by Ron Sewell
“And my wife promised to dance on my grave. Eric, did you send my letter to George?”
“I did.” He turned to Khaled, “Close the gap between us and them.”
He shrugged. “Out of darkness light must be our motto.” He scrambled up the steps to the flying bridge.
“You’ve studied British naval history?” said Eric as he followed.
Khaled took over the controls from Abdullah. “Go and rest.
“History tells us it’s the motto of HMS Glowworm. It blew to pieces when it attacked the Admiral Hipper.” He jammed the engine control levers hard on their stops. Desert Wind charged towards their goal.
Khaled checked their direction. “This is suicidal. Can we do this?”
“It’s of little consequence. And I'm sure we’ll give them a good fight.”
“You sound like a politician. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because I don’t have the answer.” Eric glanced ahead. “What’s that?”
“A squall, it could last five minutes or an hour.”
“Pray it lasts long enough for us to sneak under her stern.”
“I pray it stays heavy. For now, it’s the only friend we have.”
Desert Wind slammed through the waves as the wind speed increased to gale force. Thick curtains of rain hung from the clouds to the sea. Water struck the windscreen with the force of a sledgehammer. Eric clung on and thought it might shatter. It was as if somebody had switched off the lights. Dark walls of angry water came from nowhere.
Eric and Khaled glanced at each other as the water flattened their hair. Torrents ran from their clothes to the deck.
Khaled ducked under the screen and checked the radar. “She’s to port, distance five miles. What’s the plan?”
Eric drew a long breath. “I’ve fifteen minutes to work one out but I must talk to the others.”
“I’ll try not to bump into her.”
“Under the circumstances, not a good idea.”
Eric held the chrome rails tight as he descended to the next deck. “Bloody hell.” Laid out on the deck were half a dozen RPGs, boxes of grenades, smoke bombs and ammunition for AK47s. “You’ve enough weapons to start a full scale war.”
“At the moment you fit the profile of a drowned rat.” Rono tossed him a flak jacket. “Latest body armour from America but don’t swim in it.”
Eric glanced at his watch. It was approaching twenty three hundred hours. “In less than ten minutes we will be under the stern of this vessel. I must have a plan that stands a chance.”
“We could ask them to stop,” said Anna.
“And if they don’t?” said Eric.
“We blast the crap out of them with these RPGs.”
“No chance,” said Rono in a flat tone. “You could pound her with a hundred grenades. If you get lucky, one might find its way through and into the hold. Unless you strike a fuel line she wins.”
Anna gave him one of her how-do-you-know looks. “Are you sure?”
“You’d better believe it. Another thing, if they fire as much as a pea shooter at us we're dead in the water.”
“Tell me the good news,” said Eric.
Rono's brow creased into a frown. “As Anna said, ask. Ifthey fail to answersummon the Navy’s helicopter gunship. I'd surrender if that monster opened fire. One minor point, the mere thought of those bastards firing RPGs at us scares the hell out of me.”
“When it comes down to it, there's no honour, no code. All that matters is we win. Let’s do it. Stay here until I thump the deck with my boot for help.”
“You can work the radio from here,” said Anna.
“I must tell Khaled what we intend. I'll offer them peace first, something they will refuse. Then Rono can fire a grenade over the ship. After which, with luck the negotiations start. It isn't fair, but what in life is? I always strive to maximize fear.” He glanced out at the weather. “Wish me luck.”
*** The engine revolutions dropped and the noise reduced as Khaled reduced the power. “She’s at four-hundred metres, with no lights showing.”
“Can you manoeuvre us under her stern? I’d rather she couldn’t see us.”
Khaled increased speed until the round stern loomed high in front of them. He adjusted the power levers to hold position.
Eric grasped the VHF microphone. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Eric Johnston from Interpol. You will reduce speed but maintain steerageway and prepare to be boarded. If you refuse, we have a warship in the vicinity and they will open fire.”
