The Spear of Atlantis (Wilde/Chase 14)

by Andy McDermott

  ‘What is it?’ asked al-Asim.

  ‘The code Fadil used on the Atlantia isn’t working because it’s not his real code! He kept it from me!’ She pushed all the throttles as far forward as they would go. It made no difference, the speed display staying constant at twenty-five knots. Her face flushed with pure fury. ‘No!’

  ‘We’re gaining,’ Snowcock reported. The Pacifia now stood tall on the horizon, fully visible. ‘They’ve increased speed, but I’d say they’ve topped out at twenty-five knots.’

  ‘The limiter,’ said the Emir, managing a smile.

  ‘Alula can’t override it?’ asked Nina.

  ‘No,’ said Lobato. ‘The access code you used on the Atlantia was devised to be easy for you to remember – and was only ever meant to be used there. It was not programmed into the Pacifia.’

  ‘So she didn’t know your real code?’ Eddie asked Fadil.

  ‘Of course not. A ruler must have some secrets, even from his own family. Don’t you have secrets from your wife?’

  ‘Only my internet search history,’ Eddie replied, waggling his eyebrows at Nina.

  She sighed at her husband’s attempt at humour. ‘It’s not nearly secret enough – I have to keep deleting it from the browser so Macy doesn’t see it.’ She turned to Snowcock. ‘When will we catch up?’

  ‘About twenty minutes,’ said the captain. ‘If our engines hold. One of the battery banks has had a five-degree temperature spike in the last ten minutes. If it goes much higher, I’ll have to slow down.’

  ‘We can’t stop now,’ said the Emir, pre-empting Nina’s own response by a split second. ‘We have come this far, and we are so close to them.’

  Eddie stared at the other ship. ‘How far are we from Dhajan now?’

  Snowcock glanced at the chart. ‘About seventy miles.’

  ‘Out of jamming range?’ the Yorkshireman said pointedly.

  The older man hurriedly picked up the radio handset. ‘Pacifia, Pacifia! This is Captain Arnold Snowcock aboard the Atlantia. Do you read me?’

  ‘Sir!’ called one of the Pacifia’s bridge crew. ‘We’re getting a radio message from the Atlantia.’

  Ingels crossed to the man’s station, but Alula and al-Asim pushed him aside. ‘Let me hear!’ she snapped.

  The young man switched the radio to loudspeaker. The transmission was distorted, the Dhajani emergency message still interfering, but the American’s voice was just about discernible. ‘I repeat, this is Arnold Snowcock on the Atlantia. The Emir is alive. His sister tried to murder him in an attempted coup, but failed—’

  Shock rippled around the bridge, but another voice had cut in: an American woman. ‘Not important right now!’

  ‘Wilde!’ snarled Alula.

  ‘Pacifia, if you can hear us,’ Nina went on, ‘Alula has a bomb that’s as powerful as a nuke. She’s going to use your ship for a suicide attack on the US base in Bahrain!’

  All eyes turned to the usurper. ‘Is this true?’ Ingels asked.

  Alula glared at the increasingly hostile officers – then shouted an order. Her men snatched out concealed Glock 18 machine pistols and pointed them at the bridge crew, who retreated in fear. ‘Whether my brother is alive or not does not matter,’ she announced imperiously. ‘I am the ruler of Dhajan, and this ship will go where I order it. Turn that off.’ The officer reluctantly silenced Nina’s ongoing message. ‘Stay on course for Manama. How long before we reach the harbour?’

  Ingels checked a screen. ‘Just over forty minutes.’

  Alula looked back at the video wall. The Atlantia was still powering after its sister ship, visibly gaining. ‘Hashim, bring the spearhead,’ she said. ‘The rest of you, guard the bridge. No one enters, no one leaves. If anyone tries to slow the ship, change course or use the radio, shoot them.’ Her men moved to cover the entire room.

  Al-Asim picked up the case. ‘Where are we going, Your Majesty?’

  ‘The vault,’ she replied. ‘If we lock the spearhead inside, nobody can interfere with it. Captain, you will open it for me.’

  Ingels nodded reluctantly. Al-Asim ordered his agents to watch the crew, then followed Alula and the captain from the bridge.

  There had been no reply to Nina’s message, nor had the Pacifia changed speed or course. The Atlantia charged after it, the gap steadily closing. Ten miles, five, less . . .

