by Wilbur Smith
‘Okay, Paddy, are you in position?’ he asked softly and the reply came back instantly.
‘In position, Hector!’
‘Cyril, do you copy?’
‘Copy you, Hector.’
‘At my count of five, switch on all the lights. One. Two. Three. Four. Lights!’ From utter darkness, the compartment was lit up with the bright electric glare. There was a 180-watt bulb in a wire cage at the top of the egress shaft. It back-lit Kamal and Nastiya like a stage effect. Kamal was crouched on the narrow steel landing. Nastiya was standing on the rung of the ladder below him. She had both her hands pinioned with cable ties in front of her. There was a rope around her neck. Kamal was holding the other end of the rope in one hand and an automatic rifle in the other. He was aiming the rifle down the shaft, and as soon as he saw Hector and Paddy in the shaft thirty feet below him he fired a burst at them with one hand. The moment before he fired they both ducked behind the pump.
The report of the rifle was ear-splitting in the enclosed area of the shaft. The bullets clanged off the steel bulkheads and the heavy gas pipes, throwing up bright showers of sparks. As soon as the rifle burst ceased, Hector risked a quick glance around the dome of the pump. There was no chance of a shot at Kamal. Nastiya’s body screened him almost completely, yet he saw that she had somehow managed to twist a bight of Kamal’s rope around her bound wrists. He could no longer use it as a garotte. She was balancing precariously on the rung of the ladder, without any handhold. Hector saw at once what she was planning to do, even before she yelled wildly, ‘Catch me, Babu!’ Then she threw herself backwards into the shaft. The rope jerked up tight but she took the strain on her wrists rather than with her neck. The end of it was whipped out of Kamal’s hands and he was almost dislodged from his perch. He scrabbled wildly to keep his balance.
Who the hell is Babu? Hector thought irrelevantly. His unspoken question was answered at once as Paddy raced out from behind the gas pump and stood under the mouth of the shaft with his arms spread wide, looking up at Nastiya as she hurtled down towards him. She had balled her body, tucking in her elbows and knees, and the fall was almost thirty feet. She was accelerating to bone-shattering velocity, but Paddy did not flinch. He snatched her out of the air and into his arms, and was knocked down by her momentum onto the steel deck, absorbing most of the shock of the collision with his own body. The impact sounded like a sack of coal thrown from the back of a dray onto a cobbled street, and Hector heard the crackle of breaking bone. But Paddy never released his grip. He held Nastiya to his chest.
Hector did not spare even a glance at the two interlocked bodies under his feet, but he concentrated every last iota of mind and muscle on the figure high above him in the steel shaft.
Kamal was clinging to one of the ladder rungs, kicking and struggling to keep his balance. Hector’s first shot with the Beretta ricocheted off a rung of the steel ladder directly beneath him. The deformed bullet lost only a little of its velocity as it tumbled in the air and then went up between Kamal’s legs, piercing the perineum and burrowing deeply into his bowels. Kamal’s whole body bucked and convulsed. He hung on to the ladder with a death grip, but could not maintain his hold on the rifle. It dropped, rattling against the bulkheads and bouncing on the rungs of the ladder. Hector ducked as it flew past his head, and then he fired three more shots in rapid succession. Every one of them tore through flesh, bone and vitals. Slowly Kamal’s fingers opened until he lost his grip on the steel ladder and dropped down the shaft, his loose robes fluttering around him until he struck the deck at Hector’s feet. Hector leaned over him and fired two more shots into his head, before he turned to where Paddy and Nastiya lay.
The tunnel was still flooded with CO2 gas which had not yet been purged by the ventilators. Nastiya was at risk. Hector knelt beside her and unhooked the two-litre oxygen bottle from his belt. He opened the tap and clapped the mask over her nose and mouth.
‘See to Paddy first!’ Nastiya demanded and her voice was muffled by the plastic mask. Paddy was trying to sit up, but he was injured. His body was out of shape; his one shoulder drooping.
Collarbone gone and probably a couple of ribs, Hector thought. Certainly a few sprains and torn muscles, but is there any brain damage? Then he said aloud, ‘Come along, Babu. Lady says I have to look after you.’
