Hijack

by Chris Ryan

  It was the bridge. That much was clear. He counted twelve men in total. Two were in military camouflage, the rest in black foul-weather gear. None of them had any weapons on display, but that didn’t mean they weren’t carrying. They all had their backs to Max. It was impossible to tell what they were saying or doing. But they hadn’t seen Max, and that was the important thing.

  He retreated quickly, back to the external door and down the staircase. The other cadets looked at him expectantly.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘I think it’s the only way in.’

  ‘How many people?’ Lukas said.

  ‘Twelve.’

  ‘Armed?’

  ‘Impossible to tell. But if we move quickly, I think we’ll have the element of surprise. There are two guys in camouflage gear. I guess they’re the ones most likely to be armed. Me and Lili will hold them at gunpoint. We’ll tell the others to get to the ground. The rest of you, search the bridge for anything that gives us an idea of where the attack is going to be.’

  ‘What if they’re more heavily armed than we’re expecting?’ Sami said.

  Max inhaled slowly before answering. ‘Remember what that guy told us on the whale-watching boat?’ he said. ‘That three hundred and twenty-three Argentines died when the Belgrano was sunk? Remember the war memorial outside Government House, commemorating two hundred and fifty-five British dead? Remember what Hector told us, that what we’re doing here could make the difference between war and peace?’ He looked across the deck and over the dark, stormy ocean.

  ‘Look out, you lot,’ Abby muttered. ‘He’s going to say something heroic.’

  ‘It just seems to me,’ Max continued, ‘that the lives of five teenagers would be a small price to pay to avoid history repeating itself.’

  Sami jutted out his chin. ‘It won’t come to that,’ he said. ‘Because we’re going to watch each other’s backs, right?’

  ‘Right,’ the others said in unison, and they prepared to advance to target.

  18

  The Bridge

  Max led the way.

  His weapon was a part of him. An extension of his arm. If his body turned, so did his gun, always pointing in the direction he faced. He held it at shoulder height, two-handed. His finger rested just outside the trigger guard.

  He pushed the first door open with his foot. The corridor was still empty. As he advanced to the bridge, he could sense Lili at his shoulder, her weapon raised in the same position. The other cadets followed.

  At the entrance to the bridge they stopped. They moved their fingers from the trigger guard to the trigger. Max already knew that the door opened inwards. Either he or Lili needed to be the first to enter. They nodded an unspoken acknowledgement: it would be Max. Still gripping his weapon, he kicked the door open and entered.

  The bridge had low windows extending around the front and both sides. Up ahead there was a bank of electronic navigation equipment: several screens of charts and weather information. There were two big leather chairs in front of the screens, and various complicated-looking boards of control instruments and radio gear. The lighting was low, but it was still difficult to see anything outside as the rain lashed against the windows.

  Most of the men were at the front of the bridge, quietly staring out at the darkness outside. The two men in camouflage gear stood in the centre of the bridge, their backs to the door. It was clear that they expected no intrusion.

  Nobody on the bridge even noticed Max was there until Lili was inside and standing next to him. They raised their weapons and each released a single round, carefully aimed at the ceiling. The double retort of the rounds punched across the bridge.

  The two men in camouflage gear were the first to react. They spun around, digging their hands into their jackets to remove their weapons. But Max and Lili were already bearing down on them. Lili, whose linguistic skills were much better than Max’s, shouted something in Spanish. The two soldiers dropped their weapons and, at another instruction from Lili, kicked them away.

  The other cadets were on the bridge. Lukas and Abby snatched the two spare weapons. They cocked them expertly and ostentatiously, making it clear that they knew how to handle them. They took up position in the centre of the bridge, panning their stolen weapons around, as Lili shouted something else. The adults in the room looked at each other uncertainly. Lili shouted again and they all – including the guys in camouflage – lay on the ground and put their hands on the back of their heads.

  ‘I think you get a 9 in Spanish,’ Abby commented.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lili said. ‘I’ve been practising.’

  ‘Sami,’ Max cut in, ‘check the navigation screens, see what you can work out.’

