Blood Ties

by A. J. Quinnell

  Cady nodded. “Probably a gasket. If he’s not got a spare he can make one out of somethin’ — not a big problem.”

  “Look,” ‘Brown’ said, still panting slightly. “I came to warn you. That man’s bloody mad – I tell you mad. When the engine broke down last night he went crazy. Blamed Carlo for it and slapped him around. In his condition he could hardly defend himself. When we tried to intervene he threatened to throw us overboard!” He paused for breath and took another gulp of beer. “And another thing – he’s got a bloody gun. I saw him in his cabin through the hatch, cleaning it.”

  “We know,” Ramesh said quietly.

  “You know?! And you’re still going through with this?”

  He looked at them all in amazement. “You must be crazy too.”

  “What kind of gun was it?” Cady asked lightly.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about guns.”

  “Describe it.”

  ‘Brown’ did so and Cady nodded and said, “A Sten.”

  “We’ve got . . .” Lani started to say but Cady quickly cut her off.

  “You just saw one?”

  ‘Brown’ nodded. “He was sitting on his bed-cleaning it.” He looked at their faces again and said, “We seriously thought about paying him off and taking our chances that La Belle Vue will turn up – but this island has no water and we need what’s in his tanks. If he did leave, you’d follow him?”

  They all nodded and he looked bemused for a moment, then said, “Anyway, we’re going to be all over the island in our work but we’ve decided that in the meantime one of us will always stay in the camp. There’ll be a witness if he tries anything.”

  Ramesh said thoughtfully, “That could be dangerous for the witness – and all of you.”

  ‘Brown’ shook his head. “We might all be absent-minded scientists, but we’re not without common sense. We had doubts when we first chartered him, so we only paid a ten per cent deposit. He gets the balance when the job’s over or he presents a letter to the bank signed by all of us . . . it’s a lot of money.”

  They all thought about it and Cady finally said, “Yeah. An’ he’s a guy who always needs money. He won’t jeopardise that.”

  ‘Brown’ put down his glass. “I’d better get back and help the others make camp. For God’s sake be bloody careful.”

  He was about to turn to the gangway when he spotted something and his troubled face cleared. He pointed: “Look!”

  They turned to see La Belle Vue sailing round the point.

  “Thank God,” ‘Brown’ said fervently. “Now we’ll give that bugger his letter and get rid of him.” Abruptly he checked his delight and asked solemnly, “You’re really going to follow him?”

  He saw them all nod again in unison and he said, “I wish you all the luck.”

  The Jaloud’s engine coughed into life an hour after dawn and Manasa’s followed a minute later. Half an hour passed while both engines idled, during which time Cady commented that Lascelles was making sure the new gasket was a good seal.

  Then Lascelles came on deck and started taking in the anchor. Immediately Ramesh nodded to Cady, who did the same.

  Jaloud secured first and immediately turned and moved towards Manasa. For a moment Ramesh thought he was going to try to ram them, but then the angle of her bow changed and she passed ten yards astern. Lascelles was still on the foredeck. Looking directly at Kirsty he called out: “OK, bitch! Now follow me at your fuckin’ peril!”

  As Manasa followed Jaloud on a north-easterly course a council of war was held on her afterdeck. Cady opened it.

  “Ramesh I ain’t tryin’ to abrogate your position but I got a bit more experience than you in violence an’ I’ve worked out a plan.”

  “Tell me Cady. Where does an oil driller learn words like abrogate?”

  “Outta books,” Cady grinned, and then said seriously, “the info from that bird man was useful. I was worried that Lascelles might have a rifle on board. If so he could lie off at a distance an’ punch holes in us all day long. He might still have one but I doubt it. A rifle’s long and hard to conceal an’ he’s known as a smuggler an’ I bet Customs around here check him over good. So let’s assume he’s only got the Sten and maybe a hand-gun or two.” He paused and his brow wrinkled in concentration. “In his place, I’d get in close an’ pump a magazine full along Manasa’s waterline – try to cripple us . . . or maybe he’ll aim for the helmsman an’ then go for the waterline. Either way he don’t plan to leave anyone alive — or any evidence.”