“She’s increased speed,” shouted Khaled. “Any idea what her top speed might be?” “Twenty five knots.”
“What can we do?”
“Max twenty eight. At full power this boat will drink diesel like a thirsty camel slurps water.”
“Stay with her. I’ll talk to them again.”
“This is Lieutenant Colonel Eric Johnston. If you do not stop, we will open fire.” He pounded his right foot on the deck. Rono arrived, wearing his flak jacket and carrying a loaded RPG.
“Khaled,” said Eric. “Change direction to starboard so Rono can fire over her deck.”
Rono’s eyes scanned the black hull. “I don’t like this, Eric. If they fire an RPG, we’re dead.”
“Just fucking do it.”
With the engines at full power, Desert Wind charged through the storm.
The rain battered his face as Rono wedged his body into a recess and took aim. “Tell me when.”
“Now might be a good time.”
With a roar the unit operated. Its fiery tail formed an arc as it cleared the American Queen’s decks and plunged into the sea.
“I hate to mention this but we’re at full power,” said Khaled. “If we continue at this speed for too long we must refuel.”
***
On board the American Queen, the first officer scanned the gloom for the other vessel. “What the....” He saw the rocketpropelled-grenade drop into the sea. Apprehensive, he pressed the captain’s alarm button.
The first officer heard her rapid footsteps.
“Problems?”
“Our white boat has arrived. They fired a warning shot over our bow.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” She snatched a loaded launcher and strode to the bridge wing. “Two can play that game. Tell the chief I want full power plus ten percent.” She did not hesitate but ran to the starboard bridge wing. Using the steel gunwale as a support, she peered through the telescopic sight. She centred the cross hairs on the white vessel. With a gentle squeeze of the trigger, the firing pin rammed home. With a roar, the grenade blasted out of its launcher. It struck in a blinding flash. A huge ball of fire belched into the air. The radar and communications array on Desert Wind vanished.
The shock wave struck the three men on deck. Its wild force slammed them into the bridge control consul. Fragments flew, but the torrential rain stifled the heat from the blast.
Khaled spun the wheel to starboard as chunks of molten plastic struck his back.
Eric moved to catch him as he crashed to the deck. He tore at the burning material tossing it over the side. One piece stayed glued to his back. Swamped by the torrent, solidified plastic remained stuck to his flesh.
With the storm increasing in its ferocity, Rono seized the wheel. At full power, he widened the gap between the two vessels.
With her AK47 held in her right hand, Anna clambered to the flying bridge. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck hit us?”
Rono shouted, “A fucking grenade. I don’t understand, I’ve seen her fire one of those before and she never misses.”
She staggered alongside Eric and pressed two fingers on Khaled’s neck. “Good strong pulse. We must carry him to the main cabin and assess the damage.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Rono, we are bouncing like a rubber duck. For God’s sake, reduce speed.”
“No way, common sense tells me to get the hell away from that ship. One more shot like that and we go for a swim. I’ll pull back on the p
ower when we’re out of range.” Anna stared into the dark. “I can’t see them.” Rono pulled back on the throttles.
“Anna, grip the wheel and steer east. I’ll help Eric.” Abdullah arrived, and with Eric and Rono, carried Khaled to the main cabin where they laid him face down on the table.
Eric spoke to the others. “Abdullah, you drive the boat, head north. The rest of you toss what remains of our radar and communication system into the sea.”
The men glanced at Khaled as they left.
“She could have taken us out with one shot,” said Rono.
Eric’s face was ashen. “It’s my fault. I believed she might at least talk.”
Khaled stirred, his face twisted in pain. He mouthed a few inaudible words.
“Keep still and be quiet,” said Eric.
Taruq came from the engine room. “I’ve isolated the power to the radar and communications equipment.” “Where’s the fucking Navy. You can never find a sailor when you need one,” said Rono.
Eric’s face was deadpan as he faced his team. “It’s not up to them, they follow orders. I must talk to their captain.”
