I dashed back to the Porsche, wrenching its boot up then backing off across the road, pistol up, finger ready.
Bob hadn’t fared too badly, all things considered, being unconscious as he’d been tossed around had probably done him a favour. Lennon, on the other hand, had not fared well at all – though that was nothing to do with the crash.
I shoved the pistol back in my jeans and felt Lennon’s neck for a pulse, nothing, not surprising given the bloody bullet holes in her ski jacket. She hadn’t double-crossed me at all, the bastard had killed her. I stepped back, held my head in my hands, my throat was dry, ears ringing.
A shout rang out, I looked over the snow bank to see several lights had come on behind a row of houses at the bottom edge of the meadow. I stepped back to the boot, rolled Lennon over, pushing her out of the way. Plenty of time to mourn, right now I needed to move fast.
I dragged Bob out of the boot, dumping him on the road then reaching back in to rip open the inner side panel. Screwed inside was a black box, about the size of an old VHS tape. Wires threaded out of the top, snaking behind the car’s interior panels. Next to them a green light blinked.
More shouts from below, closer now.
I grabbed the wires, pulled them free then wrenched the box from its housing. I dragged Bob along the road to the Audi, threw the box on the back seat, and risked a glance at the shadows approaching, halfway up the meadow now. I returned to the Porsche and put five bullets through its boot floor, roughly where I reckoned the petrol tank was. A few seconds later my nostrils told me I’d been successful.
I was thankful Ringo always had a lighter on him. As I drove away I saw the silhouettes of locals flitting around the flames. The orange glow was bright in my rear-view mirror all the way down the hill. By the time the emergency services arrived there wouldn’t be much left.
Chapter Forty
Tiburon
I’d been sleeping so soundly I’d momentarily forgotten where I was, then the waves rolled me in the tiny bed and it all hit at once. I reached up to the shelf and switched off the alarm on my phone. I must have really needed the sleep, no surprise since I hadn’t been able to relax for days.
Nearly half one, just after midday, my body clock was all over the place. I did some stretches to try and get the full benefit of the rest but that didn’t work out so well when my knee gave out on a wave and pitched me painfully into the wardrobe. I sacked it off and took a long, hot shower, then fished out a packet of biscuits from my rucksack and grabbed the satphone that I’d plugged in to charge on the desk before getting my head down. It was showing half battery, I shoved it into my pocket.
I went over the plan again in my head as I trounced half a pack of the chocolate digestives, satisfied myself that it was as solid as you get on a moving ship with so many variables, and collated some dry clothes from the various hangers on the pipes and heating vents.
A T-shirt, a pair of baggy combats, and my warm, dry, slightly stiff Adidas shell tops later and I was good to go.
I checked my pistol again, its magazine full of hollow point big-bastard-stoppers, safety on, and slid it into my holster. A couple of minutes to go.
I opened my door to find Katanga cradling an AK-47. Behind him, flashes of sunlight exploded through the porthole between crashing waves.
‘Everything okay?’ I asked.
‘All quiet.’
‘Where is everyone?’
‘Doc and Miller are asleep, Vincent is in the engine room, Nic and Poubelle are on the bridge.’
‘And Marty?’
A shout answered me from the cabin opposite, then a pained howl that turned to rage before it was cut off. Katanga looked at me, gripping the rifle tighter.
I stepped across to the opposite cabin door and pressed my ear to it. Two people were talking, low voices, impossible to tell what was happening.
With a glance at Katanga and a nod in return I grabbed the handle and kicked the door in, the simple bolt flew across the room. My hand was up in an instant, pistol sweeping the room. Fields tied to a chair, blood on his clothes, I barely had time to register what was happening before a fist was swinging towards the side of my head.
I ducked, spun, brought my pistol up hard. It connected with Marty’s chin, she flew back onto the bed, dazed. I didn’t give her time to recover, leaping across the room and swinging the gun into the side of her face. A gunshot exploded, a bullet ricocheted off the steel wall. Behind me Katanga crashed into the room with an angry shout, Fields was shouting too. For a moment, everything was a mess of confusion.
