Consuela and Pedro watched their boat go under. There was a tear in Pedro’s eye, but Consuela’s face held a soft smile. ‘Goodbye, old life,’ she whispered. ‘Hello, new life.’
‘Prepare to board the ship!’ Ricardo yelled over his shoulder.
Under Volcán’s direction, the three members of the tender’s crew were forced to strip off their lifejackets and shirts, which three of Ricardo’s men put on. In the darkness, the tender and its pirate crew made their way towards the ocean liner, which glowed like a small city on the water.
‘No response from the tender, Captain,’ said First Officer Wells.
‘Their radio must be out,’ Second Officer Dargan suggested.
Captain Gustarv was standing at the bridge window, binoculars to his eyes. He had seen Tender 001 pull away from the sinking fishing boat, and was following its progress through the waves, rocking and rolling, back to the Cleopatra. ‘Hmmm … Strange that the tender would lose its radio now.’
‘Any sign of the refugee vessel, sir?’ First Officer Wells inquired.
‘It appears to have foundered,’ Gustarv replied. ‘There is no sign of it.’
‘Boat Deck crew advise that the tender is approaching our starboard side, Captain,’ reported Navigation Officer Demetrius, phone to his ear. ‘Boat Deck crew preparing to receive it.’
‘Mr Dargan, go down to the Boat Deck to meet the tender once it is winched aboard. Take the refugees to sick bay to be checked out. Mr Wells, alert the sick bay and have medical orderlies join Mr Dargan on the Boat Deck.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the two officers chorused.
As Dargan set off down to Deck 4, Wells picked up a telephone and called the ship’s doctor.
‘Helmsman,’ the captain said, ‘prepare to get underway as soon as the tender is aboard. We will resume our original course.’
‘Aye, sir, original course,’ the helmsman returned. ‘And the speed, sir? Eighteen knots as before?’
Gustarv checked his watch. By the time the Cleopatra was moving again, this rescue would have delayed the ship by thirty to forty minutes. They were due to dock at George Town in the Cayman Islands at six the next morning. Just the same, they had a little time up their sleeve and would still arrive on schedule. There was no need to increase speed. ‘Yes, eighteen knots, thank you.’
‘Eighteen knots, sir,’ the helmsman repeated.
As he piloted the tender towards the cruise ship, Ricardo saw the vacant space above the Boat Deck, where the tender usually resided, and lines dangling down. He turned the wheel so that the bow of the tender would be facing the same way as the bow of the massive ship. The swell made accurate navigation difficult, and he had never driven a vessel like this before. In his inexperience, he bumped the tender into the Cleopatra’s side again and again, and it took a lot of throttle work on first one engine, and then the other, to manoeuvre Tender 001 in beside the big ship and position it directly beneath the sets of dangling ropes that would haul the small craft up onto the mother ship.
Aboard the ship, the officers could see the tender making hard work of coming alongside, and comment passed between the Boat Deck and the bridge that this was unlike Rudy, an experienced tender skipper. ‘Tender 001,’ came the angry voice of First Officer Wells over the radio, ‘what are you playing at?’
Ricardo ignored the radio. He focused on the hand signals coming from the member of his gang posing as a deckhand on the foredeck. Finally, the gang member gave the thumbs up, before grabbing at the fitting at the end of the forward ropes and clipping it in place. On the stern, the second ‘deckhand’ was trying to grab the stern ropes. Again and again, Ricardo worked the engines, forward, then in reverse. As they revved loudly, pungent exhaust fumes wafted inboard. Eventually, the man on the stern grabbed the ropes and clipped the fitting in place. Looking up to members of the ship’s crew watching from the Boat Deck, he gave the thumbs up, before ducking back inside the tender’s cabin.
With a relieved grunt, Ricardo switched off both engines. Looking around, he saw that the tender’s three crew members were sitting in passenger seats with their hands on their heads, watched over by several of Ricardo’s men who were pointing AKMs at them. The other gang members were standing, keyed-up, waiting, as the tender began to rise horizontally from the waves. Up the side of the ship it rose, dripping water from its hull, as electric winches lifted it through the air.
‘As soon as it stops,’ Ricardo said, taking a spare AKM from one of his men, ‘we move!’
