Thankfully in his briefing, Andrei had omitted the fact that Dan was currently wanted by Interpol for murder, and Heather was glad of it. They'd exchanged a knowing look when Andrei brushed over their assessment of how Dan had come to be on board the ship and their own personal connection to him. The fact that Dan was an ex-military man, and an SAS trooper to boot, held enough sway with his military brothers to ignore the gritty details and spur them into action.
As the marines prepared to launch the ribs, Captain Ross stepped away from the edge and took Heather by the arm, leading her like a schoolgirl back towards the confines of the bridge. Heather's anger boiled over at his treatment and she ripped her arm away and planted her feet.
"How dare you! Get your hands off me! There is a British citizen aboard that ship and...and...he's..."
The frustration at her helplessness and the anger that surged through her was almost too much for Heather and she became lost for words, impotently pointing at the fishing ship just off to their port side and almost within spitting distance, with her mouth moving but nothing making any kind of sense coming out of it.
Seeing Dan on the deck of the ship, fighting for his life and smothered in blood had been a shock to say the least.
It was then that Andrei appeared and took her in his arms to console her as she sobbed uncontrollably.
"I think, Captain, what she is trying to say is that she is very concerned for Daniel Harpur. Your marines are aware of his appearance?"
"Yes, Agent Sousa, my men have been suitably briefed. A man with an eye patch will not be too hard to spot."
Captain Ross turned away when Heather looked at him, tears streaming down her face anew at the mention of Dan, but after a few steps he stopped and turn back.
"Once the marines are aboard I will send the chopper to assist as an eye-in-the-sky for them. It will be circling at a safe distance this time. Maybe you and Miss Walsh would like to go with them, purely from an evidential point of view? You may spot something of value from up there which could be relayed to the team on the ground."
Andrei quickly answered for them both.
"Yes, that would be helpful."
"The marines are a professional bunch, Miss Walsh. If Harpur keeps his head down until they complete their work then his safety shouldn't be a problem."
"That's what concerns us, captain. Harpur tends not to keep his head down. Quite the opposite in fact."
# # #
Bullets burst through the rough barricade that Dan had erected as he fumbled with the multitude of knobs and buttons on the control panel. He had no idea how to even power the engines never mind direct the ship back to land and, to be honest, with the Royal Navy now so close beside them he didn't think moving it would in any way be helpful.
Another volley of bullets ripped into the furniture piled at the door and Dan dived behind the control panel for cover. He lifted the AK-47 and checked the magazine; only a handful of rounds were left. Dan reached over and fired once through a small gap in the furniture and into the door where he could hear heated conversation on the other side. Silence followed.
The silence continued to the point where Dan became concerned. What were they up to now, and how the hell was he going to get out of this fix? He took the opportunity to peer out through the glass frontage of the wheelhouse and was greeted with the wonderful sight of a Royal Marine, clambering over the edge of the ship and taking cover. Others followed closely behind, spreading out into an effective fighting circle. The navy would undoubtedly hand Dan over to the authorities if he survived, but he supposed it would at least be a better fate than dying at the hands of gangsters.
Sporadic gunfire erupted from the far side of the ship, pinning the marines down where they landed. Then a second front opened up from the stern and the marines began taking casualties.
Quietly, Dan crept up to the barricade and peered through a few of the larger holes created in the almost disintegrated door. No-one was there. He shoved the furniture to the side and cautiously made his way out.
Two bodies lay at his feet. One close to the door, with a hole in his chest large enough to fit your fist through, and the other at the base of the staircase still lying where it fell.
Dan shouldered the rifle and cautiously edged forward, heading for the stern, trying to find a way to distract one of the groups of shooters harassing the marines.
# # #
Sergeant Sean Merrill had seen action many times before. He was the first of his men to board La Mujer Codiciosa and he fully intended being the last to return to HMS Mersey, alive or dead. It's not that he had a death wish, nothing of the sort in fact. He was just an old fashioned soldier doing things that he would never ask anyone else to do for him.
