Boring quickly with the fighting, Correia had encouraged him to ever more extravagant uses of the weapon, and in the end, Dan thought Lucas to be relishing in his new gladiatorial role; rather than fearing the inevitable conclusion when he ran out of opponents.
With ever more shots of vodka fuelling Correia, he whooped and roared as blood, sweat and guts covered the ships open deck.
Dan's mind raced with thoughts of escape. He was now securely strapped to a chair, Correia beside him and a ship full of gangsters toting automatic weapons and vodka loitered all around. Nothing but open ocean surrounded them, the odd distant ship just a pinprick on the horizon. His chances looked bleak.
For obvious reasons, he had not seen or heard from Heather since his abduction and was worried that she may have come to even worse harm than he was about to at the hands of the mobsters. Would the Interpol agent have kept her safe? Could he have done a better job than Dan? Probably. But it didn't stop him from worrying about her, and it didn't stop his heart from aching at the thought of her. Did these animals have her locked up somewhere on this very ship? Was Correia waiting until he was bored with the fighting before he brought her out to cut her throat? He prayed that she would be safe and well, but couldn't help himself from asking.
Dan hadn't spoken a word since his capture, not that he'd been asked to, but what did he have to lose?
"Do you have Heather Walsh here also?"
Correia looked at him with mild surprise on his face and then smiled broadly.
"Ahh, he has a tongue! You are about to fight the very impressive Lucas Machado to the death, Daniel Harpur, and your only concern is for the whale woman? You are a strange man indeed!"
Dan's eyes flicked back to the crowd as a load cheer erupted. Lucas was pulling up a chair and drinking thirstily from a large glass of water handed to him by one of the mobsters, along with a pat on the back and a stream of coarse guttural Portugese. He waved a roll of bank notes in Lucas's face, indicating his earnings on the fight.
Correia's eyes followed his own, and he played with the empty glass in his hand as they watched the drunkard mimic Lucas's final punches. The crowd egged him on like he was the mid-game entertainment.
"You are his enemy?"
"No."
"She is his enemy?"
"In a way, yes."
Correia grabbed a handful of Dan's hair and pulled him close. He flipped over his eye-patch and examined the scarring behind it.
"You have caused me much trouble, Daniel Harpur, but for some reason I like you. If you win your fight, I will let you see her one last time. If you die, then you will never see her again and you will never know what will happen to her. The choice is yours."
He let go of Dan and got up to retrieve the knife from where it lay on the deck a short distance away, still warm with the blood of its latest victim. Testing the edge was sharp, he used it to cut the bonds on Dan's arms and legs.
Dan stretched and rubbed life back into his limbs as Correia strode back into the centre of the impromptu fighting circle, knife still in hand. He waved it casually in the air, pointing at the space and the people within it as he spoke to Dan. A respectful silence fell over the crowd as they strained to hear what he had to say.
"For the finale we will make a deal. You kill him, she lives. He kills you, she dies."
Then with a theatrical wave of the knife he turned to face Lucas and continued.
"But...just to be fair...If you win, I will not have your family killed and you will also see them one last time."
With the crowd in an uproar of approval and vast quantities of money beginning to change hands, Correia sauntered back to his seat and the waiting beauty, mumbling something about growing soft in his old age.
Lucas limped into the centre of the circle and stood waiting; a grim determination now spread across his face. Dan loosened his neck and stretched his arms as he approached, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on those of his opponent. As he neared, the immense size and strength of Lucas was ever more apparent. Still warm and fresh from the first three fights, a light sheen of sweat glistened on his huge muscles, accentuating every detail. Every trick and technique Dan could remember ever being taught about hand-to-hand combat, raced around his head; useless in the face of such a monster.
As they waited for the signal from Correia for the fight to begin, the noise grew with the sound of the mobsters betting frantically, either for or against the new contender. Hands grabbed at him, feeling for muscle, assessing his weaknesses and slapping him hard to evoke enough fighting spirit to bet their money on.
Dan slowed his breathing, ignored the excited crowd, and focused all of his attention on the next few minutes. Speed and accuracy would be his only advantage against a man like this. Lucas was fast for his size, but Dan would have to be faster, merciless, and willing to kill. He was ready.
The woman approached the two men, and the crowd stilled in anticipation. She circled them both, hands actively pawing over them, her face a picture of pure delight as she teased and caressed the barely contained violence ready to burst out from the bodies of the fighters. She hung her arms around Dan's neck, lazily swinging in front of him and rubbing her body tight against him. Then she quietly whispered in his ear, loud enough so only he could hear.
"Kill him."
As she spoke these words, her hands reached down to his waist and slipped the knife she carried, into the gap between the small of his back and his trousers. The blade was short and thick, and Dan could feel the warm, sticky blood that coated it rub against his skin as it came to rest.
This would be the edge that Dan had prayed for. He couldn't hesitate. Lucas would kill him without doubt. Dan must be willing to do the same, but sooner.
