The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6)

by Sewell, Ron

  “You can and will,” she said, her voice ice cold. “The trick is not to get caught.”

  “And if I am?”

  The woman laughed as her eyes sparkled. “Then you have a problem.” She strolled into the shadows.

  He shoved the package inside his jacket and at a brisk pace returned to the ship.

  @@@

  Henry Wood glanced at the clock in the complex’s reception. “Sorry it’s so late but I have to leave. Can I have my bill?”

  The middle-aged man behind the desk frowned as he printed out the outstanding account. “It’s usual for guests to pay in the morning. It’s midnight and this is not my job.”

  “Can you please hurry, I’ve a taxi waiting.”

  “I’ve no change and I can’t accept a cheque.”

  Henry handed over his card. “Will this do?”

  The man snatched it out of his hand and processed the account.

  “Thank you.” Henry grabbed his bags and hurried out the door.

  “Hi Darren. Sturrocks Dry Dock, please. Drop me out of sight close to the yacht club.” He handed across fifty dollars. “Thanks for your help. I doubt if I’ll be back this way but if I am, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Cheers. It’s been my pleasure.”

  Darren stopped his car in the yacht club car park. He watched as Henry, carrying his suitcases, walked away. “One of the good guys,” he muttered. “Oh well, seeing as I’m wide awake the airport beckons.”

  Under the cover of darkness, Henry walked towards Leviathan. He sidled behind a large packing case and waited.

  The ship appeared lifeless; a giant soon to be roused from its sleep. Even the gangway looked unattended. He could not be sure and waited as agreed.

  “Henry, where are you?”

  He stepped out from behind the wooden crate. “Hi.”

  Barry Higgins grabbed one of the cases. “Shift your arse. I suggested to the sentry he could take five and have a coffee in the mess.”

  The two men raced across the gangway where Colin waited. “I’ll stay here until the sentry returns. You two scarper. I’ve made a bunk up for you but don’t show your face until we’re miles away.”

  “Cheers, guys. This means a lot.”

  “Go or I’ll be blushing in a minute.” Colin leant on the ship’s side and stared at the empty quay.

  @@@

  Richard stood on the port bridge wing waiting for the big rail crane to lift the gangway clear and lower it to the dockside. Happy, he informed the tug captains his ship was ready. His eyes glimpsed the company flag flying stiff in the strong breeze from the west. With empty tanks the two large tugs would need every ounce of power to prevent the hull acting as a sail. He turned. “Andy, order the chief to start his engines.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  A belch of exhaust drifted into the morning sky.

  On the bow and stern men prepared to secure the tugs and then wait for the dockside crew to cast their mooring lines free.

  Andy stood back and watched his team at work.

  At the rear of the bridge the other ship’s officers stood in silence, while cadets assisted on the bow and stern.

  “Mr Young, Tug Alice approaching the bow,” shouted the captain.

  “Understood, sir.”

  The heavy towing hawser was dragged through the bow fairlead and wound around the capstan.

  “Ready fore and aft, sir.”

  Richard turned to the pilot. “Please take her out.”

  The pilot nodded and picked up the loud hailer. “Cast off forward and aft. Tug Alice pull.”

  The sea boiled under Alice as she backed away, towing the bow off the wall. The stern tug maintained its position.

  “Slow ahead. Port twenty,” ordered the pilot.

  The bow swung out until it pointed into the Atlantic.

  “Amidships. Steer north,” ordered the pilot. “Tug Alice and Tug Freda recover your lines.”

  The pilot waited until both tugs were clear. “All yours, Captain.”

  Richard signed the forms, shook the pilot’s hand and took over.

  The man nodded and spoke into his radio. “Alice, pick up.”

  Andy saw the tug nudge the Leviathan’s side and the pilot jump from the boarding ladder. “All clear, Captain.”

  “Half ahead. Two hundred revolutions,” ordered Richard. “Andy, well done.”

  Andy nodded to the duty bridge officer who went and stood alongside the captain.

  “You have the ship, Mr James. I’ll be in my cabin if required.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sun reached its high point for the day as Leviathan at full power pushed its bulbous bow through the undulating waters of the Indian Ocean. With empty tanks she was enormous when compared to other tankers in the locale.

  Captain Richard Scott stood with his feet apart and hands behind his back staring at the spray floating into the air from forward.

  Andy strolled onto the bridge. “My apologies, sir. We have a problem.”

  Richard looked thoughtful and acknowledged with a nod. “Explain, Mr Young.”

  “I discovered a Mr Henry Wood in the security team’s accommodation, sir.”

  “Any relation to Captain Wood late of the Goliath?”

  “His son, sir.”

  “Oh dear. Bring him to my cabin.”

  Richard received Henry in his cabin fifteen minutes later. He stared at the man standing in front of his desk. “So what happens now?”

  Henry’s eyes marvelled at the large, well furnished cabin with a thick plush carpet. “Your security team is one man down. I have a vested interest in these pirates. Allow me to join the team.”