  He glanced behind him at the receding island. “He won’t even wait for darkness. He’ll want to see what he’s doin’. He’ll make his move soon as we’re over the horizon in about three hours. Wind’s behind us so no one back there’ll hear a thing. He hasn’t raised sail an’ with this wind he normally would.”

  To Ramesh he said, “At the first sign of trouble you take the helm and the Walther. Our big plus is surprise. He won’t expect us to be armed. Soon as he turns you keep our bow pointed right at him.” He gestured at the dog house. “We put spare jerry cans of water along there. They’ll absorb the impact of bullets aimed at the helm. Kirsty, you and Lani go straight below into the aft cabin. Keep close to the engine room bulkhead. You’ll be safe there.”

  “It’s my son,” Kirsty said firmly. “I’m not going to hide.”

  Cady sighed. “Kirsty we only have two guns. No point in exposin’ yourself.”

  “Yes there is. One of you might be hit — I can take the wheel or even the gun and shoot back. Don’t argue Cady, I’m not going below.”

  He was about to argue when Lani cut in. “I’m not going either. Both of you might be hit.”

  They both glared at Cady defiantly and, after a pause, he shrugged and pointed.

  “OK. You squat down there behind the jerry cans. Then if Jaloud gets abeam or astern you drop down into the saloon.”

  “And what or who are we aiming at?” Ramesli asked.

  Cady sighed again.

  “Well I’ve given that a whole lotta thought. My instinct is to shoot the bastards. But if we kill ‘em there ain’t no chance of findin’ Kirsty’s son – an’ that defeats the purpose. So we aim to cripple Jaloud. We aim for the waterline. Particularly at the stern if we get a chance. Then we stand off and wait them out. There are no boats out there. They start sinkin’ and they need us.” He glanced at Kirsty. “An’ when I get Lascelles this time, I’ll beat the truth outta him.”

  Cady might have been reading Lascelles’ mind. Half an hour after Aldabra had disappeared over the horizon and almost when the sun was at its zenith, the Jaloud a hundred yards ahead suddenly swung to port.

  They were ready.

  Cady reached into the companionway and lifted out the Sten and the Walther, which he passed to Ramesh, hissing: “Keep the bow on her —get down girls!”

  Kirsty and Lani ducked down behind the piled jerry cans.

  Carlo was at the helm. Lascelles had moved amidships. He held his right hand down behind his thigh. He was grinning.

  “I warned you!” he shouted and brought his right arm up.

  As Cady saw the gun he stepped to the rail and raised his own, saw the shock cross Lascelles’ face, and opened fire.

  Two seconds later he was cursing himself for not having used one magazine for practice. The Sten gun pulled to the right. His aim had been low. A row of splashes erupted two yards from Jaloud’s stern. Immediately Lascelles fired back, but the shock of seeing Cady with a gun also affected his aim. He was low but several bullets ricocheted off the water and slammed into Manasa a hull. He ran back to the wheelhouse and Cady literally kicked Kirsty and Lani into the saloon while he groped on the coaming for another magazine, shouting at Ramesh,

  “The waterline! The waterline!”

  The boats were abeam now, twenty yards apart and passing rapidly. Ramesh stepped back from the wheel and raised the pistol.

  He forgot everything from his one and only lesson; forgot to
steady his right wrist with his left hand; forgot to squeeze the trigger and not pull it.

  His first shot hit the hull below the mast. The second slammed into Carlo, twisting him from the wheel. His thigh hit a stanchion and, with a shriek, he toppled into the sea.

  Lascelles abruptly showed his cowardice. He dived headlong out of sight through the companionway.

  By the time Cady had fumbled in another magazine Jaloud was seventy yards astern and moving away at the combined speed of twelve knots. He loosed off the second magazine and beside him Ramesh, more controlled now, was also firing. They saw splashes behind Jaloud’s transom and heard a clang, but she motored on.

  “Turn her, Ramesh,” Cady shouted, but Kirsty was already at the wheel, spinning it. Lani was also on deck handing Cady a new magazine.

  He took his time fitting the magazine. When Manasa had finally completed its turn Jaloud was already a quarter of a mile away heading due west at full speed. Cady could see Lascelles crouching at the helm, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

  Leaving Kirsty at the wheel Cady and Ramesh ran to the bow. Ramesh raised the pistol but Cady said, “Save it. The range is too great. We’ll catch up to him.”

