Paula had skipped down the ladder behind Ben. He placed a huge ugly-looking knife beside the rope on deck.
'What's the knife for?' she asked.
'Always curious, you ladies. If we have to run for it in a hurry, that knife can cut through the rope in seconds. Now I'm off to the stern. That Harry doesn't waste time.'
Paula shinned back up the ladder onto the bridge. Tweed was adjusting the glare light up the side of the precipitous cliff. At intervals he paused briefly. Paula saw a series of thick large rubber loops attached to the rock.
'What on earth—' she began.
'They attach a thick hose inside those loops and use a system to suck up the oil from the tanker berthed about where the Tiger is now.' He looked back to where Harry had appeared. 'Leather climbing boots for everyone except Ben. We've got to get to the top of this brute.'
Harry produced the boots from his capacious bag. On the soles were hard projections for clinging to ledges. At a fresh order from Tweed, Harry took out a backpack, slipped inside the torpedo-shaped weapons he had shown Paula - the firebombs. They began climbing, Tweed in the lead.
It was a difficult climb. The cliff face was almost vertical. Paula went up quickly, but tested her weight on every protruding spike of rock before trusting it. Harry was close behind her. She was about to turn to
say something to him when Tweed's sharp whisper reached her as though he'd sensed what she was about to do.
'Nobody look down. That's a direct order. Look up! '
She hauled herself over the top before she realized how close to the summit she was. She pulled herself up the final few feet and sat still for a moment, breathing heavily. She looked down as Harry scrambled over with Marler close behind. Her mind began to swim with vertigo so she turned to look inland, amazed at the view.
A shallow slope led down no more than a hundred feet. She was staring at four vast container tanks, their roofs slightly curved. Beyond, the ground climbed steeply but at the far end of the island a long runway was laid out. A large plane stood at the takeoff end.
'You see,' said Tweed, seated close to her with the others very near, 'refineries and oil storage tanks. Contents - from that pirated tanker. Worth millions. Over on the far coast you can see a smaller fleet of tankers flying the Otranto flag. Neville planned on selling oil he'd not paid a penny for - to desperate countries who'd pay $100 a barrel for the stuff. Harry, I want all four of those oil tanks destroyed.'
'No sooner said than done,' Harry replied. Til hike to the one furthest away.'
'Can I help you?' Paula suggested.
'Yes. By sitting there and not getting in my bloody way.'
They all knew he'd been deliberately rude to stop her coming with him on what could be a suicide mission.
'Maybe I—' began Marler.
'If you'll all shut your big mouths maybe I can concentrate,' Harry told them.
Then he was gone. Running, crouched, down the slope, he was about to pass the nearest tank. Then he saw the ladder curving up its side. It would give him height and he must now be near the more distant tank. He had his backpack turned to rest on his stomach. Arriving at the top he was closer to all four oil tanks than he'd expected. He extracted the first explosive firebomb.
Taking a deep breath he hurled it with all his strength at the most distant tank. His bomb landed dead centre on its curved surface. As he hurtled a fresh bomb at a nearer tank his first bomb detonated with a sinister crack. There was a dull explosion, then it blew apart, emanating a fireball. His second bomb was increasing the blinding blaze over the whole storage area.
He ran down the ladder, already feeling the heat from the fire. Running back up the slope, he paused, hurled two more bombs, one for each nearer tank. Then he ran like hell up the slope to join the others, gazing with disbelief at the spectacle. The flames from all four tanks had now merged into one massive inferno.
Paula had her binoculars pressed against her eyes.
They were aimed at the long runway with the large plane at the take-off point.
'They're all running for it. They're flying out. Plane's on the move. Guile has taken fright.'
'Didn't know how many of us there were,' Marler explained. 'It could have been a whole army.'
'Time to return to the ship,' Tweed decided. He grunted. 'It will be trickier descending that cliff than it was coming up. Be very careful.'
'Piece of cake,' said Harry. 'I need all your water bottles
Paula was puzzled. She watched as he withdrew from his pack a familiar object: a rope knotted at close intervals she had used to rescue MacBlade from the vertical tunnel under Black Gorse Moor. Producing a thick towel from the pack, he soaked it in water. After kicking a tall thick rock spike on the summit to test its strength he wrapped the towel round it a number of times, then tied the end of the rope over the wet towel.
'Now no danger of the rope fraying as we go down,' he explained. 'Everyone wears the best gloves they've got to ease the strain of their descent. Paula first. Then Tweed, with Marler behind him. I'll follow you lot.'
Paula already had her gloves on. Before she approached the rope she glanced inland. The big plane which would have Neville Guile aboard was already cruising down the runway prior to take-off. Mr Guile was a survivor.
Peering over the rim of the precipice, she saw
Harry's rope had reached the bottom. She bent down, grasped the first knot, continued to descend, not looking down. She used her feet to keep her body clear of the rock. Her feet suddenly touched the ground. She was startled at the speed of her descent. Looking up, she saw Tweed about to land beside her, then Marler. Finally, Harry seemed to descend like a trapeze artist.
'Get aboard the ship fast!' Tweed ordered.