  ‘Will the US base be able to hear us yet?’ Nina asked, looking past the other liner at the Bahraini shoreline.

  ‘I don’t know,’ the captain replied. ‘We’re still fifteen miles out. But they’ll know something’s wrong. Pacifia wasn’t scheduled to stop in Bahrain for another three days.’

  Eddie picked up the binoculars. The busy harbour mouth was becoming visible on the horizon, long breakwaters and piers stretching out into the shallows. Inland, a small forest of gleaming skyscrapers stood above the capital’s sprawl. ‘We’ve got to keep trying. They might be able to get a special forces team on to the ship by chopper—’

  He broke off as a new voice came over the radio – an American man. The words were muffled, the transmitter in Bahrain using brute force to overpower the jamming, but clear enough to make out. ‘Approaching Dhajani cruise liners, this is Naval Support Activity Bahrain. You are making an unscheduled and unauthorised approach to Bahraini waters and a United States naval facility. Stop your engines and await further orders. I repeat, Atlantia, Pacifia, you are making an unauthorised approach to a US naval base. Stop your engines immediately.’

  ‘NSA Bahrain, this is Atlantia,’ Snowcock replied. ‘I have the Emir of Dhajan with me. Please stand by.’ He gave the handset to Fadil. ‘Your Majesty.’

  The monarch composed himself, then spoke. ‘This is the Emir of Dhajan. My country has suffered an attempted coup d’état, and the lead conspirators are aboard the Pacifia. As an ally of the United States, I am asking for your help to stop them.’

  A pause, then the voice returned. ‘Atlantia, I repeat: stop your engines immediately and await further orders.’

  ‘I am the Emir of Dhajan!’ Fadil repeated, frustrated. ‘Let me speak to your superior officer!’

  ‘I don’t think they believe you,’ said Eddie.

  ‘I’ll get their attention,’ said Nina, grabbing the handset. ‘NSA Bahrain, the Pacifia has been hijacked with ten thousand innocent people aboard, and there’s a bomb on it big enough to take out your base and a lot more besides. It’s not going to stop – and since we’re the only ship that can catch it before it reaches you, nor are we. Got that?’

  The pause before the naval officer replied was longer this time, and when he did resume, his tone was harder. ‘Atlantia, Pacifia, if you do not stop immediately, we will sink you.’

  Nina looked at Eddie, aghast. ‘That went well,’ he said.

  ‘Why won’t they listen to me?’ the Emir asked.

  ‘They won’t believe you’re the Emir without proof, which means stopping the ship and letting them board,’ said Eddie. ‘And their response to a bomb threat is pretty much going to be “blow the shit out of the Pacifia”. Although will they be able to get anything out of dock in time?’

  ‘The Fifth Fleet’s stationed in Bahrain,’ Snowcock told him. ‘They could probably start up a cruiser or destroyer quickly enough to intercept.’

  ‘We’ve got to stop the Pacifia before they do, then,’ said Nina. They were closing rapidly on the other liner, passengers now visible to the naked eye on its rear decks. ‘Although . . . how?’

  ‘Ram it from behind and take out the engines,’ Eddie suggested.

  ‘That wouldn’t work,’ said Snowcock. ‘The gas turbines aren’t right at the stern like an old steamship. And even if we caused enough damage to shut them down, the azipods can still run off battery power. Ramming it would kill hundreds of people for nothing.’

  Lobato gazed nervously at the ever-nearing glass spires of Manama. ‘Even if we stop the ship, if the spearhead explodes, we are close enough to Bahrain that the blast would destroy i
t.’

  ‘Then we’ve got to get the spearhead itself,’ said Nina. Her gaze danced over the other liner, fixing on its stern. ‘The marina! We could put the spearhead in a speedboat and send it out into the Gulf!’ She indicated the empty horizon to the north-east, beyond which was nothing but open water for a hundred miles until the shores of Iran.

  ‘All well and good,’ said Eddie, ‘but first we’ve got to get the spearhead – which Alula’s not going to just hand over. And there’s the slight problem that it’s on that ship,’ he indicated the Pacifia, ‘and we’re on this ship.’

  ‘So we get from this ship to that ship. Somehow.’ The silence that followed almost made her expect a cricket to chirp. ‘I’m open to suggestions?’

