[This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]
DEATH’S DOOR – Tuesday Evening
Diving dangers are numerous and as many as driving too fast along the curving Welsh roads back to Porthmadog. Most can be avoided with less haste and with the correct training.
Speed feeds my adrenaline desire. Directed.
Is discipline why the two guys went on a deep-water course in Cardiff? Which course?
When I reach CID, I report my thoughts.
“If our victims were on a diving course in Cardiff, it should be possible to discover which centre and when they finished.”
Kama agrees to contact her former SWP colleagues.
“A friend from the Pontypridd station is now with a Cardiff division, so will do me a favour.”
A twinge of jealousy. Broken breath. Burning stomach.
But friend means working relationship. Like the demeanour we display for our colleagues. Do any of them really know or suspect? Unlikely. We’ve tried to be discreet.
“While you make the call, I’ll check if there any responses to our public request for information on the photos we released of the two guys.”
I scan the feed-back. I weed out the helpful-unhelpful suggestions that we usually receive. Not quite hoaxes but well-meaning time wasters. However, there are two confirming what I learnt from Guto Thomas, that the two men were from the Nefyn area. But three others claim that the men were from Dolgellau.
Were our victims using aliases? Who are they? Were their reasons for attending a diving course coincidental?
The sea has her moods. She needs to be treated with deference. Restoring a boat and learning how to dive responsibly are decisive moves.
I shiver. Close my eyes. Death awaits us if we make mistakes in the wild water. Invigorating yet powerful. Waves break over me as I drive my path forwards. Thrills. Diving is another step I should embrace more. The deep-sea depths tempt me. Warm shivers up my spine.
A shared smile.
“My friend received confirmation from one of the South Wales training centres that Ellis Evans and Vic Vaughn were on their Advanced Open Water course on Thursday.”
“Before the storm. Did they complete the course?”
“Yes. They had already done a weekend. So, all phases were completed, including the final deep-water assessment in Saint Bride’s Bay. We were lucky that the course trainer took the call from my friend and the trainer said that Evans and Vaughn left with a couple in a 4 x 4 on Friday evening.”
“Any description of the driver?”
“A middle-aged couple. The woman driver was described as exotic. The 4 x 4 had sign-writing – Göteborg Electric Engineers.”
I squeeze Kama’s hand across our linked desks as she leans forward and hands me her notepad.
On it are the details from South Wales, including the company name. Plus, a red heart. Our smiles will have to last us until we are in bed at home.
I enter the search for our lead. Minimal Internet presence, just an address in Caernarfon.
E for Electric and Engineers. A for Aliases and Assault. D for Diving and Dangers. G for Göteborg.
EGAD for the English. But for us Welsh, GAED. Am I on the edge of a discovery?
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And now for something completely different.
“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.”
William Congreve – The Mourning Bride