The Killing Ship

by Simon Beaufort

  Sarah swallowed hard. ‘And Dan?’

  ‘The blood Graham saw on the beach must’ve been his. He didn’t die under the ice – they must’ve shot him, too, and taken his body away. The sample pouch we found … Dan must’ve dropped it before all this horror began.’

  They were silent again, then Sarah gave a disjointed, chaotic account of what had happened after he and Graham had left, including her own terrible night, huddled in the sleeping bags and expecting at any moment to hear footsteps coming for her. He regarded her in horror when she told him about Lisa – he had known the scream meant nothing good, but it wasn’t pleasant to have his fears confirmed.

  ‘We have to help her,’ he said, rising unsteadily to his feet. ‘She might be caught on a ledge, like I was.’

  ‘She isn’t.’ Sarah looked away. ‘I heard her land on the bottom.’

  ‘But we have to look. We can’t just leave her. She might have survived.’

  ‘I’ll show you where it happened, but there’s nothing you can do now, Andrew, believe me. I only wish there were.’

  They began to walk, carrying the bundle between them. Berrister tested each step before putting his full weight upon it, and Sarah, realising that she had been somewhat reckless until now, did likewise.

  ‘Freddy loved it up here,’ said Sarah softly. ‘During the last couple of weeks, he climbed the scarp two or three times a day.’

  Berrister blinked; he hadn’t known. ‘Did he? Alone?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘None of us told you, because you’d have stopped him – said it was too dangerous. But he used to enjoy sitting on the crest with his binoculars, looking out to sea. Perhaps he saw the ship coming and ran down to greet them, only to be shot for his efforts.’

  ‘Then ran all the way back up here to fall down the Big Crevasse?’

  ‘Why not? We did.’

  Berrister grimaced bitterly as he gazed westwards. ‘He was desperate to trek over to the Byers Peninsula. If only I’d agreed – then we’d be safely over there, and he’d still be alive.’

  ‘We can’t start thinking like that,’ said Sarah, briskly practical. ‘How were we to know that gun-toting maniacs would arrive?’

  ‘So what are we going to do about them?’

  ‘Do?’ Sarah regarded him askance. ‘Nothing – other than survive until help arrives. That’s what Geoff asked me to do – live to tell everyone what happened.’

  ‘No,’ said Berrister, shaking his head firmly. ‘We can’t skulk here while they murder him and the others. We can’t!’

  ‘But they might be dead already,’ argued Sarah. She saw the despair in his eyes and touched his arm in a gesture of sympathy. ‘We’ll think of something, but not right now. First, we need to rest and get our strength back – I’ll be able to sleep if I know you’re standing guard, and vice versa.’

  Berrister nodded. ‘When we’ve looked for Lisa.’

  Sarah regarded him soberly. ‘The Big Crevasse goes right down to the bedrock, you know. We won’t see her. It’s too deep.’

  ‘Just let me shout to her for a while,’ said Berrister tiredly. ‘I need to be sure she’s not still alive. When I fell three years ago … well, it’s what I’d want someone to do for me.’

  Sarah could see there was no point in arguing, so she led the way to the spot where Lisa had fallen. Berrister knelt and yelled her name until he was hoarse, but no sound came back from its black depths.

  Eventually, he conceded there was nothing more they could do. He refused point blank to rest inside the glacier, so they gathered as much as they could carry, from his bundle and what had been salvaged from the camp, and set off across the ice. As they walked, he pondered the chain of events that had led them to this pass. There had been three shots: one had hit Freddy, while the others had killed Wells and probably caused the ice fall that they had so pathetically tried to excavate.

  But what had Graham said? That Wells would not be dead? Berrister frowned. What had he meant? And was it his imagination, or had Graham behaved oddly since the gunfire? He struggled to think clearly, but it was too cold and he was too tired.

