There was a grim silence on board as the rifle cracked again above our heads. This time I was sure I saw it kick up some woodwork. Duval kept tightening the circle, but slowly they gained onto our beam, getting closer. A figure appeared from the wheelhouse and immediately Ben loosed off two shots. They were only four, maybe five hundred metres away and I could clearly see the wood splinter on the topsides. But the figure stood it's ground long enough to get off a burst of rapid fire. We all ducked instinctively, and I squirmed up against the sail packed coaming.
‘Machine pistol.’ said Duval, his voice hollow, ‘He'll never hit us from there.’
But my mouth was completely dry, my tongue felt round cracked lips. We were totally dependent on Ben to keep them out of range. Duval lay on his back to steer, occasionally ducking his head up to check their position. Every so often Ben would loose off a round. More often than not he would hit them. Scott rolled onto his back and shouted up to Ben. ‘How you doing up there?’
I looked up at Ben, who seemed reasonably comfortable under the circumstances. He was seated on the third spreader, with his legs wrapped round the mast. He had the rifle propped upright on the horizontal. He looked down at us. I saw him tighten his grip on the rig as the boat crashed into a wave. We had turned through a three quarter circle and were now headed into the wave pattern, rather than running parallel to it.
‘Ok, but I could do with another heading, I can't shoot and hold on at the same time.’ Ben's voice carried down to us easily on the apparent wind of our motion. He grabbed at the mast again as we lurched into another wave. They weren't too uncomfortable down here, but sixty feet up the motion was magnified ten fold.
I had a quick look over the cockpit edge, ‘They've dropped onto our tail and started to creep forwards.’ I said, glancing at Scott.
He grunted an acknowledgement, turned to look at Duval, ‘They're trying to keep us on this heading so he can't shoot. We have to keep them at a distance, if they get close enough to use that automatic properly, we're history. Spin it round and let him fire.’ Immediately the wheel went down and the boat swung round side on to the pursuer. Ben didn't need to be told, the rifle burst into action. He fired steadily and accurately. Nothing panicky about it. I gripped the butt of the shotgun tighter and wondered whether I would be as cool when my turn came. I saw the wheel house windows go, but couldn't see if anyone inside was hit. The boat kept coming regardless, altering course to close with us side on.
The automatics would almost be in range. At that instant two figures appeared on the deck, both opened up with a long raking burst. I squeezed even tighter down behind the sails, as I heard some of the rounds thump into the side of the hull. Duval spun the wheel hard to starboard to take us back away from them. Ben fired again, three times, then I heard him whoop.
‘Yes, got you motherfucker,’ came the scream from above.
I took a chance and stuck my head up just in time to see one of the figures drag the other back into the wheelhouse. Jeez, I breathed, he really did hit one of them. But something was wrong. Duval was staring across at the other boat, the wheel forgotten as our turn tightened and tightened.
‘Scott!’ I yelled.
He was already reaching for the wheel, pushing Duval to one side. I felt the boat respond to the rudder as he regained control. I got to Duval, he was shaking, breath coming hard and fast, sweat poring off him, eyes closed.
‘He's killed somebody.’ he moaned, ‘It's all over.’
Then Scott was there, leaning forward, one hand on the wheel, the other grabbing Duval's shirt, hauling him up to eye level like a rag-doll, ‘Yeah,’ he breathed into his face, ‘and when he's killed enough, they'll fuck off and leave us alone. Now snap out of it.’ his voice was hard and his face set in stone.
Scott held him there for a long second, then pushed him away, moving back to the wheel. Duval didn't look like he was going to be much use to anybody for a while. He slumped back, wild-eyed, staring at Scott.
‘They're still closing fast.’ I said, urgently. Ben's rifle cracked again, and again. They were so close now I could hear the shots breaking glass and splintering wood.
‘I think he's gonna spin round one side or the other and try and get men aboard,’ said Scott, ‘or maybe just soften us up a bit with that automatic. I'm gonna take us through one eighty away from him as soon as he makes a move to a side. When I spin the wheel you get your shots in, ok?’