Ben asked no questions, concentrating on backing his ship out of the harbour. Paula ran down the steps onto the foredeck. She looked up and Harry was watching her from an open window on the bridge. Gazing back to the base of the cliff, she stiffened. No guards? A massive North African had appeared, holding an automatic weapon. The huge figure was elevating the muzzle to sweep the bridge with one lethal burst of fire. He would kill them all, and he was grinning sadistically at the prospect of mass slaughter.
'Take this, Paula,' Harry yelled, almost falling from the window.
Reaching up, her gloved hand helped her to grasp the slippery surface. Switch forward - to red. She counted to three. While at school she had excelled at rounders. She hurled the missile, aiming for the large rock overhang he was sheltered beneath.
The firebomb detonated with such power it made the ship shudder. Paula had briefly closed her eyes against the brilliant flash, then opened them in time to see the immense tonnage of rock fall and bury the guard forever. She sighed with relief.
'Good shot,' Harry called down calmly. 'You get the prize.'
Tweed, who had witnessed the entire episode, had kept his mouth closed. He turned to Ben.
'Sea's like the proverbial millpond again. So a quiet voyage back to base.'
'Probably not,' Ben growled. 'Remember the forecast. About halfway back we'll have to fight a huge tornado-like storm . . .'
NINETEEN
For more than half the return journey to Seaward Cove, the sea was so calm that again the Tiger seemed to glide over the surface. In the stateroom, Paula sat reading a shipping manual. On the couch opposite alongside the port side Tweed appeared to be fast asleep, eyes closed, head sunk on his chest. Paula was not deceived. She knew he was wide awake, ranging his mind over all that had happened in Hobartshire, listing the whole cast of the characters he had met, assessing them.
Marler appeared suddenly. He had been handling the wheel on the bridge, now briefly handed over to Ben.
'Sorry to interrupt,' he began. 'Better take a peek to the west.'
As he returned to the bridge the ship began to rock
and sway from side to side. Tweed stood up as Paula ran to peer through a window on the starboard side. They stood together for a moment, st
aring at the transformation. The moon cast a pale glow over the approaching violence. The ferocious storm was heading for them.
Paula grabbed her life jacket, slung from a hook, slipped it over her head, fastened the tie round her waist. Tweed already had donned his own kit. Ben appeared at the top of the steps.
'Big trouble,' he growled. 'Life jackets on.'
He stopped speaking when he saw they both were already equipped. The swaying movement was now so pronounced Ben had to hold on to hand-rails to haul himself back up to the bridge. At the top he yelled back at them over his shoulder.
'It's a monster! '
'That's right,' Paula yelled back, 'cheer us up . . .'
Standing next to Tweed and, like him, hanging on to a hand-rail above the couch, she had to admit Ben's description was hardly exaggerated. She gazed in awe as mountainous waves, reminding her of pictures she'd seen of the Himalayas, swept down a few hundred yards away. Massive waves collided with each other, sending up a smokescreen of surf concealing what was coming up behind them.
'The bridge,' Tweed snapped. 'Get up there now. I'll be behind you.'
It was a struggle to mount the staircase. Paula held tightly on to the same hand-rail. It was fortunate she'd
taken this precaution. A mighty whackl told them a wave had hit the hull. As they reached the bridge Ben screamed at Marler manoeuvring the wheel.
'Don't let a wave hit us broadside on. We'll broach to—'
'Just shut up!' Marler shouted back.
Paula had every confidence in Marler's seamanship. On the rare occasions when he had time off he liked to sail off the south coast even in choppy weather. She glanced westward, sucked in her breath.
'A big one is coming,' she warned him.
'Thank you,' he said with a smile. 'I've just seen the brute.'
He was already turning the wheel and she thought she understood his tactics. He was going to ride the crest, use it to take them at speed nearer to home base. It was an odd sensation - to be carried forward by the power of the sea. It became very quiet suddenly.
She heard the sound of a large engine, looked up, gazed with disbelief at the huge plane descending towards them at speed, like the plane she'd seen taking off from Noak. It looked like an attack.
Harry had earlier adopted his usual position, crouched cross-legged in a corner of the deck. Now he leapt to his feet with binoculars hanging from a strap round his neck. Throwing open a window, he pressed the glasses briefly to his eyes. Then he shouted.
'Plane has one window open. Thug with an automatic weapon. He's going to spray this bridge with bullets!'
He ran, splay-legged to counter the deck tilt, across to Ben.
'Give me a Very light. Damn quick! Red if possible, if not, any colour. Move!'
Ben was already moving. Throwing open a cupboard door, he bent down, shoved his large hand inside. It emerged holding a metal object Paula only had a glimpse of. At one end of the squat instrument was a handle, at the other end a muzzle several inches in diameter. He passed it to Harry.
'It's red and loaded.' He told Harry. 'Specially made for me and other favoured customers by an engineer pal down the coast. Costs a small fortune.'
He was now speaking to Marler. Harry only heard the first few words. Once he had the Very light in his hand he rushed to the open window. The huge plane seemed only yards above them but that was an optical illusion.