Marty was snarling. I grabbed her arm, twisted it, pressing my thumb into her wrist. She screamed, in fury rather than pain, as her pistol clattered to the floor. In my peripheral vision Katanga scooped it up. I dragged Marty off the bed, she spun and kicked out, sending me across the room onto the other bed.
Fields yelled, shouting and screaming for help. I ignored him and focused on Marty, who was coming at me again, knife in hand. I sprang from the bed, crouched, trying to weave in the shifting cabin but a boot flashed from nowhere and caught me in the ribs, doubling me over. I dropped my gun, Marty lunged, knife heading for my throat, I rolled, grabbed her arm and went with her momentum, burying the blade in the mattress. She pulled but I held on, a boot came up again and before I knew what was happening I was on the cabin floor gasping for breath.
My fingers scrabbled on the bed, I found the knife at the same time as her, dragging her down onto me. She let go of the knife and rained a flurry of blows into my face, forcing me to curl up to protect my head.
The fire alarm started up in the corridor outside, a red light pulsed on the cabin wall.
The blows stopped, I rolled over. In the flashing red light she was halfway out the door but was stopped by Katanga. He flung his rifle over her head, gripped the stock and the barrel and pulled her back, using it to pin her arms. I landed a punch into her stomach, she folded, gasping, Katanga hauled her out. I reached in my pocket and quickly pulled out a couple of cable ties, taking advantage of her temporary dazed state to bind her arms behind her back. She regained her strength quickly, anger doubled, but by that time I was already pulling them tight round her ankles.
Boots were pounding the deck, I looked up to see Poubelle racing towards us with a rifle in his hands and, running behind him, Miller, still buttoning his fly.
Katanga and I stood up, panting, looking down at Marty writhing and kicking out on the floor. She looked between us, face contorted with evil.
Poubelle skidded to a halt, barrel of his Kalashnikov centimetres from Marty’s face.
‘I think she’s done for now, don’t you?’ I said. ‘But thanks anyway.’
‘What did I say?’ Miller shouted. ‘One of your team!’
‘We don’t know what her involvement is.’
‘She was going to kill me,’ shouted Fields, still tied to the chair inside the cabin.
‘But why?’ I asked, looking down at her.
‘Working her way through everyone on the ship,’ said Katanga.
‘No doubt you were next,’ added Miller.
Marty thrashed against the wall and got Poubelle’s boot in her mouth for her trouble. She looked at me, eyes burning with rage.
‘We don’t know that.’ I pushed Poubelle back and bent to grab her arms. ‘Let’s get her in my cabin and…’
Poubelle flicked the rifle at me, catching me in the side of the head. ‘She’s not going anywhere with you.’
I glared at him. ‘She’s one of my team.’
‘She’s a killer,’ said Miller. ‘Law of the sea.’
Poubelle grinned and straightened up, still pointing his rifle at me. ‘Over the side.’
‘What? You can’t…’
Miller pulled his gun, too, as Vincent came running up behind him. ‘You know the rules on my ship. You break them, you swim.’
‘Don’t let them do this, Tyler.’ Marty looked at me, the fury had been replaced by fear.
‘We c
an’t throw someone overboard, even if she is a killer.’ I edged forward, closing the distance to Poubelle.
‘You’ve got no say in it this time. Katanga, get her up on deck.’
Marty shunted across the passageway. ‘Tyler, don’t let them—’
Katanga kicked her, she rolled against the wall.
Poubelle grinned. ‘Save your energy, bitch. You’ll need it.’
I stepped forward again, lightning fast, left hand swiping the barrel of Poubelle’s AK down and towards the wall, while my right hand reached for my holster. My fingers closed around the waistband of my trousers, empty leather. Even as Poubelle started to move I glanced back inside the cabin, saw my pistol lying on the floor where I’d dropped it. I back-pedalled, trying to put distance between us but too late.
A flash of movement in the corner of my eye as Katanga lunged, butt of his rifle outstretched, a flash of light, then black.
