‘You’re going to be two kilometres away?’
‘Yes. Any boat that passes in between us will snag us. That gives us quite a large catchment area.’
She thought about the concept, trying to see the operation in her mind’s eye. ‘What do we do if we get snagged?’
‘We get dragged behind the ship,’ he said, like it was obvious.
‘Yes, but. Then what?’
‘Well. We try and get the attention of someone on board.’
‘But if the ship snags the middle of the line, we’ll be a kilometre away from the back of it.’
‘Hence the reel,’ he said, raising it out of the water for her to see. ‘I reel us in, or me.’
She continued to stare at him, trying to see the plan.
‘It has to be better than just floating here together,’ he said.
She decided it was insane. But he was doing what he had done from the moment she had met him. He moved seamlessly from precarious step to precarious step with one perilous plan followed by another impossible one. This one was the craziest yet but he had pulled it out of the rubbish found on a beaten-up Somali fishing boat.
‘It’s brilliant,’ she said. ‘No, I really think it’s crazy brilliant.’
‘May I have another drink of water?’
She handed the container to him and he took a long slug before giving it back to her. He looked at the pirate vessel. The lights appeared to be the same size as they had been a few minutes earlier. He suspected they had caught up with the fishing boat.
‘If this doesn’t work out, we probably won’t see each other again,’ he said, his tone serious.
She looked into his eyes. She suspected it wasn’t the first time he had said such a thing to someone.
‘Hypothermia is as pleasant as drowning,’ he reminded her.
‘Without the panic.’
‘And you wake up in another life.’
She found a little smile. She had been so close to death so many times in the last few days it no longer had such a disabling effect. She felt sad because he was finally leaving her. She had come to rely on him completely.
‘I’ll be on the end of the line if you need me,’ he said, like he had heard her. ‘Good luck.’
He decided he was going to miss her in a way. Companionships made in these kind of circumstances were unlike any others. They had forged a bond between them. If they both were somehow to survive this, they would never forget each other.
He leaned back, looked up at the night sky and kicked his feet.
‘You too,’ she said, though he couldn’t have heard her. His hands joined in the stroke and he rode the swell as he moved away.
She never took her eyes off him. He remained visible all of the time at first, then only when he rode the peaks of the swell. Every few seconds she felt a tug on the line. Soon he had disappeared completely and she was all alone.
She looked around for signs of the pirate boat but could see none. The horizon was brightening, the sun about to emerge any moment.
She felt like she had passed through another significant porthole in her life. Maybe because she was on her own again. As she looked around her, she believed in her heart that it would be the final chapter in her story. She wasn’t going to be surrounded by a loving family like she had always imagined. It was an ending she would never have predicted.
The fishing line tugged on her harness and she smiled. She wasn’t quite alone. Not yet.
Stratton went into a zone as he lay back and kicked his legs while paddling his arms. He watched the reel slowly turning as the line paid out. He thought he might still see the girl beyond, the line showing the way before it went into the water. But she was long out of sight.
The reel still looked pretty full. With the tide and the swell he had no way of knowing how far he was from her. He amused himself with the thought of the possibility that after several hours he might even bump into her, having swum in a huge circle.
He looked to the east. The sun would be up very soon.
He dropped his head back and maintained an easy, relaxed stroke. It was a good time to think and take his mind off the problems. But as soon as he did, the same thoughts came nagging at him, the first of them being about Hopper.
He concentrated on clearing his head and focusing on his stroke as he moved easily through the water. It worked, for a while at least. He had no idea how much time had passed since he drifted off into a kind of trance. When next he looked at the reel, it was halfway empty and the sun had begun its slow rise above the horizon.
Then something else blew him out of his semi-dazed state of mind. He saw the silhouette of a vessel in the distance.
He let his feet drop below him and sat up in the water and stared at it, trying to figure out what type of craft it was and in which direction it was heading. After studying it for a good minute, he decided it wasn’t getting any smaller and was in fact growing in size, quite possibly heading towards him.
He felt a rush of adrenaline. Their first chance. He suddenly felt confident that even if they missed it there would be others. It couldn’t be much more than two or three hours since he had left the girl and a ship had already come into their vicinity.
The plan might not be as crazy as it seemed after all.
14
Stratton kept his eyes on the boat. It came on towards him. He realised he was seeing just a little more of the starboard side. Which meant it would pass by his right side, where the line stretched out towards the girl. He looked at the reel, still turning on his chest. It was about three-quarters empty.
There was a good chance the line would snag.
As the sun rose higher into the sky, Stratton could make out the shape of the superstructure. The bridge wings stuck out of the sides near the top like a stumpy crucifix. It had to be a cargo ship of some kind, a bulk carrier. Quite a large one.
He dropped his head back and paddled, deciding not to look at the boat for several minutes and just swim. Longer gaps between assessing its progress would provide a better picture.
He felt parched, not helped by the sea water that constantly splashed into his mouth. Sea water could turn a person insane before they died of thirst. If he missed this boat and all went wrong, he hoped the night cold would take him before that happened. There were so many ways to die in such a short period of time.