  There was a strange period of silence as Sami worked. It was broken only by a background hum, and the strange, deadened sound of the storm outside. Max, Lili, Lukas and Abby kept their weapons trained on the prostrate men. Sami wove his way through them to the navigation panels. He walked along the line of screens, examining each one in turn. ‘Nothing,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘It’s just current GPS location, weather charts …’

  He was interrupted by a burst of sound from the VHF radio to the left-hand side of the navigation panel. A voice spoke over the airways in Spanish. They listened.

  ‘What did he say?’ Max asked when the voice fell silent.

  ‘They’re just requesting a radio check,’ Lili replied.

  ‘Do we reply?’ Lukas asked.

  ‘No,’ Max said. ‘Not yet. We need to find out the details of the attack and broadcast it on the emergency channel as soon as we can.’

  ‘Look,’ Sami said. There was an edge to his voice. He held up a paper chart, well-worn and folded in several places. It was a sepia colour, and it showed coastlines, depth soundings and tidal diamonds. A pale compass rose showed true north and magnetic north, and there were handwritten markings made in fine red and blue pen.

  ‘What is it?’ Lukas said.

  ‘It’s a nautical chart of the Falklands,’ Sami replied. ‘Look: Port Stanley, RAF Mount Pleasant …’ He jabbed at areas on the map. ‘These blue arrows here are pointing towards the cove where we saw the frogmen arriving. But these red arrows …’ He pointed at an area further around the coastline, heading anticlockwise. ‘They’re pointing to a completely different landing area. Check out the depth soundings and tidal diamonds. It’s a shallow beach with calm waters.’

  ‘Perfect for an invasion force,’ Max said.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘We need to transmit this information to HMS Stirling,’ Max said. ‘Sami, get on the VHF radio. Use emergency channel 16, it’s –’

  It happened before he could finish. As Max spoke to Sami, he and Lili had momentarily taken their attention from the two men in camouflage gear at their feet. But the men were alert. They rolled towards Max and Lili, grabbed them by the ankles and wrestled them to the floor. Max was taken by surprise. The gunman knelt on his chest. He held one hand over Max’s throat while he slammed Max’s gun hand hard on the floor several times. Max lost his grip on the gun, which slid across the floor. His assailant seized it.

  There was a sudden hubbub in the room. Men were shouting in Spanish. Lukas and Abby screamed at them to stay down. But as Max’s guy grabbed him by his throat and dragged him to his feet, Max sensed that the dynamic in the room had changed. The crew members were standing up. They seemed to be suddenly aware that, for all their screaming, Lukas and Abby were not going to shoot them. Sami was at the front of the bridge, clutching the nautical chart, desperately looking around, as though he might find something that would help them gain the upper hand again. But there was nothing. Lukas and Abby still had their weapons raised, but they were edging back to the exit.

  Even as he felt the barrel of his handgun being pressed into the side of his head, Max shouted: ‘Sami! Take the chart! Get back to the RIB! We’ll hold them off!’

  Sami blinked. Max knew how reluctant Sami would be to leave the others in danger, tha
t he would need urging.

  ‘Do it!’ he bellowed. ‘Go! Now!’

  And as if to punctuate his instruction, Lukas and Abby each released a round from their weapons: not at the crew members on the bridge, but at the floor just in front of them. The rounds sparking off the metal floor was enough to make them disperse, and Sami took his chance. Chart in hand, he sprinted across the bridge towards the exit. One of the guys in camo gear yelled an instruction to follow him, but Sami was fast and he was skilful. In seconds, he was through the door and out of there.

  The two guys in camouflage started shouting again, their guns still pressed to Max and Lili’s heads.

  ‘Follow him!’ Max shouted. ‘We have to make sure he gets away to warn someone …’

  But he didn’t need to say it. Lukas and Abby were still backing up towards the door, arms outstretched, panning their guns left and right to stop anyone getting too close. Abby was looking at Max, her expression wretched at the prospect of leaving him and Lili in danger. Lukas, however, was looking elsewhere. One of the crew members had hurled himself towards the VHF radio. With a pang, Max realised that if he radioed for help, Sami’s chance of warning the British that they were being fooled by a decoy force would be diminished.

