by Sewell, Ron
Henry fired two short bursts, striking two pirates. They staggered and fell into the sea.
“It’s gone quiet. It’s over. We’ve won.”
Neither man moved. The rush of the sea sweeping along the hull was tranquil.
Barry scanned the deck and sighed with relief. “We have a clear deck.” He lifted an axe. “Cover me while I check if we have any more waiting in the skiffs.”
Henry moved in behind Barry. “I’ll watch your back.”
The two men edged to the ship’s port side and peered at the waterline, their gaze drifting from forward to aft. Several empty skiffs that remained attached bounced on the sea. Barry cut the wire and laughed as they tumbled in the wake before sinking. Maintaining a good watch they wandered to the starboard side and repeated the procedure. This time there was nothing to see.
Henry turned and gave a thumbs up to Colin and David. “I believe it’s over.”
“Until the next time,” said Barry.
“With luck they’ll choose easier targets or not bother.” He operated the digital door lock and pulled it open. “Better report to the captain that the main deck’s clear.”
The two men entered, removed their night goggles and closed the access door.
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On the stern of Leviathan, Linda and her team of seven crouched in the shadows under the lifeboats.
She looked into the eyes of each man. “They haven’t seen us. We can take this ship and I promise you so much money you can give up this life.”
The seven frightened men listened in silence.
“We will follow you,” whispered Jomo. “You have a plan to avenge our comrades?”
She pressed two fingers to her lips. “If we assist each other, we can climb to the bridge. Once in position we kill those there. I will control the ship while you do away with the crew. Later they will join our departed friends at the bottom of the sea. Jomo, I need a man who is strong and I can trust. You will lead the climb.”
Jomo balanced on the ship’s side and reached for the next deck. His fingers gripped the steel while two men assisted from below. He scrambled over the edge, turned and lowered his arms to hoist the next man. Each man carried his weapons of choice, AK47s, small automatics, knives and clubs. It seemed to take an age before they were in position to climb again.
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Left to their own devices, David and Colin made the decision to return to their mess, contact the bridge and find out what was happening. Still wearing their night vision goggles they strolled along the deck chatting.
Colin motioned with his right hand for them to stop. “Did you hear a noise?”
“What noise?”
“Listen.”
Both men turned and scanned the deck.
“Port side,” whispered Colin. “Five or six pirates climbing towards the starboard bridge wing.”
“And all we have is half a bag of grenades.”
Colin glanced aft then forward. “I’ll head for the bridge. You return to the mess and telephone whoever’s on watch.”
“I’m out of here,” said David.
Colin sprinted as if his life depended on it.
David jumped the combing at the mess entrance, grabbed the phone handset and pressed the call button, leaving his finger pressed on it.
“Okay, I hear you. What do you want?”
“Shut the fuck up and listen. Six pirates are climbing towards the port bridge wing. Understand?”
He heard the handset drop to the deck and hung up.
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Bear pointed. “The ship can take care of itself. Go.”
Richard and the bridge team scurried away while Bear, Petros, Amadou and ZZ concealed themselves as best they could.
Bear watched as a man like a black ghost pulled himself onto the deck and turn to help another. Together they heaved the next man to the deck.
One pirate, his AK47 ready, sidled across the deck and from the outside peered into the bridge.
Bear inched forward and crouched below the window nearest the entrance. The men outside talked in a language he didn’t understand. He judged there to be seven and raised himself to his full height and stepped out.
“Breath, fart or make the slightest wrong move and you’re dead.”
One man raised his weapon and clicked the safety. Bear dived to the deck.
Amadou and ZZ were not in a generous mood and fired as one.
The roar of AK47s on automatic filled the air.
The pirates’ bodies twisted from a multiple assault.
“Stupid,” muttered Bear as he removed their weapons and tossed them over the side. As he readied the first corpse for dropping into the sea, he saw a movement on the deck below. He let go of the body and motioned to the others to go inside the bridge.
“How many more?" asked Petros, as Bear whispered the news that one pirate remained.
“PK, you go and open the door on that level but wait until I’m in position.”
Petros grinned as Bear positioned his large frame on the edge of the bridge gunwale. He ran, descended the companionway and strode to the port exit door on that level. He banged on the six securing clips, taking his time on the final one. From outside he heard a thump and a scuffle and pushed the door open. Bear stood there with a woman hanging from his right hand.
“The old tricks work the best. She was ready to shoot you. Not a nice lady.”
“What are we going to do with her?” asked Petros.
“I could toss her over the side, but then the sharks might throw her back.”
Screaming abuse, Linda kicked out with both feet.
“No need to panic,” said Bear, as he slapped her with his open hand across the face. “The Captain might want to have a word with you.” He grabbed her clothing, lifted and dragged her to the bridge.
“You found a bilge rat. Horrible things,” said Richard with a grin.
“She’s a bit lively,” said Bear.
“Has she a red dragon’s head tattoo on the back of her right hand,” asked Andy.
Bear grabbed her hand. “She has.”
“That’s the woman who murdered Captain Wood on Goliath,” shouted Andy.