I just stared at him blankly, but I understood. I glanced at Duval, huddled in the corner, looking from one to the other of us. I picked up his discarded shotgun, crawled over and shoved it into his hands. ‘You understand!’ I yelled in his face.
He looked at me, then the gun, licked his lips once, and then nodded. I glared at him, but there was no time for more. I crawled back to my position.
Ben was firing almost continuously. He had them all pinned inside but they were so close, even from my lying position, I could see the bow, looming over our stern. Then he stopped, I looked up, Ben was changing clips. Scott swore, low and fast and fluent, a torrent of abuse damning everything that moved. This was the moment they had been waiting for, the bow twitched to the right and they surged up alongside. Scott whipped us away to port, the boat rocking wildly under the rudder load. But the transom swung in towards them even as the bow moved away. They were close and broadside on. I heard the sound but it didn't register, until Scott screamed, ‘Grappling hooks!’
He started to rise but then the automatics opened up. They picked the targets carefully. A steady salvo slammed into the bulkhead behind me, and thudded into the sails in front. I squeezed deeper in behind them, all thoughts of sticking my head up and shooting washed away in a torrent of fear. Ricochets rang off the transom metalwork as the aerials disappeared in a four second burst. But it was when I heard the muted, choking scream from the mast that I knew we were finished.
I looked up in time to see Ben fall away backwards, held only by the rope at his waist. The rifle slid from his grip and crashed down to the deck. He didn't move.
Anger washed away the fear. I kicked my legs against the cockpit and half-rolled, half-slid into a firing position. I felt the shotgun recoil in my hands, but can't remember aiming or pulling the trigger. There were two more deafening reports in my ear, and a scream as a body fell across me. I kicked frantically at it, struggling with the warm, twitching figure. There was a thud as feet landed on the deck next to me. Battered training shoes. I pushed and fought to get free, turning towards them. And saw Scott lying on his back, pumping the next round into the chamber when the shotgun was beaten from his hand. The next blow caught him across the head. Duval staggered to his feet, but turned and fell back clutching his arm as one more shot was fired.
Then it was quiet, except for the whimpering of the body still lying nearby. I could hear Duval breathing heavily on the other side of the cockpit. There was a gun barrel under my nose. My hands were still gripped round my own weapon. There were other hands trying to take it away. The flash of gold jewellery. I could see my own knuckles, white and tense, locked to it. Then shouting and I felt something whip across my face. I put my arms up to protect myself and the shotgun was gone. I could taste the salt of the blood on my lip. This wasn't happening - it really wasn't happening.
Strong arms lifted me and I was dragged forward. Stumbling to get my legs to work I tripped down the deck. Crashing into the hardware. They pushed me through the main hatch, and I bounced off the steps and thudded into the floorboards. Pain flooded through every cell of my body. I didn't move, I had no wish to get up. But they were on top of me again, shoving me forward, into the forepeak. I slid through and landed on my face. The hatch clicked shut behind me.
It was completely dark. I could see nothing at all. I waited for my eyes to adjust, but even then there was nothing. I was right in the bow, beyond the waterproof collision bulkhead. The only way out was the way I'd come in and that hatch was locked by four clips on the other side. If there was no light, there was
no air. How was I going to breath? I panicked and threw myself at the door, screaming, banging, sobbing. The answer came quickly, with a burst of automatic fire. I slammed myself down. But silence followed fast, and when I looked up there was a ragged line of holes through both the internal bulkhead and the deck. Sunlight and precious air streamed in.
I slid back against the hull and squatted in the uncomfortable V-eed bottom of the boat. There were no floorboards up here. The carbon black sides of the hull were bare and shiny. The whole forepeak was completely stripped. Nothing. There would be no escape this time. I shivered slightly, despite the humidity and heat. One glance down at the clammy tee shirt told me why. I was covered in blood. I gazed at it in horror before ripping the shirt off. No wound. But of course, it was someone else's blood. I threw it forward.
