by Chris Ryan
‘It’s only a bird,’ the first man muttered. ‘I’d like to shoot it down and kill that kid while we’re at it. I don’t understand why the skipper’s keeping him alive.’
‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough,’ Eduardo replied. ‘The rendezvous is less than twenty-four hours away now. All we’ll have to do then is sit back and watch.’
‘Since when did el capitán ever sit back and let us do anything? He’s got the water cannons on to stop pirates from boarding the ship. Why do we have to keep patrolling the deck? Nobody can board us with those things going …’
And with that, the voices faded away.
The rendezvous is tomorrow … What rendezvous? Zak had almost forgotten about the diamonds. Was there to be some kind of handover? Perhaps he still had a chance to scupper Black Wolf’s plans.
Or perhaps he should just be thinking about his own safety …
He waited silently in the darkness of the lifeboat and only emerged after another thirty seconds when his acute sense of hearing told him the coast was clear. Outside the lifeboat he looked along the deck. Nobody there. Eduardo and company were probably circling the ship. He reckoned that gave him about five minutes before they reappeared at his location again. He continued towards the stern.
Five metres past the lifeboat he saw a white metal chest on the left-hand side. He stopped, checked for crew members again, and opened it up.
Zak couldn’t see the contents of this chest very well, so it was up to his fingertips to work out what was inside. It was stuffed full of something soft and dry. Zak felt thin lines of twine attached to each other in a criss-cross pattern. Netting, he realized. A whole bundle of it. Its purpose? Fishing, maybe? Though this was hardly a fisherman’s boat. It didn’t matter. This tangled mess of twine gave him an idea.
The netting was much heavier than it looked, Zak realized as he plunged his hands into the chest and struggled to pull it out. It spilled out onto the deck – a bundle of about a cubic metre. He had to drag it along behind him. It made a hissing sound on the metal deck that seemed horribly loud to Zak, even though it was in reality little more than a whisper. He kept vigilant as he continued towards the stern, stopping every few metres to check everything was clear before carrying on.
The stern deck of the Mercantile was an open area about fifteen metres wide and ten deep. The churning sound of the vessel moving through the water was louder here. Zak realized this was because the mechanisms that propelled the ship were located at the rear. He stood at the corner of the stern deck, checking for danger, before dragging the netting towards the railings at the very back of the ship.
Zak looked down into the water. He could see the bubbling foam of the ocean as the ship’s engines churned it up violently. Then he looked back down at his netting. If he could get this tangled up in the rudder down there, the ship’s engines would be disabled. The skipper would have no option but to call for help.
He couldn’t just hurl the bundle of netting overboard. The forward momentum of the ship meant that it would fall harmlessly into the ocean behind. No, if his plan was going to work, he needed to keep hold of one edge of the net while the remainder tumbled downwards. It would need all his strength. And after the couple of days he’d had, strength was in pretty short supply. No matter. He gritted his teeth, bent down and rummaged around the bundle of netting looking for a loose edge. It only took him ten seconds to find one. He looped it around the fingers of both hands and grabbed the bulk of the bundle.
He strained to lift it.
And then he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Zak closed his eyes. He felt sick. Cold. He hadn’t heard anybody approach, and now his best chance of stopping the ship was gone. Surely they would kill him …
He let the netting fall from his hands before standing up straight and turning round to face his captors once more.
But he didn’t see el capitán. He didn’t see Karlovic, or Eduardo or any of the others. He saw a pale-faced girl, just a couple of years older than him, with short red-ginger hair, small eyes that were no longer blinking but keen and alert, and a serious, intense look on her pinched face.
She looked over her shoulder and back to Zak. ‘You need to put that netting back where you found it, Agent 21,’ she said. ‘Otherwise you’re going to mess up this whole mission.’
17
SWEETIE
ZAK STOOD VERY still and stared at Bea.
‘Who’s Agent 21?’ he demanded. ‘What are you talking about?’