  “We don’t know if they’ll attack but I believe they will. An extra man who can handle a weapon might be helpful. You will mess and live in the forward accommodation. Mr Morris, I understand, has trained them to be vigilant. This will not be a luxury sea cruise, Mr Wood. You’ll earn your keep. Any problems with my suggestion you’ll be landed in the clothes you stand in. Is that acceptable?”

  Henry gave him a polite smile as he remembered the hatred he felt for the woman who shot his father. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m glad we understand each other. My condolences by the way. Your father was a professional seaman. I’ll miss the chats we used to have in the office.”

  Henry felt the sadness of his loss. “If the opportunity presents itself I will kill that woman.”

  Richard grimaced. “What will be will be. Go and find my boson, he’ll give you some company overalls. Those clothes you’re wearing you can wash in the crew’s laundry room. Mr Morris is in charge of security. Do as he orders and you stay for the return voyage. Fuck up and I promise you I’ll land you in the most God-forsaken hole I can find.”

  “I’ll not let you down, sir.”

  “You may go.”

  Henry left the cabin and went in search of the Bosun.

  When he returned to his mess he found Bear waiting. “I gather you’ve volunteered to help us out, Henry.”

  He frowned. “If it gives me the opportunity to kill that woman I’m your man.”

  “Henry, let’s get something straight. We defend. We do not murder anyone including the bitch that killed your father.”

  “I hear you loud and clear.”

  Bear smiled. “Get your arse in gear and join the team. They’re completing three circuits of the main deck. Last man back cleans the mess.”

  @@@

  Two days into their passage of twelve Petros was bored. He sat in the mess and read a book from the small library. He wandered to the bridge where Andy stood watch. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “You can keep me company but these days it’s automatic. You could say we have an officer on the bridge just in case. Thanks to the advancement of technology, we have thirty different pieces of kit which work independent of any other or together to keep this ship on course and safe.” He strolled to the console at the front of the bridge where three screens indica
ted the ship’s track position and speed. “This is the chart display and information system which shows our position on electronic charts in real time. If we’re required to change course from the voyage plan, we type in the command and it happens. We have a back-up computer one deck below.”

  “I’ll keep you company for a while.”

  “Fancy a coffee?”

  “Love one.”

  Andy wandered to the back of the bridge, vanished but returned seconds later with two full plastic cups. “Captain’s sea cabin, a relic from the old days. He could use it if he wants to but he prefers his comfortable double bed with en-suite facilities.”

  Petros took one of the cups. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Andy peered ahead. “One day if I’m lucky enough to be given a command. Promotion in shipping companies these days is slow. I could tender an application for a command with another outfit but most promote from within.”

  Petros stroked the polished spokes of the wooden steering wheel. “When was this last used?”

  “This captain insists we use it when entering and leaving harbour even though tugs position the ship alongside the berth. These single screw tankers are not that manoeuvrable. A good stiff breeze could blow her across the harbour. Tugs make it safe.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The passage from Cape Town to the beginning of the Gulf of Oman was uneventful. Richard stood at the back of the bridge reading and signing a batch of signals from the company. New orders instructed him to load crude at Fujairah, a tiny sheikdom in the Gulf of Oman.

  He strolled to the chart table, removed and examined the appropriate chart. From the nearby bookshelf he took the folder containing the latest Notice to Mariners. Not what I might choose for my bedtime reading, he thought, as he returned to his cabin.

  @@@

  Richard, Andy and Third Officer Trevor Knight leant across the chart table. Trevor presented the information the Leviathan carried relevant to the port of Fujairah. “My recommendation is we reduce speed to five knots as we approach the port. Stop Leviathan off the jetty and use small engine movements and tugs to come alongside our berth.”

  “I agree,” said Andy as he looked at Richard.

  Richard walked towards the front of the bridge, turned and frowned. “I agree with your recommendation, Mr Knight, but as this is my first time here, we will reduce to five knots as you suggest but, at five miles from the port, request a pilot and tugs. I will let him guide us in. No doubt he’s done this a few times so I’ll bow to his experience. Next time I’ll have a go.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll enter the details into the computer.”

  In the officers’ mess Petros and Bear sat around a table with engineer Arthur Stevenson who bemoaned his lot.

  Andy entered. “Great news. We load at Fujairah.”

  “Why’s it great?” asked Petros.

  “Saves four days on the round trip which means we’ll be home sooner than expected.”

  Bear looked up and smiled. “I knew a corporal who arrived home unexpected and found his missus in bed riding a civilian. He got two years in Colchester nick for GBH.”

  “Sounds familiar,” said Petros.

  Andy laughed. “Some you win, the others send you back to sea.”

  “Where’s this place?” asked Petros.

  “It's easier to show you on the chart.”

  On the bridge Andy pointed to the United Arab Emirates. “The advantage for us tankers is the delivery time which we waste sailing through the Strait of Hormus. It’s also cheaper for the owners as we don’t have to pay the charges to enter the Persian Gulf. So it’s a win-win situation.”