‘One of these days you are going to go too far, Cross,’ Paddy warned him but without real rancour. His face was twisted with a mixture of pain and adulation as Nastiya knelt over him and he looked up into her eyes.
‘No brain damage. The lad is still hot as a pistol!’ Hector said with a grin and switched on the mike of his radio. ‘Now hear this all of you! Kamal is down and out. So is Uthmann Waddah. Adam is captured. Paddy has broken a couple of bones, but he is tough and they’ll mend. Main thing is that Nastiya and I are just fine. So no real worries!’
Hector and Hazel stood together on the wing of the Golden Goose’s bridge. He had his arms around her and she was leaning back against his chest. In silence they watched the last boats coming off the beach, packed with the seamen that Sam Hunter’s column had released from the prison stockades ashore. The men were being ferried out to their ships in the bay.
Sam’s men were torching the buildings of the town, after making sure that no widows and orphans had been left behind by the fleeing populace. Hazel had been very definite about that. Already most of the pirated ships in the bay had the majority of their original crews on board, and they had started their engines in preparation for sailing. Eight ships that had been lying at anchor for many years had deteriorated to such an extent that their engines were rusted solid and their hulls were so riddled with rust that they were totally unseaworthy. Hector ordered them to be scuttled, to deprive the pirates of even these meagre rewards. When their seacocks were opened to flood the hulls many of them capsized, while others sank to the bottom in an upright position with only their rigging showing above the surface. At last Sam Hunter’s squadron of AAVs trundled down the beach into the sea and started swimming back to the Goose, leaving the town in flames. Hazel broke their silence.
‘So, my darling, the job is over and done,’ she said in what was almost a whisper.
‘Almost but not quite done. There is just one more thing we have to see to,’ Hector replied, and she turned in the circle of his arms and looked up into his face.
‘I know. I’ve been dreading this part of it.’ She sighed. ‘Where is he?’
‘Tariq has him locked in the armoury in the covert area of the ship.’
‘We should do it at once, and get it over with before I lose my nerve.’
‘We will only do it once we are at sea,’ he demurred. ‘But neither of us will lose our nerve. We owe it to Cayla and Grace.’
‘I know,’ Hazel whispered and stirred against his chest, ‘we must have justice for them. Without that none of us will ever have peace. When, my darling? When must we do it?’
‘We sail this evening. We’ll do it at dawn tomorrow, when we are out of sight of land.’
‘Just you and me?’ Hazel asked softly. ‘Nobody else?’
‘Others have suffered,’ Hector reminded her. ‘Tariq, Paddy and Nastiya.’
‘Very well. But I have to do it. It’s my sacred duty.’
The sun was setting, and there was only just enough light to make out the channel as the Golden Goose led the convoy of strangely assorted ships out of Gandanga Bay. They sailed southeast during the night. While it was still dark the next morning Hector and Hazel bathed and dressed in fresh clothes. Then they each drank a mug of strong black coffee, standing together in the kitchenette of the master suite without speaking. At precisely five o’clock Tariq knocked on the door and Hector opened it.
‘Everything is ready,’ Tariq told him.
‘Thank you, old friend.’ Hector left him at the door and went back to see Hazel sitting on the bed. She looked up at him. Her eyes were a shade of blue he had never seen them before, cold and sunless as an Arctic sea.
‘Yes?’ she asked.
‘Yes!’ he said and taking her hand he lifted her to her feet. He led her to the lift and they descended to the lowest level. When the doors opened he took her elbow and steered her out onto the stern deck. A section of the deck had been screened off with a heavy tarpaulin. Tariq walked ahead of them and held open the fly in the canvas. After they passed through he closed it behind them.
Paddy and Nastiya were waiting for them. Paddy was seated in a folding canvas chair. His chest was strapped with surgical tape and his left arm was in a sling. Nastiya stood beside him with one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Hector and Hazel went to stand at Paddy’s other side. Hector looked at Tariq.
‘Fetch Adam,’ he ordered. Tariq went out through the opening in the canvas screen and returned almost at once. Two of the Cross Bow men followed him. They had Adam between them. His legs were paralysed with terror. His guards were half-dragging, half-carrying him. They let him drop on his knees in front of Hazel. Hector nodded at them and they went to stand guard at the entrance to the enclosure.