But Bea barely seemed to be listening. She headed over to the end of the starboard deck, checked it was empty, then did the same for the port deck, which Zak had just crept along. ‘It’s all clear. We need to return this netting now. If any of them find it here, they’ll know we’ve left our cabins. Come on, I’ll help you.’
‘What’s going on, Bea? Who are you?’
‘There’s no time to explain. You get one side of the net, I’ll get the other—’
‘No way,’ Zak interrupted. ‘I’m stopping this ship now.’
Bea’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. She was a lot stronger than she looked. ‘You need to get back to your cabin,’ she hissed. ‘We both do. Otherwise the whole thing’s going to go wrong.’
If he hadn’t been in such a dangerous situation, Zak would have laughed. ‘Go wrong? Things started to go wrong when you boarded this ship and told everyone what I was doing. And they definitely took a turn for the worse when they tied me to the railings in the middle of that storm …’
‘What do you want, Agent 21? Sympathy? An easy life?’ Bea was looking around again.
‘What I want,’ Zak replied, turning back round to haul the netting overboard again, ‘is to disable this ship and force a Mayday call.’
A pause.
‘It’s a good idea,’ Bea said. ‘Well done. Very clever. Now forget about it.’
‘No way.’
‘In that case, I’ll have to tell Mr Bartholomew it was your fault the operation failed.’
Zak stopped. He turned slowly. ‘How do you know Mr Barth—?’
‘Come on, Agent 21,’ Bea chided. ‘Do you really think you’re the only person Michael has dealings with?’
Zak blinked. ‘You mean you’re—’
‘Think about it. Who put your diving gear under the pier? And your P11? How did I know you were on board the Mercantile? None of the volunteers saw you, nobody in the village – Raf and Gabs taught you stealth if nothing else.’
‘You mean, you know—’
‘Look, if you’re going to stand there staring at me like the class dunce, this could be a very long evening for both of us. Where did you get that net from?’
‘A chest on the starboard deck.’ Zak was almost in a daze. What was going on? What had happened to the terrified, annoying girl he knew? What had Michael not told him?
‘You get one side, I’ll get the other. Those two guards will complete their circuit any minute. If they see us, they’ll do more than tie us to the railings.’
It was much easier to move the net now there were two of them. Zak and Bea were still stuffing it into the chest, however, when Bea hissed like an angry cat. She pointed towards the bow of the ship and Zak saw the outline of two figures approaching.
‘Hide in the lifeboat,’ Zak breathed. ‘Quick.’
‘The net!’ Bea replied. ‘It’s not hidden …’ But there was no time. They scrambled towards the hiding place. Seconds later they were huddled under the canvas cover, barely daring to breathe. There was a moment of silence. Zak used it to get his head together. Bea clearly knew who he was and she clearly knew his Guardian Angels. But was she bluffing? Was she pretending to be on his side? Suddenly nothing was as it seemed. Zak couldn’t take anything for granted.
Footsteps by the lifeboat. A foul, greasy stink of BO in the air. Then voices. ‘El capitán’s worse than normal.’ Zak recognized Eduardo’s voice. He certainly recognized his smell.
‘I don’t know why he doesn’t jus
t kill the kids and be done with it. I don’t like having them on board. If customs catch up with us, how’s it going to look? Smuggling diamonds is one thing. Smuggling kids – that’s another.’
‘If you ask me,’ said Eduardo, ‘he’s been told to keep them alive.’
A spitting sound. ‘Told?’ said the second voice, full of contempt. ‘Nobody tells him anything.’
‘Don’t be so sure. Everybody has a boss. Even el capitán. You’ll see … What’s that?’
‘What’s what?’
‘That. Peeking out from the storage chest.’
Zak cursed inwardly.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘It wasn’t like that when we passed before.’
‘You’re paranoid, Eduardo. Who else do you think’s been on deck tonight? Mermaids?’
‘Very funny,’ Eduardo muttered.
‘Come on, let’s keep walking. I’m getting cold.’