Listening to the brief given by the Interpol Agent, along with his attractive but emotional female companion, Sean had been gob-smacked to learn that his old buddy Dan Harpur was the prisoner they were referring to. Could it really be him? How many ex-SAS Troopers would share that name and description? An eye patch was a new addition for Harpur, but it had been quite a few years since he'd served with him and, knowing that mad bastard Irishman, there was an interesting story behind it.
Rounds ricocheted off the metal deck and fittings, dangerously close to Sean and his team. Holding their position against two attacking fronts was costing them dearly and if his attackers had any wit, or were remotely organised, Sean and his small team would be done for within minutes. From his initial assessment however, Sean's experienced eye could see that the bad guys had failed to dominate the high ground on the second level of deck which looked over the main body of the ship. If Sean could get at a team up there, then only a few shooters could suppress the whole lower deck, containing those on board until reinforcements arrived.
Decision made, and with a flick of his wrist to point at the upper deck, Sean indicated for the first of his fire teams to advance. He would remain with the wounded and defend their landing point. Once the upper deck was secured, Sean would lead the advance to secure the rest of the ship.
He sneaked a look over the top of the barrel he was hiding behind towards the threat from the stern. Muzzles flashed in unison but few of the bullets aimed at them hit their intended targets. The fools weren't shooting with accuracy of any sort, merely blasting all they had, gangster style, from one end of the ship to the other. His men had been unlucky to get hit with opposition like that, but a stray bullet in the gut from any gun would still be enough to spoil your day.
Just before he turned away to tend to the wounded, he watched as a figure appeared and moved stealthily from cover amidships. Sean took aim with his rifle, placing the crosshairs of the sights on this new and exposed threat, fully intent on increasing his kill tally and revenging his men with this easy target.
To his shock, Sean recognised the figure. He had a heavy growth of beard, a patch over one eye and a face that was battered and bruised. The clothes he wore were covered in a heavy splattering of blood. Sean recognised him nonetheless, and he smiled to himself. Harpur hadn't changed one bit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
There were three men firing recklessly from the stern of the ship towards the small group of marines near the bow. They were packed tightly behind the crane where Dan had been and each took turns to pop up from cover to unleash a burst of automatic fire before ducking back down to safety.
Dan watched them for a while from behind the door. If it wasn't such a serious situation he would have laughed out loud. None of them paused, even for an instant, to take aim. For a second Dan considered moving to the other side of the ship to assess the second group, wondering if they would pose a more serious threat than the clowns he was currently observing. But then he thought of the marines already hit, maybe dead or wounded, and remembered that any fool can fire a gun and even fired badly, every bullet was lethal.
Also, these same men, not long ago, were betting on Lucas as he fought for his life, killed two former friends and then tried to kill Dan himself. T
hey weren't men at all. They were scum; criminals and gangsters living a life where they took what they wanted and to hell with the consequences.
Dan decided to show them exactly what automatic gunfire was designed for.
Waiting until all three were crouched down, Dan opened the door and crept low along the edge of the ship. Stepping around the side of the crane, he pointed his muzzle at the tightly confined trio. Hands flew up, with and without weapons, a surprised look of horror written on their faces.
He pulled the trigger.
The four or five rounds he had left exited the assault rifle in rapid succession and ripped into them from almost point blank range. After maybe two seconds, all three lay dead in a heap of blood and guts, the powerful 7.62mm rounds cutting through flesh and bone like a knife through butter. That was effective automatic gunfire.
Dan knelt down beside the bodies, dumped his now spent AK47 and searched for a new weapon to use. As he looked he could hear whimpering from a short distance away where a pile of crates had been stacked up at the rear of the wheelhouse. Scanning for its source, Dan could see a pair of feet sticking out from behind the crates. They were tanned with well-manicured nails painted a dark shade of red. He knew exactly who they belonged to.