  ‘We’re less laden than the Pacifia, so we’re higher in the water,’ Snowcock offered. ‘If we came right alongside, someone could jump from our top deck down to theirs.’

  Eddie regarded the approaching ship. At a casual glance, the liner’s side appeared to be a flat wall, but on closer inspection, all manner of extensions jutted from it – balconies, viewing lounges, lifeboats, to say nothing of the twin of the room in which they were standing. ‘Won’t the wing bridge be sliced off if you get that close?’

  ‘Not if I’m careful – and since I’ll have to be in it, I’ll be very careful! The best place to jump from would be the promenade.’ The captain turned to point out a long, sweeping protrusion from the uppermost deck about halfway down the Atlantia’s length. ‘There’s an emergency evacuation gantry. You’ll be able to jump straight on to the sun deck.’

  ‘Get someone to show us there,’ said Nina.

  Eddie eyed her. ‘You’re coming, are you?’

  ‘Don’t even start, you know I am. Captain,’ she went on to Snowcock, ‘the more people we have with us, the better our chances. Will any of your crew be willing to volunteer?’

  ‘I’ll put out a call,’ he replied.

  ‘I will come too,’ said Junayd as Snowcock began an announcement over the public address system.

  ‘No!’ protested Fadil. ‘Mamun, you are retired!’

  ‘I will never be too old to do my duty – or protect my Emir,’ the old man replied. ‘Stay well, al’amir alshabu.’ The monarch was about to object further, but then gave a reluctant nod.

  The Pacifia was now only a few ship lengths ahead, the nineteen-knot speed difference eating away at the gap by ten metres every second. ‘We need to go,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Wait,’ said the Emir as they turned to leave. ‘My access code – the real one. It will let you into all of the Pacifia’s systems.’

  ‘You wouldn’t give it to your own sister, but you’re giving it to us?’ said Eddie.

  ‘A secret is worthless if it is not used when it is most needed. The code is nine-three-seven-six-four-four.’

  Nina repeated it. ‘Thank you.’ She and Eddie hurried into the wrecked main bridge, Junayd and Rakin following.

  They quickly made their way to the top deck. Four officers, including Dimakos, and several crewmen were waiting. ‘You need our help?’ said one of the officers, a burly young Australian man whose name badge read Rignall.

  ‘We need to get across to the Pacifia,’ Eddie told the group, getting disbelieving looks in return. ‘The captain said there’s an emergency gantry on this deck?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. This way.’ Everyone hurried aft.

  The Atlantia pulled out to overtake its twin on its port side. It drew closer, the passengers on the exterior decks beginning to realise from the damage to its bridge and bow that this was no publicity stunt. People retreated indoors, the exodus speeding up as it became obvious that the other liner intended to get very close indeed.

  Alula and al-Asim emerged from the Pacifia’s vault, waiting for Ingels to use his access code to close and lock the heavy steel door before climbing the stairs and entering the exhibition hall. Unlike the Atlantis exhibit aboard its sister ship, this was a display of Picasso’s artworks. Alula gave the priceless display a dismissive sneer – Western degeneracy! – then headed into the passageway outside.

  It was immediately clear that something had happened. Several passengers ran past them towards the front of the ship, worried voices echoing through the luxurious halls. ‘What’s going on?’ al-Asim asked.

  ‘The Atlantia must be catching up,’ said Alula.

  ‘But why are they so worried?’ A frightening possibility occurred to the security officer. ‘Are they going to ram us?’

  ‘Fadil would never allow it,’ she replied, but there was a definite sense of fear rising around them. ‘We have to get to the bridge. Quickly!’

  They hurried up the hallway – then halted in astonishment as they reached one of the 3-D video walls. ‘My God!’ cried Ingels. The screen showed the view outside the ship . . . which was mostly obscured by the shell-ravaged Atlantia drawing alongside.

  Alula stared at the jaw-dropping image, then broke into a run. ‘We’ve got to stop them! Move!’ One hand on his hidden gun to force the captain onwards, Al-Asim sprinted after her.

  45

  Snowcock realised he was holding his breath as he guided his ship alongside the Pacifia. The leading liner’s roiling wake meant he had to make constant tiny course adjustments to maintain the gap. One mistake, and the wing bridge would be mashed flat against the other ship’s side . . .

  ‘Your Majesty,’ he said to the Emir, ‘you should get to a safer place.’