  There was a rocky outcrop near the edge of the glacier. Its top afforded a fine view of the ship in South Bay, although she could not see them. At its foot was a hollow, where the ice had melted away to leave a gap. While Sarah did an inventory of their supplies, Berrister took the knife and began to cut large ‘bricks’ from the snow. Fortunately, the blade was sharp, and he soon had enough blocks to build a wall. Then, using a technique Wells had taught him, he sculpted an igloo-like roof that arched over the hollow to the rock beyond. He packed the gaps with more snow, and when Sarah glanced up, she saw he had created a shelter that would not only protect them from the weather, but hide them as well. She smiled tiredly. She would certainly rest easier in it than anywhere else on the island.

  They ate tinned peas, crackers and a packet of peanuts, then wrapped themselves in smoke-tainted sleeping bags. Huddled together for warmth, they rested at last, one sleeping while the other listened for marauding gunmen.

  Yablokov was supervising the flensing. It was snowing, so conditions were treacherous. He had asked the captain to suspend work until the blizzard abated, and Garik had agreed, but an hour later Nikos came to report that the men were out again – Hasim had persuaded the captain to change his mind. Wearily, Yablokov had gone to oversee the operation himself, fearing there would be serious accidents otherwise.

  The whale looked as though a bomb had hit it. Uneven gashes scored its back, where lumps of meat and blubber had been hacked away, very different from the neat cuts Yablokov had seen in the historical photographs online. Earlier that day he had seen a black fin slicing through the water nearby. Alarmed, he had recalled the crew, but the orca had not come any closer, and Hasim had been there to order everyone back to work.

  Eventually the snow came down so thickly that it was impossible to see, and even Hasim did not argue when Yablokov ordered everyone back on board. When he was sure all were accounted for, he went to the bridge, where Hasim was talking to the Norwegians. They fell silent when Yablokov came in. Hasim glanced at the clock.

  ‘Time to feed our guests,’ he said. ‘Again.’

  ‘How much longer will you keep them here?’ asked Yablokov, finally putting the question that had been at the forefront of his mind ever since Hasim had made the peculiar decision that the scientists were not to be shot, but brought back to Lena.

  ‘As long as it takes,’ replied Hasim, picking up a chart and studying it with aggravating insouciance.

  ‘As long as what takes?’ persisted Yablokov.

  ‘As long as it takes to learn a few things I need to know. Only then will we resolve the problem they’ve become. How’s the cargo, by the way? Do you have a progress report for me?’

  ‘I have one for the captain,’ retorted Yablokov.

  ‘As you wish.’ Hasim’s smug smile did not slip one bit.

  The first thing that penetrated Berrister’s sleep-befuddled mind when he woke an hour later was that he was cold and hungry. He sat up. Sarah was kneeling at the entrance to their shelter, struggling to open a can with the knife. It contained tomatoes. She ate half and handed the rest to Berrister.

  ‘Geoff was right, you know,’ she said. ‘He warned me that going out might interfere with what you and Graham were doing, and it did – you saw two people poking about the camp, so went to raid the corpses instead. Well, I suspect those two people were Joshi and me.’

  ‘Probably.’ Berrister nodded at the supplies laid out on the floor of their shelter. ‘But if we hadn’t gone there, we’d be minus the torch, the rope that saved my life, and the long knife for cutting snow, not to mention bread and sausage. It worked out OK.’

  Sarah stared at their meagre haul. ‘Can we last for seven days on this?’

  Berrister did not answer. ‘I want to go to the camp in a minute, to look at the long-wave radios.’

  ‘Why? The generators are kaput, and the radios
won’t work without them.’

  ‘The batteries might have enough residual power for an emergency transmission. I also want to watch that ship, see how we might help the others.’

  ‘We can’t do much without food. I think we’d be better sitting here, conserving our energy. Rothera will already be worried, and when we don’t transmit tonight, Vince’ll raise the alarm. Help could be here as soon as tomorrow. And even if he lets us down, Worsley should be here in a week.’

  Berrister was thoughtful. ‘We often catch fish in the krill nets – there’ll almost certainly be a couple there now, given that they haven’t been emptied for three days. Of course, it means one of us going out onto the point, and then we’d really be exposed if the whalers came …’

  ‘I could keep watch – call you back if I see them coming.’

  Berrister nodded. ‘Alright then – we’ll see about the radios first, then visit the krill nets. OK?’