Another of which he was well aware of. He hadn’t overlooked the possibility that he and the girl wouldn’t be detected once they were trailing behind a snagged boat. He knew what it was like on board carriers like that. Minimal crew, and those on duty would usually be too busy to take the time to look outboard. The few people whose job it would be to look out to sea, namely those on the bridge, would concentrate forward. He hoped that this crew would be security conscious and have a lookout to the rear while transiting through hostile waters. But even then, if Stratton and the girl were being towed hundreds of metres behind the boat, they would be difficult if not impossible to see. And he wasn’t as confident as he had sounded about being able to reel them in closer. He did not expect either of them to last very long if they were being dragged. The water would constantly pass through their clothing, sucking the heat from their bodies. They could succumb to hypothermia in a short time indeed. They might also drown while being towed.
Nothing about it was going to be easy.
But he would rather die making an effort than lying around in the water doing nothing.
When he looked for the vessel again it had closed the distance a great deal more. He could make out individual windows in the superstructure. It was definitely going to cut across his path, south of him where the fishing line headed towards the girl. He checked the reel. Still a couple hundred metres of line left.
He decided to stop paddling and stay where he was. The setup looked good enough. The bulker would snag the line in the next few minutes. No one in the bridge would be able to see him unless they had a pair of binoculars trained directly on his position. He estimated that he would
be closer to the stern of the carrier than the girl would be.
He watched the oncoming vessel, counting the seconds, the life jackets tied around him, stuffed up under his chin.
He became aware of a distant hum. Engines. He took it to be coming from the oncoming cargo ship. Then he realised the bulker was too far away to produce such a sound.
He turned in the water and saw the pirate mother craft heading towards him. As he stared at it in horror, he judged that it wasn’t in fact on a direct line towards him but to the cargo ship.
Stratton looked between the two vessels to gauge their relative tracks. Both were going to cut across his line but from opposite directions.
And it looked like the pirate vessel would snag the line first. Stratton’s choices were limited indeed. He could think of two in the time he had. He could cut the line and hope the pirates didn’t see him as they pursued the bulker. But then he would be stranded. Or he could try stopping the pirate boat from snagging and take his chances from there.
Only the latter had an element of a possibility to it.
Stratton shot his arms into the air. He waved and shouted, and ripped away his sweater to reveal the bright orange life jackets beneath. He knew the Somali vessel would pass by him considerably closer than the bulker but the eyes on board would be focused on their prey. He untied the outermost life jacket, pulled it off and started waving it around in the air.
Almost immediately, the front of the pirate vessel dipped as its engines decelerated and the nose came around to aim directly at him.
He stopped shouting and watched it approach. An unqualified success, for the time being. He glanced at the cargo ship. It was still coming on. If its crew had seen the pirate vessel and were in any way suspicious, it showed no outward sign of it.
The pirate vessel slowed as it approached. Men gathered in the prow to look at him.
The engines suddenly roared as they went into reverse and the boat came to a stop a stone’s throw from him in the light swell.
The fishing line ran away from Stratton only a couple of metres in front of the boat’s path.
The Somalis had lined the side of the vessel, looking down on him. Stratton recognised one or two of them and suspected from the way they were gesticulating, that they had recognised him too. They looked surprised to see the Englishman. They appeared to be more curious than angry at the sight of him. They could afford to be.
A shout went up and passed to the back of the boat. Then a familiar-looking big man strode along the deck and stood in the prow to look down on Stratton. The tall, strongly built African wore camouflage uniform and dark sunglasses. He looked quite amused with his find. The grin didn’t last very long though.
‘Well, well, well,’ the pirate chief said in his deep voice. ‘You are a slippery fish to hold on to.’
Stratton had no immediate reply. All he could do was look at the man.
‘You have nothing to say!’ Lotto called out.
‘It’s a pleasant morning,’ Stratton called back. It felt like the right thing to say under the circumstances.
Lotto grinned again. He said something to one of his men who came forward and handed him an AK-47 assault rifle. Lotto pulled back the working parts to cock it and as he did so a round flew out of the breach but another was reloaded.
He aimed the end of the barrel at Stratton. ‘I hope you don’t mind if I don’t invite you on board,’ he said.
Stratton glanced at the bulker. It suddenly seemed miles away from the line. ‘I have a deal for you,’ he shouted, not knowing what the hell he was going to say next.
‘What can you possibly have that’s of interest to me?’ Lotto shouted back, keeping the weapon on aim.
‘Information,’ said Stratton. ‘Valuable information that could save you a lot of money.’ That was the right thing to say, Stratton thought. Lotto was all about money. Stratton tried to focus on Lotto’s trigger finger. If he could see it start to squeeze the trigger, he might be able to move enough to avoid a lethal strike.
‘I think you’re wasting my time,’ Lotto called out. ‘I have work to do.’ Lotto made the weapon more comfortable in his shoulder and narrowed the sights on Stratton again.
‘We know you’re using the ships to move drugs around the world,’ Stratton shouted. He didn’t mention he knew about the weapons. ‘You’re playing a very dangerous game.’