His gang members nodded, and those who weren’t guarding their three prisoners clustered at the doorway on the tender’s port side. Volcán was at the forefront of them. He was still in the dress but had donned his eye-patch and disposed of the wig. As the tender drew alongside the ship’s rail, Volcán leapt over it, sending startled Boat Deck crew members reeling back in shock. Volcán saw Second Officer Dargan standing with the intercom in hand. ‘Put it down!’ he bellowed, running at Dargan with a levelled AKM. ‘Put it down!’
Dargan dropped the phone and raised his hands. The rest of the gang members quickly followed Volcán from tender to cruise ship deck and rounded up Ponti and the seven Cleopatra crewmen and medical staff who were on the Boat Deck waiting to receive the refugees. The captives were roughly bunched together, with their hands clasped on their heads, as the hijackers unloaded their equipment from the tender and piled it on the Boat Deck.
All but Second Officer Dargan were then made to clamber into Tender 001 to join the three tender crewmen there. Suspended from its davits, the tender could only be lowered by operating the winch from the Boat Deck, making it an effective prison for Gabriella Ponti and the other nine captive Cleopatra crew members. Ricardo now assigned just one of his men to remain on the Boat Deck to guard the prisoners. All the Cubans had by this time taken red bandanas from rubbish bags and were tying them around their heads.
‘Is this bandana really necessary?’ Pedro asked.
Ricardo nodded. ‘There are thousands of passengers and crew aboard this ship, and just fourteen of us. This way, we immediately know who is who.’
‘And we know who not to shoot,’ Volcán added with a grin.
Pedro shrugged and reluctantly tied a bandana around his skull.
‘What is your name?’ Ricardo asked the second officer.
‘Dargan,’ replied the young Canadian. ‘Cliff Dargan.’
‘Well, Señor Cliff Dargan, you are going to take me to meet the captain of this ship.’ Ricardo nudged him with his weapon. ‘Take me to the bridge.’
‘There are security devices all over the ship,’ Dargan nervously replied. ‘You’ll never reach the bridge.’
‘I also have a “security device”,’ Ricardo said. He patted his AKM. ‘With this, I can go anywhere I wish. Lead on, amigo, or I will use my security device on you!’
Back on the Cleopatra’s bridge, Captain Gustarv was becoming impatient. ‘Why hasn’t Dargan reported? Or Gabriella,’ he shouted. ‘Is the tender inboard? Can we get underway again? What is the condition of the people the tender picked up? Why am I receiving no information?’
Navigation Officer Demetrius, holding the intercom phone, wore a frustrated expression. ‘I-I don’t know, Captain,’ he said. ‘The Boat Deck is not responding to my calls.’
‘This is ridiculous!’ Gustarv growled. ‘First we lose contact with the tender, then the Boat Deck! Mr Demetrius, get down there at once and find out what’s going on.’
‘At once, sir,’ Demetrius said. He placed the intercom handset on its cradle and hurried from the bridge.
‘Mr Wells, keep trying to contact Dargan,’ the captain instructed.
‘Yes, sir.’ Wells lifted the intercom phone and called down to the Boat Deck.
Behind them, the intercom on the Boat Deck wall buzzed persistently. Ricardo pushed Second Officer Dargan to the glass doors that led to the ship’s interior. Ana-Maria, Volcán and the others crowded behind them. Ricardo, holding Dargan by the arm with one hand, reached
over to the wall with the other and tapped a touchpad. The doors silently slid open. The group passed through and the doors slid shut behind them. The pirates had entered the Hub. A guest relations desk curved away to their left. Ahead lay a large open space, equipped with a small stage, a bar and comfortable leather chairs. To their right stood a pair of circular, glass-sided lifts, both of them empty and unmoving. Beyond an archway, wide stairs ran up and down. Replica Egyptian antiquities decorated alcoves. Looking up, the hijackers could see to the glass top of the atrium, six decks above. It was like being inside an ultra-modern church. There was no sound apart from the faint throb of the engines. The ship was asleep.
‘The bridge is on Deck 12?’ Ricardo said.
‘I, er …’ Dargan stalled. ‘Yes.’
‘Do not play games with me,’ Ricardo scolded, squeezing the officer’s arm. ‘I know that the bridge is on Deck 10. I know a lot more about this ship than you think. Move! And no more tricks.’