I sat there, in shock I suppose. I had no rational thoughts. No thoughts. Everything was over. It was all dull. I heard a woman scream. They had found Kate, but I had nothing left for anger. I had no energy for any kind of emotion. It was all spent. I could only listen to her yells. But they were getting closer, coming down the boat towards me. The hatch flew open, and Kate half crawled, half fell through the hole. It slammed shut behind her and I heard the clips go back on. I don't think she even realised I was there as she turned and kicked at the bulkhead furiously.
‘Kate!’ I shouted it, as I reached out for her.
She stopped and turned, ‘Martin, you're hurt!’ she moved towards me as I looked down.
My chest was covered in dried, caked blood. I shook my head, ‘No, somebody else's.’
‘Whose?’
‘One of them, Scott got clipped on the head with a rifle butt, but I think he's ok. Duval was shot in the arm, and Ben...’
She looked at me wildly, ‘Ben?’
I shook my head. ‘I'm sorry. He's dead.’ My tone was flat, as spent as I was.
She stared at me blankly. ‘Dead?’
I nodded.
‘Dead?’ she repeated, shaking her head slowly from side to side, as if trying to deny what I'd said. I moved forward to comfort her, but she shrugged me off, her fists balling. Then she started to hit me, over and over. The choking sobs coming fast and shallow. After a while she calmed down and her head sunk into my chest. We were just left hanging on to each other in that despairing embrace.
Chapter 27
There was no past and no future. Time had lost all meaning. It could have been seconds, minutes, even hours later when the hatch flew open again. I eased my grip on Kate a little, and looked at the light streaming in. The gun barrels waving, combined with the shouts, made the message obvious.
‘They want us out.’ I said.
She let go a little, and stared at me.
‘Be brave.’ I said, without feeling the slightest bit like it myself. Her hand slid down my arm until it found mine. She gripped it tightly, and then turned and led the way out through the hatch.
We stood there, blinking, even in the below-deck half-light, swaying slightly with the motion of the boat. Someone had switched the engine off, and only the occasional creak from on-deck broke the silence. It sounded as though the fishing boat was tied up alongside. We were the centre of a semi-circle of grinning men, all Asiatic. There was no Janac. Fuck. There was no Janac. My head went light with relief. It seemed impossible, but it was just a pirate boat. It wasn't me.
Just pirates? Murderous thieves. The relief condensed back into fear. They all carried automatics. Spare magazines, knives, scarves and shirt tails dangled flamboyantly. Except for one, who stood in the centre - neater, apparently unarmed. He was slightly built and probably a good six inches shorter than me. But he seemed to be in charge. He moved forward and leered at Kate. I had barely twitched in response when arms grabbed me from both sides. It was obvious what was on his mind long before he got to her. I struggled but as soon as I started to get loose there were more hands on me. Someone kicked my legs out and I fell noisily to the deck, to be pinned there by four or five of them.
‘You bastards, leave her alone!’ I screamed, still writhing as I watched the drama unfold. A couple of them had moved to grab her arms, but as they were about to discover, it was her legs they should have been worried about. She let him get close enough to touch her without offering any resistance. Obviously encouraged by this passivity he reached forward and slid his hand under her shirt. I saw the cloud fleck her eyes and knew what was going to happen. But he missed it, too busy exploring her breast. I heard myself bellow, ‘No, No!’ without knowing to who or for what. No one heeded the warning anyway, and Kate brought her knee up into his groin with a violence and speed that surprised even me. He doubled up and fell away with an exhalation of extreme pain, and almost immediately began to retch. There was a frozen moment while we listened to his agony. And then all hell let loose. Kate disappeared under a wave of bodies and I found a surge of strength in the certain knowledge that we were both about to die.
It wasn't the gunshot that stopped time again, but the gasp of bubbling, bloody agony that followed it. Everyone was still, none more so than our assailants. Except for Kate's would-be rapist, who noisily choked and bled his life onto the deck in front of us. It took several seconds for me to realise that this transformation was because of another arrival. And it was only when I heard his voice that I began to realise what had happened. It was white hot with a fury that chilled me even through the strange foreign sounds. But there was none of the lilting sing-song of the native speakers. No, it was a hard edged American accent. The men pinning me down pulled themselves away. Then I saw him.