“Hope you’ve kept his phone number in a safe place.” Rono strolled to his cabin and came back with his mobile. “My Sat-phone works anywhere. Contact your man and send the troops and a doctor for Khaled.”
Eric grimaced. “Patrol boats don’t have the luxury of a doctor. From what I understand, the Navy trains an officer and a rating to administer first aid and morphine. Anything else they read from a medical book or talk to a doctor ashore.”
“With all the technology in the world, Khaled has to suffer. There must be something we can do.” From his shirt pocket, he dragged a sodden packet of cigarettes, laughed and tossed them in a bin.
Anna descended the ladder into the lounge and checked Khaled’s pulse. “Locate a bottle of vodka and the firstaid kit.”
“Why vodka?”
“You lot are useless. Vodka is a great antiseptic and disinfects the wound.”
Taruq placed the first aid box on the table along with a full bottle of vodka.
She checked the box and found a packet of high strength codeine pills. “Khaled, can you hear me?”
He groaned.
Anna narrowed her gaze. “Not exactly what the doctor ordered. Roll on your side. Take two of these and a good swig of vodka.”
With aid from Rono, he did as she asked.
“Give him ten minutes until those pills ease the pain.”
Ibraham stood at the entrance. “The decks are clear. What next?”
“I’d keep out of the way,” said Eric. “Rono, you and Mohammed help Anna. I’m going up top to contact HMS Tamar.”
“Two men will be better than one,” said Anna.
“I’ll support him,” said Mohammed.
“Has the pain eased?” she asked.
Khaled nodded.
“I need a sharp knife.”
From a drawer, Mohammed lifted his narrow-bladed kitchen knife. “I carve meat from the bones with this.”
She knelt and said to her patient. “This will hurt less if you stay still. Rono and Mohammed will grip your arms.”
“Get on with it,” Khaled mumbled.
Over the sink, Anna cleaned her hands and the knife in vodka. She nodded to Rono and Mohammed. The two men held and pressed Khaled onto the surface of the table.
“Not good,” said Anna as with a sterile swab she cleaned his back. “One bad lump of plastic the size of a dollar coin. The rest are tiny but deep.” She glanced at Rono and shrugged. On the first cut of the blade, Khaled’s body stiffened. With tweezers, she teased the lumps of burnt plastic from his back. She worked unhurried for almost an hour. Blood oozed from his wounds and onto the table. On extracting the last piece, she rinsed his bloody back with fresh water.
“Under the circumstances, I’ve done the best I can. Rono, Mohammed, support his back while I wrap the bandages.” With a sterile dressing over each wound, she finished the task.
“I’ll change those twice a day.” She peered in the box. “We have enough for three days.”
In a daze, Khaled grabbed the bottle of vodka and drank.
“Put him to bed face down and, Mohammed, you stay with him.”
Early that morning, two men carried Khaled to his cabin and placed him on the bed.
“You did a great job, Anna. Bet you’ve done it before,” said Rono.
“As a teenager I dreamed of being a nurse. Somehow, the reality lost its appeal, and I applied to become a police officer. With luck he’ll be fine.” She lifted the bottle and drank two mouthfuls. “To tell you the truth, I can’t stand the sight of blood.”
***
“We have problems,” said Eric. “The helicopter gunship has a mechanical fault. At full power, Tamar can manage twentyfive knots. It looks like she wins this battle., Abdullah where are we?”
He glanced at the spare chart on the desk. “At a guess seventy miles south east of Nice in the Ligurian Sea and twenty miles from Corsica. Our nearest port is Bastia on the other side of the island. The book lists a hospital with full medical facilities.”
“I assume we still have a magnetic compass that works. We have done our bit.” He paused. “Abdullah, head for Bastia. With luck we can have Khaled taken to a hospital.”
“So what is your breakdown of the situation?” asked Rono.
“We’re fucked,” said Eric.
28
Cape Town Fred Kendall stood with his hands behind his back staring out the window towards Table Top Mountain. “I’m not here and this conversation is off the record. It’s been quiet for too long. We should have heard something.”
