‘It’s possible, we could shout for help.’
‘Well get shouting then! There’s one passing us now!’
Joe and Jack dove to the opening and yelled with all their might.
‘HELP!’
‘WE’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED!’
‘HELP US PLEASE!’
They shouted till they were hoarse. But the ship continued on its way.
‘It’s no use,’ Jack said dejectedly, wishing the kidnappers hadn’t taken his emergency whistle.
‘They may have heard us and gone for help,’ Allie said brightly.
Joe shook his head. ‘No, it was probably too far away. Besides, the wind probably carried our voices away. We’ll just have to find another way of escaping.’
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you!’ a South African accent behind them advised.
The captives spun around to see four armed men advancing on them, from the darkness.
‘That was dumb what you did. I’m afraid I now have to separate you.’ The South African stepped forward, revealing himself to be a tall, muscular black man.
Jack immediately recognized him as the man he had met on the driveway.
The African snapped an order to the other men. ‘Take the boy and girl, and put them in different rooms!’
Rough hands grabbed Jack and Allie, who struggled but soon gave up, defeated by their strength.
The African stepped up to Joe. ‘You’re coming with me,’ he announced.
Joe scowled but complied. He walked ahead of the African.
‘Do as I say, and no sudden movements. We’re off to see a friend,’ the man laughed.
Joe was marched along a series of corridors, passing many armed people, and after his impromptu tour ended in another darkened room, he remarked to himself how large the ship was.
An electronically disguised voice boomed out of unseen speakers.
‘Professor Joseph Simpson. I would like you to meet a friend of yours, a very close friend.’
The room light blinked on, and Joe’s worst nightmare lay before him. His wife Natalie was tied to a chair, and it was evident that she had been through a rough time, judging by her appearance. She appeared to have been drugged.
Joe’s gut wrenched at the thought of his whole family being held captive. He dove forward, sank to his knees and held his wife’s face in his hands. Rage built up inside him, so much that he stood up and lunged at the African. He came to a sudden stop as the two burly guards stepped in.
‘Why have you done this?’ he screamed, sinking to his knees once more. ‘Why her?’
‘Insurance, Professor Simpson. The very best kind,’ a disembodied voice answered.
‘Who are you? Show yourself.’ Joe demanded.
‘Impractical, Professor. You may call me Scorpio. I want you to know that you are useful to me, and I have a little job for you to do. But I warn you, if you don’t comply, I will have no choice but to make things very uncomfortable for your wife.’
‘What job?’ The Professor said quietly, looking at the floor.
‘All in a timely manner. To show you my sincerity I will allow you time with your wife, and then we shall talk.’
‘What about the children?’ Joe pleaded.
‘Don’t worry, they’re quite safe, I assure you. You should concern yourself with the possibility of your son becoming an orphan.’ A crackling sound signified that the voice had ended the conversation.
Joe turned to see the African leaving the room, laughing as he locked the door.
Alone with his wife, Joe undid her bonds and rubbed life into her limbs. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped her tear stained face.
‘I don’t want to die Joseph.’ Natalie whispered.
‘I know.’
‘Promise me you won’t let them hurt me.’
‘Don’t worry; I’ll do what they ask. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.’
‘Thank you.’ Natalie kissed him tenderly.
Joe turned away knowing he had promised something he wasn’t certain he could fulfill.
*
‘What’s happening with the kidnapping Martin?’ the Chief questioned the detective.
‘I don’t know, Sir. The kidnappers seem to have just disappeared,’ Martin replied.
‘What’s all this about military involvement?’
‘I spoke to a Doctor Kymes at ACI Labs. He said that because Simpson was working on a secret government project, the Army would have to take over the investigation.’
‘They can’t do that. We have civilians missing too,’ Chief Barstow announced.
‘That’s what I said, but Kymes told me to expect a visit from some Army Major.
‘When?’
‘Sometime today. I called the D.o.D., and they confirmed.’
The telephone on the Chief’s desk rang. He reached forward and picked it up.
‘Yes, Julie?’
He listened to a short message and then put the receiver down.
‘It seems our Major has arrived.’
The two men stood up as a plain clothed gentleman entered the room.
‘Major Foster, Army Intelligence,’ he announced.
‘Chief Barstow and Detective Evans,’ Barstow said with a touch of sarcasm. ‘Take a seat, Major.’
The Major handed Barstow a plain white manila envelope, then sat. ‘Orders,’ he said.
Barstow opened the envelope and read the contents with a grim face. He handed the materials to Martin who read the information with a scowl.
When Martin had finished, Foster retrieved the paperwork.
‘Of course, I can’t reveal the whole reason we need Simpson back because I simply don’t know the full facts yet. But, as you see, we cannot allow civilians to become involved any further. This is, as they say, a matter of national security. Special Forces will now take over,’ Major Foster finished.
‘I understand that. But surely there must be a way that we can work on this together?’ Martin asked.
‘I see you weren’t listening Detective,’ Foster said, irritated. ‘You have been given your orders. Drop the case. We will now take over.’
Martin looked at the Chief.
‘My hands are tied, Martin. I can’t do a thing.’