  Petros pointed to a notice on the chart. “That’s interesting. A few miles off the coast is the wreck of a submarine.”

  “It’s mentioned in the pilot. A German U-Boat sunk by a British bomber in 1943. It seems that mad Adolf had the idea to sink British tankers as they exited the straits. Thanks to a wide awake RAF spotter, it failed.”

  “I need to make a phone call or someone might not find us.” Petros wandered out onto the bridge wing and checked for a signal. It was good and strong as he contacted Amadou.

  “Hi, Petros. Where are you?”

  “Slight change of plan. We load crude in Fujairah in a couple of days. I’m told we’ll be in port for two days and then we sail for the States. I understand we’re taking the scenic route.”

  “Fujairah is good for us. We’re in Gwadah, Little China, on the edge of Pakistan. My boat has satellite communications. I suggest we rendezvous when you’re two days out of port. This gives us plenty of time to unload before we venture into Somalia waters.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Enjoying life in the Zaver Pearl Hotel taking a break after our escape from Libya. I’ve sold everything I have in Pakistan, making me a free agent. Just to let you know, our paperwork is now in order for us to leave and enter the States. It cost me but worth every penny.”

  “See you in four days.” He closed down his sat-phone.

  “Must have been important,” said Andy as Petros entered the bridge.

  “It was.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leviathan entered Fujairah and with the aid of three tugs berthed alongside the new loading facility for large crude tankers.

  While in harbour Petros met with Richard in his cabin.

  “These people of yours, can they be trusted?” asked Richard.

  “Both of the men I’d trust with my life. Durrah and Scarlet have ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ signs on their foreheads.”

  “And what happens if someone tries?”

  Petros laughed. “You don’t want to know.”

  “You understand we’ll be breaking the law if we take on these pirates with RPGs?”

  Petros raised his hand. “Of course but who are they going to complain to? The end justifies the means.”

  Richard shrugged. “Your friends will have to share accommodation. The men can sleep in the forward mess with the security team. The women and the child will use my day cabin on the bridge. That way they should be safe from prying eyes.”

  “They’re happy to be out of Libya and on their way to America.”

  “Tell them we’ll rendezvous as you have agreed. I must be mad taking a ton of explosives on board a tanker.”

  “When the pirates attack we’ll hold the aces and no one will get hurt.”

  Richard looked grim. “For the sake of my crew, I hope you’re right.”

  @@@

  As the sun crept over the horizon, four tugs pulled Leviathan off the jetty, turned and pointed her towards the Indian Ocean.

  Captain Richard Scott stood on the port bridge wing and watched another tanker slot into the berth his ship had vacated. He strolled into the bridge. “Andy, have the steward bring breakfast to my cabin. And I want the glass in every porthole painted black. At the moment we look like a Christmas tree. From tonight, apart from navigation lights, we no longer exist.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The helmsman glanced at Andy. “The old man’s back on his destroyer.”

  “Morning, Andy,” said Petros with a chuckle.

  “You’re up with the lark.”

  “Couldn’t sleep. After breakfast I want to test the water cannon. Tonight we’ll check the cameras and the electronic door locks.” He glanced at one of the bridge consuls. “Something’s wrong. Who turned off the power to the cannon and cameras?”

  “I don’t know but I’ll have a word with the chief engineer to make sure it never happens again.”

  “Shit happens,” said Petros. “The electrical supplies should have had lockable breakers. I didn’t consider them necessary in a manned engine room.”

  Andy lifted the engine room’s direct line telephone. It was answered straight away. “Good morning. This is the Chief Officer. I’ve noticed the electrical power to the water cannon and security cameras is isolated. I want them operational.” He replaced the receiver. “A couple of minutes.”
<
br />   Petros knew something was wrong the moment nothing changed. He tried to relax but the green indicator lights remained off. One minute dragged by, two, then three. After five minutes he asked, “The engine room’s taking its time to restore those power supplies. I could have done it myself by now.”

  Andy lifted the telephone and pressed the call button. “This is the Chief Officer again. I asked you to restore two power supplies. I want them live this instant... Don’t interrupt or you’ll report to the chief engineer when you come off watch.

  “What do you mean you can’t?” He shrugged but continued to listen. “He will not be happy but get the chief engineer to have a look and when he’s ready let me know the problem.”

  The telephone on the bridge buzzed. “Chief Officer.”

  “Andy, can you get someone to ask Mr Kyriades to visit the engine room. Bad news,” said Tony.

  “He’s standing next to me.”

  “Ask him.” The conversation terminated.

  Andy turned to Petros who looked at him in anticipation.

  “You have a face as long as a week. What’s up?”

  He looked wary. “The chief engineer told me it’s bad news, and could you visit the engine room.”

  Petros found Tony Wilson wearing his pristine white overalls in the control room. “Mr Kyriades, you need to see this.” He handed over a pair of ear defenders. “Put these on.”

  The two men left the control room and walked along the steel deck plates to the main switchboard. Tony opened the two breakers and nodded.