  Outside, it was snowing heavily. He donned a third jersey beneath his coat, while Sarah dragged on two more pairs of socks. They took the bread and sausage with them and set off. Snow swirled and within moments, they had lost sight of their shelter, so well hidden was it.

  They reached the edge of the glacier, and looked down. They could just make out the ship. Berrister was glad to see it, choosing to interpret it as evidence that their friends were still alive, although it also meant that he and Sarah would need to stay vigilant. He strained his eyes trying to see if there was any activity on board, but the snow was too thick. Cautiously, they made their way down the scarp to the camp. It was devoid of killers, and walking around its broken remains in the silent, floating snow was eerie.

  A large bull fur seal had moved in, and was sprawled on what was left of the cook tent. Fur seals were aggressive, and Berrister was disinclined to do battle with it to get to the radios.

  ‘Let’s get the fish first instead,’ he suggested. ‘Maybe it’ll have moved by the time we come back.’

  They followed the curve of the beach to where rocks jutted out into the sea in a tapering finger. While Sarah kept guard, Berrister clambered out alone, moving confidently as it was a journey he had made daily for the past three months. The nets were at the very end of the point. He released the krill, kept the three fish that were with them, and made his way back to Sarah. As he went, he noticed that the wind was picking up, snow slanting directly into his face.

  With no fuel, they had to eat the fish raw, which they did quickly and without pleasure, although both felt better afterwards. When they returned to the camp, it was to find the fur seal still in residence. It eyed them challengingly as they approached.

  ‘If that were a penguin, I’d deal with it,’ said Sarah. ‘But seals are your department.’

  Berrister picked up a piece of driftwood and advanced warily, hoping to drive it off without a major confrontation. The animal glared at him, and made a furious chuffing sound. It tried to back away, but something was stopping it.

  ‘Damn!’ he muttered. ‘One of the guy ropes is caught around its neck. It’s not going anywhere – and it’s right where the radios are.’

  ‘Can you cut it loose?’ Sarah cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. ‘We should try the radios and get out of here, because the longer we hang around …’

  ‘The quickest option will be to sedate it,’ said Berrister, reluctantly dismissing the one where they waited for it to fall asleep naturally. It might stay awake for hours and Sarah was right – they couldn’t risk dallying too long. ‘Wait here.’

  He went to fetch the necessary equipment, glad to find his cache of ketamine had survived. He returned moments later with a syringe on a pole. He estimated the seal’s weight and drew up the correct dosage. Just in case there was a mishap, he handed Sarah a second ampule and a spare syringe. She watched his preparations anxiously. Fur seals were fast and dangerous, and they could not afford for him to be savaged.

  ‘Wave your arms at it,’ he directed, ‘to distract it while I sneak up from behind.’

  Sarah obliged, so Berrister darted forward and inserted the needle into the seal’s hind flipper. With a bark of outrage, it whipped around, and he only just avoided a nip from its powerful jaws. He retreated hastily.

  ‘How long will it take to work?’ asked Sarah anxiously.

  ‘Not long. But stay back – if we agitate it, we might have problems bringing it round. The last time I used ketamine on a fur seal, I had to resuscitate it.’

  ‘You mean you gave it the kiss of life?’ asked Sarah, regarding him askance.

  ‘I used an air bag,’ said Berrister, wondering what sort of man she thought he was. ‘Yes – it’s going under now. I’ll see to it while you hunt for some wire and the battery from the weather station.’

  ‘That won’t work,’ she said anxiously. ‘It’s not powerful enough.’

  ‘No,’ he acknowledged. ‘But we might be able to jury-rig it, so it lets us send a brief transmission. Hurry – we’ve been here too long already.’

  Sarah began to poke through the rubble, while Berrister crouched near the seal. He cut it free of the rope, then rolled it away from the tent, positioning it so it wouldn’t choke. When he had finished, he retrieved the radios.

  The primary one was a hopelessly charred mess, but the spare had survived relatively intact, although it was greasy with smoke. He had no screwdriver to remove panels, so had to resort to smashing them with a rock. He was forced to remove his gloves to wire it to the battery Sarah had found, and the wind made him pay for doing so. An elephant seal roared in the distance, but otherwise silence reigned.

