The Devil's Trinity

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I would like to thank my son, Terry Parker, ex Royal Air Force Harrier test pilot, for refining my flying techniques. I would also like to thank David Kennedy, ex United States Navy test pilot for putting me right on American naval matters and procedure. But even with all their experience and knowledge, I have to accept full responsibility for any mistakes that have crept in.

Harry Marsham, who was known as Marsh to his friends, should have died that night. His lifelong friend and business partner in their underwater exploration business, Greg Walsh was not so lucky. When the freighter loomed up out of the darkness and struck their yacht, the Ocean Quest, it caught it amidships and rolled it over into the dark waters of the sea, crushing the boat like matchwood. Luck was on Marsh’s side that night; he had a marginally better chance than Walsh because he was standing on the open deck. He was waiting to climb the main mast to check a faulty riding light, which had failed for no apparent reason. Walsh was rummaging about below decks. He had gone there to look for a torch and spare bulbs, and to see if he could figure out why the battery power had failed.

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