"Seven-six-five," she said.
McBride repeated it, put the phone down. "The medics are on the way. I'll wait here with you, until they come." As an afterthought, he said, "You might want to put some clothes on." He could see that she was naked under the robe.
"What are you doing with that gun?" she said.
"Keeping it in a safe place," he said, and sat in the chair by the balcony doors, rifle upright between his knees. She vanished into the bathroom, and he heard the shower going.
There was a knock on the cabin door, and two medics came in with a stretcher on wheels.
They went over to the body and examined it. They put the stretcher trolley parallel with the bed, and both together rolled the body on to it. The girl came out of the bathroom, now dressed in a tee shirt and shorts. McBride noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra, nipples straining against the cloth. She went across to hold the door open. One of the medics gave her a wink and a leer as he passed by.
McBride stood up, hefting the rifle in his hand. "If you're okay, I'll get going now," he said, and when she didn't demur, he let himself out of the cabin.
Chapter 28
In the command centre, Morton, the Captain and McBride were discussing the plan to attack the hijackers the next morning, early next morning.
"It would be good if we can clear deck five of the passengers, the civilian ones, of course; so that they don't get involved in the raid. Would be a bad job if some of them came wandering out in their jimjams, and caught a bullet."
"We'll move them all on to level 9," the captain said, "and our receptionist will be there to greet them and show them to a new upgraded room."
"She'll be glad to get working again," put in McBride.
"It was lucky she wasn't shot by Bourne yesterday morning," said Morton. "She's been very useful so far, printing spare keys from the computer. She knew we had a spare printer in the stores on level two, and had it moved into the Command Centre. A crewman brought it up on a waiter trolley."
For the rest of the day Tony and Annabel worked the phones and in two hours they had contacted the occupants of eight cabins and convinced fourteen people to accept an upgrade. They couldn't persuade the other two people to make the move. Luggage would be brought up by the stewards, who had been warned to take care, and if they were intercepted by the hijackers, to point out that they were expected to carry on normally, because the hijackers themselves had broadcast to that effect.
Morton was depressed, but the captain secretly thought that it was better than he had hoped for. Morton spoke to McBride: "You have got your plans in place for the attack on level five, I hope?"
"Yes, I would like it to take place tomorrow morning at dawn. Would that suit you, Captain?"
"That's okay, but there's something else to factor in. I've just been on the bridge, and there is a bad weather warning out for this area. A big cyclone is building over the Spanish mainland, and it is medicane season."
"What is Medicane? Sounds like a cough medicine," said McBride.
"Hardly. It's a stupid name for a hurricane in the Mediterranean – Med and –icane."
"I didn't know the Med was a hurricane area." said McBride.
"It quite rarely is. You get a big one every few years. I think, from memory, about three in about four or five years."
"How bad do they get?" asked Morton, who had been listening without joining in the discussion.
"It varies, they track eastwards from Gibraltar, and by the time they reach Italy, they are generally blown out. You can get force ten to twelve winds, thunderstorms and heavy rain. Three hundred inches fell over southern France in a few days, one year"
"How long do they last?" asked Morton.
"Hard to say sometimes they can pass over in a day, other times they can be eighteen hours. The worst case scenario, they can stop moving and hang over one area for forty eight hours.
."Generally they move from Spain to Italy in about 70 hours."
"So this one is going to be a real cracker?" asked McBride.
"Can't be sure yet, might have more idea tomorrow," said the captain. "Why, are you a bad sailor, McBride?"
"No, not at all. I've never been seasick in my life, but I seem to recall that thirty percent of people are seasick. If we pick our team right we could be attacking a very much reduced force of hijackers."
"Yes, it could work out that way," said the captain. "You had better have a good proportion of deck crew on our side, then. And check with the rest of the team, especially the Italians."
McBride said: "You were talking about card keys just now. Could you let me have say three or four keys that would work on level five? I need them tonight, ready for our attack tomorrow. It saves a lot of blowing locks off doors. I hate to destroy property for no reason.
