Path of the Storm

by Douglas Reeman

  He had left the girl on the boat, her father’s head pillowed in her lap, and he now wondered what he would tell them when he returned. He wondered also why he was being so cautious, the islet, like everything else, was deserted and barren, and in any case what did it matter any more? They could either die of thirst or be taken prisoner at some stage when the rebels had finished their work elsewhere.

  He thought of Burgess and the strange, inner determination which was making him cling to life like a drowning man. Pirelli had given him the whisky to ease his last moments, but instead the drink seemed to have sustained, even restored him in some way. He spoke half to himself, long rambling remarks about his past life, about ships and places that meant nothing to Pirelli but which made the girl bow her head and smooth the dying man’s hair from his fierce, angry eyes with something like love. She was calmer, more composed, Pirelli thought, but it was unlikely it would last when he got back to tell them he had been unlucky in his search. He was not even sure what he was looking for. An abandoned fishing boat, some food and shelter? He could not be sure. He just had to get away, to do something, anything.

  He stiffened as a gentle splutter of engines moved into his confused thoughts, and he wriggled towards the edge of the hill, which ran down into a narrow wedge of beach in a long slope of broken, gravel-like stones. Pushing the rifle in front of him and ignoring the sharp stones under his legs he eased his way to the very edge, until he was only half covered by a patch of stubborn gorse. For a moment he thought of running back the way he had come. If a boat was coming it could only mean more danger. It might fall upon the helpless fishing boat, and that would be that. But every limb and muscle ached with fatigue, and in the steady glare from the sun he felt dull and sick.

  With a start he realised that the left side of the fallen rock wall had changed shape, had hardened into a firm vertical line as a small, dirty landing craft thrust its blunt bows into view and headed for the beach. Pirelli blinked away the sweat and gripped the rifle with nervous determination. He realised that his reactions were already slower, and this knowledge made him hold his breath as the boat grew larger and grated noisily against the shingle. It was making hard work of it, and Pirelli realised that it was heavily loaded, although he could not see more than four heads above the hull’s flat sides.

  In a flurry of foam the twin screws pushed the bows on to the beach, and with a final roar died into silence. The ramp fell like a drawbridge, and Pirelli gasped with amazement as he saw the boat’s contents. Even in the heat haze which persistently hovered above the water he could recognise the bulky, uncompromising shapes of navy depth-charges. He could also see the big yellow numbers painted on the nearest ones, the Hibiscus’s numbers!

  Two Chinese in quilted jackets wandered down the ramp and relieved themselves in the swirling water, their backs towards him, and another lounged against the charges, a rifle across his shoulder as he shouted down to them.

  Pirelli lowered his head and tried to think more clearly. Hibiscus had probably dumped her charges for safety’s sake, and now these Chinese were about to make use of the little L.C.I. for their own purposes. As if to confirm this he heard a grating bang, and looked up to see the first depth-charge being rolled down the ramp to land heavily in the shallow water.

  Pirelli squinted along his sights and toyed with the idea of shooting the nearest man in the back. The second charge rumbled down into the sand and lodged firmly against the first. Pirelli relaxed his finger on the trigger. It was no good. At this range he might only get one, two at the most. The others were still safe aboard the boat, and he had already noted the unsheathed Browning mounted beside the steering positing. No, he would have to think of something, and fast. The L.C.I. was not much of a craft, but it floated, and it was mobile. After the storm, it was probably one of the few left serviceable in the whole island. With it he could easily reach the Hibiscus before she sailed. After that he would take his chances again. But at least he would be with his own kind.

  He almost screamed as a hand touched his arm, and as he swung the rifle he choked: ‘Jesus! I coulda killed you!’

  The girl lay quite still, her face only inches from his own. Then she looked past him at the boat and the struggling soldiers who had almost succeeded in levering the second charge clear. ‘I had to come.’ Her voice was steady, but Pirelli could see the agony in her dark eyes. ‘My father is getting worse. I think we should stay together.’ She stared at the L.C.I. ‘What are they doing here?’

  Pirelli controlled the tingling nerves in his body with an effort. ‘They’re dumpin’ the charges. Too much weight, I guess, for what they have in mind.’