Lucas would be expecting a slow start, a hesitant opponent, fearful of a punch or a strike from the much larger and stronger man. He would want one last chance to see his family, just as much as Dan wanted to see Heather. Now all that mattered was who wanted it the most.
As she moved away he heard her shout out to the crowd.
"Fight!"
Her voice still echoed in his ears as Dan lunged forward, pulling the knife out from behind him and plunging it deep into Lucas's chest. He aimed for the heart, but the blade caught on a rib, and as the two men collided, Lucas stepped ever so slightly to the side, deflecting the full force of the blow and pushing Dan away with a grunt. On seeing the knife in his hand and the wound to their champion's body, the spectators angered, and as he fell backwards into the men at the far side of the tight fighting circle they had formed, blow after blow struck Dan on the head and body.
Above the ruckus, Dan heard the shouts of Correia as he ploughed into the quickly collapsing circle of men and beat them back into an orderly formation. Dan clambered to his feet, knife now bloodied but still in his hand, and assessed his opponent. Lucas appeared to be in shock, pressing a hand to the hole in his chest and assessing the dark red blood that flowed from the small puncture wound.
Without hesitation Dan jumped forward again, and with a roar, powered the blade into Lucas's good leg. He kept low and away from his grasping hands. In one fluid movement he slipped around and behind Lucas, catching his weak and injured leg with his own and pulling hard, whilst pushing his top half forward. Losing all balance, Lucas crashed to the floor.
Dan then leapt on top of him and drove the knife into his head. It entered the skull at the back, near the bottom, and Dan pushed it hard, working the blade left and right until the hilt hit bone and would go no further.
After the thrashing body stilled, the deck was drenched with blood.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Westland Merlin helicopter in which they travelled flew low and fast over the water as Heather and Andrei sped their way in a north westerly direction to meet up with HMS Mersey.
Heather looked out through the small round window behind her seat and recognised some of the features of the coastline that would have placed the chopper in roughly the same positio
n in the Pedra da Risca do Meio Marine Reserve where she had first laid eyes on the pirate ship La Mujer Codiciosa. The memory both depressed and excited her equally.
It was not the only ship to be fishing illegally, she knew that, but it was a symbol, a glaring beacon to all those who saw her that said, "I will do what I want, when I want, and to hell with the consequences." There was more to it than just fishing, or whales, or turtles. This was a universal problem, a common character trait that separated humans from the rest of the animal kingdom - greed. She alone could never fix it, but this small token, this one ship, would be a start.
If they could catch her and display all those on board to the world as criminals, ravaging the sea unlicensed and unchecked, openly flouting international law and decimating untargeted endangered species innocently caught up in her nets, well that would be more than she could ever hope for.
Andrei shuffled in his seat next to her and lightly tapped her leg to grab her attention over the noise of the speeding chopper. He pointed two fingers towards his eyes and then the same two fingers out of the window and over the water beneath them. Her own eyes followed his directions and she could just make out two small dots on the horizon. She kept them in view as they raced steadily towards the leftmost dot. Slowly, the dot grew in size and Heather began picking out features that she recognized.
After only a few minutes, La Mujer Codiciosa was in plain sight before them and the pilot of the helicopter circled twice around her, allowing Heather and Andrei a bird's-eye view of their target.
She was big and grey, with rust prominent in many places. Her fishing gear hung lifeless over the sides, clearly not in use, and she rode high in the water indicating an empty hold. These things came as no surprise to Heather. At this time of day they weren't expecting illegal fishing to be carried out so blatantly. What did come as a surprise was what was happening on deck.
At first she couldn't take it in. She was unable to understand the activity or identify those involved in it. But as the Merlin swooped up on the ship and circled, it caught those on board by surprise. So engrossed were they in what they were doing that every face simply stared up at the helicopter, slack-jawed and stupefied.
A crowd was gathered on the open deck, forming a tight circle. At the centre of it, stood a lone figure that she recognised in an instant. He was standing over the body of another. Blood pooled around his feet and slowly spread across the deck as Dan Harpur looked up at her.
Bright yellow and white flashes sporadically erupted from the crowd and Heather could hear Andrei shouting something in her ear about gunfire, but she wasn't listening. This small moment in time had frozen and her eyes drank in the sight of the man she thought to be dead.
She twisted and turned in her seat, struggling to keep eyes on Dan as the pilot banked hard to the right. He flew them away from La Mujer Codiciosa, towards the imposing bulk of HMS Mersey.
# # #
The arrival of the chopper was exactly the distraction that Dan needed. All eyes were off him and looking up. Although, it was only the introduction of gunfire that forced him to focus, dragging his mind from Heather, who he was watching high up in the helicopter above, safe and sound.
Dan had no specific plan in mind. What he and Lucas had decided upon earlier had been basic and crude - get out of the room they were locked in, kill anyone who got in their way and make for the wheelhouse. Once there, Lucas could get them back to dry land, if they could fend off everybody else on the ship for long enough.
