Bond had taken out the Walther PPK. He checked to see there was a round in the chamber, rested it on his left forearm and waited for the two sharks to come round again. The first was the bigger, a hammerhead, nearly twelve feet long. Its hideously distorted head moved slowly from side to side as it nuzzled through the water, watching what went on below, waiting for the sign of meat. Bond aimed for the base of the dorsal fin that cut through the water like a dark sail. It was fully erect, a sign of tension and awareness in the big fish. Just below it was the spine, unassailable except with a nickel-plated bullet. He pulled the trigger. There was a phut as the bullet hit the surface just behind the dorsal. The boom of the heavy gun rolled away over the sea. The shark paid no attention. Bond fired again. The water foamed as the fish reared itself above the surface, dived shallowly and came up thrashing sideways like a broken snake. It was a brief flurry. The bullet must have severed the spinal cord. Now the great brown shape began moving sluggishly in circles that grew ever wider. The hideous snout came briefly out of the water to show the sickle mouth gasping. For a moment it rolled over on its back, its stomach white to the sun. Then it righted itself and, dead probably, continued its mechanical, disjointed swim.
The following shark had watched all this. Now it approached cautiously. It made a short snapping run and swerved away. Feeling safe, it darted in again, seemed to nuzzle at the dying fish and then lifted its snout above the surface and came down with all its force, scything into the flank of the hammerhead. It got hold, but the flesh was tough. It shook its great brown head like a dog, worrying at the mouthful, and then tore itself away. A cloud of blood poured over the sea. Now the other shark appeared from below and both fish, in a frenzy, tore and tore again at the still moving hulk whose nervous system refused to die. The dreadful feast moved away on the current and was soon only a distant splashing on the surface of the quiet sea.
Bond handed Leiter the gun. ‘I’ll get on down. May be rather a long job. They’ve got enough to keep them busy for half an hour, but if they come back, wing one of them. And if for any reason you want me back on the surface, fire straight down at the water and go on firing. The shock-wave should just about reach me.’
Bond began to struggle out of his clothes and, with Leiter’s help, into his aqualung. It was a cramped, difficult business. It would be still worse getting back into the plane and it occurred to Bond that he would have to jettison the underwater gear. Leiter said angrily, ‘I wish to God I could get down there with you. Trouble with this damned hook, it just won’t swim like a hand. Have to think up some rubber webbing gadget. Never occurred to me before.’
Bond said, ‘You’ll have to keep steam up on this crate. We’ve already drifted a hundred yards. Get her back up, like a good chap. I don’t know who I’m going to find sharing the wreck with me. It’s been here a good five days and other visitors may have moved in first.’
Leiter pressed the starter and taxi’d back into position. He said, ‘You know the design of the Vindicator? You know where to look for the bombs and these detonator things the pilot has charge of?’
‘Yes. Full briefing in London. Well, so long. Tell Mother I died game!’ Bond scrambled on to the edge of the cockpit and jumped.
He got his head under and swam leisurely down through the brilliant water. Now he could see that there were swarms of fish over the whole area below him – bill fish, small barracuda, jacks of various types – the carnivores. They parted grudgingly to make room for their big, pale competitor. Bond touched down and made for the edge of the tarpaulin that had been dislodged by the shark. He pulled out a couple of the long corkscrew skewers that secured it to the sand, switched on his waterproof torch and, his other hand on his knife, slipped under the edge.
He had been expecting it, but the foulness of the water made him retch. He clamped his lips more tightly round the mouthpiece and squirmed on to where the bulk of the plane raised the tarpaulin into a domed tent. He stood up. His torch glittered on the underside of a polished wing and then, below it, on to something that lay under a scrabbling mass of crabs, langoustes, sea caterpillars and starfish. This also Bond had been prepared for. He knelt down to his grisly work.