Into one of the lifts they crammed. Ricardo pushed the lift’s control panel. The doors slid closed and the lift went gliding up the ship’s interior.
‘Deck 10,’ a recorded female voice announced as the doors opened.
Out they all piled. As they did, Navigation Officer Demetrius appeared around a corner.
‘Don’t move!’ Ricardo warned. ‘Hands on your head!’
Demetrius obeyed at once.
Ricardo shoved Dargan towards him. ‘Back the way you came,’ Ricardo commanded.
With Demetrius and Dargan both being pushed ahead of them at gunpoint, the gang trooped along a corridor until they came to a door marked ‘Crew only beyond this point’. There was a security code pad on the door.
‘Open the door,’ Ricardo instructed coldly.
Dargan shook his head.
Ricardo sighed. ‘Amigo, I could open that door with one burst of an AKM, but it would make much noise. People would come to see what was happening – passengers, crew. We might have to shoot them to keep control of the situation. Now, you don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of innocent people, do you?’
‘No,’ Dargan reluctantly agreed.
‘Then put in the code!’
Dargan glanced at Demetrius, then leaned forward and tapped four numbers and a letter into the code pad. The door clicked open. Ricardo pushed the door and they all passed through. They walked briskly along another corridor, past several offices and the door to the captain’s cabin until they reached another door, this one with glass in the top half. This door was also fitted with a code pad.
‘Put in the code,’ Ricardo commanded.
Again, Dargan hesitated.
On the left side of the bridge, suspended from the ceiling, a bank of CCTV screens displayed real-time pictures of key security locations throughout the ship. First Officer Wells, waiting with the other bridge crew for word from the Boat Deck, happened to look up to those screens, and on one of them he saw motion outside the door to the bridge.
‘Captain, armed men outside the bridge door!’ he reported, his voice registering both surprise and alarm.
‘Stop them getting in for as long as possible!’ Gustarv ordered, grabbing up the radio microphone.
Wells, the helmsman and the other bridge crew rushed to the door and, bunching together, pushed up against it to prevent it from opening.
‘Mayday! Mayday!’ Gustarv radioed. ‘This is the MV Cleopatra, approximately one hundred nautical miles southeast of Cancun in the Caribbean Sea. We have been boarded by unidentified armed men. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is the MV Cleopatra. We have been boarded by unidentified armed men!’
Ricardo pushed Dargan and Demetrius aside. Bringing the AKM to his shoulder, he pointed it at the officers and crew huddled on the other side of the door. They paled but didn’t budge. Lifting the barrel so that it pointed over their heads, Ricardo pulled the trigger, letting off a three-round burst. Blam! Blam! Blam! Glass from the door shattered over the officers and crew, who ducked for cover. Ricardo lowered the weapon so that it pointed at their heads. ‘Open the door!’ he said coldly. ‘Or the next rounds will be for you.’
First Officer Wells nodded. ‘No need for that,’ he said. ‘Take it easy. Don’t shoot.’ He turned the doorhandle and, with a loud click, the door opened.
As Ricardo strolled in, brandishing his weapon, Wells and the others stood back, looking anxious and with their hands raised. The other pirates bustled in, pushing Dargan and Demetrius with them. Looking across the bridge, Ricardo saw Captain Gustarv, who stood, microphone in hand, glaring defiantly back at him.
‘They really should equip the bridge door with bulletproof glass,’ Ricardo said with a faint smile. ‘You must write a memo to your superiors about that, Captain, once we are done here.’
‘Who are you?’ Gustarv demanded. ‘What do you want?’
‘Good evening, Captain Gustarv,’ Ricardo said, walking towards him. He rested his rifle on his shoulder as he walked. ‘We are the people who are now in charge of the Cleopatra and the fate of its passengers and crew. Now, put the microphone down, por favor, or I will be forced to shoot one of your officers.’ He pointed the AKM at the head of First Officer Wells. ‘The choice is yours, Captain.’
Gustarv placed the microphone back onto its cradle.
Ricardo lowered his weapon, his smile broadening. ‘Very good. I can see that we are going to get along like a burning house.’
Ben was awoken by the voice of Captain Gustarv resonating through the ship over the public address system.