Lotto pulled the carbine’s trigger and the AK-47 bucked against his shoulder.
For a fraction of a second, Stratton thought he was a dead man and was stunned to find himself still alive. The round had smacked into the water close by his head. He glanced at the cargo ship. The front of it looked to be where the snag line should have been.
‘Let me explain,’ Stratton shouted. ‘It will only take a minute and then you can shoot me if you want to … Hijacking ships is one thing,’ he pressed on. ‘It affects economies only a little and is more of a nuisance than anything else—’
Lotto fired the Kalashnikov again, this time the round striking the water even closer to Stratton.
Lotto chuckled, as did his men. They knew how their master often liked to toy with victims before he killed them.
The operative couldn’t help wondering if it was best out of three. He kept up his tirade. ‘Even smuggling drugs is small in comparison. But aiding international terrorism is a big deal. It’s going to get you into a lot of trouble.’
Lotto fired for a third time. The round shredded Stratton’s life-jacket collar an inch from his neck. Lotto made a show of moving the gun a little to one side to take a better look at his target. ‘Did I hit you?’ he called out, not in the least concerned.
‘I don’t think so,’ Stratton replied with equal calm. ‘Perhaps just a nick. A good shot if you intended to aim so close.’
‘I was aiming for your ear.’
‘Not bad at all then.’
‘From your left ear. I was aiming for your right.’ Lotto laughed and came back up on aim. ‘Now unless you have anything of real importance to tell me, I need to go and catch myself a nice, fat cargo ship.’
Stratton felt a tug on his harness. The reel on his chest began to turn, slowly at first, then faster.
But he could also feel Lotto’s cold eye on him through the rifle sight, his finger tightening on the trigger. In a second he would feel the bullet smash into him.
The reel spun hard. Lotto squeezed the trigger. ‘Goodbye, Englishman. Finally.’
The reel locked. The line went taut as it stretched and Lotto fired as Stratton was jerked towards the front of the pirate boat. The bullet slapped into the water where he had been less than a second before.
Lotto looked utterly confused as he watched Stratton suddenly zoom unnaturally across the water on his front like he was Superman. The Englishman disappeared beyond the bows of the boat and Lotto hurried over to the other side. He watched open-mouthed as Stratton continued away at speed. All the Somalis joined their chief, all looking dumbstruck by the sight.
Lotto had no idea how Stratton was doing it but he couldn’t live with the man escaping once again. ‘Full speed!’ he roared. ‘After him!’
Immy floated in the vast ocean, all alone but strangely not feeling alone. She had been more isolated in the prison hut surrounded by the others, the only girl, waiting in fear for Lotto or one of the others to come and take her away and rape her. There was no danger of that where she was now.
She lay back so that she could see nothing else but the wide open sky. The waves lapped over her, swamping every now and then. But she didn’t care. She was in a zone. Alive for longer than she had expected to be. The reprieve from suicide had been somewhat emotional. It was quite something to come to the difficult decision to end your life and be determined to do it. She had become utterly convinced it was all going to be over in mere minutes. Then that character Stratton went and pulled yet another rabbit out of his hat.
She smiled at the memory of what they had done. Jumping into the sea to avoid being cap
tured, adding a few more hours to their lives. He had finally gone out of her life, after a short but significant introduction. With him went any further chance of cheating death. In a strange way, despite the circumstances, she had grown used to his company. He was assertive and considerate, particularly in the face of adversity. An attractive quality most women never got to see in a man. She wondered how many people knew him that well or had misjudged him. Few people ever got into situations that exposed their true qualities.
She felt for the line as she considered his silly plan. He was still connected to her, but she knew she would never see him again. In an odd way she was sadder for him than she was for herself. The reason for it was simple enough. He had a noble purpose, she didn’t. She could argue her case but it wasn’t convincing. She had done what she did out of fear.
She could at least be pleased with how calmly she was taking her own death. She hoped she would maintain the same level of dignity until the end. Her body was beginning to chill but not too badly. Not yet. She suspected when her temperature did start to fall, it would happen quite fast. She wondered if she should try and fall asleep. That way she might not even know when she slipped into hypothermia. On the other hand, there was something wrong about spending your last hour or so on this earth asleep if you could help doing otherwise. She decided to stay conscious for as long as possible and she started thinking back through her life, starting as early as she could remember. Right back to when she was a kid. She expected to fall unconscious long before she got to the end. But it might not be such a bad way to go.
The water lapped around her ears and so she didn’t hear the distant sound of gunfire. As she searched her mind for the earliest memory of her life, she felt a tug at the back of her harness. It frightened her at first, her brain unable to interpret what it was. As she began to accelerate away, she remembered the line.
Stratton’s plan. They had been snagged.
Her speed quickly increased and she shot across the water, the life jackets taking the brunt of the bumpy waves. She spread out her arms and legs to remain as stable as possible and prevent from flipping over. She tried to raise her chin to look ahead but she couldn’t get enough of an angle. All she could do was lie flat on her back and get dragged along.
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