Chapter 29
Kevin sought out Bourne again. "We've got a man missing. Simon never came back from his security round. I've checked with the rest, and nobody knows where he is. He's not in his cabin, either."
"He was supposed to be one of a pair," said Bourne, "Who was he supposed to be with?"
"Audrey, but she doesn't know anything."
"For fuck's sake, they're supposed to go round in pairs. That way they can't be picked off – get me Audrey, now. Chop, chop."
That wasn't difficult for Kevin, he just went to her cabin, and said "Bourne wants to see you, now", and he trailed back after her to the bar. Kevin was in a mood, being a dogsbody for Bourne.
Bourne laid into Audrey. "Where is Southern?"
"I don't know. We started out together, and then he gave me the slip."
"How?"
"He walked round a corner, when I followed him, he wasn't there."
"A right lot you are. Okay, all of you, get off your butts, and search the ship for him. NOW," he roared.
Audrey could only guess, but she played her hunch. She raced up to the pool deck. Yesterday, she had found him talking to a blonde by the pool. He was like a dog round a bitch on heat.
She strode round the pool, searching and spotted the woman by the bar, sitting at a table with another girl.. She went over. God, the woman was out of her head.
Audrey spoke to the companion: "What's wrong with your friend?"
"She's drunk, is what."
"And it's only half past eleven in the morning," Audrey looked at her watch.
"She's had a bad experience. A guy just died on her. Literally." The woman pulled a face.
Audrey sat down at the table. "Tell me more."
The blonde, who had been taking no notice, suddenly said: "It was one of your people!"
She had noticed Audrey's uniform, presumably. "He died. I could'n...he was dead."
"Where is he now? I mean, his....body?"
"The..men...medics, they took him 'way..."
Audrey was stunned. Somehow Simon was killed, or died. She had found out where he was. The rest was up to Bourne.
She tracked him down, finally, to his own cabin.
Have you found Southern?" he demanded.
"Yes," she said, "Well, I know, well think, he's dead. This woman, drunk she was, says he died, in her cabin."
"What was he doing in her cabin? No, don't tell me, I can guess. Did the woman shoot him, or what. Tell me."
"She didn't say. It sounded like he just died. That was the impression she gave. The medics came, and took him away."
"What was his cabin number – 567?"
"Yes"
Bourne reached over, picked up the phone. He glanced at the card with the list of numbers, and dialled.
"Oh, yes,." He spoke into the handset. "You've got a man there, a Mr Southern. He died?"
A man said: "That is right, a Mr Southern. He had a wallet with a credit card in that name. We've just done an autopsy. Coronary arrest. We are trying to contact his cabin. He was travelling with a partner, but we are getting no reply."
"I'll inform his partner. Cabin 567.." Bourne thought that gave him more credibility, that he should be ask
ing about Southern. "Had he any possessions with him. Like a bag, or anything?" Bourne hesitated to use the word 'rifle', it sounded like something from a comedy sketch.
"No sir, just the clothes he stood up in, well, he wasn't wearing them at the time, but the medics collected them from the floor, and we've dressed the body."
"Okay, I'll be back in touch," and Bourne put the phone down quickly, before he could be asked any questions or his name. He turned to Audrey.
"As you gather, he died – apparently undressed. But where is his rifle? Get back to that woman, find out what happened to it. Quickly," and shooed her out of his cabin.
Audrey sped back to the poolside bar, just in time to see the drunken woman being led erratically away by her friend. She caught up with them quickly, as the friend was finding it difficult to even hold the woman erect.
"Let me help you," said Audrey.
"I'm just trying to get her back to her cabin. It is good of you to help."
Audrey took the drunk's left arm, and between them they lifted her feet completely off the floor, and made progress to the lift. They dumped her temporarily on the floor of the elevator, propped up in a corner. The other woman pressed the button for deck seven.
