Chapter 30

The bar was now rapidly filling up with divers, all swapping stories about their customers from the days diving. Some chatting about who had the narrow escapes with so-called special divers. Some planning whose house was having the bbq that night, others moaning about having to do a night dive so they could not drink. The camaraderie between divers was unique. No matter who what or where you were from, if you were a diver you were welcome. For people like Dan that meant everything and knew he was home.

Now on his sixth Sakara beer, Dan was sitting on a stool overlooking the Red Sea. Its waves seductively moving, teasing the rocks, like a seductive siren with a gentle kiss before slipping away again. The roof terrace of the bar gave him a good vantage point overlooking the main street in both directions. Scouring the sea front for any recognisable faces, his mind wanders. He can't wait for the day he tells Bern that they have a house and enough money to live the life they both so desperately want. Her beautiful eyes and the smile on her face will tell him everything he needed to know. She will then truly believe that he is out of the game for good and that was his last job.

A muted television, tuned to Al Jazeera news channel, was mounted above the bar. The constant changing pictures made his head continuously glance up like a nodding dog. The usual stories were playing, trouble in Cairo, riots in Syria. Nothing new. Swallowing the last dregs of his bottle, a newsflash caught his eye.

Plane seen crashing into Mediterranean Sea north of Alexandria. Coastguard are searching the area for wreckage.

Damn, Dan thought. Probably full of holidaymakers coming away, you never know when your time is up.

Grabbing another bottle from the bar, he returns to his seat. The television was reporting live pictures of a small debris field in the sea. The scattering of plane parts, floating on the surface, seemed to indicate a small aircraft rather than a passenger plane.

Watching as the camera zoomed in on the crash site, he could see the fuselage. Torn into at least three sections, it was bobbing up and down in the current. The tail of the plane was floating on its side. The plane's identification number, which was clearly visible, would help identify the wreckage quickly.

The bar tender flicked off the mute switch as a local reporter started to speak.

An eyewitness has told us, they heard an explosion and then saw the plane dive into the sea a couple of miles from the coast.