‘Good morning, everyone. This is your captain speaking. I am sorry to disturb you at such an early hour, but a situation has arisen, which requires all passengers to assemble immediately in the Luxor Theatre. I repeat, all passengers are required to assemble at once in the Luxor Theatre. Lifejackets are not required. You may use the elevators and the stairs. If you are not already dressed, please dress quickly and move at once to the Luxor Theatre. All crew members apart from those on watch are required to assemble in the crew mess on Deck 1. That is all.’
Ben looked at the clock. It was six-thirty in the morning. Josh was still sound asleep. Springing from his bed, Ben went over to his son.
‘Josh, wake up,’ he said, gently shaking the boy’s shoulder. ‘Wake up.’
Groggily, Josh opened one eye. ‘What is it?’ he mumbled.
‘There’s an emergency. I need you to get dressed right away,’ Ben said, calm but firm. ‘We have to assemble in the ship’s theatre.’
‘Just us?’ Josh asked, sitting up and yawning.
‘Everyone. Come on, move it, mate!’
Josh’s brow creased with concern. ‘Are we sinking? Do we need lifejackets?’
Ben, who was pulling on his jeans, shook his head. ‘Apparently not.’
Josh came to his feet and looked around for the clothes he’d worn the previous day, which were strewn over the cabin’s couch. ‘What’s the emergency then?’
‘I’m not sure, son.’ Ben pulled on a T-shirt and opened the cabin door. Passengers hurried past, heading for the Luxor Theatre. Ben went to the door of the next cabin and knocked urgently.
Nan opened the door. She was already dressed. ‘What do you think this is all about?’ she asked, looking worried.
‘I don’t know,’ Ben said. ‘But under no circumstances are we to allow ourselves to be separated.’
‘Will we be all right, Daddy?’ Maddie asked, rubbing her eyes.
Ben scooped her up in his arms. ‘We’ll be fine, sweetheart. Trust me, everything is going to be fine.’
He led the way to the stairs, avoiding the lifts in case there was an electrical problem. If power cut out, the occupants of the crowded lifts would be trapped in them. They made their way up several flights of stairs, surrounded by fellow passengers making the same trek, to Deck 4. The crowd filed into the theatre, which was already almost fully occupied. Finding three empty places at the end of a row of seats, Ben placed Nan, Maddie and Josh in them, then stood protectivel
y in the aisle beside them.
The air filled with the hubbub of voices as passengers asked each other what was going on and put forward various theories. Some had ignored Captain Gustarv’s advice and had come wearing lifejackets. Others hadn’t waited to dress and were still wearing their pyjamas. Soon, the theatre was overflowing with passengers. With every seat taken, people stood around the walls and packed the aisles. Yet, not a single crew member was to be seen. After twenty minutes, Captain Gustarv appeared from the wings and walked to the centre of the stage carrying a microphone. He was accompanied by a bearded man wearing a red bandana tied around his head and carrying a rifle slung over his shoulder.
‘Is this a special show?’ Ben heard a woman ask nearby.
‘A pirate show, maybe?’ someone suggested.
‘Well, I’m going to complain,’ an elderly man said. ‘Getting us out of bed at the crack of dawn to watch a pirate show is not my idea of fun!’
But Ben didn’t think this had anything to do with a pirate show. Even from this distance he recognised the weapon on the second man’s shoulder as an AK assault rifle, and he knew that something wasn’t right.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the captain began, raising his free hand. He waited for the conversation in the theatre to subside. When the vast room was silent and all eyes were on him, he resumed. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it is my melancholy duty to inform you that the Cleopatra has been boarded and taken over by an armed group.’
There were a few gasps peppered with titters of nervous laughter.
‘This is no joke,’ Captain Gustarv said. ‘This is a hijacking. I want you to do whatever this man tells you to do. I –’
The man at Gustarv’s side grabbed the microphone from him. ‘Listen to me very carefully, all of you,’ Ricardo said. ‘My people and I have taken control of this ship. If you look to the doors, you will see some of my comrades.’
Heads turned as the audience looked to the doors. There was a mass of gasps. A few women screamed. Standing in the theatre doorways were members of Ricardo’s group, wearing red bandanas and ammunition pouches and brandishing automatic weapons.
Operation Black Shark Page 8