George raised her eyebrows and then shook her head. “When they need something they’ll shout loud enough. You understand how difficult it can be in the field.”
Fred gave a half smile and shrugged. “You’re right.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Time I left.”
George’s mobile gave a shrill ring. She took a fleeting glance at Fred and swallowed hard. “Good evening, Eric.” She listened, nodding or shaking her head at his story before disconnecting.
“Well, say something or do you want me to read your mind?”
George groaned. “They’re in trouble. Our vessel has slipped away and the super duper Royal Navy helicopter gunship is out of order. They are on passage to Bastia in Corsica to land one casualty. Linda destroyed their radar and communications outfit with an antitank grenade.”
“Bastard,” he muttered as his mind started to make plans. He rummaged in his briefcase for his mobile. Crisis came and went but something as uncertain as this bothered him. “George, you haven’t heard this conversation.” He punched in a code and on the other side of the Atlantic, a woman answered.
“I’ll ring you back.” The connection ended.
“Is that a rather important person?” asked George.
Fred flashed one of his silly smiles at her. “I can’t tell you but you can always guess.”
“So we send in the marines.”
He smiled. “I’m old enough to recollect teleprinters. Remember when the operator took ten minutes to code the message before she typed a word. Communication methods have evolved.”
“Sometimes not for the better,” said George. “When a fifteen-year-old girl hacks into the Pentagon. I find sleeping difficult.”
He stood and stared out of the window once more. On the face of Table Top Mountain, the many houses and streetlights glowed like fireflies. “George, the line between right and wrong sometimes gets fuzzy. If my friend approves my suggestion, I pray we get away with it. Some might say we are doing the right thing. Others will ask for our heads on a platter. I’ve a gut feeling that this will be a rather long night. How about a brew?”
George leant back in her chair and stretched. “I fancy a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea. Interested?” “I prefer coffee and I’ve never seen the office cooking services?”
“When Rono’s away I us
e his fridge and cooker. I did ask.”
“Could you slide a fried egg inside mine?”
“Your wife will kill me if she finds out.”
“Then I’ll forget to tell her.”
George hummed as she filled the electric kettle with fresh water. As it boiled, she heated the stove, fried six rashers of bacon and took two rolls from the fridge. The egg she left until last.
With their snack ready, she carried it on a tray into the office.
“Do you need a hand,” asked Fred.
She gave him one of her fuck off leers. “I’ll manage.” Linda smiled a smile as warm as a mid winter’s day. “Next time I'll blast you and that toy boat to hell.” With a shrug, she retreated into the shelter of the bridge. She found the steady drumming of the rain on the steel deck soothing. Water ran from her hair and over her face when she checked the ship’s log. “Twenty seven knots. Not bad for this old tub.”
She glanced at the chart. “Calvi is ideal. We can land and if asked show our passports and take a train to Bastia. Later I intend to travel to Rome. Your decision, but take the able seaman with you. I’d hate to think he might end up drunk in a bar and say things he shouldn’t.”
The first officer nodded. “To save time, I’ll wake him. He can make the skiboat ready.”
“We’ll jump ship at dawn. Keep your eyes open, I’m off to have a chat with our engineer.”
She found the engineer hunched over the control console eating a sandwich. He stuffed a large chunk of bread into his mouth.
“We abandon ship in the morning.”
With a clean rag, he wiped the crumbs from his mouth and focused his blue eyes on hers.
A chill ran through Linda as if death stood next to him. She could not explain the feeling but the man radiated a kind of gentle madness.
He leant back in his chair. “In my life there’s no past or future. I live for the moment and it’s my time. I still feel love, joy and happiness. It makes me tingle right down to my bones. I've suffered pain strong enough to shatter my soul. If those following find out you’ve escaped, they’ll continue the hunt. Before you go, show me how to use those grenade launchers. With two or three loaded AKs I’ll keep them at bay until the end.”