  Her mouth trembled. ‘I wish we could kill some of them!’

  Pirelli ignored the venom in her tone and said sharply, ‘How do you feel?’ He saw the anger change to uncertainty in her eyes and added hastily: ‘I’ve a plan. It might not work, but I need your help.’

  She gripped his wrist, her hand firm and hot. ‘Anything. Just tell me what to do.’

  Now that he had committed himself Pirelli was apprehensive, yet filled with a kind of eagerness which he had never known before. He was making more decisions, holding their lives in his hands. He rubbed his chin and said doubtfully: ‘I want those jokers distracted. They’d no doubt shoot anyone that appeared on ’em sudden like, but you,’ he stared hard at her face, ‘you might just do it.’

  There was a shout and another figure appeared by the ramp. He heard the girl gasp: ‘That’s Major Yi-Fang! This must be important!’

  Pirelli grinned coldly. ‘We’ll see!’ He pointed to the sea beyond the right side of the beach. ‘Could you swim from there? I mean, can you get into the water without them seein’ you?’

  She nodded gravely, her face suddenly calm and determined. ‘I will do it.’

  Pirelli felt suddenly anxious and uncertain. ‘It might not Work. They might kill you before I get a chance to——’

  She gave a small smile, her eyes searching his face with something like tenderness. ‘You are a strange man. You are worried about me when you are in so much danger. I think you are not so hard as you pretend!’

  He grinned. ‘I surprise myself sometimes!’

  She squeezed his arm. ‘I will go now.’ She moved into the gorse and disappeared, so that it was hard to imagine she had been with him.

  A spasm of fresh nerves made Pirelli reach feverishly through his pockets for fresh magazines, and then with painstaking care he brushed the sand from the rifle sights and made one last check of the firing mechanism. There was no time for the slightest error. Even now he could not be sure how he had persuaded the girl to risk her life with such a mad scheme. He was not even sure he had intended such an idea. It was almost as if she had decided, had been determined to sell her life to give him a chance to save her father.

  He tried again to settle himself more comfortably in the sunbaked stones, and watched as the Chinese rolled another charge from the ramp.

  Pirelli caught his breath as from the corner of his eye he saw a quick flash of spray a few yards from the beach to the extreme right. His shoulders and fingers ached with concentration as he kept his eyes riveted on the labouring Chinese, and felt relief as first one then the other of the two on the beach halted, caught off guard, and then gaped along the sand as the girl reached the steep shelf of the beach and began to wade ashore. Pirelli heard them shout, and allowed his narrowed eyes to stray briefly before he wrenched them away and back to the men by the boat. She was naked, her hair plastered against her shining limbs, her supple body glittering with droplets of salt as she waded slowly but steadily on to the hot sand. There she paused, not looking at the soldiers, then with slow deliberation she lifted her hands behind her head and equally calmly began to shake out her hair from her shoulders.

  The two soldiers shouted, and with arms outstretched began to shamble towards her. The one with the rifle had already come down the ramp and was yelling encouragement, his teeth white, everything but the naked g
irl entirely forgotten.

  Pirelli felt his hands tremble as he moved the rifle a bare half-inch and squinted at the officer inside the open hull. He alone seemed in control of himself. Pirelli knew enough about officers to understand what this distraction would do to the man’s immediate plans, and saw Yi-Fang stride angrily to the head of the ramp, his pistol already out of its shining holster. Yi-Fang would know the girl, he would realise what had happened even if he did not already know the fishing boat had escaped from his guards.

  Pirelli blinked away a film of sweat, ignoring the soldiers’ hoarse shouts, shutting out the realisation that there were only seconds before they reached the helpless girl. The narrow point of the foresight hovered and steadied on Yi-Fang’s contorted features and then dropped to a point below his stomach. There was no point in taking chances. Gently, lovingly, his finger squeezed, and his shoulder hardened behind the small impact of the gun’s recoil.