‘No way,’ said Eduardo. ‘I saw what el capitán did to Barker for not reporting something suspicious. I’m going to tell him about this. You can come with me, or you can ignore it and carry on patrolling. Up to you. If you think a dart in the skull will improve your looks, stay out here.’
A pause.
‘Wait!’ called the other man. ‘Wait! I’m coming with you!’ His footsteps receded.
Zak and Bea lay dead still for twenty seconds. And then …
‘Move!’ whispered Bea.
Zak didn’t need any more encouragement. It didn’t much matter whose side Bea was on. If he didn’t get back to his cell now, all hell would be let loose.
Together, they scrambled back out of the lifeboat and replaced the canvas cover. Zak led the way towards the deck door he’d been using, with Bea following close behind. They entered the ship just in time to see the entrance door to the bridge slamming shut. The two of them hurtled down the stairs, through the laundry room and back into the corridor where their cells were.
‘Get inside,’ Bea instructed once they were both outside their cells. ‘And whatever you do, don’t break out again.’ She opened the latch of her own door.
‘Wait,’ Zak said.
‘We haven’t got time. They’ll be here any minute …’
Now, though, it was Zak’s turn to grab her by the arm. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you answer some questions.’
Bea glanced towards the end of the corridor. She looked very nervous. ‘We haven’t got—’
‘Who are you?’ Zak demanded. ‘You’d better tell me, Bea. I’m not going anywhere until you do.’
Bea’s eyes blazed.
‘They told me you were good, Agent 21. I haven’t seen much sign of it yet.’
‘Who told you I was good?’
‘Michael, among others. He might change his mind when he finds out about your little games with Ntole and the AKs.’
Zak ignored her barbed comment. ‘So if you’re such good friends with Raf and Gabs, you can tell me what Gabs would call me if she was here.’
‘I haven’t got time for this …’
‘Well you’d better make time.’
Bea narrowed her eyes at him, and shook her head – like she was a teacher and Zak had been unable to do his homework. ‘Haven’t you worked it out yet? Haven’t you worked out why we can’t get caught? Michael wants you on this ship. I was sent out here to make sure it happened.’
‘What?’ He felt a crunch of betrayal in the pit of his stomach. ‘Why?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ Bea glanced along the corridor again. ‘All I know is there’s an RV about to happen. I don’t know who it’s with, but Michael has gone to a lot of trouble to arrange it.’
Zak’s head was spinning. He didn’t understand. ‘What about the device? You told them about it – are you saying that after all the trouble I went to, Michael doesn’t want this ship destroyed?’
The look Bea gave him was sly. ‘Don’t you worry about that. When the time comes, the MV Mercantile is going the way of the Titanic.’
‘But they threw my device overboard.’
‘Of course they did.’
‘You’re not making any sense, Bea.’
Bea sighed. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of the double camera trick?’ she asked.
‘The what?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s simple. You fix a security camera somewhere obvious, then hide a second one somewhere covert. The person you’re spying on will disable the obvious camera and feel very pleased with themselves. They won’t twig it was just a decoy.’
‘A decoy?’ Zak could hardly believe what he was hearing. ‘Are you telling me there’s another device on board?’
‘Of course there is,’ Bea replied. She sounded just a little bit smug. ‘I planted it myself.’
‘Where?’
But she shook her head. ‘They’ll be here any second. We have to get inside.’ She pulled her arm away from Zak. ‘You look terrible, Agent 21,’ she said. ‘You’d better gather your strength. If I’m not mistaken, things are about to get interesting.’
She opened her door and, without looking back at Zak, locked herself in her room once again.
Zak almost went after her. But at that exact moment, he heard something at the other end of the corridor. Voices, maybe? They were drowned out by the hum of the engine room. He quickly opened the door to his own cell and quietly shut it behind him. He switched off the light and groped in the darkness towards his bed.
Zak had only just lain down when the door opened again. He saw two figures standing in the doorway, one of them carrying a torch. The torch-bearer entered the room and strode towards Zak’s bunk. He shone the torch directly into Zak’s face. Zak winced and squinted, as though his eyes weren’t used to the light. Then he groaned. It seemed to satisfy the crew member, whoever it was, because he moved the torch away from Zak’s face and walked back towards the door.