  Then they heard the shout. They turned to see Carlo in the calm water a hundred yards to starboard. His head dipped under water, an arm waved feebly.

  Neither man could take the decision. They turned to look at Kirsty’s face over the dog house, saw the struggle on it, watched as her eyes flicked back and forth between Jaloud’s fast-receding stern and the man in the water. Then Manasa’s bow swung to starboard and the boat slowed. Cady and Ramesh laid their guns on the deck and started unlashing the dinghy behind the main mast. They were forty yards away and drifting in when Lani screamed, “Look!”

  They raised their heads and saw the black fin circling Carlo. Immediately Cady recalled Guy Savy’s words: “We have lots of sharks in these waters but they don’t attack people —except maybe on the far outer islands like Aldabra.”

  And Carlo would be bleeding.

  Cady pulled away the last restraining cord and said urgently to Ramesh, “Over the side – trail it astern.”

  They heaved and the dinghy cleared the rail and splashed into the water just as Carlo screamed.

  He was half out of the water. They could see the great, gleaming teeth clamped on to his leg beneath the knee. The shark shook him like a dog worrying a bone, then backed off and circled again.

  Later, Cady found no answer to the question of why he’d done it.

  “The stern!” he shouted at Ramesh, who ran down the deck with the dinghy’s painter in his hand.

  Cady found himself in the water. He had no recollection of diving in. He readied Carlo at the same time as the shark. Everything was in quick motion. Carlo screaming again. The rows of ivory daggers locked on to Carlo’s shoulder. The shark’s tiny eyes were two feet from Cady’s. Its snout inches away.

  With a moan combined of fear and rage Cady kicked his legs, rose out of the water and smashed his fist at the snout.

  The shark slid away and circled. Cady felt the dinghy bumping his shoulder, heard Lani and Kirsty screaming at him. He had one arm around Carlo’s chest. He groped back with the other, clutched the dinghy’s rounded side and with panic-induced strength swung Carlo up and into it.

  The counter-force pushed him under. He twisted and, in the clear water, saw the shark twenty feet away turning like an evil scythe.

  As his head cleared the surface he knew it was too late. Knew that his legs would still be in the water as he pulled himself up. He had both hands on the rubber. He kicked and dimly saw something flashing over his head.

  Then he was lying over the moaning Carlo. He jerked his head up and saw the shark writhing away in a foam of water — the harpoon erect and swaying in front of the fin, and then vanishing as the shark dived.

  Above him he heard Ramesh’s shout of exultation.

  Chapter 24

  Ten minutes after they got Carlo aboard the engine stuttered and stopped and the chase, for the moment, was over.

  Cady, sitting on the deck with his back to the dog house, did not even lift his head. His arms, clutched around his knees, were still shaking. The sobs still racked his body as slowly he came out of a severe state of shock.

  Lani knelt beside him, clutching him in her arms, crying with relief.

  At the stern Ramesh and Kirsty worked on Carlo. He was clearly going to die.

  Ramesh’s bullet had taken him in the side of the stomach. His left shoulder and chest were a mass of torn flesh and splintered bone. His left leg was hanging by a tendon below the knee. Blood pumping on to the deck from an artery. Ramesh was twisting a tourniquet below the groin. His ‘bible’ was open on the deck beside him. He did not know what to do about the shoulder or stomach. Kirsty was holding a cloth against them, trying to stem the blood.

  After twenty minutes Cady had recovered. Without looking at Carlo he went below and checked the engine. When he came back on deck he announced that a bullet had hit the hose connection on the fuel tank. It would take about an hour to fix.

  He was icy calm. He looked west at the horizon and could just make out the speck of Jaloud. He turned his attention to Carlo. Ramesh’s tourniquet had slowed the bleeding at the knee to a slow ooze. The cloth wadded against his shoulder, chest and stomach was soaked with blood.

  Carlo was conscious. His eyes open.

  “What have you given him?” Cady asked Ramesh.

  “One ml of morphine.”

  Cady grunted in thought, then said, “Leave me with him. Get some sail up.” His voice was cold. His face set. They left him and started raising the sails.

