" Good morning David Jones?"

Davy stirred, groaned, blinked his eyes and attempted to focus on a mist-shrouded figure next to the bed. "Tell Tracey she was right. It's time to end this." Tears streamed over his face. Fatigue replaced sorrow as he returned to drug-induced sleep.

                                                                                                   ***

With the casualties in the hospital, Adrian hoped to sail. To his frustration, a signal arrived, ordering him to remain in the harbour.

The following morning, dockyard workers, assisted by a mobile crane, relieved HMS Peacock of the wreckage.

Alan Holmes called on Adrian before re-joining the exercise.

With a pile of routine paperwork to complete, Adrian visited the hospital instead. The nurse at reception smiled as he asked; in French could he see the British casualty. With a pleasant smile, she pointed him in the right direction. The smell of her perfume teased his senses. He reflected gone the days when he put to good use the attraction of uniform and good manners to seduce women.

A gendarme sat reading a paper outside a private room. The moment he saw Adrian, he jumped to attention and saluted. The formalities over, he unlocked the door.

Clean-shaven and with a haircut, the casualty appeared much younger. "Commander Adrian Viper." He held out his hand.

"Good morning, sir." Davy smiled, shaking his hand.

This man's opening remark convinced Adrian he had served in the armed forces.

"Good morning. I'm in command of the ship that rescued you and your wife. My condolences, by the way."

"Oh, she wasn't my wife, sir." His voice dropped as Davy suppressed a shudder and a pained expression filled his eyes. "I loved her, and I'll miss her. I believed we could make it together. We were a good team." Dejected, he sat on the bed and stared out of the window. "It's not right. Who dies at twenty-six?" He buried his head in his hands and wept. "Why, why?" he sobbed. "Every time I get close to someone, a ton of shit falls from the sky and destroys everything."

"Mr Jones," interrupted Adrian. "Is there anything you need?"

"A bottle of whisky."

"I don't think you'll find solace in a bottle," said Adrian.

A long silence followed, "You're right. Can you find out why they're keeping me in the hospital? I have a funeral to arrange."

Adrian smiled; he remembered the bags of money. "I have no idea. Perhaps for your safety. You have survived one hell of an experience. Out of curiosity, what made you sail in such a storm? You must have heard the shipping forecast?"

Davy related his tale of misfortune. "My radio stopped working during the storm. The Bay is always bouncy, and I thought it might blow over. I was wrong."

"We recovered your yacht. What's left, the harbour master dumped on the back of a lorry this morning."

Startled Davy asked. "Oh, did they manage to salvage much?"

Adrian smiled. "I don't know. I'm sure when you're fit and well, you can collect your belongings."

Davy's mind raced. Had they found the money, a remote chance existed he might bluff his way out of this and continue overland to Spain.

For a further fifteen minutes, they passed the time. From memory, Adrian recognised David. As he returned to his ship, the information emerged. It had been a story on which his wife worked.

Sat in his cabin, he relaxed and telephoned his wife.

Janice answered. "Hi."

"Hello, darling, and how are you?"

"Surprised my husband contacts me in the middle of a NATO exercise. What are you after?"

"Nothing but-"

She interrupted. "There's always a but."

"My love, please listen for a minute."

"If you insist."

"Do you recall a couple of years ago; I obtained information on three missing sailors?"

The line went quiet for a moment. "Scotland, sailors, a missing boat, and a bank robbery. Not bad for my age: senility hasn't hit me yet," she answered.

"Did you keep that information?"

"Why on earth do you want it? What have you found?"

Adrian made it clear that the survivor from the yacht was one of the missing men.

"Might be worth my time. When are you sailing?"

"At the moment, I don't know. We must wait until the police finish their investigations."

"I'm leaving the office now, and with luck, I'll see you first thing in the morning. Have the coffee ready!"

Adrian understood the mere hint of a story might motivate his wife to the ends of the earth. "You take care driving. I'd prefer to see you in one piece."

She laughed. "Sometimes you're an old worry guts. Love you."

The call ended.

At eight in the evening, Adrian and Jim went ashore for a meal. The whole story of the missing sailors and the bank robbery discussed.

Jim sat there, listening. "As Janice said, it's one hell of a gamble."

"Well, there's nothing else I can do tonight. I suggest we retire to your wardroom, Jim, have a few beers, and sleep on it. My wife will have caught the ferry and driven through the night."

True to form, Janice arrived on the jetty at six in the morning. The Quartermaster contacted his Captain. Adrian switched on the coffee machine and waited. Unescorted, she made her way to his cabin. Their reunion was passionate.

She broke free from her husband's roving hands. "Plenty of time for that later." She placed her bag on his desk. "The service documents of the three missing men are in here. If you're wrong, I spend a night of wanton delight with my husband. If you're right, we can still have the passion, but this might be the breaking of a front-page story." With care, she removed the photographs and placed them on his desk,

Adrian pointed. "That's David Jenkins."

"Are you sure?"

"It's him." He opened his desk drawer and removed the videotape. "And here's the tape of the rescue, more evidence."

She remained sceptical but placed it in her bag. "I'm famished."

Adrian nodded. "When we've eaten, we'll visit the hospital, and you can see David Jenkins for yourself. If I'm right, we tell the police, and you get your story."

"If you're right, I need to talk to him."

"You could get into trouble."

"Who's going to tell?"

They ate breakfast in the wardroom with the other officers. Janice made a change to the familiar faces, and the conversation flowed. The time passed, and Adrian figured an interview with the survivor was next.

Janice drove to the hospital, and once through reception, she followed her husband to David Jenkins' room. On approaching, Adrian remarked, "Strange, the Gendarme isn't here, and the doors open."

A nurse stopped and asked where they were going?

"If it's not inconvenient, can we talk to the Englishman I met yesterday?"

"I'm sorry, monsieur. The young man died last night. An English doctor signed the death certificate."

Taken aback, Adrian asked in a subdued voice, "Is it possible to see the body and pay our last respects?"

"Of course, sir. Please follow, and I'll take you to the hospital mortuary."

In silence, they followed the nurse to the basement. At the entrance, she talked to a doctor who frowned more than he spoke. Adrian listened to their conversation and could not believe what he overheard.

"The English doctor and his staff removed both bodies."

"Most unusual," said Janice. "There should be an autopsy and an inquest. When that's over, they release the body to the next of kin. Next stop the Police station."

He followed his wife out of the hospital to the local police station.

In answering Adrian's question, an officer said the English doctor certified two people dead and the bodies removed.

Annoyed, the desk officer told Adrian to wait. He disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a wad of papers. He slammed them on the counter. "I have the documents signed by your people for the release of the two bodies, Mr and Mrs Jones, and their yacht." He shrugged. "I can tell you no more." He returned to his work, indicating an end to the conversation.

As they left the police station, Janice said, "Someone's pulled important strings to move this fast."

"Someone made a mistake," said Adrian.

Janice ignored him. "Where's the nearest airport?"

Adrian sighed. "We may never know the truth. It's a dead end."

She turned and faced him. "Believe me. There's no such thing. There are a great many questions unanswered. When you hit a dead-end, always go back to the beginning and find your way. Our man's alive, and I'm going to find him."