‘Looks good and messed up,’ he said to his mate. ‘He’s not going anywhere.’
‘Good,’ said the second man. ‘Maybe el capitán will give us the rest of the night off.’
‘You’ll be lucky. Come on, let’s get back on patrol before Karlovic finds something else for us to do. He and the skipper seem edgy …’
The door closed behind them, leaving Zak in the darkness again.
His body lay very still, but his mind was doing somersaults. So many questions. Why were Acosta and Karlovic on edge? What was the rendezvous the crew was expecting? Was Eduardo right? Had Acosta really been told to keep him alive? If so, why? Why did Michael want him on the Mercantile in the first place? Why hadn’t he just been straight with him from the beginning?
And what about Bea? Was she on the level? Could he trust her? It hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d avoided answering his question about Gabs. Did that mean she was bluffing? Did it mean she’d never met his Guardian Angels, despite what she’d said?
Time passed. Zak lay still.
And then, in the darkness, he heard a noise. A tapping sound, coming from the direction of Bea’s room. A rhythmic series of long and short knocks.
Zak listened carefully to the Morse code message coming from the adjoining cell, automatically translating it into letters in his head, almost without knowing he was doing it.
She … would … call … you … sweetie …
Zak swallowed hard. It meant Bea was telling the truth.
It meant that, for the second time, Michael hadn’t told him everything.
And it meant something big was just round the corner.
18
RV
Saturday, 16.00 hrs West Africa time; approximately 750 miles east of the South American coastline
‘THE SEA’S GETTING rougher.’
‘Tell me about it. We should turn back. It’s madness to carry on.’
‘Do you want to tell him that?’
A pause.
‘No way. I’m not stupid.’
Two men stood on the deck of a vessel that was half the size of the MV
Mercantile. It had no name – just a number: 3182126. They were heading on a bearing of ninety-three degrees, east into the heart of the Atlantic. They spoke in Spanish, and they could see that the clouds up ahead were rolling and black. All day they’d been listening to the shipping forecast. All day the radio had been alive with warnings to avoid the very area to which they were directly headed. But they had their orders, and their orders were to carry on.
A sudden gust of wind kicked a shower of spray up onto the deck. It would have soaked the two men if they hadn’t been wearing their wet-weather gear. As it was, it just knocked them backwards. One man lost his footing. When he scrambled upright again, he looked sourly at his shipmate. ‘We should get back inside!’ he shouted.
His mate nodded, just as another burst of spray hit them. They struggled back inside, where their gear dripped heavily onto the floor, and made their way to the bridge. Here there were three more men, all grim-faced, all looking like they’d prefer to be anywhere on earth other than here. In the middle of the bridge, a flight of steps led down to the lower deck, at the bottom of which there was a closed door. It had been closed ever since they set sail.
The occupant of the lower deck quarters had the habit of issuing his instructions to the crew over the radio. It was insanity, they all thought, given that he was just metres away from the rest of them. But then, their boss wasn’t the type to show his face if he didn’t have to. On land he remained incognito, and the same was true at sea.
If it had been anyone else, the crew would have been mutinous. They’d have taken control of the ship and steered it into safer waters. And they’d probably have thrown their skipper to the sharks for good measure. But while the person holed up down below generously rewarded loyalty, he punished betrayal very seriously. They’d seen what happened to people who crossed him. They’d seen the scars on the bodies of the newly dead that told of the terrible agony they had suffered before they were killed. They’d heard of garrotted bodies swinging low from the trees on the outskirts of villages, and of corpses left out in the desert to be consumed by wild animals. They’d heard the stories of how whole families were wiped out because one of their number had offended him. Some of these crew members had sons and daughters, but even those who didn’t have children had mothers and fathers, and they all knew how severe the reprisals would be if they so much as entertained a mutinous thought. Their boss did not respect youth, or age. He’d kill anybody if he had to.