‘Great! So we just let a bunch of gun toting soldiers run about the streets, scaring everybody?’
‘Martin! This is neither the time nor the place. You can lodge a complaint with district, but orders are orders,’ the Chief cautioned. ‘I need you to provide Major Foster with everything you have learned so far. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ Martin replied.
Foster and Evans left the Chief’s office and turned into the detective’s office.
‘Frank, get me the notes on the Simpson kidnapping. I’ll be in my office when you’ve got them,’ Martin ordered.
The pair entered Evans’ spacious office. ‘Take a seat, Major.’
‘Thank you,’ Foster said sitting in a plush leather chair.
‘I know a little bit about the army, Major. My Father was a Major in the Marines,’ Martin declared.
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, in fact, I know something about your unit. You must be the Delta Force, right?’
The Major said nothing.
‘No matter. It has to be something big for Special Forces to be involved,’ Martin continued.
‘Here’s the report you wanted Sir,’ Frank announced, poking his head around the door.
‘Thanks,’ Foster said, taking the folder from Frank.
‘Anything else?’ Frank asked.
‘No, just shut the door on the way out,’ Martin replied.
Major Foster studied the notes carefully. ‘I have a question, Evans. The package described in the boy’s note. Do we know what it was?’
‘No, but a Doctor Kymes at ACI Labs seems to think it could be something connected to Simpson’s work,’ Martin replied.
‘Why does the boy say, “package”?’ Foste
r asked.
‘Maybe it’s something larger than a handful of papers,’ Martin concluded.
‘I think I need to speak to Doctor Kymes and set up a temporary base of operations at ACI,’ Foster declared. Rising to his feet, he shook Martin’s hand. ‘Thanks for your help, Detective. I may be in touch. If you get anything new, let me know. I’ll be at ACI.’
With that, he left the room, leaving the intelligence folder on Martin’s desk.
‘Don’t mention it!’ Martin said as he watched the Major walk out of the department.
Martin called Frank over. ‘You and I are off to visit Chief Winters in Widikham. I’ve already told him we are en-route, and I want to see for myself what we are dealing with.’
‘What now?’
‘No, tomorrow. Of course now.’
*
The door slid open letting a stream of light into a dimly lit mock up of a boardroom, aboard the ship.
A slim figure approached a large oblong table in the center of the room. Dark shadows were cast on the table by the figure, causing the twelve seated occupants to look. Sat at the head of the table was the figure of a man, darkness shrouding his face.
‘Take a seat, my dear,’ the man said with a heavily accented voice. ‘I must thank you for your ingenuity. Once again, you have not failed me. Soon we shall have the material, provided of course, by our obedient Professor.’
‘It’s been a long time coming, Scorpio,’ she said. She leaned forward, and the light lit her face.
‘Two years is not too long to wait, Natalie. I have waited a lifetime for something like this. Coupled with its destructive capabilities, we shall finally defeat the enemies of our nation and all those who oppose us,’ the man continued.
‘Are you not taking a risk being here?’ Natalie Simpson enquired.
‘Don’t trouble yourself, Natalie. I shall soon return home and ready the device there for the first revolt. We shall crush any nations that oppose us. When my business with the Professor is concluded, you shall escort him and his family to the helicopter and take them to the new location. I do not want them harmed! The Professor’s co-operation is vital to our goal.’ The man stood up still shrouded by shadow, and all that was seen of him was a green army uniform. He was accompanied by two armed men as he left the room.
‘Yes, General,’ Natalie called after him.
Joe was once more alone. His wife had been taken away. The lights of the room once more blazed.
‘Professor, your time is up. You will now do as I instruct. We, unfortunately, cannot access the plans for the S.E.A.R.Ch program from your computer. Why is this?’ the disembodied voice demanded.
Joe thought quickly, knowing that his usefulness may expire if he told them that Jack had hidden a vital component, not to mention that they might harm him.
‘Not all the program is there. I still need a few months to finish it.’
‘YOU LIE!’
‘I’m telling the truth, I swear!’ Joseph cried.
‘No, you lie, but no matter. We will continue where you left off. We have only a few weeks to come up with working software for the device. I expect you to complete it, or I will be very upset.’
‘I can’t fit six years of work into a few weeks. That’s impossible. I may make a mistake,’ Joe contended.
‘You can, and you will! Soon you will be transported to a laboratory where you will finish your work.’
‘My family?’
‘They will go with you, naturally. Remember Professor; I will not tolerate disobedience. Your family will suffer if you fail me.’
‘I understand,’ Joe said, defeated.
The lights blinked out and the Professor was once more alone.
It was night. That much Jack could tell from a high porthole in the prison of his cabin.
After the euphoria of seeing his father again, and not thinking about the terrible situation he was in, he was now intensely miserable. He didn’t know what had happened to his father or Allie. Was his stepmother safe and well? He had spent most of his time asleep, dreaming of being at home, and now handcuffed to his bunk, the reality hit him. It frightened him, not being in control.
*
Martin Evans had finished his shift after a visit to Chief Winters and was sat with Frank in the Two Bells bar in Widikham, drowning his sorrows. The bar was a seedy joint, dark and grime encrusted. The patrons were often much the same. The bar, according to a sign above the door, had been built in 1895 and it looked it.