Resting both arms on the ledge of the open window - for stability - Harry aimed the Very light at the plane's port engine. He pressed the trigger. At that moment the Tiger rolled. The missile shot upwards, exploded in a blinding glare below the fuselage. Harry swore to himself but the explosion frightened the pilot. Had the Very been sucked inside the engine as it detonated the plane would have dived into the maelstrom.
Panicking, the pilot elevated his machine to a high altitude and flew off, heading for the coast. Paula sighed with relief. Tweed simply shrugged as he asked Ben the question.
'Ben, I presume that plane is flying off to land at Heathrow or London's City Airport?'
'Don't think so. My guess is it will land at the private airfield about three miles east of the ridge overlooking Seaward Cove.'
'Not far away, then. Can you see this airfield from the ridge summit?'
'No,' Ben told him. 'It's hidden behind another ridge. Below my ridge there's a road to London and a turning off to this airfield. Funny thing. My ridge this side is as solid as Everest - but on the other side the surface is loose shale. One day it will break loose; send an avalanche down onto that road.'
'Tell me,' Tweed persisted, 'who owns the airfield?'
It was Marler who answered. He'd had a quiet stretch across a peculiar area of uncannily quiet water. More like a lake than the sea.
'It's owned,' he explained, 'by an obscure company with a strange name.' He looked at Paula. 'Excuse my Latin, which will make you wince. Name of company is Veni, Vidi, Vici . . .'
'You pronounced that very well,' said Paula, who had been good at Latin at school.
'What does it mean?' Tweed asked.
'It's the opening sentence of Julius Caesar's Gallic Wars,' she told him. Translated it means "I came. I saw. I conquered.'"
'Known for short as the VW Corp,' Marler added.
'Sounds like a good motto for our Mr Neville Guile,' Tweed commented.
'While you lot have been chattering,' Ben said in his fiercest growl, 'you might look at what's coming for us to starboard. Marler, like me to take over from you? Had a long stint.'
'It's OK, Ben,' Marler assured him. 'I'll take her into the cove.'
Secretly, Ben was relieved. Marler was the younger man. He had great strength in his arms and a quick reflex in turning the wheel. Knowing what was coming, Ben was doubly thankful as he joined Tweed and Paula, their hands gripping the handrail.
'The Devil comes in after the quiet stretch of water we've just crossed,' he said quietly.
Paula was staring, fixated, to the west. She had never seen anything like it. About half a mile wide, the immense wave appeared to be moving slowly, but this was an illusion. Already higher than the top of the ship's funnel, it was sucking up smaller waves, swelling itself to even greater size as it rolled closer and closer. Paula became aware Marler was turning their ship through a hundred and eighty degrees.
He was going to try and ride the crest of this giant. Could he possibly make it? It would be a miracle if he managed it. She turned to Tweed.
'How much further to Seaward Cove?'
'Not much,' he replied cheerfully. 'You can see the red light perched above the prawn workshop.'
She looked ahead, clenched her fists inside her pockets. The red light which came on at intervals for five minutes was no more than a distant pinpoint. The
foredeck of the ship was climbing now. The deadly self-inflating wave had reached them. She tensed for the steep drop deep down into the ocean which would precede its mounting of the side beyond. She had a premonition that once the Tiger started descending it would continue plunging until the forepart was smashed to pulp as the entire vessel settled deep down in its watery grave.
'Marler is a master seaman,' Tweed said casually.
'What?'
'He is riding the crest of that giant wave, has reduced speed to coincide with it. It's carrying us home.'
Paula looked again at the red light above Seaward Cove. The light above the prawn workshop was much larger. They were so close now to the coast. Her only doubt was what would happen when the wave reached the narrow harbour. Ben, watching her, must have sensed her anxiety.
'We are now entering one of those strange lakes of calm we saw earlier. The wave is vanishing.'
'It is?' she called back, trying to sound confident.
Then, peering out of a window across the foredeck, she saw - felt - Tiger descending gently but steadily. The wave was subsiding. Soon its surface was on a level with the harbour wall.
She climbed down the steps into the stateroom. Official
ly, if asked, she was clearing up the stateroom. The truth was she had had enough. She didn't want to watch them passing through the
snake-like entrance, evading the brutal spars of rock by two feet or less. The ship stopped suddenly and she knew they were mooring to the jetty. She ran up the steps.
Harry, onshore, had just completed tying the rope to the stern bollard. She joined Tweed and the others on the jetty. The weird and sombre light of dawn was illuminating the summit of the eastern ridge. Ben, standing close to his house, cupped both hands and bellowed.
'I’ll be gettin' breakfast. A large omelette and crispy bacon.'
'A two-egg omelette for me,' Harry bellowed back.
'So now we can have a quiet day,' Paula mused aloud.
'I wouldn't count on that,' Tweed warned. 'No, I wouldn't. . .'
TWENTY
They had finished a large well-cooked breakfast, seated round an oblong table with a well-scrubbed surface covered with a thick white cloth. All was peace and quiet.
It was daylight, another brilliant day. The sun shone on the calm sea, creating sparkling reflections like a spread of diamonds. Only Tweed sat very still looking serious. Ben spoke to him.
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