As he continued his search the sound of whimpering was drowned out by renewed gunfire from the opposite side of the ship, with maybe some opposing gunfire coming from the deck above, and then the growing background noise of a chopper circling high above. It reminded Dan of battlefields he'd once been on.
He came out empty-handed from his search of the gunmen and their weapons, it seemed the pause in their shooting was not by personal choice, but because they had already expended all their ammunition. The thought that Dan had killed them unarmed and defenceless ran through his mind briefly, but he felt no guilt or remorse at the fact. They were killers, trying to kill. They'd only got what they deserved.
For a moment, Dan glanced up at the circling helicopter as it passed overhead. It was making a hard target of itself for any who fancied taking a shot. The door gunner sat menacingly behind a GPMG heavy machine gun, swinging it to and fro without firing. He imagined the fighting on deck was so confined that no easy target had presented itself, but Dan could have sworn, as the chopper whizzed around and behind him out of view, that he caught a glimpse of long red hair set against a pale-skinned face peeking out through the open side door behind the gunner.
"Fucking, Harpur! This is all your fault!"
Dan ripped his eyes away from the chopper and looked up to see Antonio Correia. He was a few metres away standing next to the crates, holding the woman in the bikini with the painted red toes.
He had one arm clasped tightly around her neck, holding her in front of him like a shield, and in the other he held a fancy silver pistol. He was pressing the pistol against her head and swinging the pair of them wildly around as marines emerged from every corner of the ship, with rifles trained on him. It was only then that Dan noticed the shooting had stopped and only the noise of the chopper and the whimpering woman remained.
Dan rose slowly to his feet, arms raised.
"It's over. Just lay down your weapon and..."
"Never!"
Time slowed as Dan watched Correia point the pistol towards him and pull the trigger. A bright flash rushed out from the silver barrel and Dan felt a thump on his shoulder. He didn't feel pain immediately or associate the thump with getting shot and had time to watch as Correia's face exploded and blood sprayed all over the semi-naked woman who screamed and danced a funny looking jig on the spot.
Dan staggered when the pain eventually hit. He raised a hand to his chest and pulled it away; it was covered in blood of his own. His head slowly became lighter and his knees grew weak, but before he collapsed he could swear he saw the face of someone he knew. He couldn't put a name to it, but the face was smiling and a familiar voice spoke to him.
"Danny Boy! I'm saving your sorry ass again, after all these years! And look at your fancy eye patch. You'll be buying drinks over this one mate!"
# # #
Heather watched as the firefight on board La Mujer Codiciosa came to an end and the only movement left on the deck was the odd spectacle of a woman in a bikini, hopping around from foot to foot. Unlike the others on board the helicopter, with the exception of Andrei, she didn't find the sight in any way amusing.
With her heart in her mouth, Heather had watched the final moments of the action when Dan had been shot. She watched him fall and then the gunman himself was horribly killed, causing the woman to begin her dance.
The helicopter turned away then, cutting off her view and she never caught sight of what happened to Dan. No matter how much she protested, the pilot would not turn back around and Heather was fraught with worry as they made their way back to HMS Mersey.
Once landed, she ran as fast as she could to the bridge where she knew Captain Ross would be receiving the latest and most up to date information. As if expecting her, the captain met her at the door and greeted her with a grim look on his face.
"I watched Dan get shot! Is he OK?"
"A lot of people have been shot, Miss Harpur, including men under my command! I won't know the full extent of what has happened until Sergeant Merrill returns and is debriefed."
"But is he alive?!"
"I don't know! It's a mess over there. I hope the seizure of this ship was worth it to you."
He turned away from her to oversee the myriad of tasks that demanded his attention and Heather stood in the doorway dumbfounded.
Andrei caught up with her then and lead her away from the bustle of the bridge to a quiet spot overlooking La Mujer Codiciosa. They stood in silence for a while watching the comings and goings aboard the ship and Heather strained her eyes every time she saw someone looking remotely like Dan, but there was too much going on to be sure of seeing him.