Janac.
Numbly, I watched him lower the hammer on the same revolver I'd seen on Ko Samui. He stood by the companionway, face set in a cynical, yellow-toothed smile. A couple of days beard stubbled the freckled tan. He wore a set of heavy fatigues, coolly untroubled by the heat. But a bandage covered the left hand. I was empty, light-headed, and nauseous. I struggled through the gathering wave of emotion, got myself to sit up, look around. Kate lay on the deck close-by, curled up protectively; her shirt tattered and almost ripped off her. There was a livid scratch across her back. I moved towards her. No one tried to stop me. I touched her. She flinched, silently, glanced at me through the hair matted with sweat and pain across her face. What was it in her eyes? Sadness? An accusation? Hatred?
‘These people, they got no goddam discipline.’ Janac's voice. Behind him the mob of pirates stood with their heads lowered, fiddling with their weapons. It was clear who was in charge. Kate struggled to sit up, covering herself with what was left of the shirt. ‘Here,’ Janac turned and barked out a command. Immediately one of his men peeled off a tee-shirt and threw it to Kate. ‘You certainly are a beautiful woman though,’ the grey eyes flickered over her, as she pulled the shirt on, ‘but rules are rules.’ he holstered the revolver.
Then he looked at me, hands on hips, nodding slowly. ‘Quite a performance Martin - you've led me on an impressive dance.’ he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket of the fatigues. He offered them but I shook my head. Kate wasn't even looking at him. ‘Especially that stunt in Sydney. Do you know how much it cost me in bribes to turn those two cops? Then you go and blow them away.’ he paused, with a dangerous stillness. ‘And you cheated the game - again.’
The game, always the game.
I waited in silence. He lit the cigarette, with the same Zippo, before continuing. ‘Although I suppose we did establish a certain willingness to die for the girl - which is progress of a sort. And then before I know it, you're out here. Somewhere in the wide open Pacific Ocean.’ he shook his head, ‘You haven't made it easy for me Martin.’
‘How the hell did you find us? Duval?’ I said, words tumbling out unbidden.
The thin lips cracked into a smile, ‘Well, you know how hard it is to trust the police to do a good job. Even when you're paying a few of them for some overtime.’ He paused, ‘But credit where it's due, you did all right, you disappeared completely for a while. And even I
believed Scott was so mad at you, he was going without you. You nearly got away with it. But at the end of the day, that's what winning's about.’ he tapped his forehead gently, with a thin finger, ‘Thinking it through and covering all the options. And I had my little insurance policy in place.’ he gently blew a smoke ring.
‘To be fair to him, he thought he was doing the right thing, reporting a couple of fugitives to the forces of law and order. Covering his own ass in case the story came out of course, but public spirited none-the-less. Trouble was, they were my forces of law and order.’ He took a long, deep drag. Then considered me carefully through the exhaled smoke. ‘You knew it was me, right from Rossel Island - didn't you?’ I said nothing, but he nodded slowly. ‘I could have taken you out, all the way back there, but that would have been too easy. You needed time to warm up for the next game, start falling out with your buddies.’
‘I must confess to an element of luck in predicting that Rossel Island was the place to catch you, when he first called. I was relieved when we got the position and heading update on the second call and it was clear that that was where you were going. It could have taken a week to catch you if you'd gone through the Archipelago any other way, especially at the speed that tub goes at. And it cost me enough trouble and money getting that thing here. And now you've killed three more of my boys, aside from this asshole.’ he nodded at the inert body swimming in its own blood. ‘Two of them shot by that guy with the rifle,’ he waved a hand upwards, ‘and one when we boarded.’ He squatted down to my level, and sucked a piece of tobacco from his teeth. He spat it out on the floor between us, ‘And then there is this.’ he held up the bandaged hand. ‘So I think you would have to agree Martin, that it's pay-back time.’
The Defector Page 26