Chapter Forty-one
Tiburon
In the distance there was a shout, laughter, a scream, all muffled through fog. I screwed my eyes shut tightly and let out a groan.
‘Tyler, get up!’ someone shouted, it started off far away then zoomed in close, sounds exploding behind my eyes as my brain rebooted.
‘Fields?’
‘Get up, man.’
‘Hang on.’ I opened my eyes, blinked a few times, got my arms underneath me.
‘Anytime soon, mate. I’d rather not spend the rest of winter tied to this fucking chair!’
Fields was still where we’d left him, duct-taped to a chair next to the desk. I pushed up to my feet and picked up Marty’s knife from the bed.
‘Where are they?’ I asked, running the knife up the tape holding his arms.
‘Katanga and Miller took Marty. The others, I dunno.’
‘What was she doing?’
‘She took me by surprise, bashed me over the head in bed.’ He rubbed his head and held up a bloody hand to the light. ‘Before I knew what was happening she had me tied up.’
‘On the plus side, your cut of the profits has just increased.’
‘You really think they’ll throw her overboard?’
I nodded. ‘I’ve seen them do it before.’
‘They really are pirates.’
I knelt by his legs and sliced up the tape. ‘I wouldn’t spare too much pity for her, she was going to kill you.’
‘Aye, maybe. Fucking savages though, these fellas.’
‘Careful what you say, because we’re stuck on this ship with them. You don’t think I’d have rather taken her back to the UK to be interrogated? But these guys are out for blood and where do you think they’ll get it, if not here? Besides, I’ve already lost one captive, I don’t fancy babysitting another in these circumstances, do you?’
He nodded, rubbing blood flow back into his ankles. ‘Aye, true.’
‘What did she want to know?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She had you tied to a chair, that usually means interrogation. What did she say?’
‘I dunno, I mean… I guess she hadn’t got to that part yet. I’m lucky you came along when you did.’
I nodded. ‘Small boat, everyone on top of each other, it’s not really luck, is it?’
He sat on the bed, it creaked as he shuffled across to pick up his gun. He slid the magazine in and out, leg bouncing on the floor, eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the heaving window and overcast sky.
Footsteps sounded again in the passageway outside, I opened the door to find Katanga had returned.
‘Sorry about the head, Mr Tyler,’ he said, still gripping his gun. ‘You were just in the way.’
Fields muttered something under his breath.
Katanga looked round me. ‘You don’t like how we operate, Mr Fields?’ he said. ‘Maybe you’ll change your mind when you hear her story.’
‘She talked?’
‘People do when the end’s coming up fast.’
‘She’s gone?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Maybe not dead yet but yeah, she’s gone.’ He whistled and pointed a finger down.
‘Can she swim back?’ Fields asked.
Katanga laughed. ‘I don’t think she can swim at nearly thirty knots. No, Mr Fields, she was having enough trouble keeping above the waves. Feisty one, nearly took the captain over with her!’
‘Let’s go to my cabin,’ I steered Katanga back towards the door, Fields grabbed my arm.
‘If Marty said something before she went over, I want to know.’
Katanga looked at me. ‘He has a right, it was him she wanted.’
I let go of his arm, Katanga moved into the room and closed the door behind him.
‘Go on then,’ said Fields.
Katanga leaned on the door. ‘She was an assassin.’
‘Who’d want me dead?’ Fields’ eyes were wide.
‘Probably a ton of people,’ I said. ‘Who hired her?’
‘She didn’t know. But she said she wasn’t the only one.’
‘On the ship? How?’ I looked at the door instinctively.
‘No, no. On her job. All she said was there’s a bunch of them been hired to take people like him out.’ He pointed at Fields. ‘You wanna tell us why?’
‘Did you get any more intel?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘She didn’t know any more, and I believe her. All she said was there are mercs in several countries taking out all your old team,’ he jabbed a finger at Fields again. ‘Right now.’
Fields looked confused.
‘What’s this got to do with me?’ I asked.
