Gold Sharks by Albert Able

do!” Greg replied, genuinely excited. The engines hummed and the vessel picked up and skimmed through the water at close to forty knots.
    â€œYou better know,” Dick shouted above the unified roar of the powerful diesels, “she burns about two gallons a mile at his speed; is it still OK?” he grinned.
    â€œYou bet!” shouted Greg, signalling his approval with the diver’s OK sign.
    After about half an hour, the island appeared as a hazy smudge on the horizon.
    â€œSo what do you want, to visit the island or to fish?” Dick asked.
    â€œListen Dick, I suppose you’ll think were a couple of fools but we bought some wreck positions from a man at the restaurant last night. Here, have a look. Do you think we’ve been robbed? Are they real?”
    Dick looked with indifference at the list of latitude and longitudinal positions. “Until we put them on the chart they don’t mean a thing to me,” he said honestly.
    Leaving the helm to the autopilot, he took the list and carefully marked each of the positions on his paper chart. There were five positions on the list; two matched marks already on Dick’s own chart and the others were apparently new locations.
    â€œThere you are,” he declared. “I know those two and, who knows, the others may easily be wrecks - after all dozens of vessels have been lost in these waters over the years.” He pointed to the furthest mark, just beyond the island. “I should think that one’s a bit of a waste of time. It’s right on the edge of the landmass. The seabed shelves suddenly from seventy to five hundred metres; the currents out there are the strongest to be found anywhere in this part of the world,” he chatted on casually. “The other two could be worth a try though,” he ventured, looking up, raising his eyebrows and grinning philosophically.
    Greg looked at Oscar.
    â€œWhat do you fancy? Shall we try a bit of fishing then visit the island later?
    â€œWhatever you think,” Oscar replied and looked at the chart. “Lets apply a little ‘lady luck’ and try...” He closed his eyes and stabbed his finger on the mark nearest to the so-called impossible position. He opened his eyes again.
    â€œThis one?” he smiled with apparent satisfaction.
    â€œOK gentlemen let’s go fishing,” Dick sighed and returned his attention to the navigator, made an adjustment and looked ahead. “About half an hour at a guess,” he announced, his mind still trying to work out just what these people really wanted.
    f
    Having just enjoyed a breakfast of - according to the Room Service menu - “freshly mixed exotic fruit juices, a selection of home-made bread and pastries, butter and conserves”, Alex Scott sat looking out over the busy harbour, leisurely drinking a second cup of tea.
    The hundreds of large and small craft transfixed him as they managed, apparently without hitting one another, to manoeuvre in and around the teeming harbour. Of course, from the comfort of his luxury hotel balcony, he couldn’t hear the barrage of shouting and curses.
    His mobile bleeped. “
    Good morning Alex, Ling here.”
    Alex returned the greeting.
    â€œI have some information that is worth looking at,” Ling continued. “Can you meet me on the waterfront in a few minutes?”
    â€œJust say where,” Alex replied easily.
    â€œGood. Right opposite your hotel you’ll see an estate agent’s office. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
    â€œThat’s fine, see you there,” Alex agreed, taking a final gulp of his tea and returning the mobile to his pocket.
    He wandered down to the lobby and out and into the sunlight. Instantly aware of the searing heat and deafening traffic noise, he looked in vain for a pedestrian crossing. Undeterred, he following some locals, who simply took their lives in their hands and stepped into the path of the