  “You hear me, Carlo?”

  Carlo nodded and Cady reached down and grasped his thigh over the tourniquet.

  “This thing is keepin’ you alive. Now you tell me where Kirsty’s son is or I’ll tear it off- believe me!”

  A ghostly smile appeared on Carlo’s lips. He spoke and his voice was barely audible.

  “Sure. First you dive in an’ get me away from a shark an’ then you kill me.” His head rolled in negation. “No Cady. ‘Sides you an’ I both know I’m dyin’ anyway. Nearest doctor’s days away an’ I’ve got minutes . . . I’m finished.” His mouth twisted and he muttered, “Bastard Lascelles . . . Ain’t much time . . . You’re crazy comin’ in for me . . . Listen.”

  Cady lowered his head, then closer still as the sails flapped and then steadied and Manasa heeled. He listened for about ten minutes and then the voice faded and Carlo gurgled deep in his throat and died.

  Cady looked down at him and then with his thumb and little finger closed the sightless eyes.

  He stood up and turned. Ramesh at the wheel and Kirsty and Lani on the foredeck, were all looking at him. They saw the shock on his face and then his teeth clamping tight and determination in his eyes.

  “Kirsty,” he snapped, moving forward, “take the wheel! Ramesh help me below. We have to get the engine going.”

  “What is it?” Ramesh asked, looking at Carlo’s body.

  “Garret. I know where he is.”

  An hour later with the engine purring smoothly and Lani at the wheel steering a course due west Cady sat facing Kirsty in the saloon. Ramesh sat beside her, an arm round her shoulders.

  Cady took a deep breath and said,

  “Kirsty last year there was a revolution in Zanzibar – a very bloody one.”

  “I know. I read about it.”

  “Yes well, Lascelles apparently supplied the rebels with some arms. Their leader was a man called Okello. It’s believed he originally came from Uganda. Durin’ the revolution and since he gave himself the title ‘Field Marshal’. The old Time magazine I was readin’ back on Farquhar had an article on him. Apparently his only military trainin’ was a couple of months in the Kenya Police before they threw him out for sedition or somethin’. Anyway, after the revolution succeeded and many thousands died — includin’ a lot tortured and killed by Okello
himself — Lascelles did a couple more jobs for him. They got sort of close.”

  Kirsty had an impatient look in her eyes. Cady drew another breath and said,

  “Fact is, Okello has a very rare blood group. Carlo wasn’t too clear on this. Thinks it was somethin’ like O ralus negative . . .?”

  “O rhesus negative,” Kirsty corrected, her face going pale.

  “Uh huh. That’s what Garret has?”

  Kirsty shook her head. “No. He’s O negative K.K.”

  Her fingers were clenched, the knuckles white. “But he’s the perfect donor for someone who has rhesus negative and who’s had a lot of transfusions and developed an antibody. Such donors are one in a million. I know — he’s given blood . . .”

  Cady’s face showed his discomfort.

  “Yeah, well, this Okello’s had plenty. He’s got a disease called Sickle-Cell Anaemia – means he needs constant transfusions. Lascelles knew about that. When he saw the tag round Garret’s neck he took him to Zanzibar an’ sold him to Okello . . . ten thousand bucks.”

  “Oh God!” Kirsty’s hands unclenched and covered her face. She mumbled, “They’ve been taking his blood like vampires.”

  “Yes. But Kirsty it also means that Okello’s been keepin’ him healthy. You don’t kill the goose an’ so on.”

  She uncovered her face and he saw the tears.

  Ramesh said, “But he’s alive Kirsty! You were right. Now we have to get him out.”

  Across from him Cady grimaced and said, “That ain’t gonna be too easy.” He held up a hand as Kirsty looked up sharply. “Wait on, Kirsty. You gotta understand the whole picture.”

  He went on to explain that the revolution was still going on. So were the purges and the killings. Several months earlier Tanganyika and Zanzibar had declared a merger into a single republic called Tanzania. But so far it was a merger in name only, and President Nyerere was trying by persuasion to make Okello moderate his policies. He had no power on the island and meanwhile Okello was going his own way. The whole island was an armed camp and it was rumoured that Cubans and Chinese were present training the local militia. Getting Garret out would not be simple.