‘Don’t flatter yourself, Mr Tyler,’ said Katanga. ‘Not everything revolves around you.’
‘I don’t believe in coincidences. I hire a random merc for a job who turns out to be an assassin – who’s been hired to kill the other team member I hired? Sounds a stretch.’
‘But why me?’ asked Fields. ‘Did she kill King?’ He looked at me. ‘Probably going to kill you, too.’
‘She mentioned Cresswell Security.’ Katanga shrugged. ‘Something about a job you were on ten years ago, in—’
The door opened, it was Miller. ‘You told him?’
Katanga nodded.
Miller looked at me. ‘So there was a rotten apple on your crew. You can apologise any time.’
‘Don’t push it.’
‘I don’t intend to. We need to get our heads together and come up with a plan.’
‘For?’
‘For those friends of yours on our tail. They’re really moving, doesn’t look like we’re gonna make Poole.’
‘Captain, could I use the radio?’ Fields asked.
‘Comms are off limits,’ he replied gruffly. ‘Come on, Blofeld.’
Fields shoved his Glock into his leg holster, puffed his chest out and crossed his arms. ‘If there are assassins out there hunting down my old team I need to warn people.’
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my satphone, tossing it to Fields. ‘Bring it upstairs when you’re done.’
His face lit up.
I followed Miller into the corridor and closed the door, leaving the two of them to talk.
‘I owe you,’ I said to Miller.
‘You owe me several. Let’s talk about that bonus.’
‘If I can use your sat Wi-Fi I’ll transfer it now.’
He smiled. ‘I like that. Now, let’s talk about what else you owe me.’
‘Go on.’ I let him lead, following upstairs.
‘An explanation. That boat’s closing in and I wanna know who’s on board.’
‘We might have a more immediate problem.’
He threw his hands up. ‘Sure, why not, it’s been boring so far.’ He swung round the handrail and walked backwards, wagging a finger towards me. ‘Why not sink my boat and be done with it.’
‘Hey, this is why you get paid the big bucks.’
‘I know you’ve got your own shit going on but what’s more important to us right now t
han that boat?’
‘Well, it’s about the boat…’ I stopped at the foot of the bridge staircase and grabbed Miller’s arm. ‘How do we know for sure it was Seb talking to them on the radio?’
Miller closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose. After a few moments he opened his eyes. ‘No, Tyler. No. I know there’s a lot going on, but no.’ He climbed the stairs.
I followed him through into the bridge, where Poubelle was standing behind the wheel.
‘I know you don’t wanna hear it but…’
Miller spun and jabbed a finger into my chest. ‘Damn right I don’t wanna hear it. The only shit that’s happened on this boat is because of you and your team.’
‘And Seb?’
The deck shuddered, I fell against the table as the ship slewed to port. Poubelle leaned, spinning the wheel to correct.
Miller recovered and leapt to the helm, snatching the radio from the ceiling. ‘Vincent! Vincent!’
The ship leaned over drunkenly as a wave hit, I held on to the table. ‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘Vincent!’ Miller yelled into the radio, holding on to the doorframe.
Poubelle turned to me, feet wide as the deck shifted beneath us. ‘Engines have stopped.’
I looked out of the window, the ship was being turned by the waves, thankfully the storm wasn’t what it had been but the way we were rolling sideways couldn’t be good.
The speaker crackled above Miller, Vincent came on, breathless. ‘Engines are offline, I’m restarting port side now.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘I can either tell you or I can fix it,’ snapped Vincent, the radio went dead.
‘Get it started in the next two minutes or you’ll be next over the side.’ There was no reply, Miller hooked the handset back. ‘Poubelle, stay at the wheel.’
He dashed from the bridge, I followed him. Halfway down the stairs the ship rolled onto its side, must have been over twenty degrees, as a bigger wave washed around us. I clung on to the rail as Miller accelerated below me. The ship righted itself, I launched down the stairs two at a time, along the passage where Nic was emerging from the radio room.
‘Stay in there,’ I shouted.
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