She turned to Andy, harshness in her face. “You disappoint me.”
Eyes filled with hate, Henry screamed, “That’s the bitch who murdered my father. I’ve waited a long time for this moment. She has neither compassion nor a sense of right and wrong.”
The look which formed on Linda’s face chilled Henry to the bone. It was not the expression of a woman about to die. It was one of pure evil.
With a harsh shriek she broke free, crashed into Henry, striking his crotch with her right knee. He roared in agony, the pain dropping him to his knees. From inside her coverall she pulled a thin-bladed knife and plunged it into his right shoulder.
Henry stifled a scream as she dragged the blade free and pressed it against his throat. “Touch me, he dies.”
No one moved.
Bear turned to Petros. “Do you want to shoot her or shall I?”
“I can’t be bothered,” said Petros. “You do it.”
Bear lifted an AK47 from the deck.
Henry lashed out with his right arm and grabbed her wrist. From the power of an inner madness, he forced her onto her back and pinned the hand which held the knife to the deck.
She screamed like a banshee, her eyes blazed and her knee struck his thigh.
Bear grabbed her hair and lifted her into the air.
She kicked out, screamed and spat.
“Now I’m pissed off. Women who spit at me have to be got rid of. It’s most unhygienic. You’re finished. So don’t fuck with me or I’ll turn nasty.”
“If none of you are going to kill her, I will.”
Everyone was startled at the coldness in Henry’s voice.
Linda slumped and appeared as if she were in a trance.
Richard stepped between her and Henry. “That would be too quick. She will do time in a women’s prison for the rest of her
life.”
Henry, his face contorted with rage, shrugged and turned a full three-sixty degrees and smashed Richard between the eyes. He refused to accept she might live. He hated this woman. She didn’t deserve a jail sentence. Not wasting another second he charged, throwing his frame against her. She screamed and punched him in the face. Still clutching his prisoner they hit the raised edge of the bridge wing and toppled into the sea.
Everyone ran outside but it was too late.
“He promised his father,” said Bear as he tossed a handful of hair towards the sea.
“If there’s something after death, he deserves to find it,” muttered Richard. He held a blood-soaked handkerchief to his nose. “I suggest we stow the weapons in a safe place and get some sleep.” He faced Petros and Bear. “I’ll land you two in Cape Town.”
“You’ll need to write a report,” said Petros.
Richard laughed. “Approached and fired upon by pirates who, after an exchange of gunfire with our defence team, retreated. Who’s going to argue? Remember, I ordered my crew to remain in their cabins. When you break the rules the less people see, the better.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Petros.
“And what’s next for you two?”
Petros shrugged. “Bear and I have been to most places worth going to and many not worth mentioning. We’ve been through a lot together and thanks to him,” he slapped Bear on the back, “I’ve survived to tell the tale. The fact is neither of us is getting any younger. I can’t speak for Bear but my bones hurt in the morning and most of all, I have my wife and daughter to consider. Bear has his wife who, if she knew what we’ve been up to, would kill him. It’s time for us to retire.”
“You’ll do what you do but without your team my ship and its crew might have had a different story to tell.’
“Captain, I’m feeling peckish. Could your chef make me a few sausage butties?” asked Bear.
Petros raised his head and stared at the deck-head.
“By butties I assume you mean sandwiches.”
“He means food,” said Petros.
“A habit of a life time I find difficult to give up.”
Richard grinned as he glanced at the bridge clock. “The chef will be preparing breakfast. I’m sure he’ll help to ease your hunger pangs.”
“I’m going to bed,” said Petros. “Don’t wake me when you’ve finished stuffing your face.”
“As if I would.”
Chapter Twenty Two
The green removal van stopped at the gated entrance of the Golden Palms Estate at seven in the morning.
The duty security guard checked his list of visitors. “Please place your identification on the shelf and step back.”
The man next to the driver alighted and placed two ID cards on the shelf.
The guard glared at him. “Step back, please.”
The man, dressed in a well-cut charcoal-grey suit with matching waistcoat, nodded and obeyed the instruction.
The guard studied the tall man with a crew cut. “Bit overdressed aren’t you?”
His handsome face frowned as he assessed the guard. “Well, this is the Golden Palms. We were ordered to dress for the occasion.”
The IDs were gathered, checked and replaced with a sheet of paper. “Your directions to the penthouse, Mr Smith.”
“That’s the driver,” said the man who neither smiled nor laughed as he collected the ID cards. “I’m Mr Jones.”
The gates opened and the van continued into the exclusive estate. Jones turned to Smith. "This is how the rich live. Bet the flowers bloom at the same time. Look at those lawns, smoother than a snooker table.”
Smith smiled. “We don’t do so bad.”
The guard turned to his partner. “Smith and Jones. I don’t believe a word. Did you notice his fingernails, never done a decent day’s work in his life but,” he shrugged, “their names are on the list.”
“Why can’t you forget you were once a detective? We do our job. Their names aren’t important.” He sipped his coffee. “Who lives in that penthouse apartment?”