The town was situated close to a natural port, frequented by ships that made their way up from a harbor at the mouth of the River Woolsey.
‘What I don’t get is, we put all the work into the investigation, then some intelligence guy steps in and takes over, just like that,’ Frank said, sipping his pint.
‘The least they could have done is thank us,’ Martin said pointedly.
‘Have you told the Major that the Simpson woman has gone missing?’ Frank asked.
‘He didn’t leave a contact number. I did leave a message at ACI labs for him to get in touch,’ Martin replied, finishing his drink. ‘Want another?’
‘Yeah, go on then.’
Martin pushed his way through a crowd of men, many of whom had just arrived on shore, on leave from one ship or another.
Finally, he reached the bar and ordered two beers, and from behind him came the deep southern accent of a punter.
‘I swear it, somebody was definitely yellin’ and screamin’ somethin’ about bein’ kidnapped.’
Martin’s ears pricked up. He turned and looked at the crewman who had spoken.
‘Look, Phil, It was probably some kids ‘avin’ a joke,’ Another punter reasoned.
‘Yeah, but what would kids be doin’ on a cargo vessel?’
‘Drop it, Phil. It’s none of our business anyway.’
Martin’s mind raced with possibilities. Could this be a lead? He left the beers on the bar and approached the two men, interrupting their conversation. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Yeah? What do you want?’ asked the crewman.
‘Detective Evans, Hopewell Police Department.’ Martin flashed his badge.
‘Oh yeah?’ the other punter said warily. ‘Bit far from Hopewell ain’t ya?’
‘I couldn’t help overhearing what you said, about hearing a call for help,’ Martin continued, ignoring the man.
‘Yeah, I did. Why?’ the crewman asked.
‘Can I talk to you in private?’ Martin said, pulling the crewman to a quiet corner of the bar.
‘Are you aware that a kidnapping of a government scientist happened two days ago?’
‘No, I just got off the ship.’
‘In that case, what you tell me now could be crucial. Tell me exactly what you heard.’
‘I was cleanin’ the deck of our ship, the Montrose. We were just passin’ an anchored cargo vessel on the starboard side, a bit close if you ask me. But what do I know? I’m not Captain am I? I could ‘ave swore I heard a couple of voices shoutin’ “Help us, we’ve been kidnapped”. I looked ‘round, but couldn’t see much, so I shrugged it off, and got back to work.’
‘Did you believe what you heard?’
‘Well, yeah. It’s not somethin’ you ‘ear every day, is it?’
‘What was the name of the vessel you passed?’ Martin asked.
‘Somethin’ like, um .… The Nat … Natbush … no … that’s it! The Natrushkin,’ the crewman replied.
‘Great. Where was it anchored?’
‘Well, if it’s still there, it was anchored in Woolsey Harbor.’
Martin took the crewman’s address and contact number for future reference.
‘Thanks, pal,’ Martin said as he pushed his way through the crowd, looking for Frank. Seeing him, he stepped up to the table and grabbed his jacket.
‘Frank. Grab your jacket. I think we have a lead on the kidnapping.’
‘A lead? But I thought we were off the case?’ Frank questioned.
‘We a
re, but that doesn’t stop us looking into another potential kidnapping case,’ Martin reasoned. ‘I’m going to visit Winters. There’s work to do, and I know he’ll be up for it.’
Frank and Martin left the bar and walked down the Old Docks Road, heading towards Widikham Precinct.
Winters, a night owl by nature, was still at his desk when Martin knocked and entered.
‘You’re working late; I thought you’d have gone home by now.’ Winters smiled.
‘Stopped off for a beer on the way and came across some interesting information.’
Martin told him all he had learnt, while Winters sat there frowning.
‘You realize we can’t get involved in this? And you will have to tell Major Foster what you know.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ he said dully, knowing full well he wouldn’t stand by and not investigate on his own, and somewhat disappointed that his prediction of Winters being up for it had been quashed. ‘Can I use your phone?’
‘Yeah, go ahead.’
Martin swiveled the telephone sat on Winters desk towards him and dialed the number for ACI labs he found scribbled in his notebook.
‘Hello. ACI Labs? This is Detective Evans, Hopewell Police Department. Could I speak to Doctor Kymes, please?’ Martin sat back in his chair, feet up on his desk.
‘I’m afraid the Doctor has gone home for the evening,’ a voice said at the other end of the line.
‘I realize that he may have gone home, but would you please give me his home number. This is an emergency.’
‘I can’t do that, Sir, our policy dictates -’
‘I don’t care what your policy dictates; I need to get in touch with the doctor so he can relay a message to a Major Foster.’
‘Major Foster is in the building. May I put you through, Sir?’ the receptionist offered.
‘Yes,’ Martin replied, satisfied.
It took a few moments for him to be connected to the Major, and finally, he answered. ‘What can I do for you, Evans?’
‘I believe we may have found our kidnappers.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. It appears they may be holding our scientist on a cargo vessel.’
S.E.A.R.Ch Page 9