  But Lukas was already on it.

  The crew member picked up the handset and was about to speak when Lukas released a third round in his direction. The round hit the radio handset, which burst into pieces in the man’s hand. Lukas reoriented his weapon and fired another shot at the main body of the radio. There was a spark and a plume of smoke as the round hit. The VHF radio was disabled.

  Lukas’s precise shot had an immediate effect on the other crew members’ confidence. They edged away, casting anxious sidelong glances at each other. It gave Lukas and Abby the opportunity to back further to the exit.

  ‘Go!’ Max hissed.

  Lukas nodded curtly and left the bridge. Abby hesitated, her worried eyes lingering on Max. He mouthed the words ‘We’ll follow!’ The guy holding him issued a harsh counter-instruction in Spanish, and jammed the handgun a little harder into the side of his head. Max ignored that. With obvious reluctance, Abby exited the bridge.

  Which left Max, Lili and twelve enemy personnel.

  Max and Lili faced each other on either side of the door, approximately four metres apart. Their assailants had them in a chokehold from behind, guns pressed to their heads. They were yelling instructions at the others – which meant they were not fully focused on restraining Max and Lili.

  And that was their big mistake.

  Because the Special Forces Cadets had trained for exactly this moment, and trained well.

  Max and Lili knew that to counteract a rear chokehold they had to move fast, hard and at the same time. While their assailants were still shouting, the two cadets locked gazes, nodded, then struck.

  They were a mirror image of each other as they performed three separate movements at the same time.

  Movement one. Max yanked his right arm upwards, knocking the weapon that was pressed to his head out of position. The weapon fired. Max didn’t know if the shot was deliberate or accidental, but it didn’t matter; the round discharged harmlessly into the ceiling.

  Movement two. With his left hand he grabbed the fingers of the arm that held him in a neck lock. Without hesitation, he yanked the man’s fingers backwards. There was a cracking sound as the knuckle joints broke.

  Movement three. Max stamped on his assailant’s foot. The man shrieked in pain, but somehow still managed to keep his arm hooked around Max’s neck. But that was okay, because Max had one more move. He jabbed his right elbow back as far as he could, knocking it hard into the man’s solar plexus.

  Meanwhile, Lili was doing exactly the same.

  The men staggered backwards in shock. They still held their weapons, but they were doubled over in pain, which gave the cadets a brief window to escape.

  They seized it.

  Ignoring the shouts from the other crew members, they hurtled to the exit and, once through, sprinted along the corridor. At the far end, Max pulled open the heavy external door, to be greeted by a sudden blast of wind and rain. But he’d battle the elements any day over the gunmen that he knew were following them. He let Lili run through, then exited the corridor himself, aware in his peripheral vision that crew members had already appeared at the other end. The door slammed behind him. Before he ran down the slippery external staircase, he saw the misted glass panel of the door crack and splinter as a round hit it from the inside.

  ‘Run!’ he shouted at Lili, who was already halfway down the stairs. ‘They’re coming. RUN!’

  19

  Under Tension

  Max and Lili sprinted along the port deck. The wind howled. Every few paces, Max checked behind him. They were midship when they saw men following. They heard shouting. Max could tell that they were not only being followed from behind; the men had spread out and were also approaching the stern from the starboard deck.

  Lukas appeared just ahead of them: legs apart for balance, weapon raised straight ahead of him, expression fierce.

  ‘Split!’ he roared.

  Max and Lili parted, Max moving to the bulkhead, Lili to the railings. Their manoeuvre gave Lukas a direct shot towards the bow. He lowered the gun slightly and fired. There was a muzzle flash from the handgun’s barrel and Max heard the tinny ricochet as the round pinged off the floor just behind him. More shouting. Looking over his shoulder again, he saw that their pursuers had stopped, held back by Lukas’s warning shots.

  ‘Go!’ Lukas shouted at them.

  They didn’t hesitate, but sprinted past him as he released another round to hold the enemy back.

  Seconds later they were at the stern. Sami was there, standing at the rail, tugging at the taut rope leading from the back of the trawler.