“It belongs to a Chinese corporation.” He glanced at his watch. “Keep your eyes on the gate; I’ve a telephone call to make.”
Frankie lay naked in the centre of the queen-sized bed reading a ‘SHE’ magazine and jumped when the door entry buzzed.
“Who the hell’s that?” She took her time and slipped on a silk dressing gown. At the door she checked the screen and saw two well-dressed men. She lifted the telephone handset. “Can I help you?”
The man in the charcoal-grey suit lifted the handset on his side. “This apartment is to be reallocated.”
“You’re out of order. It belongs to Linda Liu,” said an annoyed Frankie.
“It changed owners yesterday. I have the paperwork in my pocket.”
“Linda never said she was selling. This can’t be right,” she said shaking her head.
“Not my problem. Please open the door. The owners want this place cleared.”
“And what about me?”
A moment of silence passed. “You are not the owner. Take what’s yours and leave.”
“And Linda’s possessions?”
“Please open the door.”
Frankie drew back the dead bolts but left the security chain attached as she peered through the crack.
The man slammed his full weight against the steel door. The chain snapped as it opened wide. “She screwed up.”
A warning chill ran through Frankie’s body but too late. The man in the charcoal-grey suit grabbed her around the neck and pulled her backwards. She flinched as the needle pieced her flesh and the man said, “It’s better this way.”
He placed her on the floor and turned to his partner. “Bring in the wheeled baskets. We’ll dump her in the bottom of one and cover her with clothes.”
The strong morning sun streamed through the east facing windows as both men went from room to room. Once each was empty they went to the next. Everything, except the furniture, they dropped into baskets.
“Let’s check every room one more time,” said Jones.
Smith glanced at his watch. “We have plenty of time before the cleaners arrive.”
Fifty minutes later they wheeled the last basket into the van. “It’s time we left,” said Jones.
Smith jumped into the cab, started the engine and shouted at Jones to hurry.
He clambered into the passenger seat. “Better stop at the gate and sign out.” They grinned.
Lieutenant Johnston leant against the brick gatehouse. He nodded to no-one in particular as he saw the van approach. A smile spread across his long, narrow face as Jones jumped out. “That’s them. Make sure you note the time in your book.”
Johnston approached the front of the van. “Mr Jones and Mr Smith, I have a problem. I need to search your van.”
Jones snapped, “Who the fuck are you?.”
Johnston held up his police warrant card. “At this moment, I’m your worst nightmare. We can do this the easy way or make life difficult.”
Jones turned his head as five police officers in uniform holding automatic pistols surrounded the van.
Two officers pushed Smith and Jones against the wall and searched them. One discovered the empty hypodermic and dropped it into a plastic bag.
Johnston indicated the waiting police car. “One of my men will drive the van while you assist us with our enquiries.”
Smith glanced at Jones and mouthed, “We’ve been set up.”
“You can try and escape but I wouldn’t recommend it. My men have orders to shoot.”
Their faces took on a resigned expression as they walked to the waiting car.
Johnston signalled to one of his men. “Sergeant, put those two in separate interview rooms and make sure they have an officer for company but no food or drink. I’ll return to the station later. I’m going to look around the apartment.”
The security guard, a retired detective, who had contacted Johnston earl
ier, left the gatehouse. “This is most irregular. I could lose my job.”
“Your decision but if you think back you know I can have a dozen police cars here with lights flashing and sirens wailing and a search warrant. I doubt if there’s anything left of interest. It’s in the van.”
“Follow me.”
The two men entered the building and took the lift to the penthouse. The guard entered his pass-code into the digital door lock and pushed it open.
Johnston gasped. “How many rooms?”
The guard checked his iPad. “Five bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms and dressing rooms. Games room. Gym. Swimming pool. Sauna. Servants’ quarters. Massive kitchen. BBQ area outside with landscaped patio and roof garden.”
Johnston chuckled as his shoes almost disappeared into the thick pile carpet. He ran his fingers over an ornate table. “I couldn’t afford this or the penthouse in my wildest dreams. Anyway, better get started.”
As he surmised, ‘anything which might be of interest’ was in the van. He sensed the eyes of the bored guard on him. “Okay, lock it up. I’ll have one of my team along later to check this place for fingerprints. No one comes in unless I say so. Understood?”
The guard nodded. “I need a name.”
“Just ask for his warrant or telephone me at the station. I suggest you use the number you contacted me on earlier.”
On returning to the gatehouse the guard waited in the sun until Johnston jumped into his car and drove away.
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Jones sat in silence, his hands gripped together on the table; his eyes stared at the far wall.
Johnston entered the room and peered at the handcuffed man called Jones. With a thump he placed a folder on the table. “Pieter Aalders, arrested for armed robbery and murder. How do I know this? Your fingerprints are all over your ID.” Multiple thoughts churned around in his head. “Now we’re going to play a game. I ask a question and you give me the answer. Who’s paying you to act as removal men?”
Pieter did not like what was happening to him. “Fuck you.”
“We found the girl and I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know she’s alive.”