"I'm Susan," she said, holding her hand out.
"Audrey" and took the hand and briefly shook it. The lift door opened, and they lifted the drunken woman out. Fortunately the cabin was just off the lobby. Susan had her card key. The cabin was a mess, one of the beds a heap of disturbed bedding.
"Sorry about this," said Susan. "Anne has a few failings, men being one of them, booze another. But, that aside, she can be fun."
"I knew the man who died," said Audrey. "did he leave anything in here?"
"Like what?"
"A rifle," said Audrey. Susan looked at her as though she was crazy. Audrey tried again.
"I mean he was a guard. We need his rifle, and the medics don't have it."
Anne had been propped up on her bed, among the strewn bedclothes. Susan went over and started to slap her face, in an effort to rouse her. She turned and asked Audrey: "Can you put some coffee on?!
They tried to feed Anne with strong black coffee, but most of it went down her chin. It was a further two hours before Anne was sober enough, following many visits to the loo, with her head down the bowl. She explained, haltingly, the artist bloke who gave lessons came to the cabin, well, she had asked him to, and yes, he picked up the gun, and took it with him when he left.
Audrey excused herself and rushed back to level five. She found Bourne in the bar, sitting at a table, writing in a notebook. She thought maybe he was writing ransom notes. She was surprised how useless he was, when push came to shove.
"It took hours to get that girl sober," Audrey said. "But eventually she said that the artist took away the rifle. I assume she means McBride. Apparently Simon died on her, literally on her. She ran out of her cabin for help, and McBride was just leaving his cabin, which is across the corridor."
"The bastard," exploded Bourne, "That's my rifle! If I find him, I'll kill him."
"It was Simon you should have killed. You knew he was dodgy. But he's dead now, anyway."
"I think I'll go up to level seven, and try and find McBride, but I might wait until he's gone to bed."
Audrey said: "Your time limit is tomorrow, so who are you going to shoot? Nobody comes out on level five, if they can help it."
"We need to coral a few people in the bar, then we can just take pot shots, without any hassle. Get a a few of the guys to help you collect some victims."
Audrey considered this remark. "If we take them today, we've got to guard them tonight. I suggest we get them first thing tomorrow."
"Okay," said Bourne, mildly. Audrey thought that he had become weary of the whole exercise. When it had been a plan in the abstract, it had been lots of fun planning the whole thing. In the reality, he just wasn't brave enough to carry it out. That was Audrey's opinion.
Chapter 30
During the evening a strong breeze got up and the sky at sunset was filled with angry clouds. The captain got a weather update at 6pm. The cyclone was filling and moving eastward in the classic Medicane system. What was still unknown was how fast it was going to move. But it was apparent even at this early time that it would be a major event. The captain was not concerned, except for the comfort of his passengers. The ship was well designed and would ride out any weather. They were not near shallow water or reefs. Mid ocean was the best place to be, if you couldn't be in harbour. He went into the command room, and McBride was there.
"The weather's getting up," said the captain.
"Any idea what it will be like at dawn?" asked McBride.
"My own opinion, and this is not an official forecast, because the met men don't know how fast it is going to travel, only that it is a big one.. Well, I think we will be getting force six or seven by dawn, maybe worse. And we'll be getting heavy rain by that time, that's for sure.
"And lightning, too. It will give some people a scare."
"So," said McBride "Whilst people are scared is a good time for attack. We need a team that doesn't suffer sea-sickness. How many crew can you let me have?"
"How many do you want?"
"Well, we've got Tony and Annabel, but they are only for lobbing a couple of teargas grenades at the start of the raid. I would like to lead the team on the crew elevator, with the two Italians, and maybe four crewmen. I would take the AK47, because I've used one before.. Then there's Morton ..."
"Don't count on him," cut in the captain. "He's just gone to his cabin, looking rather green-faced."
"Well, we can get along with seven in the elevator. Did we get some goggles from the shop? And we need the cable ties for handcuffs."
