Western English Channel...
The sea fret stayed with them throughout the day, hiding the stricken boat from enemy eyes. The wind increased steadily, making life increasingly uncomfortable for those on board, and slowing their progress further. Leaking heavily, the old boat struggled onwards.
Two days later, the submarine limped through the narrow entrance to Plymouth Harbour and, with the help of a naval tug, made her way into the submarine berths.
It was a sombre shore party that began to recover the dead and injured. When their turn finally came, Garrison's men were shocked to see how much damage the hull had taken and yet 'Dragon' had not sunk. Stubborn as always, the old submarine had refused to die.
Despite concussion and a raging headache, Casino was able to get ashore under his own propulsion. The cut had mostly stopped bleeding but would need some cleaning and probably a stitch or two.
Actor shrugged off Chief's helping hand. "Thank you, but I can manage on my own."
He hung back, waiting, as two navy medics came to collect Dalgliesh. Surprisingly, the man was still alive. The morphine was wearing off, and the man was groaning and trying to fight against the straps securing him to the stretcher. Infection had set in, and there was a steady trickle of pus from the chest drain.
Actor put a steadying hand on the Scot's shoulder. "You've made it so far. Just a little bit longer." Whether the Commander heard him or not was debatable.
They took them all to the RN hospital at Stonehouse, even Goniff who only needed a change of clothes and a shower.
Dalgliesh was taken straight into surgery.
"You think he'll lose the leg?" From somewhere, Chief had found a new matchstick and was chewing it thoughtfully.
Casino was sitting with his eyes closed, trying to tell himself that he felt better than he did. "Better not after all we did to stop him from bleedin' out and get him back to England."
A nurse bustled her way into the waiting area, clipboard in hand.
"Mr Coletti? Let's get that cut dealt with. Judging by your shirt it must have bled an awful lot."
Casino looked down at the item in question. The fabric was stiff with dried blood.
"Nah, this isn't mine. Belongs to the navy guy that we brought back with us. Must've been runnin' on empty by the time we got to him."
The nurse lost her composure for a moment. "That blood is Commander Dalgliesh's?"
"Most of it," the safecracker acknowledged, knowing that at least some was his own. He hauled himself to his feet, still keeping the roll of bandage pressed against the wound. He was sure the bleeding had stopped but hadn't been able to work out how to let go of the thing without it unravelling. He followed the woman out of the room.
Actor shifted on the hard chair trying to find a way to get comfortable, but there didn't seem to be any position that stopped his arm from hurting. With the number of casualties, it would probably be a while before he was seen to and, even then, beds would be in short supply.
Goniff returned, smelling significantly sweeter and dressed in a set of surgical scrubs. "I'm starvin'. Don't suppose they've offered us anyfink to eat yet?"
Actor grimaced, frustrated by the incorrigible cockney. "I think they have more taxing things to worry about at the moment than the state of your stomach."
"Keep yer 'air on, I was just askin'." Goniff flopped down on the chair Casino had just vacated.
A male orderly headed their way before Actor could come up with a telling response. Pain wasn't just making him tetchy, he decided, it was also making him slow.
"Mr Borelli?
Slowly, Actor lifted his head, and slipped his conman's persona into place. By the time he was on his feet, he was in control once more.
Chief and Goniff spent the night in the ratings quarters at Devonport, waiting either for news from the hospital or someone to offer them a ferry service back to the Mansion. Neither were forthcoming.
Bored, and without supervision, the two men managed to sneak a ride on a naval transport and make it back to the hospital by mid-morning. Things seemed a little less frenetic than the previous night. There had been a shift change amongst the nurses, which made it relatively easy for both men to con their way to the room where Actor and Casino were 'under observation'.
Richards arrived at Stonehouse not much after Chief and Goniff. Despite his instructions for Garrison to 'stay put', he'd made his own arrangements to head for Plymouth. He knew he wouldn't be the only one.
Johns'll have a field day on this one, he thought, as he made his way to the station, en-route for Plymouth. He'd gone out on a limb to protect Garrison, trusting that his men could pull off one more miracle. The gamble had failed. In all probability it wasn't just the four convicts that would be back behind bars, they'd all but killed one of MI6's most famous operatives and he'd probably wrecked his own career.
He found all four of Garrison's men together in a side ward meant for two. Chief and Goniff had managed to acquire two utilitarian chairs designed for cost-effectiveness rather than comfort. Both men were slouched forwards, attempting to doze, despite the uncomfortable posture. Actor was lying prone, a plaster cast swathing his elbow. Relocating the joint had been simple, but excruciating, yet no-one had seen fit to offer him much in the way of any pain medication. The result was, he was hurting, and badly.
Casino was in somewhat better shape. Having taken a look at his forehead, the medics had elected to pretty much let nature take its course. They'd tidied up the cut then applied some small strips of sticking plaster to hold everything in place, before returned him to the ward, well-supplied with aspirin. That was beginning to wear off, and he was starting to feel slightly sick from the concussion, but the safecracker reckoned that if he kept totally still, he might just survive.
The duty doctor turned up at the same time as Richards. Unusually, the doctor was middle-aged and female. She looked weary and dispirited. "These yours?"
"In a manner of speaking. You could say I'm in loco parentis for them at the moment. How are they?"
"Better than many of the others," the doctor replied.