Now that he'd seen the firepower on the deck and the amount of gangsters involved, the plan was pathetic and completely impossible. But it was all he had, and bar jumping over the side into shark infested waters where he would be a sitting duck for the crew to fire upon and would likely drown if the sharks or bullets didn't get to him first, Dan had to run with it. Lucas was no help to him now, but the arrival of a Royal Navy chopper with Heather Walsh on board was definitely a positive turn of events.
During his time tied to the seat, when Lucas was forced to fight, Dan had taken in the rough layout of the ship's deck, and with the help of Lucas's knowledge, orientated himself to where he was, where he needed to be and how he was going to get there. As the crowd began to split and confusion reigned for an instant, Dan shouldered through the milling mass of men.
If he were to survive for any length of time then he needed a weapon. So he made his way to the edge of the crowd, most of whom were still gawping at the fleeing chopper, firing random bursts of gunfire towards it and for the first time, along with Dan, noticing the intimidating shape of a Royal Navy Frigate running an interception course towards them.
Dan singled out a lone figure cradling an AK-47 rifle in his arms, having just fired a burst of automatic into the sky. He picked up his pace, and almost at full sprint, punched him hard on the side of the face. The gunman dropped and Dan grabbed the rifle from his arms, wrenching it free before he'd even hit the deck.
As the sounds of the chopper faded away, Dan could hear the frenzied commands of Correia. He was screaming in a high-pitched tone at his men and, although Dan couldn't understand what he was saying, he was fairly sure of its meaning when bullets began to ricochet all around him.
He dove for cover behind the body of a large crane which sat close to the rear of the ship and only a short distance from the door he was heading for, which according to Lucas, would take him into the body of the ship where he would find a stairway leading up into the wheelhouse. Lucas had assured him that the wheelhouse would be easily defendable, for a short time at least, and that it would be their best chance at escape. Now all Dan had to worry about were the dozens of heavily-armed gangsters advancing on his position and working out how to sail and then navigate the ship back to land.
He checked the rifle's magazine for rounds, of which there were about twenty left judging by its weight and his knowledge of the weapon, and flicked the selector switch back onto single fire. Ineffective bursts of five or six at one time would not last him long and considering he couldn't even see the coastline from where he crouched, he would need every round to count.
Popping up from cover, Dan took aim and dropped two advancing men who were cautiously creeping along the edge of the ship. Those behind them darted into cover themselves or ran back to the far side of the ship and out of sight. Dan used the break to make for the door, swing it open and quickly lock it behind him. There was a door on the opposite side of the wheelhouse that he knew of, but men had already reached it before he could, and all was left for him to do was fire a few rounds through it to stall them, one of which struck someone on the shoulder, while he climbed the stairs immediately to his right.
At the top, Dan was greeted with a punch to the head which sent him sprawling on his hands and knees and the rifle skidding across the floor. Before he could recover, a series of brutal kicks to his stomach sent him rolling sideways and he looked up to see a snarling face he recognised as the knife man who had attacked him twice already.
He stepped forward and raised a foot to stamp on Dan's head but as he brought it down, Dan grabbed it, shifted sideways and pushed his leg away. The knife man lost balance for a moment and Dan reached up to punch him between the legs. The blow impacted with its intended target, doubling him over and gasping for air.
Dan grabbed hold of his clothing, placed a foot on his chest and kicked him backwards down the staircase. As he tumbled and fell, Dan clambered to his feet, took a quick look to where the knife man lay crumpled, his neck at an unnatural angle to his body, before slamming the door to the staircase shut and locking himself inside the wheelhouse.
He piled anything that moved in front of it - a desk, chairs and tall metal cabinet containing maps and paperwork - hoping they would hinder those following closely behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY
"But Captain, I must go to that ship!"
Captain Ross stood coolly on the deck of HMS Mersey overlooking the preparations of the small detachment of Royal Marines under his co
mmand. He barely acknowledged Heather's presence next to him, never mind grant her wish to travel with the marines he was sending to board La Mujer Codiciosa.
"Sergeant Merrill! Make sure all your men are aware of the international rules of engagement. She may have armed hostiles on board but she is still a civilian ship."
The grizzled old sergeant in charge of the two large ribs and the twelve man marine detachment manning them, rolled his eyes and pulled a face to the nearest of his men before responding.
"Yes, Sir!"
The pirate ship was close now and the powerful ribs would catch her with ease without straying too far from the safety of HMS Mersey. The pirates on board her had not dared to fire their weapons at the much larger Royal Navy vessel and, from where she stood on the deck, Heather could no longer see anyone aboard her.
Once they had arrived and safely landed in the helicopter, Andrei and Heather were shown to the bridge where they formally met with the captain; briefing him on the history of La Mujer Codiciosa, her previous lives under various other names, and their observations of what was happening on the deck as they circled above.
The captain had been cautious at first, attempting multiple times to hail her on various maritime radio channels, to make contact with her own captain and plea with him to surrender and be boarded for inspection. When greeted with a wall of silence, he eventually gave up and gave in to the eager Royal Marine Sergeant at his side who was visibly itching to board the now runaway ship, after learning that a former soldier, that being Dan, had been abducted and was sighted aboard her.
The Dead Sea Page 11