  ‘It’s our RIB,’ Lili explained breathlessly. It was instantly clear that the rope was under too much tension, the drag too severe, for the cadets to be able to haul the RIB in. Sami looked panicked as Lukas and Abby appeared on either side of the stern, aiming their weapons back towards the two side decks. Lukas fired another round, but when Abby tried to do the same, her handgun clicked.

  ‘I’m out of ammo!’ she shouted. ‘They’re coming!’

  There was barely time to think. ‘Grab the rope!’ Max shouted. ‘Slide down!’

  The other cadets stared at him, their brows furrowed.

  ‘Do it! Now! We can’t hold them back! Whatever you do, don’t let go of the rope!’

  Lukas tried to fire his weapon again. A click. He too was out of ammo. That seemed to kick-start the cadets into action. Sami climbed over the stern railing, grasped the rope with two hands and swung one leg over it so that he was lying on top of the rope, facing the trawler. He immediately slid out of sight and down the rope. Lili climbed over the rail. She threw herself overboard in the same way.

  ‘Get over!’ Max shouted to Abby. ‘Don’t let go! I’m going to have to undo the knot …’

  ‘No need,’ Abby said, her eyes flashing. She produced a knife in a black scabbard from somewhere about her person and handed it to Max. As he grabbed it, she took hold of the rope, swung her legs over the stern rail and disappeared into the darkness.

  Which left only Max and Lukas. Max’s friend was sprinting up to him, several men in pursuit. Lukas turned and chucked his empty handgun in their direction. It struck the lead guy hard in the face, halting him and his companions for a split second. But there were more crew fast approaching from the other side.

  Distance of the nearest crew member: ten metres.

  ‘GO!’ Max roared. ‘AND DON’T LET GO OF THE ROPE!’

  Lukas required no further urging. Like the three cadets before him, he hurled himself over the railing, seized the rope with both hands and slid away into the darkness …

  Max was left alone. He didn’t bother trying to count how many enemies were advancing towards him. He knew there were too many for him to escape, if the
y got their hands on him. He gripped the handle of the knife between his teeth, turned and clutched the rope with his left hand. The water below was stormy and threatening. He tried not to focus on it as he swung his legs over the stern rail. For a moment he remembered the kid on the whale-watching boat who had almost fallen in, but he was brought back to the moment when he felt his heel clip the hand of one of the crew members as his legs swung over. The taut rope bounced slightly as he fell onto it, gripping it with his free hand. He prepared to let himself slide down but he saw someone leaning over the stern rail. It was the guy with the red eyes, freed from the cargo container. Somehow he had managed to get hold of another weapon – a rifle – and he was aiming it at Max.

  Max knew he only had a fraction of a second. He grabbed the knife handle, pulled the scabbard off with his teeth and, clutching the rope as tightly as he could with his free hand, slashed the rope just above him.

  The blade was wickedly sharp. It cut the rope as if it was butter. Max let the knife fall into the ocean and seized the leading end of the rope with his free hand. He didn’t hear the sound of gunfire from the rifle, but he saw the muzzle flash as the guy with the red eyes took a shot at him.

  He missed.

  Because Max was falling.

  The forward momentum of the trawler immediately distanced it from Max. His stomach lurched as he fell towards the ocean, clutching the rope, bracing himself for impact with the water …

  He told himself to prepare for the cold water shock. He knew it would make his body instinctively want to suck in air, so he clamped his mouth shut.

  It only took him a couple of seconds to fall. His body slapped painfully against the water, and then he was under.

  The water was icy. Even though he was expecting it, the shock was profound, the urge to inhale almost overwhelming. Max felt as though every muscle in his body was clenched in his attempt to keep his mouth shut and his grip on the rope tight. But he was sinking fast. Sami, Abby and Lili had life jackets. He and Lukas had none. The roar of the storm and the trawler’s engines were suddenly deadened by the water, and he found himself confused and disorientated. Which way was up? He didn’t know. He would have liked to blow bubbles and see which way they rose, but it was impossibly dark. Instead, still clutching the rope, he raised his hands to his mouth and blew. He felt the bubbles rising and started to kick for the surface.