  Yi-Fang must have moved at the very instant of firing, yet even as the smoke fanned back across Pirelli’s face he threw up his hands and swung sideways, his left leg buckling under him as if it had been hewn away by an axe. The armed sentry seemed petrified, and for his last few moments could only gape at his writhing officer. Pirelli’s second shot went home. This time the target had not moved, and without a sound the man fell back across the waiting depth-charges.

  The running Chinese had skidded to a stop, their deep footmarks barely two yards from those of the girl, who stood like a statue, her arms still in mid-air.

  The two wretched men looked back at the silent boat, and then peered helplessly towards the sea. They were caught in the open, without their weapons, and there was nothing left of their earlier strength and open lust. Yet Pirelli felt neither compassion nor pity. Only the sense of urgency remained, yet he waited until the girl had turned her face away and then he fired one short, vicious burst. The sand leapt at their feet, and beyond them the water threw up a small pattern of dancing white feathers. It was over. The two Chinese lay side by side, their dark shapes waiting for the gently lapping tide.

  Pirelli stood up and with a further glance at the boat vaulted over the edge and slithered down the steep slope, his mind clearing with the pain of his sudden descent as he realised that he had succeeded.

  After glancing briefly at the sentry’s glazed eyes he turned and looked down at Hi-Fang. The major was lying propped against the side, his face screwed up into a tight knot of agony as he clasped his hands across his shattered knee. Deftly he kicked the man’s pistol into the water and walked slowly around the charges which still remained aboard. There were seven all told, but it was too late to do anything about them.

  There were no other Chinese aboard, and with a further glance at the wounded officer to ensure that he was really helpless, Pirelli walked back to the open beach. The girl was exactly as he had last seen her, and with sudden shock Pirelli realised just what her actions had cost her. Quickly he picked up a quilted tunic from the ramp and ran towards her. She did not even try to hide herself from his eyes, but stood staring at the two dead men by her feet, and Pirelli could see the quivering on her skin as if she were standing in an Arctic wind instead of hot sunlight.

  Gruffly he said: ‘Put this on. There’s no time to find your clothes.’

  Obediently she allowed him to drape the jacket around her, then she said, ‘I’m all right now.’

  Pirelli stared at her. Whatever it was costing her, she was in control of herself, he thought.

  As they appeared on the ramp Yi-Fang bared his teeth and said between gasps of pain: ‘You are fools! You cannot escape!’ Then he fell silent as the rifle muzzle lifted to within an inch of his face.

  Pirelli said calmly, ‘Just keep goin’ like that an’ you’ll get yours!’

  Yi-Fang looked at the girl, his glazed eyes focussing with difficulty on her tanned legs which still gleamed from her swim. ‘It is over for you. Your captain is going——’ He groaned as a new spasm of pain lanced through him. ‘But he will soon be dead with the others!’

  Pirelli said harshly: ‘You just go aft, miss. I’ll take care of this bastard!’ The rifle wavered in his grasp and he knew that the lust to keep on killing was stronger than ever.

  Yi-Fang added slowly: ‘Our leader knows what he is doing. Even now a ship is drawing near to finish your captain and his damaged Hibiscus!’ His words were like insults, spat out with all his remaining hatred. ‘Then you and your kind will be done for! But slowly, until you are made to pray for death!’

  Pirelli began to winch up the ramp. So Hibiscus was damaged. And she was sailing to intercept some other ship. Yi-Fang had no cause to lie, not now.

  He heard the girl say, ‘We must hurry!’

  Pirelli ran aft and paused beside the controls. ‘What about this maniac? Shall I drop him overboard?’

  She shook her head. ‘I want him to see what he has done!’

  Pirelli sighed with relief as both engines whined into life. Easily he backed the boat into deep water, and with his eyes squinting against the glare he gunned the motors to full power and sent it pounding away from the beach where the two figures still lay as they had dropped. It took another precious twenty minutes to encircle the islet and manœuvre alongside the anchored Osprey.

  He settled Burgess as comfortably as he could beside the depth-charges in a position where he could not see the wounded officer, and then roughly grasped the girl’s arm and said, ‘It’s no use, we’ll have to ditch her!’ He saw the anguish on her face. ‘The Chinks may have some fuel. They’d soon catch us in her!’

