. But she still moved the plane away by half a metre. So now they sat on the floats of the plane, and did their final preparations. Sandrine turned to Dupont.
 “So what did I teach you to do just before you go into the water?” she asked. He replied, proud that he could remember.
 “Blond Women Really Are Fun!” he replied with a mischeivious grin. It was an pneumonic that stood for Buouancy, Weights, Releases, Air and Friend. It was a final pre-dive checklist to examine the equipment and make sure that it was all in working order, before entering the water. He did his checks, with Sandrine keeping a close eye on him.
 “We will swim along the coral reef, keeping within a metre of it, to about five hundred meters from here. Then we will descend beneath the surface. OK, all clear?” she asked. There were nods and the OK sign from the other two members of the group, and a weak smile and a nod from Dupont.
 “OK, lets go.” The other two toppled off backwards into the water, only to come up a few minutes later, further along the reef. Dupont and Sandrine stepped off the float and into the water, holding hands. He pressed his facemask and mouthpiece against his face, and stepped out. As soon as he could feel the water he started kicking, and was relieved to bob straight to the surface. He inflated his BCD slightly, and luxuriated in the feeling of floating in the sea. Sandrine bobbed next to him, and noted his smile. She smiled back, and then released his hand, kicking off in the direction of the gate. He followed her, occasionally glancing down through his facemask at the amazing sights which were beneath him. He could see fish everywhere, multi-coloured, striped and spotted, they were so many different kinds. On the coral aswell there were so many wonderful, colourful things to see. Every now and then he permitted himself to look down and into the depths below him. Sandrine had told him that there was nothing to worry about, but whenever he looked down into the darkening gloom, and off to his left the theme music from “Jaws” would come into his mind. It used to be one of his favourite films, but now he doubted he would ever look at it again. After a while, tiring quite rapidly in comparison with the others, he turned over onto his back, and kicked away happily for a while, looking at the coral that breached the surface of the water, as it slid slowly past him. Suddenly he bumped into someone, and almost died of a heart attack. He turned around, ashen faced, to realise that he had bumped into one of the others who had stopped. They had arrived at the place where Sandrine thought she had seen this gate, and were waiting for him. He looked down between his legs, and saw nothing but coral, a lovely reef, beautifully adorned with countless forms of life and colour, but without a gate! Sandrine looked at him and signalled OK? He signalled back OK, and then she signalled dive down, holding her thumb down at him. He nodded, signalled OK again, and then a few times at the others. They replied, and looked at him. He sighed, swallowed and put the mouthpiece into his mouth. Exhaled sharply to remove any water, and tried breathing. It worked fine, and he looked down between his legs…still nothing. Unsuccessfully trying to not take a large breath as his head sank below, he held the release valve for his inflated BCD down while holding it above his head, and slowly sank under the waves.
 

 Silence. It was wonderful. There was none of the noise and wind of a non-aquatic environment. It was peaceful, quiet and calm only occasionally broken by the rhythmic gurgling sounds of his breathing. He smiled happily, and then quickly closed his mouth again as water began to seep in at the edges. He looked around. He had sunk to about three metres depth. He knew this because his diving gauge told him as much. Sandrine was descending at the same rate as him, keeping an eye on him. He signalled OK to her, and she responded in like manner. He decided to try a little buouancy control, and inflated his Buoyancy Control Device slightly. He immediately stopped descending. In fact, he was completely motionless, and just floated there, looking at the coral reef. Life doesn’t get much better than this he thought to himself, exhilirated by the fact that he could not feel his one hundred and thirty kilos. He raised the deflate valve and released a bit of air from the BCD. He continued to descend slowly. At about ten meters, he met Sandrine and the other two, who were waiting patiently for him. This was his first dive, and they did not want to spoil it for him, it is always an very enthralling experience, but there was still business to do! He stopped at ten meters depth, and noticed how the colours were more faded here, and everything was more green and darker then five metres above. Sandrine indicated through sign language that he should go with her, and the other two go in the opposite direction. Signalling with her right hand she indicated that they should investigate the reef, and meet back here in half an hour. They all signalled OK, and went their respective ways.
 Dupont followed slightly behind her, as she navigated along the reef. For a fleeting moment he studied her body through her wetsuit, noticing that she had actually got quite a nice body! Nicely curved, it filled out the wetsuit in all the right places, and swept in where it was supposed to. ‘I could get used to this diving thing he said to himself,’ as he then concentrated on the coral and the wildlife. He was not sure what they were looking for. At any rate, the coral looked pretty normal to him, especially as he had never seen any before. At least it was not man made, and was covered with lots of small stars, tiny fish, and multi-coloured things which he could not identify. It was like a huge living community, all living on the coral reef. It was amazing, and very soon Dupont had forgotten that they were looking for a man made, mechanised gate.
 Dr. Vaz was continuing her search. Though not all-together immune to the beauty and splendour around her, she was concentrating on finding something manmade, a crack in the coral where there should be none, a hinge for the gate, or a lever of something. Occasionally she touched the coral, carefully removing her glove, and even more carefully touching the coral. It was very delicate, and even the slightest touch could harm it, even though some coral could be razor sharp, and she had been adamant to Dupont that he do not touch it. But she had to be sure that what she was looking at was actually coral and not an elaborate set up. But it was indeed coral, and they continued fruitlessly for the remainder of their time, until all of a sudden Dupont found himself face to face with the other two men. They signalled that they had not found anything of interest either, and Sandrine looked at her air gauge again. She had about thirty percent left, but guessed that Dupont would have much less. For a first dive experience and considering his bulk, he must be breathing more rapidly than the others, so she signalled that they should ascend. Also she reasoned she did not want to tire him out too much; diving was pretty tough! Altogether they had been underwater for about two hours.