  ‘I must admit, the thought had occurred to me,’ the Dhajani replied. ‘Gideon?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Lobato quickly agreed. He limped up the steps.

  The crewmen helped the Emir after him. ‘Captain,’ Fadil said, pausing, ‘thank you – and good luck. I will make sure you are honoured for your bravery.’

  ‘I just hope I’m there to appreciate it,’ Snowcock replied with a brief smile. The Emir returned it, then departed.

  The captain returned his full attention to the task at hand. The Pacifia’s stern slid past, the holidaymakers who had been sunbathing and swimming now fleeing as the battered juggernaut relentlessly closed in.

  Alula waited for Ingels to open the bridge door, then rushed in and hurried to the port wing. Al-Asim followed.

  She looked back down the Pacifia’s length at its twin. What was her brother doing? Trying to stop the spearhead from reaching Bahrain by crashing the two ships into each other?

  No, she decided. Doing that would kill hundreds of passengers. Even with far more lives at stake, he was too weak to make such a decision. So did he mean to overtake her liner and block its path?

  That would also result in deaths – she was more than willing to ram anything that tried to stop her, and he would know that. Which left . . .

  ‘They’re going to board us!’ she realised. ‘Send the men to the top deck – and kill anyone who tries to jump over!’

  Al-Asim ran back into the main bridge, issuing orders. Six of his team rushed for the exit, one staying with him to guard the crew.

  ‘Here’s the gantry,’ said Rignall. The promenade deck curved outwards amidships over the liner’s side around a swimming pool and wet bar. At its outer edge, behind a gate in the tall glass windbreak panels enclosing the deck, was a white-painted piece of equipment resembling a crane’s jib. ‘It’s for lowering people to the water if they can’t reach the lifeboats,’ the Australian went on as he unlocked the barrier, ‘but I’m guessing we’re not going all the way down?’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Nina. The Pacifia’s upper deck was about twelve feet below. Snowcock was holding steady on a parallel course that seemed terrifyingly close to the second liner.

  Rignall worked a control panel. Warning lights flashed, the gantry starting to swing outwards. Eddie watched the approaching ship. ‘We’ll reach it in about thirty seconds,’ he said. ‘Everyone get ready.’

  ‘We can jump down by the basketball court,’ said the Australian, pointing to the rear of the Pacifia’s top deck, where a blue rectangle stood o
ut against the pale teak. ‘I’ll go first.’

  The gantry stopped, extending perpendicular to the deck’s edge. Rignall locked it in place, then held the single handrail and carefully walked out along the metal grillework floor.

  Eddie took up position on the gantry’s base. The Atlantia’s side dropped vertiginously away below. The ship was riding more heavily as it crashed through the other liner’s bow wave, rolling him out above the water before swinging sickeningly back.

  The other vessel’s upper deck was clearing in a hurry as the sunbathing passengers realised the very real danger of over half a million tons of metal colliding. But then he saw people running against the tide, black-clad figures racing towards the stern—

  ‘Get back!’ he shouted to Rignall. ‘They’re going to shoot!’

  Full-auto gunfire erupted from the Pacifia’s deck. At this range, the Glock 18s of Alula’s security detail were not especially accurate – but firing twenty rounds per second, they didn’t need to be.

  Bullets sprayed up at the gantry, shattering the glass panels. Nina and the two Dhajani soldiers dropped at the Englishman’s warning, but others were not so quick. A bloody chunk of flesh exploded from an officer’s arm, a crewman clutching at his neck as a round ripped through his trapezius muscle. Another man’s face was slashed by flying glass.

  Rignall, exposed on the gantry, had nowhere to hide. A bullet smashed his left shin as he ran back towards the deck, and he fell screaming over the gantry’s side—

  His momentum saved him from a long plunge into the seething sea. Ranks of cabin balconies lay below, and he landed hard on one three decks down, demolishing its table and chairs.

  ‘Jesus!’ Eddie gasped, braving the gunfire to look down. ‘He fell back on the ship!’ He couldn’t see the other man directly, but a smear of bright blood on a white railing told him where he had ended up.

  The firing stopped, the Dhajanis having exhausted their magazines – but they would quickly reload. ‘Is he alive?’ Nina asked.

  ‘He got shot and fell thirty feet, so if he is, he’ll be fucked up. We can’t get across this way; they’ll cut us to fucking pieces.’