  ‘It’s odd, isn’t it?’ mused Sarah, watching him tinker. ‘That the whalers would bother to destroy our food, radios and fuel when they planned to kill us all anyway.’

  ‘Yes and no – maybe they’re just thorough. But Graham said something yesterday … he seems to think that Dan is still alive.’

  ‘I know. He told me the same.’ Sarah hesitated, but then forged on. ‘He’s been acting weird for days – long before all this started. I hate to say it, but I think he knows more than he’s letting on.’

  Berrister blinked his astonishment. ‘What are you talking about?’

  She bit her lip in an uncharacteristic gesture of uncertainty. ‘He was furious when you vetoed Freddy’s notion of a hike to Byers – you weren’t there when we discussed it after, but he was really pissed off. With hindsight, it occurs to me that he had an inkling of what was going to happen, and the trek was an excuse to get us out of the way. And ever since Freddy and Dan disappeared … well, he’s not been himself.’

  ‘None of us have,’ Berrister pointed out sharply. ‘And I can’t believe we’re even having this discussion. Of course Graham isn’t in league with them!’

  ‘I didn’t say he was in league—’

  ‘You did if you think he knew they were coming,’ he flashed back angrily. ‘Or is the villain Freddy, because he suggested we go on the hike? Or Dan, perhaps? None of us know he’s dead for certain, after all, and you know what these elderly botanists are like – villains to a man.’

  ‘Stop it,’ snapped Sarah, irked in her turn. ‘And Graham … well, there’s definitely something awry about him. For a start, he was drunk yesterday morning, when we all came out of our tents.’

  ‘So? I might have had a drink myself if I’d had any. It proves nothing.’

  ‘It proves he doesn’t care enough about the rest of us to share. And think about how he was when you were running across the glacier – he abandoned you very readily.’

  ‘Someone was shooting at us. Of course he ran for his life. I was doing the same.’

  ‘Then what about his behaviour when Joshi fell down the scarp? He was very quick to assure us that Joshi was dead, and not very quick to stop throwing the rocks that might have hit him.’

  ‘So he’s selfish,’ shrugged Berrister. ‘It doesn’t mean he’s in league with criminals. What could he possibly gain from such an arrangement?’

/>   ‘Money – maybe there’s some kind of reward for reporting whale sightings to the wrong people. And neither of us really knows him. He’s not like the others – Lisa and Joshi are students who’ve been with us years, while Freddy came recommended by colleagues from the Polish station. But Graham – well, he’s just someone who applied for a job.’

  ‘Then why are they trying to kill him as well?’ asked Berrister archly, thinking that what she was suggesting was outrageous.

  ‘But he hasn’t been killed, has he? He’s been taken to their ship. And who was it who ran straight to where we were hiding, which told them where we were?’

  ‘You think he did it on purpose?’ asked Berrister incredulously.

  ‘He might. And maybe it was him who stole the food as well, doing it bit by bit over time, so we wouldn’t notice.’

  Berrister blew on his frozen fingers. ‘I suppose he put sugar in the generators, too?’ he said caustically. ‘To make sure we couldn’t call for help.’

  ‘It’s a definite possibility, because whoever did it knew that we had two generators and two radios. How would anyone else know that?’

  ‘Because it’s standard practice.’

  Considering the discussion over, Berrister turned his attention back to his tinkering, while Sarah crouched next to him, tucking her hands under her arms to keep them warm. Snow continued to fall, coating their shoulders in white. He finished quickly and glanced at her.

  ‘You do realise that the ship is probably listening,’ he said. ‘If we transmit, they’ll know we’re not dead, and may come back to look for us.’

  ‘Just get on with it,’ she said tersely, irked by his unwillingness to accept that she might have a point about Graham. ‘They’ll find us anyway if we take much longer.’

  He switched the set on with unsteady hands. Lights gleamed under the dials, and the speaker crackled. It worked!

  ‘You won’t get much more off that carcass,’ announced Hasim in the mess room. ‘It’s time to cut it loose and find another.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ blurted Nikos, startled. ‘We’ve barely started, and we can sell everything – intestines, cartilage, skin. It all has a market in the Far East.’