  Using the L.C.I. as a bulldozer, he nudged the big fishing boat into deeper water, and then with the engines turning very slowly he ran back aboard the deserted deck, past the bloodstains now black and dried in the sun, and down into the silent engine room. It was a matter of minutes to open the sea-cocks, and by the time he had returned to the other craft the Osprey was already listing and beginning to settle down.

  Burgess called out: ‘What’s happening? What have you done to my boat?’

  Pirelli’s eyes fastened on the girl’s face. She was crying silently, but her voice was steady as she called: ‘It’s all right, Father! We’ll come back for her later!’

  Pirelli gunned the engines so that Burgess should not hear the savage inrush of water, the sickening clatter of falling gear as the Osprey began to roll over on to her side. The boat I was going to Taiwan in, he thought vaguely. He rubbed his sore face with dulled amazement, but his brain still refused to accept what he had done.

  She said quietly: ‘Thank you. The Osprey meant all the world to him.’

  Pirelli nodded. ‘I kin understand that.’

  She added after a few moments, ‘What did Yi-Fang mean about the other ship?’

  He shrugged, his eyes watching a nearby clump of fanged rocks. ‘I guess it was only natural for the Reds to bring up more support. No goddamn risin’ would be any good without that.’ He nodded as the thought came to him. ‘Hibiscus is all there is. The cap’n’ll have to take a crack at ’em.’ He added grimly: ‘Don’t worry. Old Gunnar is a cool bastard.’

  She stared up into his craggy face. ‘Is that what you think?’

  Pirelli grinned. ‘He may be a nice enough guy for you, but he’s been a right tough cookie as a skipper!’

  Burgess called, ‘Are we there yet?’ Then in a different voice: ‘Tell the quartermaster I want the first lieutenant immediately! I’m going ashore to see the admiral about the regatta. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.’ He laughed a deep, hollow sound. ‘We’ll show ’em who’s cock of the fleet!’

  The girl said, ‘My God, he’s rambling again!’

  ‘Leave him. It’s better this way.’ Pirelli jumped as a distant squawk echoed around the hills and sent the gulls skyward again. ‘Jesus, that’s Hibiscus! I’d know her old hooter anywhere!’

  There was gun-fire, followed by the distorted sounds of falling rock. Flatly he added: ‘She’s sailed. We’ve missed her!’ He stared back
at the boat’s frothing wake. ‘Christ, after all this!’

  They rounded the last islet, and before them lay the empty anchorage. Then he felt the girl at his side. ‘Look at the citadel! The flag!’

  Pirelli whistled softly. ‘There are some of ’em left then. No wonder your cap’n is goin’ to have a go at the other ship!’ He steered towards the sagging pier, his eyes taking in the crumpled bodies, the black craters of shell- and mortar-fire.

  A few rifle shots sounded occasionally and he said at length, ‘Snipers, I guess.’

  The boat banged into the piles and brought down a tangle of broken planks, but Pirelli cut the engines and swung the Browning on its mount to cover the road. He heard her cry, ‘I can see the sergeant on the wall!’ And a minute later, ‘He’s coming!’

  Sure enough, the big marine was loping down the road, his head bowed as he weaved from side to side, a carbine held before him like a spear. Rickover threw himself the last few feet and lay face down on the pier. ‘Well, I’ll be!’ He grinned at the girl. ‘Back with us I see!’

  Pirelli grated, ‘Give me a hand!’ Then he leapt for the Browning his eyes flashing. ‘Jesus, what was that?’ He had seen a brief movement near the beach.

  Rickover pushed the barrel down. ‘Forget it. It’s Connell, your doctor.’ His eyes were empty as he watched the stooping, haphazard movements of the distant figure. ‘He’s administering rites or something to all the dead back there.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t get to him, it’s completely zeroed in by snipers. But they don’t shoot at madmen.’ He added bitterly, ‘It’s about all they don’t shoot!’ Then he retrieved something of his old competence. ‘Well, come on with me. I’ve got half the island population up there, and a few soldiers who’ve found their way to us.’ He grinned. ‘Like Noah’s goddamned ark it is!’