"All sorted. They are over there on the table. There are twelve pairs of goggles, we cleaned the shop out; and a box of cable ties, the two gasmasks, and four grenades that are spare. Oh, and you asked for master keys, there are four there. We really ought to have them back when you have finished with them. For passenger security, you know.""
"We've got enough gear, then. We should muster here at five in the morning, do you think?"
"Yes, I'll personally speak to those involved tonight. While I think about it, what are you going to do about the two stooges on the bridge?"
"We'll look in just before muster. Depending on their sea legs, we'll decide to take them before or after. I'm just a little concerned they'll be at our backs, if we leave them there while the raid is on, and could be a problem. And, while I think of it, let us wear the masks, and let Tony and Annabel make do with the goggles. They will hardly have time to be affected by gas. Once they have lobbed the grenades, they can go back up the staircase, their job will be done."
McBride made to leave, and then had another thought. "I could do to meet the Italians, if you could spare a few minutes to introduce me."
The captain said: "Let's do it now," and the two of them made for the top deck, and the two best suites on the ship. Outside the first suite, the captain pressed the bell-push beside the door. McBride could hear the sound of chimes coming from inside the suite. After a few moments, the door was opened by a man smartly dressed in a black jacket, pinstripe trousers, and a red tie.
"May we speak with Signore Benvento? I regret we don't have an appointment."
"Come inside, and I will enquire, if he is able to see you." The man stepped back from the door, and ushered them into a lobby which had a small sofa along one wall, and a hatstand on the other. The captain sat on the sofa, but McBride remained standing. The butler went through the interior door, shutting it behind him. Several minutes later, he re-appeared and said: "The signore will see you now, gentlemen." The butler stood back and ushered them in.
McBride and the captain entered a large living room, glass doors at the far end on to the balcony, two full size sofas, two upholstered chairs which McBride reckoned were by Parker Knoll. Along the full length of one wall was library shelving up to the ceilin
g, and halfway along, inset, a kneehole desk with a tall table lamp on top. The opposite wall had framed maritime oil paintings. In the ceiling, three rectangular sky lights gave a bright cheerful ambience. A man was rising from his chair behind the desk, turning to greet them. He was as tall as McBride, although not quite as muscular. He had a mop of white hair, yet his dark Mediterranean complexion was unlined.
The captain said "This is John McBride who is to lead the raid on the hijackers at dawn tomorrow. He is ex-army, our SAS Regiment.
"There is a bad storm coming, perhaps you have noticed the wind rising. If your men are good sailors in bad weather, then we will be pleased to have them along. Mr McBride would like to brief them now, if that is convenient."
"Of course. Greetings, Mr McBride." Benventa took McBride's hand in his huge fist, and shook it vigorously. "Just a moment ," and strode back to the desk, and pressed a bell-push on the wall. Within seconds there was a knock on the door by the desk, and a muscular dark-haired man entered.
"Aldo, here is John McBride who is leading the raid on the hijackers. Please fetch Carlo, and we will discuss it here, in my room."
Whilst waiting for the bodyguards, Benvento ushered McBride and the captain to chairs, and asked if they would like drinks. Both declined. The two bodyguards were back in moments, so similar in looks that they might be brothers.
When everyone was sitting in a large circle, the captain invited McBride to give details of his proposed operation.
"Well, I think we must fight for ourselves. There is a big storm approaching, so no rescuers will be able to board, maybe for some days, and the hijackers are threatening to start killing the passengers tomorrow, if the ransom isn't paid.
"Now, the hijackers are based on level five, in the reception lobby and the adjacent bar. They also have cabins in the adjoining corridor."
McBride pulled a sketchbook from his pocket: "I will sketch the layout". He put the sketchpad on the coffee table, and pulled his pencil from his top pocket. He sketched two rectangles to represent the lobby and the bar. He marked a cross at the side of the lobby.
Cruise the Storm Page 11