Adam knelt facing Hector and Hazel and his eyes were dark and swimming with tears. The black attaché case was still chained to his wrist and with both hands he hugged it against his chest.
‘Why does he still have that case? Take it away from him,’ Hector demanded.
‘There’s a combination lock on the chain,’ Tariq replied. ‘He won’t give it up. We cannot get it away from him.’
‘Cut off his hand at the joint of the wrist, Tariq. The chain will slip off the stump easily enough,’ Hector ordered. ‘Use your trench knife.’ Tariq stooped over Adam, drew the knife and grabbed his arm. Adam squealed like a piglet having its throat cut.
‘No! Don’t use that knife. I will give you the case.’ He placed it in his lap and with shaking fingers tumbled the combination of the lock. At his second effort the chain fell from his wrist and he crawled across the deck and proffered the attaché case to Hector with both hands.
‘You and I can strike a bargain,’ he sobbed. ‘I know you are a man of your word, Hector Cross. In this little bag there are the internet bank codes and passwords to almost two billion dollars deposited in twenty-six banks around the world. We can share it, you and I. Set me free and you can take half the money.’
‘The money is not yours, Adam. You stole it from the people whose ships and goods you plundered.’
‘Then, you can take all of it,’ Adam pleaded. ‘Two billion dollars! Take it all, but let me go.’
‘Yes! I am going to take it all, Adam,’ Hector said with a nod, ‘and I’m going to let you go to Iblis, the evil jinnee. He is waiting for you. Take the case from him, Tariq.’ Adam wailed and tried to resist, clinging to the chain. Tariq reversed his knife in its scabbard and whipped the hilt across his temple. Adam released the chain to clutch at his skull with both hands. Tariq handed the attaché case to Hector. He set it aside and concentrated his attention on the wretch cringing at his feet.
‘Adam, you are the perpetrator of countless acts of piracy, rape and murder. Even under the Sharia law which you profess to honour, all these are capital crimes. You are in manifest guilt. However, one of your victims was a young woman named Cayla Bannock. You raped and tortured her without mercy. Finally you murdered Cayla and her grandmother Grace Nelson by ordering your minions to decapitate them. Then you sent the two heads to Hazel Cross with a mocking message. Hazel Cross, who is Grace Nelson’s daughter and Cayla Bannock’s mother, stands before you now demanding retribution.’
Adam raised his head and gazed at Hazel. Blood trickled down his cheek from the blow that Tariq had dealt him. He was weeping and the tears diluted the blood and dripped onto his white robe.
Hector went on quietly, ‘Cayla Bannock’s mother stands before you now. She claims from you the right of retaliation granted to her under Sharia law. A life for a life.’
‘Please!’ He cupped his hands and held them out to Hazel in supplication like a beggar. ‘It was my duty. I only did what was my duty to Allah and my ancestors. Please understand. Please have mercy.’ Hector looked across at Tariq and nodded. Tariq had a folded canvas sheet lying at his feet. Now he spread this on the deck. Then the two Cross Bow men carried in a heavy sandbag and placed it in the centre of the sheet.
‘Adam, go to the sheet and lie upon it with your head on the sandbag,’ Hector ordered.
‘No!’ Adam blubbered. ‘I have given you the money. I have paid the blood debt under Sharia law, and you have accepted it. You must let me go free.’
Hector drew the pistol from the holster on his webbing, and he reversed his grip and handed it butt first to Hazel. She took it, pumped a round into the chamber and pointed the muzzle at the deck. Then Hector went to where Adam knelt. Adam’s voice rose to a shriek.
‘Mercy! I beg of you, mercy.’
Hector took hold of one of Adam’s wrists and, seemingly without effort, twisted the hand up behind Adam’s back and lifted him to his feet. He marched him to the spread canvas sheet and forced him belly down upon it.
‘Place your head on the sandbag,’ Hector ordered him quietly. ‘It will stop the bullet after it has passed through your skull. Afterwards the sandbag will weigh your corpse down when it goes into the sea.’