Medics boarded the ship and the helicopter flew a few more sorties to and fro, ferrying casualties onto HMS Mersey. Heather prayed that one of them would be Dan.
Andrei had mostly remained silent since witnessing the battle. Heather wondered what he was thinking and whether he had witnessed anything other than she had.
"Did you see him?"
"I did. I'm sure he will be fine, Heather. Don't worry."
"I hope so. I didn't realise how much I..I..love him."
Andrei smiled, but she could see that behind the smile his eyes looked worried.
"What happens now then?"
Glad of the change in subject, Andrei lightened and the excitement grew in his voice. He put an arm around her shoulders, and hugged her. His excitement almost rubbed off and, for a second, she even smiled.
"Well, searches of Correia's headquarters in downtown Fortaleza are already underway and, fingers crossed, they'll come up trumps. Interpol couldn't have done this without you, Heather. Your work here at the reserve was second to none. The future of this reserve and the open ocean in general is in a much better place after today. I'm not sure if you know it but I recognised Antonio Correia as the man who shot Dan and...well...you saw what happened to him. With luck his empire will end in much the same manner."
"I hope you're right, Andrei. I hope you're right."
# # #
Amongst the wounded marines on board the chopper, Dan was just another casualty. He'd been shot in the shoulder - a flesh wound only. The medic had assured him that the bullet passed through without hitting anything major. It hurt like hell, but the pain of it was dulled by the ache in his heart when he saw Heather in an embrace and casually smiling with the Interpol agent.
Physical pain flared up again when Sean Merrill punched him on the 'good' shoulder.
"She's a looker! I'll give you that, Danny. What the fuck she's doing with you, I don't know!"
"She's not with me, Sean. At least, I don't think she is."
"Hard to tell with those good-looking types. She did seem a wee bit concerned about you earlier though."
"Conce
rned? You were concerned about me, Sean! She doesn't seem too bothered right now."
Both men glanced down to the deck of HMS Mersey were Heather and Andrei Sousa stood deep in conversation. Dan let out a sigh. His friend took note of his anguish and stopped with the joking.
"So, how did you end up with that lot?"
Sean nodded back towards the carnage on board La Mujer Codiciosa, where Dan knew he came within a few inches of dying if it wasn't for the timely appearance of his old friend.
"It's a long story, mate. But when we get back I'll probably be arrested and locked up for a long time, so you might not get to hear it."
"As bad as all that, ehh?"
"I've done a few things that are about to catch up with me. I'd say that Interpol agent will have me in cuffs, just as soon as he's finished with Heather."
"Sounds like an interesting story. I'd love to hear it. Nothing too illegal I hope?"
"Depends on how you look at it. Nothing you, or any of the old team wouldn't have done yourselves."
Dan raised an eyebrow at the marine sergeant who smiled back at him.
"What if you don't make it back?"
"What do you mean? We're about to land on a Royal Navy ship and we're miles out to sea. Escape isn't looking likely, Sean."
"Who said anything about escape?"
# # #
"Let's just be clear about this Sergeant Merrill. Are you telling me that Daniel Harpur has just disappeared?"
Heather Walsh simply couldn't believe her ears as she stood in the bridge during the debrief of the leader of the marine team. How could Dan be missing? And mortally wounded! Heather sat down on the edge of the table and buried her head in her hands. This was all her fault.
"Yes, Sir."
"We all know that that is impossible, sergeant! Explain."
"Well, sir. After I witnessed Harpur getting shot, and whilst I was dealing with the more immediate threat posed by the gunman who shot him, Harpur disappeared. I have questioned my men, but due the ongoing situation none of them can say exactly what happened. I can only assume he is in hiding somewhere on board that vessel, or he's jumped overboard. Either way I think we could assume he is dead by now. The gunshot wound he received looked to be a bad one, it was bleeding heavily."
The Dead Sea Page 12