Adam screamed, a formless incoherent sound. Hector forced him down until the scream was muffled by the sandbag. Then he looked up at Hazel.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, and she nodded. She was weeping silently. She went and stood beside Hector and pointed the pistol down at Adam’s head, but her shoulders were heaving and the pistol wavered and shook in her grip. She lifted it and pointed the muzzle at the sky. She was shaking her head and gasping for breath like a drowning woman. Nastiya Voronova left Paddy’s side and came to her. She laid her hand gently on Hazel’s shoulder.
‘I vill do it for you, Hazel. I am trained for zis, and you are not,’ Nastiya said; but Hazel shook her head again.
‘No,’ she whispered, ‘it’s my duty to God, my mother and my daughter.’
She lowered the pistol and aimed at the back of Adam’s head. Her hands were suddenly rock steady and she was no longer sobbing. She fired a single shot. Afterwards there was no sound except the throbbing beat of the engines.
Hector took the pistol out of Hazel’s hand and removed the magazine. He ejected the live round from the breach. Then he placed his arm around his wife’s shoulder and said, ‘Now it’s over. It’s done, and done well. Grace and Cayla are free and so are we.’
She buried her face against his chest and did not watch while Tariq and the two guards came forward. They rolled Adam and the sandbag into the canvas sheet and with a length of nylon cord trussed the bundle up neatly and securely. Then between them they carried the package to the stern rail and slid it over into the seething white wake of the ship. It disappeared without trace.
The USS Manila Bay intercepted the flotilla thirty nautical miles outside territorial waters. Commander Andrew Rob-ins’s tone was incredulous as he called up the Golden Goose.
‘Golden Goose, this is Manila Bay. Is Captain Stamford available?’
‘Hi there, Andy, this is Cyril Stamford.’
‘Good to speak to you again, sir. There have been reports of some trouble in the Gulf of Aden. At a place named Gandanga Bay in particular.’
‘Do tell, Andy! I wonder what that was about?’
‘Well, sir, as long as you were not involved in any unpleasantness. I was a little worried for you.’ There was a pause. ‘I see you are sailing in company.’
‘Darn funny thing, Andy, how these fellows latched onto me. Seems they lost their way.’
‘How many are there, sir?’
‘Nineteen at the last count.’
‘My orders are to go to the aid of any vessels emerging from the Gulf of Aden who request assistance.’
‘Then I will hand them all over to you, Andy, and get on my way.’
‘Last time we spoke I thought you said you were bound for
Jeddah in Saudi Arabia, Captain Stamford?’
‘Change of plan, Andy. My owners just can’t make up their minds where they want me to go. Now I am on my way around the Cape of Good Hope.’
‘Seems that the rumour of trouble in Gandanga Bay was an exaggeration. The last satellite report is that the bay is totally deserted.’
‘Just goes to show, Andy, that you can’t believe everything you hear.’
‘Shall we just score one up for your boy, Bobby?’
‘God bless you, Andy Robins!’
‘Calm seas and fair winds, Uncle Cyril!’
After long debate between Hazel, Hector and Paddy it was decided that regardless of the cost they should get rid of any incriminating equipment left on board the Golden Goose. Accordingly the Bushmaster cannon were dismounted from their emplacements and together with all the ammunition they were dumped into the Mascarene Basin in over five thousand feet of water. All three AAVs followed them with their turrets and seacocks wide open.
Once she was clean the Golden Goose stopped over in the roads of Dar es Salaam harbour and sent 146 men ashore by ferry. Each of the passengers was dressed in civilian clothes and carrying a fat cashier’s cheque drawn on the Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corporation. Bernie and Big Nella Vosloo were waiting at Dar es Salaam airport to fly them up to Qatar in the Hercules. From there they dispersed across the globe on commercial airline flights. Paddy was still not in any condition to travel so he remained on board, with his self-appointed Russian nurse. They sailed on down to Cape Town where the BBJ was waiting. It took Paddy and Nastiya up to Moscow, where Nastiya wanted to get her mother’s approval for what the two of them had in mind.
Hector and Hazel stayed over at Dunkeld Estate for a week to sample uncle John’s latest vintage and render comfort and support over the loss of his beloved sister Grace. When he learned that the scores had been settled and that Hazel had carried out the execution in person John was well on the way to a full recovery. The BBJ returned from Moscow and flew Hector and Hazel back to Houston.
